"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it." our small, old TV blared, as my family of four watched the reading of the card, even though its only the 76th Games.
"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."
"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the capitol, the male and female tributes were reaped from their existing pool of victors."
"And now for the seventy-sixth Hunger Games, even though it is not a quarter quell, as a reminder that even two rebellions cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the tributes will have to endure an extreme arena as well as send twice as many tributes. However to show the capitols forgiveness, two tributes are allowed to win."
My mother breathes deeply to calm herself and my little brother snuggles into her arms, their identical chestnut colored hair merging together. Our eyes are all still fixated on the screen until it flashes off. My father breaks the silence "Ok it's late, Rose, Xander off to bed" he says in a voice that tries a little too hard to sound normal.
My eight year old brothers hand in mine, we walk upstairs to the small cramped bedroom we share. I tuck him in without a word, then climb into my bed mere inches away.
The rough canvas of the thick woolen sheets nearly has my eyes closed when I hear Xander whisper my name,
"Yeah?" I ask as I roll back over to face him.
His bright blue eyes stare worriedly into my light green ones. "You're not going to be picked for the Games are you?" He whispers, his voice shakily ever so slightly.
He was only in the third grade, but he was smart. Straight out lying to him and saying of course I wouldn't just wouldn't work. "Hey, don't worry about me" I whisper back. "May the odds be ever in my favor" I say in a stupid imitation of the Capitol accent,
He giggles. "Okay. Goodnight Rosie" he says before settling into his bed.
I watch his eyes droop farther and his breathing to regulate. "Goodnight" I whisper before succumbing to sleep.
There is a brief moment when you first wake up, where you have no memories. A blissful blank state. A happy emptiness. But that moment doesn't last long. Reality hits you hard and you realize where you are and what has happened and you become the victim of a swirling hurricane of thoughts.
It sucks.
That morning, as before light has reached district ten, I rise. Everyone else is still asleep as I quickly dress in a tank top and shorts and grab my grey bag off the small hook in the corner. I walk downstairs quietly to not wake anyone and stuff my jacket in my bag along with some bread wrapped in a cloth for breakfast.
Then quietly I pull back a wooden floorboard and pull out a eight inch butchers knife I swiped from the slaughterhouse. I slide it carefully into my bag before slipping out the back door and begin my walk towards the grazing fields. The fence in the rest of the district of electrified 24/7 but they don't use electricity for the fence for the animals.
I step over the cattle fence and then once I reach the back of the field, I shift over the large bolder which allows me just enough room to shimmy under the fence. I push back the rock and dust myself off. My eyes scan over the field and the farm house at the opposite end. As soft dawn light falls on the farm and a lantern is turned on in the front bedroom, I've disappeared into the woods
With my butchers knife in hand, I continue my walk through the still dark woods. A twig cracks behind me and I spin around wielding my knife just to come face to face (well face to shaggy dark hair) with my best friend, Joey.
"I know that food has been scarce, but eating me is just weird" he says while edging away from the knife with a smirk,
"If things were that bad I wouldn't eat you, not enough meat on ya" I retort with a smirk as I slip my knife into my belt.
He doesn't need to refute me, his biceps already prove me wrong. "Ha ha" he says sarcastically as we match our pace and continue down the trail. "Anyway, we have to stop by the wheat field, were out of feed."
I nod in agreement. We walk down the little well worn path in comfortable silence and collect the wheat from the small field obscured by weeds and trees east of pen. With the plants piled high in our arms, we return to the clearing where we have half a dozen cows penned in by makeshift fence and a five foot tall rock ledge.
We milk the cows into two empty containers to take back with us. I give the animals a fifth of the wheat while Joey deposits the rest under the ledge away from the cows. A cup of milk in each hand and a piece of bread in the other, we sit on the rock ledge, our legs dangling below as we eat our early lunch.
"Interesting Games this year, huh?" Joey asks between mouthfuls of bread.
I roll my eyes and give him a look. "Yeah, I just love it when torture is original, don't you?" I ask sarcastically.
He shrugs. "Just trying to make conversation" he says innocently, bringing a smile to my face. "How is your mom doing"? He asks a moment later.
My mom has been sick for the last few months. She hasn't been able to work in our garden, which adds gardening to the list of things I have to do, along with tending our small herd out here in the forest, making meals for the family, nursing my mother, and taking care of my little brother.
I shrug in answer to Joeys question. He knew it meant that nothing was worse with her. He doesn't say anything else, not even sorry, because he knows I hate the pity.
"I have to get going" I say looking up at the near noon sky. My dad would be home from the slaughterhouse by now for lunch before he went to the fields and he would've already picked up Xander from school.
Joey stands wordlessly and follows me back towards the fence. Getting through unseen in broad daylight is harder than when it was dark, but we managed it by waiting until the herd was moved to the back grounds in front of our escape after ten in the morning. School for the older kids started after noon so they wouldn't have to feed us while younger kids get out before lunch.
I make it to the house before my dad and Xander and greet them with milk and bread from our rations. My father leaves shortly after, and with him Joey returns home. I tend to the garden then check on my mother who was asleep in the living room with a sky high temperature. Our family couldn't afford and the highly expensive medicine, so all I could do was moisten a cloth and lay it on her head.
School took up the whole afternoon, and I would return home to dinner of whatever leftover parts my father got from his butchers job. Shortly after Xander and I would go to bed. It wasn't the most exciting life, but it was mine and I managed to keep my family safe and alive.
The next few months, just like the first fifteen years of my life, went by just the same. That was until the reaping.
The day of the reaping had that thick wetness to it that said summer was well on its way; the kind of warm weight that clings to your forehead and makes your clothes stick to your skin. The only relief from the heat was when a hushed breeze whispers through the square like a secret.
Dressed in an uncomfortable purple knee length dress and unmanageable white heels that belong to my neighbor, I wipe the sweat off my forehead as I wait in line with Joey to sign in.
After signing in, Joey helps me walk to where the other fifteen year old girls stand because without him I would've fallen at least three times by now. The reaping begins moments later with the little video showing how we rose out of the ashes I've seen a hundred times. Then there is a new part showing how ungrateful we were and the second rebellion. Wow, why don't we all just fall down on our knees and chant "I'm not worthy!"?
The caption woman giggles shrilly in the microphone. Her hair wraps around her forehead and is colored some light green color. "First with the girls" she squeaks as she fishes around tastefully in the large fishbowl.
She snatches a single white slip. The tension in the square builds. My heart pounds violently in my chest. "Eleanor Smith" She calls proudly.
Eleanor Smith is of the popular girls at school. And by popular I mean she hates me and all other "Seam trash." Joey knows it too and I see him glance at me with a slight smirk. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. It was twisted, I know, but if someone had to go at least it wasn't a good person.
Eleanor finally makes her way up to the stage. She doesn't cry, but fixes her hair and juts out her lip in what I suppose is supposed to be attractively. I'm too preoccupied being disgusted with her to be nervous. "And our second female tribute will be…" The overly peppy escort chirps, snapping me back to reality. "Rosie Ann Taylor."