Chapter 1 The Reaping
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone is pounding on my door demanding that I wake up.
"Braylee, Marie! Get up!" Yells Mrs. Connelly through the thick wood of our bedroom door. Marie is the small twelve year old I share my room in the orphanage with. She rolls out of bed, her blazing green eyes tired and her fiery red curls askew. Silently, groggily she pulls on her shirt and pants and begins brushing, more like tearing, the tangles out of her hair.
Marie is the only person in the world I'm actually fond of. I may even go as far as to say I love her. I was seven when they brought her here at two. As the story goes, her mother had died during childbirth and her father fell ill and soon followed. That's better than my story. I was told that I was dropped in the doorstep as a baby.
They brought Marie to this retched place, the orphanage at the edge of the Seam that's crumbling at the roots. They put us in the same room and the rest is history. Even though she is quite younger than me, she is the only friend I've ever had.
"Come on, Bray," She says, her voice still sleepy. "We have chores."
Every morning we are required to clean the house and the yard as best we can or face a hard punishment.
I don't want to get up. The rough wool blanket is warm compared to the cold morning air. We don't have luxuries such as heat in District Twelve. Outside my window I can see the bright orange rays of the sun peaking over the mountain tops. It's extremely early and very few people will be up. Resentfully I push myself out of bed and pull on my clothes, a ratty gray long sleeve shirt and a pair of black pants that are slightly to small and hug my legs uncomfortably. Marie hands me the brush and I begin combing through the little hair I have. About two years ago I got very sick with a fever and they thought that cutting my long, gorgeous hair off would help cool me. It did, but I'm still resentful as my brown hair falls just to my collar bones in a choppy, uneven cut. For several months after it was cut I felt like a boy because of my muscly body and lack of hair. But now it's long enough so I'm fortunate enough to look like a girl again.
I pull on a pair of thick woolen socks and my brown boots that are falling apart. It's my day to clean the kitchen. That's the worst job to get as it involves cleaning everyone's dishes, sweeping the thick layer of dirt off the floor and disposing of the dead vermin that have gotten into the pantry. Since I'm the best in the house at killing rats and other similar creatures that get in I usually end up with this job.
My hands are wrinkly from the water they've been soaked in, but I finally finish washing the last dish and put it away. The only thing left is for me to take care of the rat problem. There's a knock on the back door near the pantry. "Can you get that?" I yell at a smaller child who runs to the door and flings it open. The door is opened just in time for the two people standing there to see me grab a sharp knife off the counter and fling it at a large rat that is running across the kitchen table. The knife hits it and with a loud squeal it freezes in its tracks, rolls over and is still.
Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorn stand at the door, large hunting bags slung over their shoulders. They're eyes are large as they look from me to the dead rat.
"Um, hi," I greet nervously. "What do you have?"
Katniss and Gale are the best illegal hunters in the district and are nice enough to trade what they hunt with what little we have here. I don't think Katniss is very fond of me, but then again, Katniss isn't find of most people. Gale, on the other hand, is unusually pleasant to me if we ever encounter each other. But he's very hard for me to talk to because he's almost always with Katniss. But when he's not with Katniss I tend to get very tongue tied. Gale is extremely handsome with his dark brown hair and cool gray eyes. He's my age but already looks like a man.
"We've got a wild turkey and some greens," says Katniss, her face hard.
"What do you think, Bray?" Asks Gale kindly, a small smile on his face. "Do have anything useful?"
My cheeks go red at his kind mannerisms. Gale isn't nice to a lot of people. I don't know why he's so kind to me. "Hold on," I say, rummaging through the cabinets for something they could use. There's nothing they need and we haven't been to the bakery or market in a long time. I open up a small cupboard in the pantry and pull out two bottles of white liquor from Mrs. Conelly's secret stash. This will get me a hard slap across the face later, but we need the food. I bring the bottles out and hand them to Gale. He once told me that these will get them a good deal with Greasy Sae at the Hob. Katniss hands me the turkey and greens and walks away with a terse nod.
