my first story didnt go so well so im trying again.
Disclaimer: we all know that if i owned big time rush or hunger games that i most likely wouldnt even be on this site
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. I try to find Katie's warmth, but all I get is a rough sheet. She must be sleeping with our mother. She always sleeps with her when she has nightmares. What better night to have a nightmare than the night before the day of the reaping.
I sit up in my bed. There's enough sunlight to see them in the bed. Katie, my little sister, is curled up on her side, protected by my mother's arms, their cheeks pressed together. My mother looks younger once asleep, her face still worn but not as beaten down when she's awake. Katie's face is still the same, as lovely as one of Aphrodite's roses. People tell me my mother was once beautiful, too.
Let me explain the use of Greek mythology. My sister and I are demigods. I know call us crazy, but I'm telling you the truth. Sixteen years ago my mother met the Greek god, Hermes. I was the result of their relationship. Twelve years ago Mom and Dad met each other again and this time Katie was the result. My first monster attack took place about five years ago and that's when my mother explained what my life was going to be like. I'm trained to use bow and arrows and a hunter's knife. It's my choice of weapons because I really want to become a hunter of Artemis. So even though I'm not technically a hunter yet, but I've made sure to not have almost anything to do with boys.
Sitting at the foot of the bed, guarding Katie, was the world's ugliest cat. He has half an ear missing, a mashed in nose, and eyes the color of rotting squash. Katie named him Buttercup, insisting the bright flower and his muddy yellow coat matched. Even after a few years I think he remembers I tried to drown him when Katie brought him home. This caused him to hate me. He was a scrawny kitten, belly was swollen with worms, and crawling with fleas. The last thing I need was to feed an extra mouth. Katie begged and even cried to let him stay. It turned out to be fine. My mom got rid of the fleas and worms and he's a born mouser. Sometimes after I clean a kill I feed him the entrails. That caused him to stop hissing at me.
Entrails. No hissing. This is as far as love comes to us.
I get up and slide my feet into my hunting boots. My feet molded the soft leather. I put on pants, a shirt, tuck my hair into a hat, and grab my bag. On the table, under a bowl to keep hungry animals away, sits a little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Katie's gift on reaping day. I carefully slip it in my pocket.
Our part of District 12 is called the Seam. Normally it's crowded with coal miners trying to get to their morning shift at this time. But today the streets are empty of men and women with swollen knuckles and lines of their sunken faces. The reaping doesn't start until two. Might as well get extra hours of sleep if you can.
My house almost is on the edge of the Seam. I just have to pass a few gates to get to the Meadow, a scruffy old field. Keeping the Meadow and the woods apart is a high chain linked fence with barbed wire loops on top. The gate is supposed to be electrified 24/7 to keep away flesh eating animals from the streets. But we're lucky enough to get two or three hours in the afternoon, so it's normally okay to touch. Even though it's normally not electrified I still listen for a soft hum of electricity, but it's as silent as stone. I get on my stomach and slide under a two foot stretch that's been loose for years and is hidden by bushes. There are a lot more weak points but this one is closest to home. I almost always go through this one.
As soon as I'm hidden from sight, I get a bow and quiver full of arrows from a hollow log. Whether the fence is electric or not it still keeps animals out of District 12. The wood is where they roam freely. But there are also concerns, even for a demigod, like, poisonous snakes, rabid animals, and not paths to follow. But if you know how to catch it there is food. My dad taught me how before he was "blown to bits." Truthfully my father stayed with us until Lord Zeus found out and forbid him from visiting us again. Father used the mist to make people think that he died in a mine explosion. I was eleven when he had to leave.
Even though going into the forest and hunting have the worst punishments, a lot of people would risk it if they had the right weapons. But they're not brave enough to hunt with just a knife. My bow is rare, a gift from Lady Artemis and a few others from Lord Apollo carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. I could make really good money selling, but the twin archers wouldn't be happy and if officials found out I could be publicly executed for starting a rebellion. Most Peacekeepers leave the few who hunt alone because they're just as hungry for meat as anybody is. They are actually our best customers. But the thought of someone arming the Seam, they wouldn't be too happy with the thought.
