Chapter 1: Reaping
Today was glorious for some, heart breaking for others. Yes, today was the day of reaping. Reaping is when two people from a district, one boy and one girl, get taken away to compete in the Hunger Games.
The Hunger Games is a book written by Suzanne Collins (A/N: Disclaimer!). If you read it, you know what I'm talking about. It was such a popular book, that Pennsylvania, decided to have their every own Hunger Games. I know it sounds extremely wrong, and full of child abuse, but they thought it would be a good idea. And yes, it is a fight to the death.
They choose one boy and one girl from each middle school in the county. There are five public school districts: Philadelphia Schools, Flowertown Schools, Harrisburg Schools, Quakertown Schools, and Pittsburg Schools. All of those districts choose one private school. That makes 20 tributes in all. Of course today, New Years Day, is the day of the reaping.
In the amphitheater were the reaping is held, almost all of the schools' sections are filled. I scan the place for my school's name. Harrisburg Schools The sign reads. I take a seat next to my friend Samantha. She was my age, 15, and about my height.
"Aren't you so nervous?" She asked.
"Not really. I mean, there are at least 10000 students in the Harrisburg Schools. What are the chances?" I answer.
"9999 to 1."
"Exactly."
"But what if I'm that one? Or you are, Misty? What then?"
"Then we go to the Hunger Games."
She sighed like she had heard enough. I couldn't blame her. I was a little bit nervous, but I couldn't let my fear show. Not now.
"Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen." said the lady up on stage. "Welcome to the reaping of the world's first ever Hunger Games! We will pick the names of one boy and one girl from each school to compete in these games. First we will start with Philadelphia."
She went on and on until the Harrisburg Schools' turn.
"First, the girls." she began to reach into the girls' bowl. She pulled out a name. I froze. "Samantha Anderson."
I stopped breathing as Samantha got up from the chair next to me and walked silently down to the stage.
She pulled out a name from the boys' bowl. "Patrick Keller."
Oh no.
Patrick was one of my best guy-friends. Now, he was marked for death.
"Now for the private schools. Harrisburg." She said. She reached her hand inside the girls' bowl and I stopped breathing. The school our district chose was a small school. Everyone knew everyone. I used to go to there. I would know the two people for sure. "Misty Lambert."
The whole Harrisburg section looked at me.
I'm Misty Lambert.
"WAIT!" I called out. "I don't go to there anymore! This is a mistake!"
"Well, your name was in here. I picked your name. I'm sorry, but you're going to the Hunger Games." She said.
I felt the color leave my face. My friends' on stage felt the same. I slowly walked up to the stage. I hugged my friends as I walked to my place in line. Samantha cried and Patrick gave me a look of sorrow and told me good luck. I took my place in line.
The lady reached her hand carefully into the guys' bowl. "Omar Martella."
Now, I was blushing.
I used to have the biggest crush on Omar when I was in 6th grade and he was in 8th. Now I was in 10th, and he was in 12th. Our families were really good friends. Now I have to kill him. Part of me was glad, the other ripped apart.
He came up to the stage to take his place next to me. He came up to me and shook my hand.
"Good luck." He said softly.
"You too." I replied just as soft.
"Next school." The woman said.
The reaping went on and on with unlucky people I didn't know. Finally it was over, and we were taken to the train to say our good-byes to our friends and family. My mom was the first to come up.
"Oh, honey." She said as she hugged me. "It was so unfair. You don't even go to that school anymore."
"It's ok mom. It's better me than anyone else there." It was true. Everyone there was small and weak, no offence. No one from there could survive.
I finally talked her out of making them take me out, and she left crying. My little sister, Lexi, came up next.
As soon as she did, she tackled me with a hug. "You have to win, Misty." She said. "For me."
I felt a little uneasy, but I finally said, "I will. I'll try as hard as I can."
She looked at me with her smoldering eyes. "I can't loose you and dad in one year."
Our dad was murdered this year in a shooting in the collage he worked at. We tried not to talk about it much.
"I'll try as hard as I can, Lexi. I promise."
She gave me one last hug, and cried off to join our mother.
All my friends from my school came up. They all gave me hugs, and I tried to promise I'd win for them. I probably wouldn't. All my friends from my old school came up too, and did the same thing. The rest of the hour was filled with good-byes, tears, and hugs. Most of the good-byes included good-lucks.
The moment finally came when we had to pack up our things, and leave for the outskirts of the smoldering, crowded city of Philadelphia, where the Games were being held. I wasn't sure how, or why, the Games were held here, but I guess we were about to find out.
