Welcome to the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. This isn't necessarily a SYOT (submit your own tribute), but if anyone has a character they would like to see in these Games, leave a review with the character name and some basic stats/characteristics and we'll try to fit them in. This fan fic is co-written by Jake and Rhianna, and they both represent the main characters. Let's head to the beginning, I'll see you all next time...
Jake Vineyard, District 3
The alarm that wakes me beats my sister to it by only a few seconds. I roll over and reach to turn the annoying thing off as Madeline throws a pillow on my bed and yells;
"Get up, mom's still sleeping." Of course she was. My mother is the single most intelligent person I know, but intelligence isn't always used for good. Everyday I'm reminded of the small, but consistent use of drugs in the country and how hard it affects my mother each day. Last night was even worse. We celebrated my birthday, but when everyone finally went to bed, my mother no doubtedly stayed up burning her body dreading the-
The Reaping! I'm so lost in my own thoughts I almost forgot for a moment. My sixteenth birthday, yes, but also the annual Reaping for the 47th Hunger Games. What a lovely present, I think every year.
I finally roll out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom, not even bothering to check a clock. Not yet. I guess by the not so intense way my sister woke me up that I'm not late yet. I shower and brush my teeth, and make my way to my mother's room. I push open the door and see she is in fact sleeping, laying on her side. I can only see her long black hair coming out from underneath the covers. I crawl onto her bed.
"Ma, are you awake?" I whisper. She stirs and uncovers herself, smiling when she sees me.
"What time is it?" She says, remembering what day it is.
"Not yet." I say.
"Okay, I'll be there." She touches my cheek and rolls back into her mess of blankets. I jump off the bed and go find the outfit I picked out last night. Everyone I know rushed to the store sometime in the last week, buying the best outfit they could for today. What a waste.
I put on black socks and light khaki pants that I roll up at the bottoms, and a black button down shirt that I don't tuck in and button all the way up to my neck. I slip on white sneakers that my mom gave me last night as a present. I look in the mirror and adjust some wrinkles until I'm satisfied with my very presentable yet somehow laid back outfit choice. Whatever.
I walk downstairs and only do I glance from the corner of my eye the one photo of my father that hangs in the house, I say a silent goodbye. Madeline's sitting the table, watching the flat screen that hangs on the wall of the kitchen. I glance at the clock.
"I'm gonna go now. Are you coming with mom?" I ask.
"You're leaving now?" she asks, "it's not for another hour. I'll go with mom then."
"Okay. And I know, I-I've got some stuff to do." I say. She doesn't ask any more questions.
I leave the house with nothing in hand. I walk down my street, glancing at the people I see, and then left and down two blocks to the small store I work at. We're closed today, but I find my manager Mary sitting out back, doing paper work and smoking a cigarette.
"Good morning." I say. She looks up and exhales a cloud.
"Jake! What're you doing here? Are you ready for the Reaping?" She chirps.
"Yeah, I am, I just needed to talk to you." I say. She closes the notebook she's writing in and puts down her pen, and hands me the cigarette she's smoking.
"What's going on?" She says. And so I tell her. She's puzzled most of the time, and I think deep down she knows why I'm telling her what I am, but she doesn't actually ask. I finish the smoke and find myself smoking three, four more with her. She finally looks down at her watch and gives me the look, and I nod and stand up. "We'll miss you here at the store, you know. I hope you change your mind." She says. I nod and give her a smile. "Come back tomorrow and pick up your last paycheck."
I nod again. "Thanks for everything and all your help the last two years." I say. Mary helps me out whenever I need it and I've always been close with her. She stands and hugs me, and lingers just a second longer than expected from a hug. I nod once more, no words left to say and turn towards the road again. The Square is only a block away, and I take all the time in the world I can to get there.
I approach from The Square from the south end, where all the parents usually stand in their designated area, most of them crying. My mother isn't crying however, and I spot her large black hair at the front of the crowd. Her arms are folded and she's leaning her weight on her left leg. I duck under the rope and weave through tense adults, some of them giving me weird looks, most of them not caring. I come beside her.
"I love you momma." I say, smiling.
"Shit, Jake, you almost gave me a heart attack." She says smiling. She giggles and looks around, "what are you doing here?" she asks. I give a faint smile and look down;
"Just saying hi I guess." I say. She laughs again and fixes my hair.
"Well get your ass up there before we're both arrested." She jokes, and winks at me. She makes the smallest turn as if to start to watch me walk away, but I grab her and hug her for too long. Only now do I think she senses something wrong, and she freezes a little bit. "I'll see you after, okay?" she says with a hint of uncertainty.
Again, I nod, and say "Yeah. I'll see you again." This puzzles her expression for a second before she smiles again I think, but I turn and duck under the rope and head for the sixteen year olds before I can see her reaction.
I say hi to all my fake friends, and assume the dead-in-the-eyes stare towards the stage that everyone is sporting. The mayor begins his speech and of course, I could recite the words if I have to. I look around and find Madeline with the terrified twelve year olds. She looks scared, but she's smart too and realizes the chances of herself being drawn.
Somehow, it's ready for the girl tribute to be called. The tension rises in the air as the background noise lowers. This year's district escort calls out loud into the microphone for all to hear.
"Ladies first." She crosses to the large black bowl with the names, and delicately reaches her Capitol-painted hand in.
Not for a second do I think it'll be Madeline Vineyard, so when it's not, and Kathryn Jones lets out a squeal from the fifteen year olds, I don't even think about it. Small timid Kathryn makes her way to the stage and her family, who stands in a cluster of crying factory workers in the back, are the only noise to be heard.
And now it's time, I think.
