Author's note: This is my first attempt at writing fanfic, constructive feedback appreciated. There will be a lot of similarities with the book, especially near the beginning, but it will hopefully be original enough to keep it entertaining. Also I do not have a Beta so if you are interested please PM me.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, just playing around with it for a while.
Story note: For the purposes of this story I am changing the rules for tributes a bit - blood relatives are allowed to volunteer for each other regardless of gender. Also the boys are picked first. Can you see where this is headed?
"Carter Mason"
Effie Trinket's voice carries across the crowd gathered for the reaping, heads turning towards the back where Carter is standing among the other thirteen year-olds from District 12. My head does not turn to look back at him, it takes only a moment for me to process the information before I am scurrying out of my section, dodging a Peacekeeper as I all but scream, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"
People turn their heads back towards the front as the Peacekeeper who was at first trying to keep me behind the ropes is now escorting me towards the stage.
"Wonderful!" Effie Trinket exclaims. "As this is the male tribute slot, you may only volunteer if you are a blood relative. Judging by the resemblance I take it that you are his older sister?"
She glances towards Carter as she says this and I follow her gaze, watching as two Peacekeepers restrain Carter as he screams for me. When he sees me turn towards him he quiets down a bit and once he sees the look I shoot him he stops struggling and slumps down in resignation. He knows that there is nothing he can do to stop what is happening. Looking back towards Effie I nod and walk onto the stage where Effie asks me to introduce myself.
"My name is Johanna Mason."
"Well let's hear it for Johanna Mason everybody."
What follows is in an uncomfortable silence as Effie looks expectantly at the crowd and the people of District 12 simply stand and stare back at her. I search the crowd for my mother's face as Effie abandons her quest for applause and moves towards the bowl to pick another tribute. I am not paying attention as the name is called however I do notice the upset murmur that goes through the crowd in reaction and before I can collect my thoughts a girl from the section of sixteens is pushing forward to volunteer as well.
"Katniss Everdeen," she says in a small voice when Effie asks her name.
"My goodness ladies and gentleman! What a treat we have here today," Effie Trinket says, clapping her hands together in excitement. "For the first time ever, District 12 has two volunteers! Let's give them a big hand!"
I have to admire Effie's perseverance in trying to get the crowd to applaud despite their refusal to do so earlier. Again the crowd stays still, however before Effie can decide to move on a voice cuts through the silence. Haymitch, the sole surviving victor from District 12, drunkenly stumbles towards me and Katniss as he speaks.
"These two have some real spirit...I like them."
He lurches towards us and we both take a step backwards, allowing him to pass between us and then fall right off the stage. As I look back at the crowd I realize that while I was distracted by Haymitch almost everyone in the crowd has started giving me and Katniss an old District 12 salute. Something within me stirs and I return it, bringing the three middle fingers of my left hand to my mouth before holding it out to the crowd - locking gazes with my brother and then my mother, who I have finally found in the crowd. I see Katniss do the same beside me and I wonder what exactly the odds were of this happening. It feels like it should be damn near impossible.
The rest of the proceedings are a blur and the time I have with my family afterwards is too short. It seems as though I barely have time to blink before I am sitting in my compartment on the train, fiddling with the wooden bracelet my brother pressed into my hand as the Peacekeeper was ordering them out. It was a bracelet I had made when my father first taught me to carve and I had given it to him as a gift. He wore it every day until he died and once my brother found it among his things he slipped it over his own wrist and had not taken it off since. Not until today. A part of me wonders if the bracelet is cursed, if it had caused my father to die in the accident and my brother to be reaped despite him only being in the bowl two times. I wonder if I will die wearing this bracelet as my father did. Better me than Carter, I think.
I decide to change into a pair of dark brown pants and a simple blue shirt - both are made of material that is far finer than anything I have ever owned, including the reaping dress I have just taken off. I head out of my compartment and towards the table where the others are already sitting and take the empty seat across from Katniss. The other girl has also abandoned her dress and donned some plain trousers and a dark green shirt. As I look Katniss over I realize that she is doing the same to me, and as our eyes meet I give her a nod of acknowledgement. Katniss' lips twitch into an almost imperceptible grin as she returns the nod then turns her attention back to her plate.
I am a year older than Katniss and have never really talked to her, but I would frequently run into her while hunting in the forest and while trading at the Hob. Whenever we crossed paths in the forest we would nod at one another in acknowledgment - at first it was simply to signal that we were aware of the other's presence and would be mindful of that when shooting arrows or throwing blades, however at some point it evolved into an almost friendly greeting. We would nod and sometimes even smile when we saw each other in the forest, and soon that nod was standard any time we saw each other, even within the boundaries of the district. It was a simple gesture however in that moment it is oddly comforting because it feels like we have an understanding, that at the very least we will try not to kill each other as we go about hunting in the arena - being mindful of our arrows and knives. Well unless we are the last two.
It is hard for me to think about having to kill Katniss if it comes down to the two of us, and I wish I had never nodded at the girl the first time we saw each other in the forest. Certainly I wish I had never smiled in her direction. However even without our nodding and smiling relationship I feel a connection with Katniss considering the circumstances that led to us both sitting in this train. Young children being reaped is not a new occurrence, nor is it especially rare for the children being reaped to have older siblings. However for as far back as I can remember, never once has anyone volunteered for a younger sibling. For me it was unthinkable to do anything other than protect Carter, even if that meant dying in his place. I respect Katniss tremendously for doing the same for her little sister - she is a kindred spirit.
"Johanna, so glad you could join us," Effie's voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I force a small smile before shifting my focus to the food. There is so much of it and it all looks so rich that my stomach aches just looking at it. However looking is not enough and soon my plate is piled high and I am doing my best to keep myself from shoveling the food into my mouth.
We all eat in silence until Effie interrupts to make a comment about last year's tributes and their table manners. Katniss immediately starts eating with her hands and I have to hold in a smirk as I watch Effie's face. I understand where Katniss is coming from, just like last years tributes we both grew up in the Seam where everyone seems to live in a perpetual state of hunger. Luckily my father had taught me to throw knives before he passed away and I could use that to hunt food for my family, and Katniss had her bow to do the same - I can imagine that Katniss, like me, still did not eat much but at least we were not starving. There was probably more food on this table than last year's tributes saw in a month - it is not surprising that table manners were far from their minds and for Effie to make such a comment really was in bad taste.
As we sit down after dinner to watch the reapings from the other districts my mind wanders - I do not want to see the tributes in their homes, to humanize them in any way. There may be some advantage to sizing up my opponents in their most vulnerable moments, Katniss is staring at the screen in concentration, however I figure there will be time later to figure them out. Soon it is over and we are all moving back to our own compartments to sleep. I strip off my clothes, used to sleeping without a stitch, and fall into bed. In the safety of my blankets the tears silently begin to spill from my eyes as I finally give in to the emotions I have been holding at bay all day.
