Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins or the movies.
Author's Note: Hello there! This is my first attempt at a Hunger Games fanfiction. Thanks to my wonderful best friends Claire, who reads the rough outlines, and Katelyn, who is my grammar freak. This wouldn't be up here without them! I try to update frequently. Please review! "You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope." -Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games
Chapter 1
Karen
I'm skipping through a meadow with my best friend, Logan. The flowers are brilliant shade of pink and purple, and there isn't a cloud in the light blue sky. The sunshine pours onto our skin and I collapse in the flowers, laughing because I am so happy. So incredibly happy. Not a care in the world.
"Karen," Logan says. "Karen, wake up."
My eyes flutter open as I realize it was real life Logan telling me to wake up, and I was dreaming. I groan because I long for the days where I can just be happy and skip through meadows (maybe not literally, although it seems nice). I start to come to my senses and realize rain is dripping on me. Stupid roof. "What?" I ask, a bit annoyed. I want to stay in that dream meadow forever.
"President Brooke is making an announcement tonight. We have to be in the square to watch," he tells me. I groan because the rebellion of the thirteen districts came to a close, no more than six months ago, and whatever Brooke has to say won't be good. "Come on." He reaches his hand out to me and I use it to slowly pull myself up. Ever since my mother died from of the Capitol bombs, I feel like everything I do is in slow motion.
I know I have to make myself semi-presentable, but the task seems impossible. So, I just stand there and stare at Logan. I notice his pale gray eyes, dark hair, and how he seems to have a grown a foot in the past few months, despite having almost no food. I look at how muscular he is, even though you'd think his body would start eating his muscle by now. Logan grabs my hand, but I don't react. I don't flinch or pull away, but I don't grab him either. Logan holding my hand has been a common occurrence since my mother died. I feel like I need him to do everything for me. "Come on," he says softly, and tugs at my hand, so I walk over to the vanity with him and sit down.
He takes my dark, red hair out of its ponytail and sets the holder on the desk. I look in the mirror; my green eyes are very unusual for someone in the Seam, let alone district 12, and my hair is a tangled mess. This kind of red hair is only found in the Capitol and districts two and five. Fitting, I guess. My great grandmother came here from the Capitol as a Peacekeeper. Logan brushes out my hair, and each brush stroke causes intense pain at my roots. After he manages to get most of the knots out, he tries to put it back into the ponytail, but the top of my hair sticks out at odd angles.
"Let me do it," I tell him. I sweep my hair to the side and put it in a braid that reaches to the middle of my stomach. There's already a gray dress laid out for me. It was my mother's from when she was my age, and it's the only decent clothing I have. I don't really care if Logan sees me naked, so I change in front of him without thinking twice. From the water dripping from the roof, I realize it's raining. I pull on my gray sweatshirt, the only thing I have with a hood.
"Are you going to go down with your dad and Gracie?" he asks me.
Gracie is my baby sister. She's only nine months old. My mother died six months ago. I hate looking at her. I hate seeing how she's not growing and doesn't have enough food. How my father is struggling to keep her alive and care for her and I can't even help because I can barely manage myself. How she reminds me so much of my mother. How I rely on Logan to help my father, Gracie, and mostly, me. I hate looking at her, she's the reminder that I'm so helpless. "I'll go with you," I decide.
He nods. "You look nice." I know he's lying. I completely ignore my father and Gracie as I walk out the door. We walk down to the main square. It's already starting to fill. I know most of the people, since district 12 is so small, so I return the "hello's" I get, but don't stop for actual conversation. The Justice Building has a big screen on it, since most people can't afford a television. Even if they could, there isn't always electricity to watch it. It starts to rain a bit harder, so I pull up my hood. Logan and I stand near a group of kids our age, and wait for the program to start.
The Panem symbol and anthem plays, and then President Brooke appears on the screen. She looks older since the Dark Days. The war did that to a lot of people. You can see some of her gray roots, which stick out compared to her shiny black hair. Her ice blue eyes seem to be staring right at me. "Hello citizens of Panem," she begins. "To remind the districts that the Capitol has complete control over them, today and centuries from now, each district will give two tributes between the ages of twelve and eighteen, one boy and one girl, to participate in the Hunger Games. Tributes will be reaped lottery-style and will participate in a fight to the death. The prize is your life. Reapings will take place six months from today, the one year anniversary of the official end of the rebellion. More details will be given later. The Hunger Games will be aired live for all of Panem to see. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." Smile. Capitol seal. Anthem. Black.
No one really knows what to make of this. I picture twenty four people closed in a room killing each other, but I know it will be more than that. That wouldn't provide nearly enough torture for the tributes and the district citizens. It wouldn't be interesting enough for Brooke, who will probably be sitting behind her big desk, eating her rich Capitol food, enjoying us kill each other.
"Let's go," Logan says, and we follow the crowd out of the square. We walk silently back to my house and back to the bedroom. It's cold and dark, but it's better than staying out in the rain. "So, Hunger Games…" he says, as he sits down on my mattress.
"Yeah," I respond as I sit down next to him. I don't know what else to say. He puts him arm around me and I rest my head on his chest. We never used to be like this. We used to spend days walking around the square and talking nonstop, but then there was the rebellion. My mom died, his dad died, and the Hob was bombed, and it wasn't safe to go outside. Now we don't know what to do with ourselves.
