The sun is a mixture of deep oranges and pinks. It appears as if my little brother had taken one the brushes from his classroom and wiped it over the sky, blending the rich colors together in an accidental masterpiece. It is beautiful—the way its wildness contrast against the calm blue ocean. Sunrises are one of my favorite parts of home. District 4 is over abundantly beautiful. The blue water that crashes onto the white sand, the colorful fish that live beneath the surface of the ocean, the palm trees that overlook the district's people, and the colorful sky that impresses us at every time of day.
I wait until the sky is fully visible and then stand up, dusting the tiny pieces of sand from my shorts, before I grab my sandals and stride toward town. I do this every morning, and I have been for ten years. My brother and I used to come down and watch the boats at sunrise and then go for a swim at sunset. But that stopped two years ago. Now I do it alone.
The district is busy today, with fishermen bringing their catch off the docks and to the shops, where they will either be sold or prepared for transport to the Capitol. Families run about, completing errands before the Peacekeepers arrive. They buy bread and shrimp and crabmeat and milk, and then hurry back home to start heating the water for their children's baths. The children must look their best in case their name is called, in case they have to wobble their way to the weathered stone steps and represent District 4.
Once I make it past the docks, I toss my sandals onto the ground and slide them on, continuing to walk immediately. My family's shop is visible now. The sea foam green paint is what separates it from the plain white shops in the merchant section of District 4. The store has no actual name, but it has become known as Magali's' to our customers. Not like it doesn't make sense, because it just so happens to be our last name, I've just never called it by that name.
The line to actually enter the shop extends out the front door. It isn't an unusual sight. Most people come to buy their cuts of seafood early in the morning, because they know the boats come in at sunrise and the fish is still fresh. The woman at the back of the line smiles faintly and waves to me. I give her a small smile and then turn down the alley, entering through the side door.
"Liem, we need shrimp!" My father's voice radiates through the back of the shop. I chuckle and stride over to the sink, where Liem is washing a bag of unpeeled shrimp.
"He shouldn't come to work on days like these. He's too on-edge." Liem mutters, as he sets the bag down and quickly ties the top.
"Do you want help?" I ask and lean over to rinse my hands under the cool water.
"No." He sighs and turns back to me, leaning his body against the counter. His tousled bronze hair and sun kissed skin sends my cheeks pink. They always do, and he knows it too, because a smirk spreads across his soft lips. "You alright?"
My arms cross and I quickly break our glance. "Fine… Just a bit tired."
Liem's lips part as if he to speak, but my father strides into the back room, his face bright red. Liem and I turn, but are unsure of what to say. I am expecting him to yell, but he just sighs and holds his hands out. "Give me the shrimp, Liem."
"Sorry, sir."
"Don't worry about it." He says and turns again, walking though the curtain that separates the store and the prep room. This time I follow him, leaving Liem alone once again.
"Do you need help with anything? I could help Liem prepare the orders." I ask and stare up at my father, almost praying that he agrees. I could use something to get my mind off the Reaping.
"No." He says simply and hands the bag of shrimp to a middle-aged man with a scruffy gray beard. The man hands him back money and then leaves.
"Why not? Liem needs help back there."
"Because you need to go home and prepare. Now go. Your mother and brother are waiting."
I let out an overdramatic sigh and turn on my heel, striding back to the prep room. Liem is in the same spot I left him, his eyes glued to me as I walked forward.
"You shouldn't be angry with him. It's this day that stresses everyone out."
When we are close enough, I reach my arms out and hug them around his strong waist. My face then hides in his chest and I close my eyes, breathing in his soft smell. It's salty and warm, like the smell of the ocean waves at midday. His ribcage expands and contracts slowly as he sighs. Then I feel his fingertips on my lower back.
"This is your last year, Liem."
"I know, but you'll be fine, Jade…" He murmurs, while rubbing his fingertips in circles against my bare skin.
I don't say anything in return. I just memorize the way his fingers feel as they touch me.
It's hard to explain to our relationship. When my older brother died, I filled the spot of Liem's best friend. I think we both helped each other cope with the loss of a loved one. And by coping, I mean physical coping. It lasted for almost half a year, before we dropped whatever our relationship was. We haven't kissed since, and on days like these, I miss what we had. But Liem is still my best friend, and as long as I have him in the even the slightest form, I am content.
"We're going to be late, you two!" A District alarm sounds again, drowning out my mother's voice as she yells upstairs. Riley sits on the edge of my bed, as I tie his shoes.
