Hey there! Welcome to the first chapter of the first FanFiction I have ever written. I absolutely love the Hunger Games! It has become one of my favorite book series ever. I swear I've read each book five times, and they haven't gotten old yet. The world that Suzanne Collins was able to create in her writing is absolute genius. There's never been a more engaging series to me since Harry Potter. Building and elaborating on this amazing novel is so much more easier because of the detail that was included in the original books.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this first chapter. Leave your comments and ideas! I'd be more than happy to take them into account for editing and writing!
I'm out!,
Onkie
The 2nd Hunger games
Waking up to the sound of birds outside your window would usually signal the beginning of a beautiful day, but today is far from beautiful.
Today is the reaping.
It's the one day that is uniformly disliked throughout the districts. Well, mostly disliked. Districts 1, 2, and 4 seemed to gain some interest in it after last year's games. There's even a rumor that they've started training future tributes. That Panem might have their first volunteer.
"A volunteer...", I thought. "Who would ever wish to throw themself into a fight to the death? With the odds against them 23 to 1. Why?"
Maybe I'd never understand these potential volunteers, but that could just be because I'm from a district that had it worst last year in the games. District 9. Both of our tributes were young. Twelve to be exact. Neither of them could bring themselves to harm another tribute, so they were both eliminated in the initial blood bath pretty quickly.
Glancing out my window, I judge that it's about 9 in the morning based on the position of the sun. I slowly drag myself out of bed and look in the mirror. There's no way I'll be able to make myself presentable for the reaping- not that I want to, but it seems to be mandatory.
My long blonde hair is a mess that falls on my face almost hiding my green eyes, but it accents my chiseled pointed face well. Days of working out in the grain fields has given me a nice tan, and the physical labor has toned my body up quite a bit. I'm taller than most 16 year olds, but I don't consider myself a giant.
One would expect me to be loud and arrogant, like most guys that fit my description, but I'm not. I'm actually more of a quiet, reserved guy. I'd prefer to spend my time reading a book (which is a rare occurrence now a days with the Capitol's control on literature) than hang out after my shifts at the fields. Because of my personality, I'm more of a loner where I live. Most of the time I don't mind, but I have to admit, it does get pretty lonely sometimes.
After looking through my meager supply of clothes, I decide on wearing an old button up blue shirt that my father had passed on to me. Supposedly it was made before Panem was even founded. Before civilization came to a screeching halt. He says it was found in one of those old ruins, but I highly doubt it. After throwing on the nicest pair of pants and shoes I own and flipping my hair out of my face, I head out to my families tiny kitchen and living area.
As expected, everyone is deathly silent. My mom and dad seemed frozen in fear, but they have a good reason to be. Last year, my younger brother was reaped. He was one of the ill fated 12 year olds from our district who died the first day. This left me an only child, and the mere threat of having me torn away from my parents was enough to paralyze them in fear.
Without exchanging any greetings, I sit down at the table and glance over what has been set out for breakfast. I don't expect much, so I'm not at all surprised when I see that the only thing left out of the table is a stale piece of bread from a week or two ago. Regardless, I wolf it down. It's not the worst thing I've had to eat in my life. In District 9, you eat whatever you can get, no matter how old it is.
I feel bad that I've left my parents unacknowledged at the other side of the table while they're trapped in their own grief and worry, so I decide to try to make conversation with them.
"So... what should we do after the reaping? We all have the day off, so I thought maybe we could make the best of it."
My mom hardly glances up. Her hair, just the same shade as mine but reaching down to her shoulders, moves just slightly as she nods in what seems like agreement to my statement. I'm not entirely convinced that she really agrees though, because I can see tears start to form in her hazel eyes after my mention of the reaping. Maybe making conversation with them wasn't the smartest idea.
I'm about to give up on the conversation when my father suddenly picks up his head. While I get almost all my looks from my mom, you'd never guess my father was, well, my father. His eyes are a deep shade of brown as is his hair which is cut super short. His face is more of a box shape than my pointed face, but his physique is pretty much the same as mine.
"Braydin-" my father says slowly, almost as if it pains him, "- don't get reaped.."
I'm not sure why he says this seeing as it's not my choice whether I get reaped or not, but I agree to save him and my mother the worry of losing another child to these sick games. After this, my father gives a weak smile and drops his head again muttering something about being at the town square by 1 in the afternoon. Maybe he said something else too, but if he did, I didn't hear it.
Deciding that pushing a conversation with my grief stricken parents isn't going to get me anywhere, I excuse myself from the table and head towards the door. Neither of my parents make a move to acknowledge my departure, but I still hesitate at the door for a few seconds almost expecting them to say something. They don't, so I slip out the door without another word.
I understand why my parents are so upset, but it still bugs me how they act sometimes. I know they lost one of their sons, but I'm still here, and now I feel like I'm growing up without parents. It's hard, but I've still got some one I can lean on here; some one who cares.