In the fall a few people who are brave enough come to harvest apples but in sight of the Meadow in case of trouble so they can run back. "District Twelve. Where you can starve in safety," I mutter. I quickly look around and see a twelve year old girl with auburn colored hair and silvery-yellow eyes. I immediately recognized her.
"Lady Artemis, it's a pleasure to see you. If I may ask, what are you doing here?" I said while kneeling in front of her with my head bowed.
"Rise, Ivy Evergreen. I wish to speak with you about a certain offer of joining the Hunt." Lady Artemis said with a grin.
"You're finally letting me join the hunt?" I asked while getting up. This is the offer I've been wanting for years.
"Yes, I want you to join the Hunt, but I want the other hunters to witness your joining. The next time you come into these woods I will be here with the hunters." She said.
I was practically jumping with excitement as she flashed away. I can't believe I'm finally going to become a hunter of Artemis. I have to make sure excitement doesn't show on my face and be careful of what I say to others about this.
When I was younger I always scared my mother to death, the things I would say about District 12, the gods, Panem, and the far away city called the Capitol. I later learned that would just get us into more trouble. I learned to hold my tongue and turn my features in a mask so no one could read my thoughts. I do my work quietly in school, only make polite small talk in the public market, and talk a little more about the trades in the Hob, the place where I make most of my money. Even when I'm home, I avoid tricky topics. If Katie began to repeat my words, well, only the gods would know where we would be.
In the woods waits the only person I can be almost myself with, Gale. I feel the muscles in my face relax. I may be friends with him but I still want to be a hunter so I still argue with him, a lot. I climb the hills our place a rock overlooking a valley. A berry thicket protects us from unwanted eyes.
"Hey, Ivy." says Gale. "Look what I shot." Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I smirk. It's actual bakery bread, not the flat, dense loaves we make from grain rations. I take the bread, pull out the arrow, and hold the puncture in the crust to my nose. I inhale the fragrance that makes my mouth water.
"Mm, it's still warm." I said. He must have been up at the crack of dawn to trade for it. "How much did it cost you?"
"Just a squirrel. The old man must have been feeling sentimental this morning," says Gale. "Even wished me good luck."
"Well, today is the day we all feel closer, isn't it?" I said without even bothering to roll my eyes. "Katie left us some cheese." I pulled it out.
His face brightens at the creamy treat. "Thank you, Katie. Now we'll actually have a real feast." His voice suddenly falls into a Capitol accent as he copies Effie Trinket a crazy upbeat woman who comes once a year to pick names for the reaping. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" he plucks a few berries from the bush. "And may the odds-" He throws a berry at me.
I catch the berry in my mouth and bite into the fragile skin. The sweet juice explodes in my mouth. "- be ever in your favor!" I finish the annoying catch phrase in the same ridiculous accent. I know it seems kind of cruel to joke about it but our only other choice is to be scared out our wits. Anyways, the Capitol accent makes anything sound funny.
I watch Gale cut the bread with his knife. He looks like he could be my brother. Same straight black hair and olive skin. If my father were actually a coal miner we might've had the same grey eyes, but my eyes are brown. We're not actually related though. Most people in the Seam looked like the way Gale and I do.
That's why my mother and Katie always look out of place, with their blonde hair and blue eyes. They are out of place anyways. My mother's parents were part of small merchant class that works for Peacekeepers, officials, and the occasional Seam client. They owned a small apothecary shop in better part of District 12. No one is able to afford doctors, so apothecaries are our healers. My father got to know my mom by selling medical herbs to the shops after his hunting trips. She must have loved him a lot to leave her home for the Seam before she found out he was a god. The only reason he pretended to be a coal miner was to see if she really loved him or his power. I try to remember that when I can only see a woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while she let her children starve. I try to forgive her, for the sake of the gods. But in all honesty, I'm not exactly the one to forgive.