Apparently, we had to go all over the country to pick up more tributes. They had there own Games first in Philly, then the big Games in Washington D.C.. This is how these Games work, apparently. If you get killed in the first round, you're done. If you win the first round (two people win), you go to the second round; which is between you and 100 other tributes.
After about 3 weeks of being stuck on a train, we finally made it to Philly. The streets were filled at 5 in the morning here, like in New York City. Here, it was just a little more quiet.
I was sitting on the cushioned seat in the train car when a voice behind me said, "Hey, Misty."
I turned around to see Omar standing there. Apparently, we had to share a train car.
"Hey. You, um, want to sit down?" I said uncomfortably.
He shrugged. "That would be nice, sitting in my own car?" He smiled. I had to press a smile, trying to hide a blush.
"Sorry, I'm just… stressed."
He sat down next to me. "That's understandable. You weren't even supposed to come."
"Well, better me than some weak girl from there, right?" We both knew I was one of the tallest 10th graders there is, and that he was one of the shorter 12th graders. Almost all of the girls at my old school were just pressing '5"5. I was pressing '5"8. Omar was just getting to '5"8, he was pretty strong, though. We kind of had an advantage.
"So in ways of surviving," He began. "What's your strategy?"
I looked at him and smiled. "Stay alive."
He frowned. "Well I know that…"
I laughed. "Have you ever read the book, 'The Hunger Games'?"
"You mean the manual or something?"
"No. It's a fiction book by Suzanne Collins."
"No sorry."
"Don't say you're sorry to me. You're the one who's going to be sorry for yourself."
He frowned. "Is there something I'm missing here?"
"A clue." I sighed.
He raised an eyebrow. He didn't get it. He wouldn't so I couldn't really blame him.
I sighed. "These Hunger Games are based on the book. We have to fight to the death. Only one can live. You need to know survival skills. Survival skills that I have studied for years."
He got a look on his face. "You have?"
"Yes."
"Like what?"
"First things first." I began, getting up. "We have to survive our stylists." I smiled and held out my hand. Willingly, he took it.
Omar's hand in mine, I dragged him into the room that says, "Dressing Room". We walk in, and see make up, hair curlers, rags of clothing, and a well-dressed man sapping through scraps of cloth.
"Perfect!" He exclaimed. He took out a silk, wide, black ribbon and hung it around his neck. When he looked up, he saw us in the doorway.
"You must be Misty and Omar." He said. "I'm Lenny, Misty's stylist. Omar, Quinn is waiting for you next door."
"Thank you" Omar said walking out of the room.
"Ok." Lenny said scanning me over. "Oh, yes. I have big plans."
"Ok, so, since the school's mascot is the Panther, I'm guessing I'll be dressed in a panther suit?" I guessed.
"Well, no. You'll see." He said.
I had a bad feeling about this.
Lenny left his prep team up to me. The one woman stripped me of my clothing, and put me in a tub of wax, slowly, but surely, taking all the hair off of my skin. Then, she put a weird eyeglass thing on me and stuffed me in a tanning booth. I was in there for what seemed like days. When she took me out, she put a robe around me and put me in a chair. Three more people came in and started putting make up on me. Two others got to work on my hair. When they were finished, Lenny came back in, rolling something with a tarp on it in. I had a feeling it was the manikin holding my outfit.
The two girls who did my hair told me to close my eyes and hold my arms up. They slipped something soft, long, and flowing over my head and around my body. They told me to keep my eyes closed while I stepped into the flats. When they told me to open my eyes, I was speechless.
My long black hair was straightened and flowing down my back farther than it has before. It flowed below my waist. I checked my scalp to see if I had any extensions in there, and I didn't. The tips of my hair looked like they were dipped in gold. My bangs also looked like they were dipped in gold.
My make up was dark and dramatic. My black eyeliner was thick and sparkled with gold. My mascara also shimmered with gold. My eye shadow was black with gold shimmers. My lips had dark black lipstick with a coat of gold sparkly lip-gloss. When they put me in the tanning booth, they actually made me paler, which I didn't think was possible. This made my make up more dramatic.
Then I saw my dress. It was pitch black. It came to about my knees, and was trimmed with a gold outline. Right below my chest, two silk ribbons, one gold and one black, were intertwining with each other. Two silk straps, again one gold and one black, were making an "x" across my chest. Just above the straps was a gold necklace with a gold panther on it. My black flats shimmered a light gold.
"Lenny…" I began.
"Yes?"
"It's the most amazing dress I have ever seen."
He smiled. "I thought you would like it. Now come on. It's time for the opening ceremonies!"