"You know where we're going, don't you?" I ask quietly, looking up at him.
Riley nods his head and smiles. "Reaping!"
"Yes…" My fingers finish tying the laces and then I lean over, hugging him tightly. "I love you, buddy."
His green eyes widen and he hugs me back with his chubby arms. "I love you too."
"You know what you learned in school about the Hunger Games?" I try to blink the rising tears out of my eyes, before continuing. "They are going to pick two names out of the bowls and then—"
"They die." He presses his hands to my mouth and pouts. "Except for Finnick and Mags and Annie."
I reach up and push his hands away, frowning slightly. "They're supposed to come home, Riley. But it's hard to do. There is twenty-four other tributes and only one comes out."
Riley's chin starts to wobble, but he nods and wraps his arms around my neck. "I'm going into the games, aren't I? That's why you're telling me!"
I hug him tighter and hide my face from his view, laughing quietly. "No! No… You're too little, Riley. You still have six years before your name gets put into those bowls."
"Oh." He giggles and reaches up, playing with my long dark hair. "I kinda wanted to meet Finnick."
My lips curl into a deep frown when he says that, with new tears suddenly clouding my vision. He doesn't know any differently, but I hate Finnick Odair. Our older brother had no chance in his games, because Finnick obviously focused most of his time on Annie Cresta, the girl who survived the 70th Hunger Games on pure luck. Being from District 4, she was the best swimmer when the dam flooded the arena. I saw the way he looked at her before the games, and I knew my brother wasn't going to come home. Imagine that. Imagine realizing that your own brother would be ignored and neglected, because his mentor was too busy drooling over some silly little girl. Well, Annie Cresta went mental after watching my brother decapitated, so Finnick can deal with that for the rest of his life.
"Hey…" I tilt Riley's chin up so that he's looking into my deep green eyes. "Maybe one day, okay? But come on. It's time to go."
When one o'clock arrives, the twelve to eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped off areas in the district's town square. People sign in and residential records are checked. Attending The Reaping is mandatory, so peacekeepers will be sniffing for people to arrest. Older family members line up around the roped off sections and watch their loved ones. They pray that a familiar name is not called. The escort for District 4, Arelle Lane, and the mayor talk and laugh ahead of me. Behind me, Riley is silently staring at the ground with my mother and my father. He has not spoken since we left the house. A few seats down on the weathered stage, Mags, Finnick, and Annie solemnly chat to each other. I refuse to look at them for too long. I'm actually still afraid of ever having to speak with Finnick Odair. I don't know how I'd react.
My eyes scan the boys' section, hoping to catch a glimpse of Liem, but a tall girl steps in front of me and blocks my view of the other section. She also steps on my clean dress sandals and I wince in pain. Liem would be the only comforting thing to me at a time like this. I am not scared, as only six of my names are in that damned glass bowl, but I know one of the girls around me will be plucked from our pile and shipped off to the Capitol for slaughter. One boy will have the same opportunity. Some say it brings pride to represent our district, but I know better. My brother was decapitated on a live broadcast. Representing a district brings nothing but untimely death, or a prolonged one if you're the lucky lone survivor.
Mayor Reece, reads the same speech every year. It's required by every district mayor. The story of Panem, and the history of our country, which rose from the ashes of some place called North America. He lists the names of every disaster, storm, and war, which led to Panem. A 'shining' Capitol, which was surrounded by thirteen smaller districts. Then he drones on about the Dark Days and how the Capitol chose to completely annihilate our thirteenth district. The next part of the speech, I have memorized word by word. The story of the Hunger Games is being dragged on now, and I am reciting it under my breath. It is to serve as a reminder to the civilians that you cannot overthrow the Capitol… I murmur to the asphalt ground. Each district must choose one boy and one girl, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that can hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.
It's sadistic, I know. Although, memorizing this barbaric explanation of the Hunger Games is what keeps me calm. If I focus on the mayor's words, I will not be tempted to search the grim expressions around me. I cannot be tempted to glance at my shivering six-year-old brother, who actually believed that he was going into the games, so I block it out. The fifteen-minute conclusion of the speech, the rustling of nervous shoe soles around me, and the distant murmurs of frightened mothers just all melt away. All I can hear is the thumping of my own heart, the distant sound of a hovercraft, and the near silent words of the speech that I still allow to spill from my lips. All I see is the transition of the mayor and Arelle Lane, who is covered from head to toe in some disastrous yellow.
