This is my first fanfiction in…really too long. Probably circa 2009 was my last fanfiction so bear with me! If you would be so kind as to review and subscribe to my story, that would be awesome!
Love, Taylor
Coppern tried to open the door as quietly as he could. He thanked that it wasn't the heavy door at Hail's house; it would have creaked and echoed through the halls in a flash. Instead he managed to slip into the small living room without waking a soul. His family would all be asleep by this point; the sun had only just started to rise above the horizon. Not even Silvas, the early bird of the family, would be tweeting yet.
He crept through the silent halls on his tiptoes, rubbing his tired eyes. He had been out all night, his friends had stolen some alcohol and they had planned to drink themselves into a stupor because the next day any one of them could be sentenced to their death. Coppern had tried to join in the festivities but soon discovered that the slightest bit of alcohol made his stomach churn and he was sick all over his shoes. In the end, he spent the night watching his friends get drunk and forget the Reaping that loomed the next day.
His friends had also jeered and joked at Coppern's chances at the fateful Hunger Games. The Rippen family was affluent in District 5; his father was a respected engineer, which meant that Coppern had never taken tesserae. With his name in that glass bowl seven times, he had little chance of getting drawn. That statistic only made Coppern smile. His friends worried as they counted their slips but Coppern knew he was safe.
That smile still graced his face as he plopped down in bed, not bothering to take off his clothes. Silvas snuffled from across the room, burying his tiny frame deeper into his blankets. Only a spot of white-blonde hair could be seen from beneath the sheets. Coppern was even happier about Silvas's chances. At twelve, his name was only in the drawing once. With those thoughts Coppern slipped into a dreamless sleep, happy for just the darkness that surrounded him.
Sleep only seemed to last a few seconds when something suddenly shook his shoulder. The sun was still not high in the sky, barely peeking in their windows. Silvas hovered above him, tears filling his soft brown eyes.
Coppern groaned and rubbed his eyes. "What's up buddy?" He muttered.
The kid didn't respond, only sniffled and swiped at some of the tears with the back of his hand. Cautiously, Silvas picked up one of the sheets and lied down next to his brother. On any other morning Coppern would have kicked his little brother out, he was getting a little too old for this, but Coppern was going to make an exception this morning.
"Just let me go back to sleep." Coppern sighed, swinging an arm around Silvas's side. His tiny head nodded into Coppern's chest with a hiccup.
However, that didn't last long either. There was a knock on the door, an even tinier figure bouncing in the doorway. "Mom and Dad say it's time to wake up!" Marigold squeaked, disappearing with a streak of blonde hair before Coppern could answer. She was still too young to understand. Coppern pushed Silvas away, climbing out of his warm bed, his feet skimming the cold wooden floor below. His brain ached, telling him to return to sleep, but as even his father began to shout, Coppern knew that this morning was unavoidable.
"Are you sure our names won't be pulled?" Silvas asked as Coppern pulled the boy's tie into place.
Coppern stood slowly, his back popping with a stretch. He brushed the knees of his crisp dress pants, a thin coating of dust now covering his hands. He was tempted to rub it back onto his pants but decided that the tail of his shirt would work much better. After it had been decently browned, he just had to tuck it back inside the waistband of his pants. "Absolutely sure." He promised with a smile. "The statistical likelihood of that happening is so low I didn't bother to calculate it."
Silvas seemed satisfied by that answer, a grin breaking out across his face, quickly evaporating the last of his tears. "Let's go!" The boy said, his apprehension still prevalent in his quivering voice. "Mom and Dad already left to get a good spot in the crowd. We can't be late to sign in."
Coppern was jostled around by the boys that had taken their places beside him. He had tried to tell Silvas to go stand by the younger boys like he was supposed to but Silvas had refused to let go of his hand. His white-blonde head whipped back and forth as he looked about his fellows, and Coppern could practically read his mind. He was wondering which of his friends would be chosen, it was not unusual.
Coppern had long grown out of his, choosing instead to take a deep breath and clear his thoughts. It helped with his nervous stomach. He wasn't nervous for himself, but he still waited for the day he heard one of his classmates' names. While that day had never come, he always expected it to. He was seventeen, his last year, and none of his classmates had been reaped. He took that as another good sign.