"Good luck, Bray," says Gale before turning to leave. But he turns back with a smile and says, "Nice shot, by the way." He points to the rat and I laugh. It was a pretty good shot.
I own one pair of shoes, my nasty brown boots that are falling apart at the ends. These are the shoes I wear every day, school, home, even the reaping. So of course, I feel ridiculous in my frilly emerald green dress and boots as I clomp over to the city square, Marie's small hand clutched tightly in mine. I can hear her start to cry quietly.
"Hey," I say quietly. "It's ok. It's going to be ok." She has one name in thousands. We aren't allowed to take tesserae as that would show that the home can't take care of us so instead we starve with minimal name entries. Marie has one and I only have a few. Our chance of being chosen are small but we still worry. We worry about being chosen and if we're not we worry about beatings and starving.
Marie takes a deep breath and puts her small hand on my warm, swollen cheek. Mrs. Conelly gave me a hard smack across the face when she found out I'd traded some of her liquor. It gave the children a good lunch though. They might not be feeling the dull ache of hunger that's always there quite as much right now, so it was worth it.
"It doesn't look that bad," Marie says sweetly, trying to make me feel better. But I know she's lying. My left cheek is thick and purple, still stinging red around the edges.
I take her hand again and walk her to the twelve year old section. She's small for her age so she looks about ten standing next to the other children. She stretches her hand out, not wanting to let go, until I'm too far away to hold onto. I make my way to the seventeen year old section and stand packed in with everyone else. We wait tensely as our escort, Effie Trinket, waltzes on stage in her six inch heels and puffy dress. She looks ridiculous and it baffles me how anyone can think that looks attractive.
She greets us in her chirping voice and we begin the same way we do every year. The mayor gives a speech and tells the long dreary story of the uprising, the defeat of District Thirteen, and the creation of the Hunger Games. He reads the names of District Twelves past victors, a women who died several years ago and Haymitch Abernathy, who is sitting in his chair on stage swaying slightly from being drunk. When he hears his name he cheers loudly and a Peacekeeper had to shut him up. Then it's time to draw names.
"Ladies first!" Chirps Effie as her hand plunged into the bowl full of names. You could hear a pin drop.
My palms sweat and my heart races. Please, please don't let it be me.
Eddies voice rings out loud and clear in the silence. "Marie Corta!"
My breath gets stuck in my throat and I can't breathe. I feel like someone has wrapped their fist tightly around my heart and won't let go, squeezing me slowly to death.
And then I see her walking up to the stage, her red curls bouncing with every step. She's so small. I push my way through the crowd and begin to run towards her but two Peacekeepers hold me back.
"I volunteer!" The words rip from my throat in a high pitched scream. The Peacekeepers release me and I run to Marie. She throws herself in my arms. Her voice is muffled against my chest but I hear her saying no over and over again. A Peacekeeper pulls her off of me while his partner forcefully grabs my shoulder and leads me on stage. Marie is now screaming and has to be restrained. The Peacekeeper pushes me on the stage and stands at the bottom, probably to make sure I don't run.
"Well! How exciting!" Effie says, her voice bubbly. "What's your name?"
"Braylee Pence," I say, speaking hard so my voice doesn't shake.
"Well, how wonderful! And there's still more excitement to come! Now for the boys." I stand frozen, trying to regain my breath while Effie draws the name and walks back to the microphone. She slowly opens the slip of paper and reads out the name. "Gale Hawthorn!"
My stomach does a flip. Not him. Not Gale. His bulky, muscular figure makes its way to the stage and I look anywhere but him. I can see Katniss in the crowd and I swear I see a tear drip down her cheek.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and he's looking at me too. Not Gale, I think.
The crowd is silent and I know they're all thinking the same thing I am. With Gale in the games District Twelve might actually have a chance at a winner.
The mayor finishes the procedures and Gale and I shake hands. Would Gale really kill me? I think. My first thought is of course not! But then it dawns on me. The games change people. And not for the better. Gale may be kind to me now but in the arena I know he will do whatever it takes to get back to his family and his beloved Katniss. But I decide not to worry about death at Gale's hand. Odds are, someone will kill me before he does.