Gale spreads the goat cheese on the bread slices, and carefully placing a basil leaf on each one while I strip the bushes of their berries. We sit back in the nook in the rocks. From this spot, we're invisible but we have a clear view of the valley. It's filled with summer life, animals to hunt, greens to gather, roots to dig up, and fish in the lake to fish for. The day is nice, with a blue sky and a nice, soft breeze. The food's great, cheese seeping into the warm bread and the berries bursting with flavor in our mouths. Everything would be just fine if this was a holiday, all day hunting for dinner, roaming the mountain. Instead we have to be at the square at two o'clock waiting for names of the kids who are going die to be called.
"We could do it you know," Gale said quietly.
"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale.
I don't know what to tell him. The fact that I'm going to become a hunter. The fact that my only company would be him. Don't get me wrong but having a boy as the only person I could talk to would drive me mad.
"If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly.
They aren't actually our kids. If they were well I would be able to be a hunter, now would I? But the way our mothers are they would be better off if they were. Gale's two little brothers, his sister, Katie. You may as well add our mothers in too, because they would be able to survive without us. Who would fill their mouths that always ask for more? Even with the both of us hunting daily, we still have nights were we have to trade game for wool, lard, or shoelaces, still nights when we go to bed with hungry stomachs.
"I never want to have kids." I said. Gale may not of the hunters of Artemis but it's still good to let him know.
"I might, if I didn't live here." says Gale.
"But you do, and you can't change that fact." I say, irritated.
"Forget it," he snaps back.
The conversation feels completely wrong. Kids? I want to be a hunter. A loyal hunter that doesn't think about boys. Being a hunter means no dating and no kids. A maiden and virgin for life. And besides there's nothing romantic going on between Gale and me. I was a skinny twelve year old when we first met. And even though he was only two years older, he looked like a man. It took a long time for us to stop arguing over every trade, not to mention even being friends.
Anyways, if he wants kids, he won't have that much trouble finding a wife. To other girls he would be considered good looking, he's strong enough to work in mines, and he can hunt for meat. Anyone can tell by the way girls whisper about him that they want him. It makes me mad, he's the only male whose throat I don't want to slit. Besides, hunting partners are hard to find, imagine trying to find a good partner.
"What do you want to do?" I ask, "We can fish, hunt, or gather."
"How about we fish at the lake. Leave the poles and gather in the woods. Let's get something nice for tonight." he says.
Tonight. After the reaping, everyone has to celebrate. Most people do, for the fact that their child is sparred for another year. But there are at least two families that don't. They close their blinds, lock the doors, and try to make plans for the painful weeks to come.
We do well. The predators ignore us when easier, tastier prey runs around. By late morning we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens, and, the best of all, a gallon of strawberries. I found the patch years ago, but Gale thought of putting string mesh net around it to keep hungry animals out.
On our way back home, we stop at the Hob, the black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse that once held coal. Then they came up with a better way to transport coal straight from the mines to the trains, after the Hob slowly took over the place. Most stores are closed by now, but the Hob's still kind of busy. We trade half of the fish for good bread, and two more for salt. Greasy Sae, the old bony woman who sells bowls of hot soup, takes half of the greens for a couple of chunks of paraffin. We may have done a bit better somewhere else, but we like to be on good terms with Greasy Sae. She's the only person who can always be counted on to buy a wild dog and sometime part of a hellhound. We don't hunt them, but if you're attacked and you take out a dog or two. Well, meat is meat. "Once it's in the soup, I call it beef." Greasy Sae says with a wink. No one from the Seam would turn down meat even if its wild dog, as long as they eat, they're fine with it. The Peacekeepers who come to the Hob are the only ones who can afford to be pickier.
Once we finish trading at the market, we go to the back door of the mayor's house to sell half the gallon of strawberries. Knowing he has a fondness for them and can afford our price. The mayor's daughter, Jo, opens the door. She's in grade at school. Considering she's the mayor's daughter, you'd think she would be a snob, but not that bad. She just likes to keep to herself, like me. Neither of us really has a group of friends, so end up together at school a lot. We don't talk to each other, but that's just fine for both of us.
Today her plain school outfit was replaced with an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes. You see, when you go to a reaping you have to look better than you normally would in case you have to go to the Capitol.
"Pretty dress." says Gale.
