Rue's Story

Chapter 1

When I wake up in the morning I feel as I always do. Refreshed, recharged, and ready-to start the new day. I feel no troubles, and none of the plagues of the world can reach me in these few blissful moments of being absolutely care free.

Quickly, that sensation fades, leaving me with pure dread and anxiety. Today is the Reaping-my first Reaping. Having only turned twelve two months ago I am not accustomed to this feeling, and I didn't know to expect it, though unfortunately that does not stop it from appearing.

Though, unlike many others, I don't fear for myself. I fear for my five siblings, who are too young to be reaped, but will suffer dearly if I am. I slip them as much food as I can-keeping only what I have deemed absolutely necessary to my survival-but even so there are nights when I hear them crying from their gnawing hunger. They are the things that keep me going. If I didn't have them as inspiration I don't know how I could go on living in this horrible place the Capitol has the audacity to call a country.

When I rise out of my bed it's still dark as night outside, the moon providing the only light in our small space. The four girls, Prine who's nine years old, Marope, who's only seven, Pleione who's just barely three, and I all share a small room. They are easy to room with, and I move so silently that I never wake them. Pleione was a problem when she was a baby, only because she cried so much at night, but now she shares a bed comfortably with Marope.

Prine and I have had our own beds for some time now, and the boys-Flux, Prine's twin, and Magnus who's five, each have their own beds in a makeshift bedroom formed from an overly large coat closet, just large enough to house two.

It's a tight fit, all eight of us-Ma and Pa and six kids-but we don't really crave space. What we need is food. Nice, hearty substantial food that will fill our bellies and keep us up on nutrients. This is nearly impossible to come by in District 11, unless you know where to look.

Fortunately, I know where such food hides, and though there isn't much, combined with the food my parents provide for us, we get by. This is why I rise half an hour before the crack of dawn each day, simply by my body's internal timer. I have time to wake up fully and prepare myself for gathering near the District fences. The Peace Keepers patrol the fences heavily, with watchtowers placed at all distances along it, but we are allowed to gather any food that grows in the plains and meadows reaching up to it.

This is where I've found our sustenance. There are very few people in 11 with the knowledge of the land that I have. It was passed down to me through careful-unauthorized-observation. I have the uncanny ability to move soundlessly through the trees and grasses, which is extremely useful when spying. I've quickly picked up on each person's own tricks to finding food in the meadows, plains, and fields, along the fence. By combining each person's individual food gathering style I've armed myself with an arsenal of close to three hundred types of useful plants. Valued either for food or medicinal purposes.

Today, as I slip out our homes front door, I'm out to find food. Today-being Reaping day-the citizens are meant to celebrate. What, I don't know-perhaps the fact that their child may live to see another year. I shudder at the thought of trying to be happy-or even relieved-on a day like today, because someone, somewhere in 11, will be mourning over a child, who is not yet lost. It's a horrible tradition.

Nevertheless, we must eat tonight, even if it's nothing special. I make my way along the fence, enjoying the cool air of the morning. As I gather roots, leaves, and berries, I watch the sun rise and it's yellow rays of warmth make me feel like singing.

I sing my favorite melody to a nearby Mockingjay, and watch it repeat my tune. It's a simple song that I repeat as I work, quickly gathering tonight's meal.

There are more people than usual out gathering this morning, because today is Reaping day, and no one must tend to the crops. It's senseless to give us the day off, only to force us into much worse labor tomorrow to make up for lost time. The cycle continues throughout the games, time off, working harder, time off, working later, until sometime after the games the work schedule resets itself-back to normal.

I whistle and sing, loving the way my songs, and the Mockingjay's melodies affect the mood of the morning. On a day like today each and every person in District 11 should be touched by something as beautiful and powerful as music.

I make my way back to our house a little after daybreak, though I pause at the door, hearing words. My parents are up, arguing with one another, and, though I don't usually eavesdrop I can't help myself today.

"Caldwell! You know there is nothing we can do. Saying such things will only bring trouble down on us."

