Reaping day. Mike walked with the other boys to the assembly he wished he didn't have to go to.
He checked himself in, and went to stand with the other sixteen year olds in their roped-off section in front of the stage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit of his. His name was in so many times. Nearly thirty. The odds were nowhere near in his favor. Being chosen was a very real possibility.
He tried to catch the eye of one of his friends. Any of them. But as usual on Reaping Day none of them would look his way. Every one of them had their names in at least as many times as Mike did.
Everything was eerily silent, with the only sound being the footsteps of kids running late as they rushed to make it to their spots.
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Mike sneered. The capital made him sick. He couldn't stand how...fake they were. As Floura, the capital representative for district ten, began to speak he zoned out, thinking about his two older brothers. James, the oldest, had just turned nineteen, and his name wouldn't be in this year's reaping. Marc was eighteen, this would be his last year. Mike had two more after this, provided he wasn't picked this year.
"And now for the drawing!" Floura smiled, like this was the best thing that could happen to anyone. All the capitol people only viewed being a Tribute as a great honor. In Mike's opinion if it was such a fucking honor they should send their own kids to fight and let them feel the terror every child in the districts felt every year. Let them fight to the death while the districts watched and bet on their favorites.
"The female representative from district ten," Floura announced. "Is..." Mike could hear every girl in the district draw in a collective breath. "Korrina Melsford!"
Mike sighed. He couldn't say he was happy it was her that was chosen, he hated the games, and all that they stood for and would never be glad of any Tribute that was chosen, but he never had liked Korrina. They always seemed to be at odds, no matter what it was they were doing. School, recreation, it didn't matter. The two of them had always clashed.
Mike watched as she walked up to the platform, standing tall with her head held high in the air. She hadn't even flinched when her name had been called, but Mike could see her clenched jaw, and her hand trembling slightly, revealing exactly how afraid she was. Over the years Mike had grown good at reading tributes chosen at the Reapings.
Korrina stood, staring out at the assembled crowd. A few shot her looks of sympathy, others stood staring at the ground, probably feeling glad that it wasn't them, then guilty, for thinking that way. Mike knew that because it was exactly how he felt every year after the drawing of the male Tribute.
"Congratulations! Congratulations!" Floura smiled at Korrina. Floura looked back out at the crowd. "Ladies and Gentlemen, your female Tribute for the 67th annual Hunger Games!"
There was half-hearted applause throughout the assembled crowd.
Floura pretended not to notice as she applauded enthusiastically, before crossing the stage to the large glass bowl containing the names of all the male candidates available for the "honor" of becoming a tribute.
"And now for the boys!" Floura announced, and placed her hand in the bowl, stirring around the papers for an agonizingly long time.
As she finally selected one Mike's heart hammered and he felt his breathing accelerate. Slowly, Floura pulled the small slip of paper from the bowl and unfolded it. His heart nearly stopped as she began to read the name; "Michael Richardson!"
Mike suddenly felt very small, and very, very alone
Jordan shoved his last opponent down, satisfied with the carnage he had caused. Connell put his hands up to his face, straightening out his nose. Jordan extended his hand, helping the other boy to his feet.
"Congrats, man," Connell smiled, slapping Jordan an the back and staining Jordan's shirt with the blood on his hand.
"Thanks," Jordan smiled. "I've waited a long time for this."
Connell nodded, throwing his arm around the smaller boy. "The next Hunger Games champion from District One! How long will the games last this time, huh? Two days? Or will you take pity on those outlying districts and let them live?"
Jordan shrugged, throwing off his friend's arm. Reality was beginning to set in, that he would, in fact, be going to the Hunger Games in less than two hours. Reaping Day was a huge affair in District One, with all the trained candidates fighting for their spot in the esteemed arena. After all, only one boy could go, and to ensure only the best of the best were representing the first district, a tournament was held between the candidates, pitting them against each other until the best came out on top.
And now it was here. Jordan had trained his entire life for this, and now he had beat out the other thirteen boys who had all been vying for a chance to volunteer at the Reaping. Now the honor and glory would be his.
"It's getting close to the Reaping," Jordan said, looking at the clock on the wall. "I should go get ready."
Connell nodded, looking at himself in the large mirror hanging on the wall of the gym where the tournament had been held. "I don't know *what* my hair is doing right now."
Jordan rolled his eyes, not pointing out that Connell's blond hair was, in fact, too short to do anything. "I'll see you later."
The walk to his parents' house was a short one. Once inside the grand estate, Jordan ran upstairs, avoiding all of his family. Hardly able to stand them on a regular basis, having them fawn all over him when he wanted peace would be unbearable.
Passing the two hours was harder than he initially thought. He changed his shirt, tossing the old, blood-stained one in the garbage, then changed his pants because he knew his mother would make him. He tussled with his brother, but his mother made them stop after the two of them nearly put a hole in the wall.
Finally, it was time for the Reaping. As the massive population of he first district stood, uniformed, in the middle on the square, Jordan couldn't help but look around. He wondered who the female candidate would be. He knew whoever it was would probably be one of the hardest to beat.
