Reaping Day

It was Reaping Day. This was the 4th time in your life that you had had to wear that faded blue dress that your mother passed down to you, and you hated the sight of yourself in it. Every year that you were safe from being tossed into the arena, you barely took it off with a sigh of relief, knowing that in just a year's time you would have to put it back on and pray that it wasn't your name drawn from the slew of others that surrounded yours. You had been wearing it the previous year when your brother's name was drawn from the mix...and you were going to be wearing it again when someone else you cared about was sentenced to die in the Games; or worse, yourself. Nobody from District 12 ever made it out alive...only three in 74 years. And your brother wasn't one of them.

Your mother appears behind you with a bar of soap and a rag.

"Go wash up," she said, "we need to be in the square by eleven." You say nothing, just rip your gaze from the mirror you had been staring in and take the soap and rag, disappearing to the back room of your house to bathe before the Reaping. At eleven, your mother is by the door and holding it open for you, clearly weighed down with a heavy heart. And for good reason.

"Mom," you say as you walk out the door, "it's gonna be okay. I won't be chosen. I didn't sign up for tesserae this year."

"But you did last year," she answers back. "And the year before that."

"Fine, focus on the negatives," you snap and stomp off, heading for the square. It's wrong for you to talk back at your parents, especially on Reaping Day, but they aren't the ones going in the arena to certain death...

"Jacklyn!" your mother calls, slamming the door shut behind her and running to you. "Jacklyn, please...not today...I don't want our final words to be..." she stopped talking, seeing the pained look in your eyes and instead putting a hand on your shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she offers instead and leans forward, kissing you on the forehead. By the time the two of you make it to the square, there are already hundreds of children lined up to get their fingers pricked for sign-in. You join them without a word to your mother and when you've finished, join the others in front of a stage where Effie Trinket will appear to seal an unlucky person's fate.

It won't be you.

Somewhere in the crowd, you hear screaming. You look to your right and notice a group of young children – they must be 12 and it must be their first year – being held tightly by a man and woman who are mercilessly being pried away by a few peace keepers. Parents are supposed to stay in the back. You are only allowed 5 minutes to say goodbye if you are chosen.

There's a humming and you realize the microphone has been turned on. Your heart tightens inside your chest as memories of your brother's name being chosen flood your mind, and the visions of it almost knock you to your knees. But someone is there to hold you up: Primrose Everdeen. She had been chosen the year before, and her sister had taken her place...she was 13 this year. Her name had gone in again.

"You won't be chosen," she says. You opened your mouth to offer words of condolence as well, but find your mouth is dry from anxiety. She smiles in understanding, halfhearted though it was, and lets go of your arm. "I know," she says. She turns towards the stage as the group of people grow eerily silent and you look over to see that Effie has taken her place at the center of the stage, in front of the microphone where she is soon to announce the name of the man and woman who are to fight to the death in this 75th annual Hunger Games.

The 75th Games are also a Quarter Quell, and President Snow changed the rules this year. The card that depicted how different the Games would be this year was to be read right before the Reaping, to instill more fear than usual into the ones whose names were fair game to be drawn.

"Happy Hunger Games!" echoed through the square and you felt goosebumps form on your skin, all over. You heard this line every year for 15 years, and still it made you shiver at the sound. Even more so this year, since your brother had fallen victim to the words just the year before. He was only 12.

"Before we begin, I would like to play a very special video for you...brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" You looked away from the giant screen, knowing exactly what video was about to play. You listened to the words, explaining in detail about the rebellion of District 13 and why the Hunger Games were necessary for the other Districts to keep themselves in line...and then an end note about the Quarter Quell. This was new compared to the 15 other times you had heard it.

Silence.

"Now, as it is a Quarter Quell, I will read the card that was written 75 years ago!" Effie said delightedly, reaching into her breast pocket and pulling out a silver envelope with the number 75 written on it in fancy script. "Ahem," she cleared her throat and you felt your heart pounding hard in your chest, anxious for the Reaping to just be over with and for you to go home with your mother, thankful for another year with her. And there would be bread from the local bakery, where last year's victor family worked, Peeta Mellark. He won with Katniss Everdeen,his "star-crossed lover"...that was the first year there was ever 2 victors allowed to win. "We will be re-adding the names of the victors this year..." she said lowly, staring at the card in disbelief. And then, as if just remembering she was on camera, she suddenly perked back up and raised the card into the air. "We shall re-add the victors!" she exclaimed, and all eyes shot to either Peeta or Katniss, who was now beside her sister and holding tightly to her hand.

"It won't be you," Primrose said to her as a few cards were thrown into the pool of names. You looked over at Katniss whose expression you could not read, and then looked around her at Peeta whose jaw you could see was tightened, and his fists were clenched tightly at his side. Nobody stood beside him. His family didn't care. I desperately wanted to go and comfort him as Prim had done with me, but girls had to remain on their designated side of the square.

"Now," Effie said, "ladies first!" Your heart began to pound even harder, as if that was possible, and you ooked away from Peeta briefly and back at the stage. You couldn't stop thinking about him as she made her way back to the pool of names, and how you had had a crush on him for years...as long as you ould remember. And you couldn't help but remember how relieved you were that he had become a victor, but how disgusted you felt that it was because he was so "in love" with Katniss Everdeen. Your stomach churned angrily at the thought. Effie pulled the name and it was as if every heart in the room had stopped beating. Everybody was dead...but one of you was certainly going to be soon.

As Effie stopped at the microphone and opened the slip of paper in her hand, you began to look around at everyone, taking them all in and wondering which one of them was about to be chosen. Your name had been in the pool 10 times due to take tesserae – it normally would have only been in 6 times – and you knew for sure it wouldn't be you who had to go to the arena. As you glanced around at everyone, faces turned white and you barely heard Effie say the name of female tribute in the background. You continued to scan the crowd, waiting for someone to step forward and then noticed that everyone was now staring back at you, Katniss and Prim with tears in their eyes and your mother was crying audibly in the background. Your heart sank suddenly. You looked towards the stage.

"Jacklyn? Come on up, dear," Effie said sweetly and Prim squeezed your hand, letting you know it would be okay. But you knew it wouldn't.

A path began to form in front of the stage for you. You swallowed hard and allowed yourself to move forward, taking your place to the right of Effie as she patted your back and introduced you as the female victor in this year's Hunger Games. Your heart was screaming out for your mother who was avoiding your gaze at all costs as you stared into the crowd at her. You looked over to the boy's side and immediately averted your gaze as you noticed Peeta, the boy you were surely in love with, staring at you with a saddened, if not broken-hearted, expression. Was he maybe in love with you too, and sad to see you go? No, that couldn't be it. He was just sad to mentor you and watch you die this year...

"Now, for the men!" Effie said loudly, squeezing your hand as Prim had done, and walking over to the pool of men's names. She dipped her hand in and you barely heard her return to the microphone, jumping as she sighed loudly into it.

"And this year's male tribute from District 12 is..."

But all of the square knew who it was. She didn't sigh like that for no reason. You were going to have to kill the one person you loved. And not "fake" loved, like that Katniss girl. Real, genuine, heart-wrenching to hear his name called, love.

"Peeta Mellark."

End of Chapter 1