"She's in that blasted glass bowl eight times, Euina! She may leave us…" My father's voice breaks on the word 'leave'. We all know he means 'die'.

"You mustn't think that way. We both know the odds are still utterly in her favor even with the tesserae. Eight isn't that many in the long run. There are older girls who have many more than she does."

"But she's only twelve now Euina! Think about next year when she'll have eighteen names in there, at only thirteen. Heaven knows she won't allow Prine or Flux to take any tesserae when they're of age." Of course I wouldn't who did they think I was? I could never…

"I know," My mother finally breaks down in tears. "I know." It nearly breaks my heart to hear her weep for me, though I'm still here in 11 with them.

"You know she's not even scared," That's a lie. "I look at her and I still see Rue. My little girl, who never gives up or loses hope; I wish I knew how she does it."

"I see it too." My mother says quietly. "In her eyes, there's a liveliness, that you just can't strip from her, as hard as the Capitol may try. It's her music." My mother says, right on point.

My music and my family, that's what I live for.

I wait for a few minutes, allowing them time to compose themselves before I 'return' with our food. I feel a little guilty for spying on them, but I appease myself in knowing that they will never find out.

"Morning Ma," I say, coming in the kitchen and setting the basket of roots and greens on the counter.

"Morning dear," She says pressing a kiss on my forehead.

"Good morning my star power!" My father calls from the table, using an old nickname of his for me.

"Morning Pa." I say with a smile, and a roll of my eyes.

"You find anything good out there?" He asks with a wink.

"Some ripe berries that we don't get much. The red one's-I think they're called 'raspberries'." I say with a shrug, testing out the name.

One of the many downfalls of spying, you get more images of plants than of their names.

"Sounds good." He says with a smile.

I know that I must be ready in the town square by 11 o'clock, so I slink into my room.

I sit on my bed for a moment, just preparing for what's in store for me today. Not worried about me, but the other children-my friends-the one's I know in school. It will be so terrible to watch them die before me on screen.

I lose myself in my thoughts for some time, and I don't notice when Prine awakens, until she sits softly beside me.

"Are you scared?" She asks me gently.

"Yes, one way or another some poor child is going to lose their life for sport. We both know it. No District 11 tribute ever wins." I know I must sound as though I feel I'm doomed, though this fear is not for me at all.

"Don't say that. What about Seeder? Or Chaff?" She coaxes me.

"They're the exceptions." I allow. Our mentors really did try, I believe, to get our tribute home-at least one of them-though they fail almost every year.

"Yeah," She says with a wispy sigh. A silent tear slides down her cheek. I brush it away quickly.

"Don't cry. Please," I say pleadingly.

"I have to, what if something… happens to you." Again with my family members worrying about me dying.

"I will be fine. You want to know something?" I ask trying to staunch her silent stream of tears. She nods, not trusting her voice. "I'm not afraid to die." I tell her truthfully. "I would be watched over by Mamaw and Pappy. I'm most afraid of what would happen to you all if I died." I say speaking bluntly on the subject.

"I would keep us fed." She promises me.

"Of course you would." I say with a smile, Prine knows almost as much as I do about gathering and plants.

"Are you really not afraid?" She asks her voice wavering with tears.

"No, I really am not." I say one hundred percent sure.

"Why?" Her voice is barely a whisper.

"I don't know." I tell her. "I guess I just believe that after all the pain we suffer here there has to be some place else. Some place better."

"Some place with food for everyone, and lots of love." She adds words to what I see in my head.

"Some place full of music and joy." I nod along with her, thinking of the lyrics to an old song. "So, if something ever happens to me, you picture me there. In that place full of love, music, food," I smile at the goofiness of that one, "and joy. Ok?"

She nods silently, and rises from the bed. Her head only comes up to my chin and she has shoulder length dark hair just like mine. Though her eyes, unlike mine are a hazel color, instead of brown. She's beautiful. I smile, proud that she's my sister.

She goes into the bathroom to get ready for the day. I wait for her to finish and follow suit.


"Rue!" Prine and Pleione pound on the bathroom door together four and a half hours later. "It's almost ten thirty, we have to go."