"Happy Hunger Games!" She grins and opens her arms as she stares out at the crowd. "It is such an privilege to be back here! So many beautiful faces! So many of you destined for the honor of representing District 4 in the Hunger Games!" She giggles and motions toward Mags and Finnick and Annie. "We have come to know and cherish the past victors from the district. They are heroes to all of us and I hope that this year, District 4 will be able to add another victor to our extensive list!" Pockets of clapping erupt from the crowd and Arelle beams, clapping her hands along with them.
Oh, I guess I forgot to mention. Some people here actually volunteer for the games. We're considered a Career district, but there aren't many Careers. No one in their right mind would willingly walk up those steps.
"Ladies first then!" Arelle spins around, striding toward the large bowl, which holds thousands of names, but only six of mine. Her perfectly manicured nails dip into the names and she fishes out one slip.
My mind is so fixated on not being focused that I don't hear the name being called. All I know is that something is wrong. The girls around me shift uneasily and turn to look. They whisper quietly and a part in the crowd forms in front of me.I try to pull myself from the daze, but all of my senses seem to be permanently clouded. I have shut down.
Strong hands grip both of my arms and start to tug. My face drains of its color and I turn, staring nervously back at the peacekeepers who are clothed in their white uniforms. As if an elastic band, reality snaps back and I realize what's happening.
"N-No! Let go of me!" I mutter and try to yank my arms back. "Stop!" A scream erupts from my throat, as the two peacekeepers lift me up and over the rope. "NO!"
"Jade, come on up, sweetheart. Don't be shy." Arelle's encouraging voice is hardly appealing. I'm dragged down the main aisle, toward the stage, with my legs kicking out hard in different directions. Sobs in the background must be my mother's. And when I hear Riley's cries, my blood runs cold. No, this can't be right. My name couldn't have been picked. There must have been a mistake.
Arelle spins around, dropping the slip of paper back into the bowl of names. The most obnoxious smile possible is plastered across her odd features. The peacekeepers assist my fumbling body up the stairs and shove me toward Arelle. It's the first time that I'm able to stare out at the faces of my district people. People I knew, people I loved, people I hated. Now they are grave. They are saddened. They know that they are staring at a dead girl. I am the dead girl.
Arelle takes hold both of my shoulders, making me flinch slightly. She then glances from the crowd and back to me. "Congratulations, sweetheart. You are going to be representing these beautiful people!" She motions her hand to the people beneath the stage and I just go numb. I can see my family. My mother sobs uncontrollably into my father's chest. Riley stares in my direction; his eyes are wide. Another one of his siblings is being sent into the arena. Another one of my parents' children has been ripped from their grasp.
"Let us have a round of applause for Jade Magali, your new tribute." Arelle claps her tiny hands and then snaps her fingers at the people sitting on fold out chairs behind us. I turn my attention to them, watching as Finnick Odair straightens and steps toward us. Our eyes lock and I realize I can't be angry at him. I'm too afraid of being a tribute. I'm too terrified of dying to be mad at him. The feeling may fade eventually and I will let Finnick know how I feel, but right now I can't even speak.
"Jade will be mentored by Finnick Odair throughout her time in the Capitol! Whoever is chosen to represent the male tribute for District 4 will also be mentored by him."
People begin to clap quietly. They love Finnick and they always have. His charm practically won him the games.
Finnick presses a hand to his chest and waves the other, smiling thankfully at the crowd. "You're all too kind." When the cheers start to die down, he takes his seat again.
"And now, for the boys!" Arelle strides to the other glass bowl and dips her hand into it, grabbing the first slip of paper. My eyes frantically search the boy's section, determined to find Liem. I pray that his name is not the one that leaves Arelle's lips. My heartbeat is drowning all of the other noises. Thump, thump. She comes back to the podium. Thump, thump. Her frosted lips part and—
"Jaxon Ula!"
My eyes widen and my heart stops as the back half of the male's section divides. A boy I know and love moves from the crowd and shakily steps toward the stage, peacekeepers surrounding him. His usually messy brown hair is combed to one side and he's wearing a spotless button-down shirt. Now I really can't breathe.
Once Jaxon is on the stage, Arelle grins and opens her arms, pulling him closer. "Here we are!" She places him on her other side and I glance over at the boy. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Compared to him, I'm practically a dwarf. He's exactly six-foot-three; we measured last month. How could this have happened to me? I won't be able to protect Jaxon. I can't even protect myself.
Liem's little brother and I are District 4's tributes for the 72rd Hunger Games.