This is a story that I'm doing for one of my roleplay accounts, and I figured I'd post it here, too. Enjoy!
"Annie, come on. We have to go."
I turn my head to look over my shoulder, the breeze blowing my hair into my face, only to see my sister, Ivory. We look similar; both with the same color hair, the same color eyes. Mine is much more messy, though. I barely ever do it- what's the point, it'd only get ruined by the sea, anyways. Besides, my messy hair suits me- the girls in my class told me so. Then again, they said it suited the poor girl… Those girls are mean. I stay away from them as much as I can, yet somehow they still find me.
Ivory's hair, on the other hand, is flat and straight; I don't know how it can naturally be that way, not when my own looks so different. The girls envy her beautiful hair, I don't, though. Once, when I was little, I asked my mother about it, and she simply said that everyone was different, on the outside and the inside. It was a good enough answer for me at the time, so I dropped the subject. But that was years ago. Maybe I'll ask her again later.
"It starts in twenty minutes, you can't stay here," This time my arm is grabbed- she tries to pull me up, but I stay firmly planted on the ground. The reaping starts soon, I don't want to go. There isn't a day I hate more than reaping day.
"I have to wait for him…" I tell her quietly; by 'him' I mean Finnick Odair, my best friend, who's a victor. He told me he'd be here. But he's not. Again.
Ivory sighed. "You'll see him there, Ann, he's not coming. You know the victors have things to do today." She spat out the word 'victor' like it was a curse, a bad thing. Ivory sees Finnick as a cold blooded murderer, which again, I don't understand. She's nineteen, the same age as Finnick- she knew him before he was reaped, kind of, and she should know he's not hearless.
I swallow back the need to defend Finnick, and stop protesting. Instead, I stand up and brush the sand off my dress, shoving on my green flats before hurrying after her. These shoes were hers, once. A hole is in the heal, and the sand fills them up quickly, not that I mind. The dress I'm in is also a hand-me-down, and it's white; it's a bit torn in places, but it was the nicest one I have. Any extra money my family has doesn't go to things like clothes, so I never have any new outfits. Finnick offered to buy me something nicer to wear, but I refused. No way would I ever take his money, that's greedy. I don't want to be greedy. And, those mean girls in school would probably make up a rumor about how I had done something.. sexual with him to get some money… I'd much rather be the poor girl. At least that's true.
On the way to the square we meet up with our parents, as well as our neighbors. Zenner, my other best friend, has been my neighbor for as long as I can remember. Whenever I'm not with Finnick, I'm with him. Most of the time we're just silly, taking walks around the district or going swimming.
Zenner is big and strong, twice, maybe three times the size of me. His family is a tad bit wealthier than mine, simply because Zenner has had a job cleaning and gutting fish since he was eleven. Still, I don't know how he's so huge. Being almost an opposite of Finnick, he has short black hair that's spiked in the front, as well a brown eyes that are so dark they look black. It's easy to get lost in them.
Nudging me in the ribs, Zenner smiles. This is his last reaping, his name is in there seventeen times. "Nervous, Cresta? Don't be. Your name is in there, what, five times? Six? How old are you anyways?" He was only teasing, of course, but I can't smile on this day. The only thing I want to do is hug Finnick. But he's not here.
Why isn't he here?
"Zenner, can we just wallow in the silence, please?" I ask him gently. by the way he looks at me, I know he can tell I'm being serious. Drifting into my thoughts, I remember when Finnick was reaped at the age of fourteen- I was only twelve at the time, it was my very first reaping. Everything was new to me back then, everything was so scary. It is still scary, of course, but I feet as though some of my childhood has disappeared since that day.
My older friend shuts up, shoving his hands into his pockets. My parents aren't crying yet. I don't want them to cry. If they cried, I'll cry. Each year, after the reaping, I go far out in the ocean and cry… Everything is just so sad, so depressing. We haven't had a victor since Finnick won, and I doubt this year will be any different, which means two people will die from our district.
Once we make it to the square my eyes automatically search the crowd. Finnick is up on stage, that arrogant, cocky look plastered on his face. This is the 'Capitol' Finnick, not my Finnick. I want to hug my Finnick. His eyes meet mine and I gulp, watching the dread creep into his. He mouths something to me. I don't catch what it is.
"Next," The stern voice of the peacekeeper ushers me forward, and I hand over my finger. I'm too lost in my thoughts to feel the prick, to hear the snickers from the girls around me, or to notice where Ivory has gone without saying goodbye. I'm just focusing on the fact that this is the second last reaping of my life. I can do this. I have to.
Robotically I make my way to my section with the other seventeen year old girls, ignoring the shoves I receive on the way. They call me weak, and pathetic. Over and over. Whispers in my ears. Once, someone had even told me that she would have liked to see how I would have managed in the arena. Everyone knows I've never trained before, that I refuse to. That comment was overly cruel and it made me cry for a long time that night. I know the hatred towards me is simply because they are jealous that Finnick is my friend and not theirs, but I still don't quite understand it. Not once have I ever said anything mean to anyone; I'm more of the 'soak it all in and cry about it later' type. I don't know if I'd be able to stand up for myself if I had to.
Someone taps my arm gently, bringing me back to reality. I always was a daydreamer, since I was a child, and it's not like I can help it. By the time I'm back to my senses, the short film they show each year is over, and the escort is going to draw the names of the tributes from those big glass containers.
I click out again; do I really want to know the name of the girl being sent to her death? No. It could be someone I know. I don't know what I'd do. Even if it was one of those cruel girls, I'd be upset. No one deserves to die.
As the crowd falls dead silent, I come back. Why is everyone looking at me? And that wailing coming from the audience… My mother.
A path is cleared in front of me, but I don't know why. My name wasn't called. It couldn't of been.
"Miss Cresta? Where are you, Sweetheart?"
My eyes filled up with tears and I take a single step forward. They glance to my parents, who are falling apart in the crowd. Then to Ivory, who is emotionless, stunned into silence. Then to Zenner who has an expression of pure anger. He was doing all he could not to jump out and grab me, and everyone knows it. The eighteen year olds around him back away from him.
Lastly, my eyes scan over the girls around me, the bullies, and they all look sad. Pity, was what it was. Not sadness. Everyone knows I'm going to be the first to die. They know it, I know it.
As the peacekeepers make a move towards the place my feet are planted in, I scurry up to the stage, wiping at my eyes. I want to walk into Finnick's arms, but I can't. Not right now.
"It's Annie," I whimper, and the escort has to bend over to hear me, my voice is that quiet and gentle. Pathetic.
"Well, Annie, on to our male tribute!"
I need to run. I need to hide. I need to be anywhere but here right now. They are going to take me, and throw me into an arena, where I will be gutted like a fish. That was what the girls wanted to see, wasn't it? To watch me die first?
Covering my face up with my hands, I whimper into my palms. I'm not going to last two seconds in the arena.
"Zenner Bennett!"
My head snaps up, only to watch Zenner storm angrily up to the stage. Without a word, or care in the world, he collects my tiny, trembling body into his arms, stroking my hair and whispering words about how he plans to protect me.
The escort wraps it up, and all I can feel are Finnick's eyes burning into the back of my head. And it's then I realize that only one person comes home, me or Zenner, or both of us, are going to die.