The muttering crowd calmed to a hush as a thin shape danced onto the stage. He was a skinny creature, slimmer than the even some of the poorest kids in District 5. He was dressed simply, unlike many representatives. He wore a simple black shirt, short-sleeved and showing his skeleton thin arms. His pants were of a similar style, tight and black. Then his face clashed violently with his simple attire. His hair was thick and curled, dyed a shocking shade of pink. And even at the distance that Coppern stood from the stage, he could see the three stars that had been tattooed just above his left eyebrow.
He was not the same Escort they had last year. She had been a blue-haired woman that acted like she was thirteen when it was clearly she had slipped past her prime about forty years ago. She pronounced names wrong, stumbled up the steps, and laughed giddily whenever she announced a name.
Instead this man gave another twirl onto the stage, a pearly white smile breaking out across his face. "Welcome to the Reaping for the fifth District!" His voice was singsong and hurt Coppern's ears. When his announcement was only met with the faint applause of the officials seated behind him, the man coughed into his hand and continued. "My name is Boisterous, but you all may call me Bo!" His words were met with more silence. Bo seemed to be at a loss for words as he scrambled with the microphone. "Well," He laughed nervously. "Play the video!" He said.
That was when Coppern tuned out. He had seen this damned thing every year since he could attend the Reaping. He wasn't in the mood to listen to it now. He closed his eyes as Silvas grabbed his hand, threatening to crush his fingers in a tiny vice grip. And when the video ended, the air growing silence once more, Coppern opened his eyes. Bo was back standing at the microphone, awkwardly bouncing from foot to foot. "It is time to pick the contestants in the 60th Annual Hunger Games!" Again, he tried to sound excited, but he was only met with meager applause.
He approached the closest glass globe. "The girls first!" he chimed and reached his hand into the bowl. For a moment he only swished the papers about before settling on slip about halfway down. He pulled it out, unfolding it and reading the name at least three times before breaking out into a thin smile. "Nadine Applegrass!" He called to the crowd. Silvas's grip on Coppern's hand grew tighter, his brother's fingernails digging hard into this skin.
Coppern vaguely recognized the girl as she moved slowly up to the stage, her attempts to hide her tears obvious. She was small with dark skin and even darker hair, probably just a little older than Silvas. Bo greeted her on the stage, enthusiastic as ever, and Coppern stared down at his feet. He didn't want to look around in fear of seeing the girl's family. That was always the worst part, seeing the faces of their families.
He did raise his gaze until he heard Bo move across the stage again. "Time to pick a contestant for the boy's!" Silvas's grip was becoming unbearable. Bo's hand dove into the sea of slips, rustling around for just the right one. His slim fingers seemed to decide on their own accord, surfacing with a flourish. He unfolded the slip carefully, delicately and Coppern's hand started to ache from his brother's fingernails.
"Coppern Rippen."
The crowd erupted into whispers around him, but Coppern found that he only had one response. He doubled over, his sides aching from the force of his own laughter. The voices around him grew still as all eyes focused on him, nearly on his knees, giggling like a madman. "There must be a mistake." he tried to say through his gasps for air but the tearful look that Silvas gave him said otherwise. Then there were strong hands on his shoulders, the hands of the Peacekeepers. "Wait a second," Coppern managed to collect himself. "Are you serious?"
They didn't answer as two of the Peacekeepers pushed Coppern forward, a third pulling a screaming and kicking Silvas away. The world moved too quickly for Coppern to register, he reached numbly toward his little brother but his hand was knocked away. Instead his feet marched toward the stage.
He nearly tripped moving up the steps of the stage, each breath aching in his chest. This was wrong; his calculations had almost guaranteed him safety. How the hell did his name get called? It was nearly impossible. The sound of his own thoughts hit him like a tidal wave, he had been using words such as almost, nearly, and it seemed that those were not enough.
Bo continued to enthuse in the microphone, giving a few last announcements as Coppern stood, dumbstruck, next to him. That was until the Escort tried to sling his arm across Coppern's shoulders. His entire body tensed, suddenly aware of what was happening, the situation, and the man that had made the wrong decision to touch him.
Before he could stop his fist, it had found a place squarely on Bo's cheek. The pink-haired man stumbled away, nearly hitting the stage. The crowd fell into a deadly silence for a few seconds as Bo struggled, holding his already-red cheek. Then the whole of District 5 erupted into thunderous applause to the stunned expression that Bo currently wore. "And that concludes this year's Reaping ceremony." Bo tried to stammer into the microphone but it barely stood against the roaring crowd before him.
And it took Coppern a moment to realize that he had punched a man on live television for all of the Capitol to see. Great first impression.