I find myself at that someone's house very quickly. I don't know if she was expecting me or not, but either way Lianna, the certain someone I've been talking about, bounds out the door and hugs me. The force of her body colliding against mine almost sends me to the ground, but I manage to keep my balance.
"Braydin!" she shouts, and I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. Her blue eyes sparkle and really offset her jet-black hair. She's about my height, and is considered really tall for a girl our age. She's the kind of girl that guys drool over. Her even skin tone and model like body are the envy of every girl her age, and most girls older than her. I know she doesn't see it, but in everyone else's eyes, she's considered a teenage beauty.
Finally releasing her arms from around my neck and stepping back she says, "I'm so glad you came before the reaping. I needed to get out of that house."
"I know what you mean. I was going to drown in the misery had I not jumped out of my house in time. Besides all that though, do you wanna go get one more training session in before the big event today?"
"I'm hoping it won't be necessary, but lets go." She says this with a distracted and thoughtful look; her eyes pointed at the sky as if there was an answer and escape from this hell somewhere up there.
As she brings her eyes and mind back down to Earth, we start making our way towards the small wooded area surrounding the fields of grain. A few years back, during the rebellion, we found our own secret grove in these woods. It was a place for both of us the escape the chaotic environment that the rebellion cloaked Panem with. Once the Hunger Games were announced, we both came up with a plan; train, train, and train. We wanted to be prepared and able to get back home should Lady Luck decide to turn on us and throw us in these games.
Since we were a poor farming district, we didn't really have any chances to get our hands on anything fancy like bows and arrows right away, but after searching around, we were able to find some old weapons left behind by rebels and fugitives during the rebellion. This gave us the resources to train our archery, swordplay, and throwing knife abilities.
I know this makes us sound no better than those tributes that are training in the wealthier districts, but there's a difference between us and them. They train to volunteer for the fame and fortune, we train to save our own skins.
Once we arrive at the grove, we both decide to start with a mock sword fight. These are always brutal. The swords we have have long since been dulled down to the point where they couldn't kill a fly, but they still left painful nicks and bruises.
We both pick up the medium length steel swords and face each other, neither of us making a move. Suddenly, she rushes, and swings her sword quickly at my sword arm, but I dodge and knock her blade out of the way. I follow up with a quick slash from shoulder to hip, but she dodges out of the way easily. We've been sparring and training for almost two years now, so we've ended up getting pretty good.
We continue sparing for a good 15 minutes before she finally finds a way to get through my defence. I got in for a quick stab to her shoulder after knocking her off balance, but it quickly becomes apparent to me that she faked her stumble to bait me into lowering my guard. Sneaky and risky move, but it works. She flicks her blade up just in time to block my blow and then does a complete 360, smashing her blade into my gut and throwing me back. I fall on my back and realize how dead I would be had this of been actual combat, but it's not and I'm able to escape this fight with just some bruises.
"Hah! I got you! Shouldn't be so careless!" she yells and smirks at me.
Naturally I'm not going to let this go by unnoticed, so I leap forward and tackle her to the ground. She screams and laughs as I pin her down. Once I manage to pin her down, something strange happens. She looks into my eyes like she never has before and suddenly starts getting sad. This sudden change of mood is alarming, so I roll off her and lay next to her and just stare up at the tree canopies.
"Braydin.. I'm scared." She whispers just loud enough for me to hear. "I'll got a bad feeling about today. A really bad feeling."
This leaves me kind of dumbstruck. She's worried? That out of all the kids in our district that one of us will get picked?
Without looking at her I say, "Well, don't be. We're Lianna and Braydin, the two best friends this district has ever seen. I'm sure no one would want to see us split up. Someone would volunteer if one of us were picked." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how stupid and naive I sound. Did I really just suggest that someone would abandon their family and friends just so two teenagers wouldn't have to be split apart? So that two strangers wouldn't have to watch the other die in the Hunger Games?
In the silence that comes after my statement, I can tell she doesn't believe a word I just said, but that she won't say anything to try to make me feel as if I'm helping her. Normally this kind of cover up would upset me, but I know better than to push Lianna when she's in this kind of mood. Instead, I just lay there next to her and try to forget the horrors this next few days will bring.
The town square is full and noisy; filled with tears of fear and those few awful people already starting to place bets on who will be sent to their death. In my opinion, this is the one of the worst parts of the this disgusting "holiday." These filthy rich people in the Capitol get to watch us and squeal in delight as they revel at the sight of us huddling in our age based groups in clothes they wouldn't even dare wipe their bathroom floor with.
I walk up to the attendance booth and have my name checked off by one of the many peacekeepers the Capitol has sent in to oversee this reaping. These "keepers of the peace" didn't seem the slightest bit interested in being here, but yet again, they never seemed interested in doing anything.
