One:
When I wake up, the air around me is cold. My sleepy yawn curls up to the ceiling in a white cloud. I turn my head softly to see the bed next to mine empty. Sam was probably already up. Of course he is, especially today. Today is the day of the reaping. I push my feet into my hunting boots and slide on my Father's old hunting jacket. The leather is brown and old and a little too large on me, but it is my most precious possession all the same. The sun has barely peeked up its head as I wander into the kitchen where, as expected, Sam sits drinking black coffee.
"Morning, Sammy." I say cheerfully, hoping to keep things light. Fat chance of that with Sam.
"Dean, how many times is your name in today?" He asked quietly, his eyes flitting over my face looking for the signs of a lie he has learned to read so clearly.
"I'm going hunting." I say dismissively and before he can say another word I slip outside. Sam and I live in District 12, nicknamed the Seam. No one liked living here, hell, no one liked living anywhere in the districts. The only consolation was the electric fence surrounding us. Well, not the fence itself, but that fact that it was always off. Slipping under the coils is easy, same as finding my contraband hunting knife. My Father had taught me to hunt, but he was dead, and out mother had die in a fire long before Sam was capable of memory. It had been him and I forever, but today there was a chance of that changing. I wasn't out here to hunt, not actively anyway. I was going through the motions sure, but my mind was elsewhere. This is why I didn't see the deer until I was almost walking on top of it. My steps scared it off, but I was awake now and made it quickly to the spot on the hill. Lisa was there. I had known Lisa the entire time Sam and I had live in 12, and in the woods with her was the only place I felt safe.
"Hi Dean." She said, looking up from the valley ground. "Look what I shot." She says, holding up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh. It smells divine but I hold back asking how much it cost. Let the moment be nice for once. The silence that stretches as we eat the bread speaks volume. I am the one that finally breaks the silence.
"How many times do you have your name in today?" I ask, swallowing the bite of bread I had been chewing. Lisa hangs her head and looks away.
"Forty-three" she finally says. And I keep quiet because II am not much for words and I have no condolences for her. Reaping day, the pity we have let is used or ourselves.
When I slip back into the district everything is quiet. People are inside washing up in a sobering silence, and Dean make sit home only seeing one dirty kid scamper in front of him. When he opens the door, Sam is tucking in his favorite plaid shirt into newly washed jeans. His unruly long hair is smoothed back behind his ears. I nod my consent then take the steps two at a time to my room. The knife was stashed in the log outside the fence and now the jacket was pushed to the back of the closet. You wouldn't be able to tell I was hunting at all. When I'm dressed he walks downstairs to see Sam looking out the window again.
"Hey," I say quietly, "You okay?" Sammy shakes his head slightly and my breath catches in his chest.
"Hey Listen," I say grabbing his arm so he has to face me, "You only have your name in there once; they're not going to pick you." I say wrapping my arms around him. He's a head taller than me but still fits comfortably in my arms.
"I know." Sam say shakily. "I know."
The shuffling of feet is morbid at most as the entire District gathers in the square. Te Capital has brought out large screens, lights, an cameras to broadcast the reaping to the rest of Panem. A fingerprick later and Sam and I are separated into our age groups. I catch Lisa's eye a few people down the line ad she gives me an encouraging smile. The way of the games had changed only slightly. Rather than a boy and girl tribute it was drawn from a Seniors and a Juniors pot. I was in the Seniors, Sam was still in Juniors. At the front of the stage the Capitols puppy dog Anna was speaking excitingly bout what an honor it was and blah blah blah. This was the same speech of boring lies we heard every year. Finally she giggles and says "Juniors first." My heart catches as I try and find Sam in the sea of faces, Once. Once. I say to myself over and over. Anna reaches her well manicured hand into the glass ball containing the Juniors' names. She fishes around a bit and catches when between her index and middle finger. Her small steps are hurried as she scuttles over o the mic and unrolls the slip. She clears her throat and then the name echos over the square,
"Samuel Winchester."