Madge shoots him a look, trying to find out if it was a real compliment or if he was being ironic. It is a nice dress, but she wouldn't be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"
Now it's Gale that's confused. Does she mean it? Or is she messing with him? I'm guessing the second option.
"You won't be going to the Capitol," he says coolly. His eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully crafted. A pin like that could keep a family in bread for months. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve"
"And that's not her fault." I said.
"No, it's not anyone's fault. It's just the way it is." Gale says.
Jo's face became closed off. She puts the money for the berries in my hand. "Good luck, Ivy."
"You too." I said and the door closes.
We walk to the Seam in silence. I don't like the way Gale took a dig at Jo, but sadly, he's right. The reaping system is unfair, and the poor get the worst of it. You qualify for reaping the day you turn twelve. That year your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on until you turn eighteen, the last year of qualification, when your name goes in seven times. That's true for every citizen, in every district, in all of Panem.
But there's a catch. Say you're poor and starving like the people from the seam. You can choose to add your name more times in an exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for one person. You can do this for everyone in your family, too. So, when I was twelve I had my name entered four times. One entry because I had to, and the other three were for tessera, oil and grain for myself, Katie, and my mother. I have, in fact, needed to do this every year. The entries are cumulative, too. So, at the age of sixteen, my name will be entered at the reaping twenty times. Gale, who is eighteen and has been signing up for tesserae for a family of five for seven years, will have his name in forty-two times.
You can see why someone like Jo, who has never needed a tessera, can set him off. The risk of her name being drawn is very small compared to the people who live in the Seam. Not impossible, but slim. Even though the rules were made by the Capitol, not the districts, certainly not Jo's family, it's hard not to resent those who don't need to sign up for tesserae.
At least Gale knows his anger at Jo is misdirected. Other days, when we're deep in the woods, I've had to listen to his endless rants on how the tesserae are just one of the tools they use to cause misery in the district. A way to plant hatred between starving Seam people and those who can normally count on dinner and thereby ensure that we will never trust each other. "It's to the Capitol's advantage to have us divided among ourselves," he might say if I was the only one to hear. If it wasn't reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I'm sure she thought was a harmless comment.
As we walk, I look over at Gale's face, still smoldering under his stony expression. His rages are pointless to me. I don't tell him, though. I mean, what's the point in yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It's not that I don't agree with him, I do. But it doesn't change anything. It doesn't make things fair. It doesn't fill our stomachs. It actually just scares off nearby game. I still let him yell, though. It's better if he yells in the woods than in the district.
We split the spoils, leaving two fish, a few loaves of good bread, greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin, and a bit of money for each.
"See you in the square." I said.
"Wear something pretty." he says flatly.
At home, I find Katie and my mother are ready to go. My mother wears a dress from her apothecary days. Katie is in my first reaping outfit, a skirt and a ruffled blouse. It fits a bit big on her, but my mother made it stay with pins. Even with the pins, she's having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in at the back.
A tub of warm water waits for me. I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even washed my hair. It really surprised me when my laid out one of her own dresses for me. A soft blue thing with matching shoes.
"Are you sure?" I ask. I'm trying to stop rejecting offers of help from her. For a while, I was so angry with her, I wouldn't let her do anything for me. Besides, this is something special. Her clothes from her past are very special to her.
"Of course. Let's put your hair up, too" she says. I let her towel-dry it and braid it up on my head. I can hardly recognize myself in the cracked mirror on the wall.
"You look beautiful," Katie says in a hushed voice.
"And nothing like myself." I said. I hug her, because I know the next couple of hours will be horrible for her. Her first reaping. She's as safe as anyone can get, since she's only entered once. I wouldn't let her take any tesserae. But she's worried about me. That the unthinkable might happen.
I try to protect Katie in every way I can, but I'm completely powerless against the reaping. The anguish I feel whenever she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to show up on my face. I notice her shirt slid out of the back of the skirt and I force myself to stay calm. "Tuck in your tail, little duck," I say while smoothing the blouse back in place.
Katie giggles and gives me a small "Quack."
"Quack yourself," I say with a small laugh that only Katie can get out of me. "Come on, let's eat." I say and give her a quick kiss on the top of her head.