After checking in I make my way over to the 16 year old boy's section. I walk towards the back and just stand there waiting for this thing to start. I try to find Lianna in the crowd, but I don't catch a glimpse of her. I stand by myself in the crowd and no one seems to take notice of me, but that's just as I expected. I decide to just stand around and listen to see what's been going around in the district. I hear boys my age talking loud, very loud. Things fly from their mouths like;
"She couldn't keep her legs closed to save her life!"
"I hope that idiot gets picked for the games. One less dumbass to worry about."
"You see what he did! We lost the game because of him! He better wait till we have our rematch.."
After listening in for a few minutes I quickly get bored. Everyone my age here seems to be preoccupied were sex and reputation, which is pretty stupid when they should be worrying about our totalitarian government and starving to death.
"You think the rumors are true?" I hear this whispered from a short kid standing a few rows in front of me. I'm not sure who he's talking to, but he's obviously not doing too good of a job at being quiet. I'm about to tune him out when I hear, "District 13- new rebellion-" but that's all I could make out. New rebellion? One was just lost. District 13? That was blown off the map. This kid must of fallen into drugs; Lots of guys my age do, and it messes with them.
"Welcome, District 9." Our mayor says into the microphone. Immediately everyone in the crowd is silenced. This is the time everyone has dreaded the most. The reaping has begun.
"To start off today's festivities, I will read the Treaty of Treason, as is the tradition every year, to remind the district of its crimes and punishments for its unprovoked rebellion."
This seems to be everyone's cue to zone out or quietly continue previous conversations. Everyone knows this treaty is complete crap. It's just a way to remind all of us that we don't stand a chance against the tyranny that is the Capitol.
The mayor finishes his long drawn out speech and looks around nervously as if he doesn't know what to do. Finally he seems to pull his head together and announces our escort.
"Please give a warm welcome to this year's escort, Bredee Braidaisia."
At the mention of her name, an eccentric looking woman jumps out of her chair and makes her way over to the microphone in her ridiculously tall heels. This woman completely embodies the lifestyle of excess that the people of the Capitol live. Her long neon green hair falls down to her ankles and has many different color ribbons and chains braided in it. Her skin is dyed a vibrant red and her eyes are multitudes of different color. The amount of clothing this woman wears is laughable at best. She wears a strappy short dress that looks like it's meant to show off every alteration this woman has ever had or will have.
"Welcome, welcome, District 9! Today, we start the wonderful event known as, the Hunger Games!" she chirps and giggles right after she says this.
"This girl is a complete idiot.." I sigh under my breath.
"Today, we get to pick one oh so lucky girl and boy tribute! Isn't that exciting?" She exclaims.
If silence could kill, this woman would of dropped dead right there and then. That last comment was way over the line.
"Well, why don't we start with the ladies?" She says. She gives a slight little curtsey to emphasize her choice of picky a girl tribute first and walks over to the bowl. She swirls her hand over top and makes faces at the crowd. To her, these antics must be thrilling, but to us, they're just straight up aggravating. Finally, her hand makes a dive into the bowl. She slowly withdraws her hand and is holding a single slip of paper. That one single slip that sentences a child to death.
"Quinoa Jossan! Would you care to join me up here, sweets?"
This woman is an idiot. Asking if this girl wants to go up there? Had it actually been a choice, the question wouldn't of even needed to be asked.
I look over and I see a girl walk out of the 17 year old's area. She holds her head up high and squares her shoulders and walks to the stage with every bit of confidence she can muster, and there's a whole lot of confidence in the girl. She steps up on stage and glares out at the crowd. Her gray eyes daring anyone to take pity on her. Her brown hair tied up in a bun makes her seem even more ferocious. She's average height, but she's got muscle.
It's right then and there that I make up my mind. This girl is dangerous.
"Oh, yay! A determined one! Would you care to tell us your name?" Bredee says.
"I'm pretty sure your crazy colored lips made sure eveyone knew my name." Quinoa says this with a smirk and doesn't even bother to look at Bredee's shocked face.
"W-well let us continue the reaping." Bredee says uncomfortably and shuffles away from Quinoa.
Damn that girl has an attitude.
Bredee slowly makes her way over the the guy tribute's bowl and repeats the whole annoying process of putting us all in suspense. This time though, Quinoa gets fed up. She turns to face the escort, clears here throat and shoots her a loom the clearly says, "Get on with it." At this, Bredee hurridly shoves her hand into the bowl and pulls of a slip.
"Braydin Vanderhue!"
What? What did that woman just say? Di- did she just say my name?
"Braydin Vanderhue?" She coos again as if she was making sure she said it right.
Slowly I start to walk out to the aisle and make my way to the stage, but the second I step out my eyes meet Lianna's. She's on the verge of tears and her sky blue eyes are filled with pain. Without warning she bolts towards me. She crashes into me but she keeps her composure and just holds onto me.
The moment is broken up quickly by the peacekeepers though. The forceably pull her off me and I watch as she's pulled away towards the back of the crowd. I give her one last reassuring smile and turn once again to face the stage.
Let the games begin.
