1-District 11 Reaping
I wake up in District 11. My home. The place where orchards bloom and flowers blossom. However, it is also the place where children are murdered and families are starved because of their ancestor's actions. I prop myself on an elbow and look around. For a moment, I'm baffled why it is so quiet. Saturday mornings just mean more work here. I'm the climber;the nimblest girl to climb to the top of the peach trees and harvest them. Then I realize- it's Reaping day.
I glance around the hut. My little sister, Aster, and my older brother, Weston, are still alseep, as is my mother. My father was killed three years ago in the orchards. We were starving. I was nine. Aster was seven. Weston was eleven. My father tried to smuggle some food back home. He was caught by peacekeepers and was shot. We didn't even have the chance to say goodbye.
Since then, it has gotten easier. After his death, friends spared some friut for us and we managed to get by. Then, Weston entered the reaping and we got some tesserae. This year, Weston is fourteen and is going in seventeen times. I am twelve. I am going in fifteen times.
I decide to enjoy the peace and quiet. I take the quilt off of my scratchy straw mattress and fold it up.
Before I leave for the meadow for my picnic, I eye myself in the mirror. The regulation navy jumper is too baggy. Even though I have enough to eat, I'm just skin and bones. My frizzy black hair is wild and frames my shy, cocoa colored face. I grin and head out. I look all right. Just as long as I don't run into Kail Coarse. He's in my year at school and we never talk. I just pray he doesn't know I like him.
I arrive at the meadow and spread my quilt across the soft grass. I break the bread and split the peach. I squeeze it so the sticky juice streams across the brown surface of the loaf. When the peach is withered and dry I take a bite of the bread. It's delicious, as always. We always have peach juice bread on Reaping day. It used to be my father's favorite. We used to eat it as a family. My dad would take the first bite, my mother the second, Weston, the third, me the fourth, and Aster the fifth. Those were my sweet family memories.
Of course, when my father was killed, these traditions became too painful to continiue. So on Reaping Day, we take our loaf to our own little corner of District Eleven.
After time, the luxurious feeling of happiness and warmth fades. I lie down. I begin to feel fright at my name being called out of the Reaping ball. I imagine our escort,Neeshalla Petrindi, calling my name. But in her foolish Capitol accent, my name won't sound like Deutzia Ire, it'll sound like Dute- zay-ha Ay-r. I envision training in the Capitol with my mentor, who would be Dimaona Whells. I envision my interview with Caeser Flickerman. And lastly, I envision my death, a Career smashing my face with a club. Slitting my throat with a dagger. Shooting me with a bow'n arrow.
I sit up straight, gasping. Calm down, Deutzia, I tell myself. You're not going to be picked.
I take one last deep breath and pack up my things. Reaping's at two and it's eleven now. My mother would want to dress me up and I want to meet with my best friend, Layma. So I make my way to our hut.
An hour later, my mother has put Weston in a clean dress coat and corduroy pants. Aster is looking precious in a pristine white dress. And my mother has got me to look pretty for once. She calmed my messy hair and dressed me in a light green skirt and a pleated blouse. And we still have an hour and a half before we should arrive at the town square. I decide to just meet Layma later and I curl up under the quilt, stained with peach juice.
The next thing I know, Weston is rousing me. He says it's time to go to the Reaping. I follow him in a daze and after getting my blood taken, I join Layma in the twelve year old group.
"I'm sorry I didn't meet you before Reaping," I confess.
Her eyes widen. "Really? I actually didn't go, Deutzia. I was too wrapped up in..." her voice trails off.
She doesn't have to say it, but I know what she was wrapped up in. She was imagining getting reaped. Her name is in the ball seventeen times, two more than me. Her family's poor too, but I guess poorer than us. We only have four mouths to feed. Layma's family has her mother and father, and her younger siblings, Morlena, Heylin, and Sorline. Including Layma, that's six mouths. Plus, Layma's the eldest and she's the only one eledgable for tesserea. I would give her food if we had any to give.
Neeshalla Petrindi waddles up on stage,and she is dressed in a leather neon pink tunic with stripes of tiger fur on her limbs. As if that could hide the ridiculous layer of fat covering her torso. I feel anger, white hot, at the Capitol. How could they sit by, growing rims of jelly around their body, while the rest of Panem starves to death? Can they not see the deprived bodies of children waiting for their death right in front of their eyes?
Her earrings, feathers the size of her head, sway violently as she toddles to the center of the stage with foot long high heels. She calls out," Quiet please!" and the district immediatly quiets.
"I am pleased to be here in Disrtict 11," She lies. Everyone can tell she's not. "As a reminder of the Dark Days, the annual Hunger Games are held!" She's holding a plastic black rectangle, and she presses a button. The projector lights up and plays a movie that tells the story of Panem. I tune out. I've seen this a million times.
As the video flicks off, my stomach turns over. The girl Reaping's next. Calm, Deutzia, I remind myself. You're not going to get picked! As if that could mask my fear.
Neeshalla slowly walks to the girl's reaping ball. "Girls first!" She trills. Her pudgy fingers scrape a slip of paper out of the ball and I feel like I might faint. Layma's expression mirrors mine.
"Dute- zay-ha Ay-r!"
I freeze. "No," I mutter. "No. No!" My worst nightmare. I remembered dreaming in the meadow. That seemed a lifetime ago. What I had envisioned was my destiny.
"Dute- zay-ha Ay-r?'
Layma gently pats me on the back. Tears are stuck in her lashes. I stumble forward and run to the stage. I want to get this over with.
"Why, hello!" Neeshalla simpers. As if she won't enjoy watching me die. "You are Dute- zay- ha Ay-r?"