The fish and greens are cooking in a stew, but that will be for dinner. We save the strawberries and bakery bread for the evening's meal, to make it special. So instead, we drink milk from Katie's goat, Lady, and eat the rough bread made from the tessera grin, even though no one has much appetite anyway.
At one o' clock, we head for the town square. Attendance is mandatory unless you are on Death's door. This evening, officials will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not, you will be imprisoned.
It's too bad that they hold the reaping in the square- one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant. The square's surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there's good weather, it feels kind of like a holiday. But today, regardless of the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there's an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like vultures on rooftops, only add to the effect.
People file in silently and sign in. Reapings are good opportunities for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population. Twelve through eighteen year old are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, oldest in the front, the young ones, like Katie, toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. There are others, too, who have no one in danger, or who just don't care anymore, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose name will be drawn. Odds are given on their ages, whether they are merchant or Seam, if they will break down and weep. Most refuse dealing with the racketeers, but carefully. Those same people tend to be informers, and who hasn't broken the law? I would be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge protect me. But not everyone can say the same.
Besides, Gale and I agreed that if we had to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet to the head, the bullet would be much quicker.
The space gets tighter as more people arrive. The square's large, but not large enough to hold District 12's population of eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the neighboring streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state.
I find myself standing in a group of sixteens from the Seam. We exchange terse nods then focus on the temporary stage that's set up in front of the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for boys and one for girls. I stare at the paper slips in the girls' ball. Twenty of them have the name Ivy Evergreen written on them in careful handwriting.
Two of the three chairs fill with Jo's father, Mayor Taylor, who's a tall, balding ma, and Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, fresh from the Capitol with her freakish white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. They whisper to each other and look at the empty seat with concern.
Once the town clock strikes two the mayor steps up to the podium and starts to read. It's the same story every single year. He tells the history of Panem, the country that rose out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He names the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed so much land, the brutal war for what little land was left. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then the Dark Days came, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth destroyed. The Treaty of Treason gave us new laws to guarantee peace and, as a yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never happen again, it gave us the Hunger Games.
The rules for the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, every district must give one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate in the games. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a large outdoor arena that could have anything from a frozen wasteland to a burning desert. Over a period of several weeks, the tributes must to the death. The last competitor standing wins.
Taking kids from our districts and forcing them to kill each other while we watch- this is the Capitol's way of reminding us that we are at their mercy. How little chance we have of surviving another rebellion. Whatever words they use, the real message is as clear as day, "Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy you just like we did to District Thirteen."
To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol makes us treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sport event pitting every district against each other. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, mostly a lot of food. All year, the Capitol will the winning district gifts of oil, grain, and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.
"It is a time for both repentance and a time for thanks." intones the mayor.
He then reads the list of the past District Twelve victors. In seventy-four years, we have had only two. But only one of them is still a live. Gustavo Roque, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at the moment seems to be screaming something unintelligible, staggers on stage, and falls into the third chair. He's drunk. Extremely. The audience responds with its token applause, but he's confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she can barely fend off.
The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District Twelve is the laughing stock of Panem and he knows it. He quickly tries to get the attention back by introducing Effie Trinket.
Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Her pink hair must be a wig because her curls have moved slightly off center since her encounter with Gustavo. She goes on a bit about how it's an honor to be here, but everyone knows she's itching to get bumped up to a better district where they have proper victors, not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation.
Through the crowd, I see Gale looking back at me with a ghost of smile. As far as reapings go, this has a slight entertainment factor. But I suddenly think of the forty-two slips with Gale's name on them in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. Not compared to the other boys who most likely have less, even if they are from the seam. Maybe he's thinking the same about me because I see his face darkens and he turns away. "There are still thousands of slips, we'll be all right." I wish I could tell him.
It's time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says the same thing as always, "Ladies first!" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, her hand digs deep into the ball, and pulls out a name. the crowd draws a collective breath and then you could hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous, and so desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not me, that it's not me.
Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads the name in a loud, clear voice. And it's not me.
It's Katie Evergreen.
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