"Kare," my dad says from the doorway. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
I nod and get up. We walk over to the kitchen table where Gracie is sleeping, wrapped in a blanket. "I know I told you to stop stealing," he begins. I already know what's coming. I began to steal a few months before the Dark Days, but then my parents made me quit. I got pretty good at it, too. Logan always refused to help me but I always got him and his family food, too. My father confirms my guess. "Gracie won't make it and we're all starving. Get food as soon as you can," he adds. I nod and turn to leave. I'm glad that he's actually letting me steal again; it will give me something to do.
I go and tell Logan the news. He agrees to help me as long as I promise we're careful. I grab my hair pin and a plastic card that I use to pick locks, and Logan grabs a plastic bag from the corner of the room. "What's the plan?" he asks.
I take the bag from him and start walking outside before answering. "Bakery then livestock," I decide. I've only had real bakery bread a few times in my life, and that was a special treat. We walk to the bakery but stop at the side of the building. "Distract Poppy," I tell him. Poppy is the baker's daughter, a few years older than us, and always works at night. "I'll go through the side and get the bread. "
"Got it," he responds.
"See you soon." I wait until he's in the bakery and talking to Poppy before I slip around back. I have to wait for a few Peacekeepers to pass before walking over to the side entrance. Logan has Poppy turned with her back completely too me, and she's leaning over the counter. Flirting, no doubt. I try the door just to see if by chance, it's unlocked, but it isn't, so I jiggle it open with the hair pin and plastic card.
The smell of fresh bread immediately fills my nostrils and makes my stomach rumble. It's not fair that she lives here and I haven't had a proper meal in weeks. I check up the stairs, which are to the immediate left of the door and see that the coast is clear. Logan has Poppy's attention, so I crawl behind the counter. I know I need to be fast so I don't get caught, but I can't help but admiring all the bread and pastries. It looks like they have the most loaves of bread with all different kinds of seeds on top, and some pastries, shaped like hearts with white frosting. I take a loaf of bread and a few hearts, and bolt out of the store as quickly as possible.
Logan seems to be doing such a good job distracting Poppy, that he doesn't even notice me. I walk around, through the front entrance, and stand next to Logan. "Hey Poppy," I greet as nicely as possible, and swing the bag over my shoulder.
"Hello, Karen," Poppy says back. She has a very kind, genuine, smile.
Poppy pushes herself off the counter when he puts his arm around me (we can't see down her shirt anymore) and raises an eyebrow. "Are you guys a couple?" she asks. You can tell she's trying to be nice about asking, but we all know she's asking because she likes Logan.
"No," I respond automatically. People always wonder about us, but the answer is always no. No, because I don't know if he likes me or if I like him, and no because love makes things complicated and I'd rather not deal with it. Not that is has ever been something we've discussed. "We should probably be getting back before it rains harder," I say as I look out the window. It actually looks like it's going to clear soon, but I'm starving and want to leave. Logan agrees.
"See you later," Poppy says as we head out the door.
Logan and I walk down the street and stop to rest across from the little farm that has a pen of chickens and pigs out front. Logan takes the bag and peaks inside. "Now what?" He hands the bag back to me.
"Go inside and talk to the farmer. I'm gonna get some eggs." I know this will be harder since the chickens might make noise, but I really want these eggs.
"See ya," he says and heads off.
I wait until Logan is inside and walk over to the chicken pen. There's a wooden coop in the corner where the eggs are. I hop over the short mesh fence and dash across to the coop. A few chickens walk toward me and make a little noise but I ignore them and peer into the coop. There are lots of eggs, surely they wouldn't notice if I took a few. I reach and grab three when the first chicken makes a loud clucking noise. I drop the eggs in my bag and turn around. The chickens are picking at the ground, and they don't seem to be paying attention to me. I take another few eggs, when the chickens start to go mad. I know the farmer will be out any second, and surely some Peacekeepers will come to investigate, so I take a running jump over the mesh and sprint to the road, that splits into an intersection. My house is six down on the right, Logan's six on the left. This has always been our meeting spot.
Soon enough, Logan is there, out of breath. "Got the eggs?" he asks. I nod.
"Go get your family and come over," I tell him. We part ways and I walk to my house where my father starts to cook the eggs as soon as I come in the door.
That night is somewhat like a celebration. Even though we just received the news that the Capitol plans on having children kill each other, we have food and that makes it a celebration. Logan and I eat in the bedroom, while everyone else eats in the kitchen. Logan's mother is telling stories of what it was like in district two; that's where she grew up (she has the same red hair as me, too) but when her husband became a Peacekeeper they moved here. Now, her husband is dead (or presumed dead, they never found his body) and the Capitol won't let them move back because of the rebellion. District 12 rebelled by district two didn't. I'm glad though. If they moved, I'd never see Logan again.
We finish our food and flop down on my mattress. The rain stops, so the roof isn't leaking anymore, but the air still feels damp. Logan lies down next to me and rubs my back. "How are you feeling?" he asks me. It's those quiet, relaxing nights that he asks that.
"No better, no worse than usual," I answer. This basically includes feeling tired and a bit sad, and having my back and head hurt. He kisses me on the head and continues to rub my back until I fall asleep.