Hearing her say my name is agony. I shake my head. "Deutzia Ire." She titters. What's so funny? She toddles over to the boy's ball. I catch Weston's eye. He looks tormented, beaten down. I can't stand that look on his face any longer. I switch my gaze to Layma. She's crying freely, but silently, tears streaming down her face. I hold her gaze, and she mouths,"I'm so sorry." A tear pricks my eyelid, but I force it back. I look at my mother. Her eyes are vague, and I can feel she's going to faint any moment. She looks at me directly in the eyes, and sends me a message with her heart.
I love you.
Then she faints.
I glance at Aster. Aster, my precious sister who has withstood so much. Aster, who kisses my cheek each night. Aster, who I know will miss me.
And I'll never see her again. She'll never kiss me good night again. She'll never hug me until I can't breathe again. She'll never tell me she loves me.
Ever again.
I wrench my gaze away from her pleading brown eyes and watch the boys Reaping.
Neeshalla claws a piece of paper in her jewel encrusted hand. She unfolds it and reads aloud,"Kail Coarse."
Kail Coarse. No, no, no. He's mine! I want to die knowing that he has never loved anyone else. But now, I'm going to have to kill him.
And I don't think I'll exactly get his father's approval.
Kail has only taken one step before a boy standing in the fifteen year old section runs into the isle. "I volenteer as tribute," he declares in a deep, solumn voice.
This boy is the same build as Kail. Same chocolaty brown skin and piercing black eyes. Same shaggy black hair. He has to be his brother.
Kail gratefully takes his place back in the section he came from. His brother ruffles his hair, then walks to the stage. Neeshalla swoops in with a microphine, asking, "Who are you?"
"I'm Emerege Coarse, Kail's brother."
"Of course! You don't want him to have all the glory!"
Uh, glory? No, Neeshalla has everything wrong. This is not about glory, or riches, or fame. It's about love. Taking someone's place, giving up your life to give your brother one more year. One more year he has to battle starvation and Reapings. It's because of their blood and their bond.
But Neeshalla wouldn't understand. You only unsterstand if you've ever loved. Like Emerege. Would I have done that with Aster? Would Layma have done it for Morlena and Sorline? I shake my head, clearing it of the signs that hint at no.
"The two tributes shake hands, please!" announces Neeshalla. I timidly step forward and slide my hand inside Emerege's large, warm one. I'm scared to look up.
After the Reaping, we are ushered into the Justice Building. The room I'm in has so much riches I can't believe I'm actually here. Leather loveseats. Silk pillowcases. Diamond lamps. I inspect the pattern on a velvet armchair and a door opens.
In flies Aster, Weston, and my mother, who must feel well again. Aster wraps her fragile arms around me and refuses to let go. I gently pull her off and we all crowd together on the loveseat. Aster's crying, my mother's crying, I'm crying. Even Weston's letting a couple tears slip out from under his lashes. We're just hugging each other and telling each other how much we love them. I take a deep breath, just like this morning in the meadow, and pull myself together. Then I talk. I tell them about where my few belongings should go once I'm gone and who should take my job. Weston and my mother should protect Aster with their life and take minimal amounts of tesserae. That last instruction was for my mother's sake. If two of her kids were killed in the Hunger Games, she might not be able to carry on. Then the goodbyes. Weston and Aster hug be fiercly and I kiss them on the nose, right where our father used to kiss our mother. Aster and Weston depart and I'm left wrapped around my mother. Then, she lets go. I cling on for a moment, then I let go too.
"You can win, Deutzia. Your family has faith in you, and you are strong and confident and beautiful. If... you... do-don't make it out of there..." My mother breaks down at this part and I squeeze her tightly. She looks up, determined to finish this sentance. "Just know that your family loves you." A Peacekeeper enters the room and ushers her away. She doesn't resist, she just gives me a small wooden box. Then she's gone and I'll never see her again. I'll never hear her laugh again. I'll never feel her warm embrace again. I'm about to start sobbing, but the door creaks open again.
Layma shyly walks in. She's alone. I had expected maybe her whole family, but I prefer it this way. We don't say anything. We just fly into each other's arms. We stay like that for a while, and then she breaks it off and stares into my eyes with a strange intensity.
"Deutzia, you can win," she tells me. It's not a question, it's a fact. According to her.
I shake my head. "Layma, you know I can't."
"Yes, you can. What's your stregnth?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I'm fast, I guess, and I can climb trees."
She claps her hands together. "There! Run from the bloodbath, hide in a tree, and just stay there 'til everyone else dies!" She grins, a lighthearted grin like before. Before her best friend was chosen to be slaughtered by other children.
"One more minute," the Peacekeeper calls from the doorway.
I hug her with all my might. "Friends?" she whispers in my ear.
"Forever," I reply into her soft brown hair. Then she's gone.
I sit in the armchair, playing with the hem of my skirt. All of my visitors are gone. I jump when the door creaks open.
In walks Kail. I brush some of my scraggly hair out of my eyes. Standing up, I say in what I think is a neutral tone,"Hey, Kail."
"Hey," he answers in a low voice. He sits down on the loveseat and I sit next to him. My heart rate speeds up, wondering if he'll say what I would to him.
"Listen, Deutzia,"he continues."My brother's going to the arena, too. Emerege. I know that only one person can escape alive, but I'm here to ask for a favor."
I hold his gaze, serious.
"So can you please not be the one to kill him?"
My heart sinks. I feel so dissapointed and like a fool. But for Kail's sake I nod. "Of course, Kail."
"Thanks," he says, his voice rough. As the same Peacekeeper tells us one more minute, I look into his intense black eyes. His eyes tell the story his mouth will never get the Peacekeeper ushers him out, he has the same look in his eyes like my mother's after I was reaped. Not vague.
Loving.