As Kathryn Jones makes her way to the stage, I robotically move. Under the rope, and avoiding eye contact, I pass through all the age groups and finally the twelve year olds, who are closest to the stage. I hear people begin to murmur of my movements all around but I reach Maddie before I care.
I accidentally scare her from behind, too, and put my hand on her shoulder.
"I think I'm gonna go." I whisper right in her ear. She jumps a mile before realizing it's me, and immediately is terrified. I think I sense my mother watching me from the back.
"Jake, what?" She demands. I've never heard a tone of voice like it in my life. I grab her in my arms and hug her, and swing us both back and forth twice. "Don't let mom kill herself."
She tries to question, tries to make sound and tries to hold on to me for dear life. I finally part with her with a heartbreaking struggle and separate myself beyond the rope. I put one hand in my pocket, and as relaxed as I can, I walk towards the stage and through the now silent crowd. I ignore the fact the country is watching.
And then I hear my mother.
It's the tone of voice my sister had, but worse. A tone of voice that could depress a city. It's harsh, and throaty, and terrifying. She screams my name with all the power she has in the world, and I turn and see her try to run towards the stage, but Peacekeepers intervene. I mouth the words "I'm sorry," and even from across The Square I know she sees them, and I know they tear her apart.
I turn back, every scream from my mother digging into my back like literal knives. I walk up the stage and say quietly "I volunteer" to the district's escort as I pass her and find my place for the male tribute. I try to look away from my mother in the distance, but I can not.
The Peacekeepers restrain her, but do not take her away. I can't help but think not taking her away is worse. They hold her in place and she kicks and screams, her body lifting off the ground as the kicks the air and the Peacekeepers hold her. She is a child, and I am the parent leaving forever.
"What an amazing day." The escort says into the microphone.
I look up at the sun, and cry.
Rhianna Eleck, District 7
I woke up tired. For a moment, I wondered why. My question was quickly answered by the sounds of my mother crying in the room next door. The Reaping. It was today. I hadn't been able to sleep last night because I was up worrying. I knew the chances of me being reaped were so small but I just couldn't help being paranoid. I hadn't put my name in any extra times, my family was pretty well off and my mother wouldn't risk my life like that. She would rather starve to death.
Stretching, I got up and went to get some breakfast. Today was going to be spent being primped and fluffed by my mother, to look my very best for the Reaping. It was her one excuse a year to treat me like a princess.
"Mmmm, eggs? You never buy eggs," I said to my dad. He had handed me a plate with eggs and toast as I had walked in the kitchen. As I sat down to eat, my mother walked in. Her eyes were red and puffy, as she had just been crying. She was extremely protective of me. I was her only child, and she had miscarried several times before me. She treasured me. Me dying in the Hunger Games was probably her worst fear.
"How are you feeling, love?" she asked me, sitting next to me and rubbing my shoulder.
"I'm a bit tired, but fine. Have you eaten yet?" She tended not to eat when she was worried, and it always scared me. My mother was such a fragile woman. The miscarriages were because she was so physically weak.
"No, I don't think I will. My stomach is in knots."
"Okay…" She honestly looked dreadful. "When do you want to start helping me get ready?"
She sighed, and another tear made its way down her cheek. "As soon as you're finished eating. I have big plans."
When I finished my breakfast, my mother whisked me away to her bathroom. I showered using her fancy soaps and when I emerged, I smelled like a fresh flower. She shaved my entire body using special sugar scrubs. I basically became the perfect blank canvas.
"Mom, are you going to make me look like a capital person?" I joked as she went to get what I was to be wearing.
She gave me a look. "Of course not. I'm not insane, honey. You're going to look human." She handed me what seemed to be a plain black dress. I put it on, not expecting much. Our family had money, but not a ton. The dress looked wonderful on me. It was a tea length and had a small v-neck top with cap sleeves. It accentuated my waist in exactly the right way. I looked very mature.
Of course, my mom started crying. As much as she didn't want me to die, she didn't want me to grow up.
"Mom, I've just put on a dress. You haven't even done my hair and makeup yet!" She nodded, and reaching her one of her makeup brushes.
She did my makeup quite simply, with very earthy brown tones. My hair she made the perfect messy bun. Of course, this only continued to make me look mature. "Mom, remember; I'm only fifteen still."
She nodded. "The Reaping day is just a hard day for every parent," she said in a melancholy fashion. "Oh! Would you look at the time!"
My stomach clenched. We had to head to the square for the Reaping. My mother hugged me, and we went out to collect my father and make our way to the town square.
Saying goodbye to my parents and hugging my mom too many times to count, I went over to where they were holding the 15 year olds. I found one of friends and stood next to her.
"Hey, are you nervous?" She looked scared out of her wits. She was from a poor family, and had put her name in several times. She nodded her head at me, and grabbed my hand as the Capital representative started his whole thing.
He started with the boys. "Cameron Dempsey!" he shouted, and a larger boy from the 17 year olds silently made his way forward. I felt bad, it really didn't look like he would last long in the games at all. As he headed towards the girl's, my friend started shaking and crying uncontrollably.
"It's going to be me. Oh my god I'm going to be chosen. I know it I know it I'm going to die," she kept whispering.
"Rhianna Eleck!"
"What?" I was stunned. Me? My friend looked at me and started crying harder. No. My feet began making their way towards the stage, but my mind wasn't functioning. I vaguely heard strangled sobs in the distance. My vision was blurred. My legs were made of lead as I climbed the stairs.
The man from the Capital grabbed me around the waist to present me to the camera. Well, that's what I think he did. My brain had completely ceased to function. Next thing I knew, I heard some scattered clapping and me and the boy were being ushered into the town hall.
My life was over.