I know she's right, and I am ready to go, but I have to finish this last note. The note to Prine, should the unthinkable happen. I want to write down all my thoughts and love and wants for each person in my family, so that if I do become a tribute they will always have a part of me and my undying love for them.

"One more minute."

I scrawl the last few lines.

Sweet, beautiful, young Prine, I love you so much, and I hope that you should always remember me. Don't forget that I love you. I love you so much more than my own life. I would die a hundred thousand times if it would keep you safe.

Please remember my singing, my songs, and my melodies. Keep me alive through them. When you think of me, picture me in that place, full of love, joy, food, and music. Remember me as I always was being your sister: happy.

Your sister,

Rue

I end the final note, and place it securely in the wooden box at my feet. I close the box tightly.

I leave the bathroom and go straight to my mother.

"This," I say gesturing to the box. "Is for if you need a piece of me." She nods in understanding. I trust her to not open this box until after I have been reaped, should the need come.

We all file onto the streets and I make my way to the section of check in for the twelve year old's. I step up and they prick my finger, drawing and documenting something with it on their fancy machines and papers.

I'm herded into a roped off section of space just for the twelve year old girls. A few kids from my school are near me, but none of us speak.

When Topazma Darkmin, the District 11 escort takes the microphone from the mayor the crowd falls silent. We all know what's coming and no one likes it. At this moment my heart should be pounding and my palms should be sweaty, but they're not. I simply want to know whose name she holds in her hands.

"Rue Olgilby!" She reads in a clear voice that rings out with finality.

Five seconds, I command myself; you get five seconds to digest this.

One… I'm going to the Hunger Games.

Two… I'm so glad I wrote those notes.

Three… What is my family going to do?

Four… How do I tell them goodbye?

Five… Take a deep breath, and just get on the stage.

My thoughts don't show a resounding sense of fear. The only thing I feel is carefully balanced acceptance-at my impending death-and fight-to show everyone that, though I'm only twelve, I can still stay alive-until someone kills me.

I walk with purpose through the crowd, and I now register the cries of discontent that usually accompany a twelve-year-old tribute. My sisters Prine, Marope, and Pleione are crying hysterically with my mother. My father looks enraged, and my brothers are in shock. Their reactions cause tears to prick at my eyes, and I look away from them, willing myself to keep it together.

The mentors-my mentors-are looking at me with pity. This pulls me up short. I don't want or need their pity, this is the only way to shock people, to keep myself together, calm and composed, not like any young girl facing death should be.

I reach the stage and Topazma smiles at me.

"Are there any volunteers?" She asks the crowd.

The wind whips me hair around my face, though the expanding silence. This doesn't affect me at all. I knew there was no one to save me-nor would I want them too, I want them all to live.

"Very well then, let's have a round of applause for our female tribute from District 11 Rue Olgilby!" She yells into the microphone.

The crows cheers wildly for me, though this isn't what they usually do. Normally there's scattered disjointed clapping by those holding the betting slips in the back, but not this. Not this unified cheering.

I'm confused, until I hear their cheers.

"Keep it together Rue!" Someone yells.

"First time a twelve year old might win it!" Yells another.

"Show 'em what you're made of!" The shouts of glee continue, and I keep my expression serene and peaceful.

Topazma reigns in the crows and draws the male tribute.

"Thresh Perthshire!" She reads another name, clearly, and unmistakably.

A massive boy who must be either seventeen or eighteen makes his way up to the stage. He must be all muscle, and no fat. He will be a very strong competitor for District 11. I can tell from the fire in his eyes that he plans to come home. All the better, for if he returns, for a year on Parcel Day my family will receive food and treats. I sigh at the thought.

"I give you... The tributes of District 11, Rue and Thresh!" The crowds cheers for us as we shake hands, and they continue their cheering as we enter the Justice Building.


Author's Note: Hey guys, this is one of my first Hunger Games fanfictions and my only fanfiction for this site so far. I would love to hear what you think of my writing. If you guys really like it I might even post more... I have them all written, and I think I will post once a week.

Please review :)