"Hello, and welcome to 67th annual Hunger Games!" an overly cheerful voice echoed around a loudspeaker. A woman with frizzy purple hair done up in a mop on her head and blue eyeshadow up to her eyebrows stood, beaming, at the crowd. Jordan rolled his shoulders, trying not to bounce up and down. She still had her speech and then a girl had to volunteer...
"This year, we'll be getting right down to business! It is time to chose a female candidate for the games!" Jordan's head shot up as the Capitol representative, Mila, smiled at the crown and asked, "Any volunteers?"
"I volunteer for the Hunger Games!" a voice came from the back of the crowd. Every head turned to see who had spoken. A girl Jordan knew walked toward the stage, her head held high, confidence radiating off her in waves. Her name was Garnet, and she had long, black hair and cold, black eyes. The clothes she wore showed off a slender but powerful body. She had been the top of her class for six years running.
Mila couldnt have been happier as she ushered Garnet onto the stage "What's your name, dear?" she asked.
"Garnet Modinsale." Garnet flipped her hair back as she announced herself, every bit sure that she would be the one to come home. Jordan smirked. How wrong she was.
"Well, how about a round of applause for your female Tribute from District one!" Jordan smirked as he clapped slowly.
"And now," The Capitol Representative announced, practically screaming into the microphone. "For your male candidate. Any volunteers?"
Jordan smiled. "I volunteer as a Tribute!" He called, making sure his voice was heard. As he walked up to the stage there were no surprised murmurs or whispers. This was expected.
"And your name?"
"Jordan Roderick," he said, grinning.
"Another Roderick," The Capitol Woman smiled. "Well, it seems like you two will definitely be contenders in this year's Games! Why don't you two shake hands...then just in through here," she motioned to the doors behind the two Tributes.
Jordan reached out and shook Garnet's hand, each of them trying to squeeze harder than the other, before walking through the doors.
Mike slowly shuffled out of his line, having to be prodded along by the Peacekeepers. Korrina looked down at him from the platform, something akin to sympathy in her eyes.
He was barely aware of himself walking up to the platform. He scanned the crowd, but all he saw were faces. He couldn't recognize any. He was too far gone.
"Your candidates for the 67th annual Hunger Games!" Floura yelled into the microphone. Mike tried hard not to wince. As before there were a few half-hearted claps, but nothing that could really be considered applause.
"Yes, well," Floura said, "Right this way you two." She ushered Mike and Korrina through two large doors, following after them, before the peacekeepers closed them and shut Mike and Korrina off from the only part of the world they'd ever known.
Inside what was the Town Hall of District ten the two Tributes were split. Korrina was led down one hall, while Mike was led in the opposite direction before he was guided into a room.
"Your friends and family will be allowed to see you briefly," A Peacekeeper said, speaking for the first time. "They will be brought here." Mike could only nod in response.
As the Peacekeeper left he sat down against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them, wishing he'd wake up from this nightmare.
He looked up as the door creaked open. "Mike?" His oldest brother stuck his head in the door before walking through, followed by Marc.
From somewhere outside the door Mike heard a Peacekeeper say. "Three minutes."
Mike got to his feet and stood facing his brothers, and for a few seconds none of them had anything to say. Finally, it was James who spoke up. "You can pull through this, you know that don't you? You're strong enough. Come back to us, alright?"
"James, you know I hate the Games. If I have to be a piece in them I don't want to be a tool used to kill other kids. Besides...I don't think I could bring myself to do it."
"Mike," Marc put in. "It's kill or be killed. You know that. You have to fight. If not for you then for us. We don't want to lose you." He paused. "Who else would we have to pick on around here?"
Mike smiled halfheartedly. "I'll miss you guys."
"We'll miss you too, little brother," James said, and ruffled his hair before pulling him into a hug. "But we'll only miss you for a little while. Stay alive in there, and come home."
Mike pulled out of his brother's embrace without a word, and James stepped back, as Marc stepped forward to hug his little brother as well. "See you soon, kid. Good luck." He stepped back just as the Peacekeeper opened the door to tell them time was up.
Each of the older boys looked back once to smile sadly at their brother before walking out the door.
Mike backed up against the wall as reality began to set in. Being a Tribute in the Hunger Games for all but one person each year was as good as a death sentence. And he knew that every other Tribute out there had brothers, or parents, or sisters, or friends... someone who was telling them the exact same thing Mike's brother's had. That they were strong enough to pull through and that they could come home. It would only be true for one person.
He looked up as his door opened again, and his parents walked through. His mother's eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks tear-stained. His father's jaw was clenched, and he was tense, the only indication of what he was feeling.
His mother rushed forward and hugged him without a word, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. He hugged her, wishing he had something comforting to say. "Don't cry, Mom," he muttered.
Mike felt his father's hand on his shoulder. "You come home, son," he said, so quietly Mike almost didn't hear him.
No one said anything after that. No one even moved for the remainder of their three minutes until a Peacekeeper opened the door to tell his parents it was time for them to leave. Before his father pulled her off Mike's mother took his face in her hands, still crying, and kissed his cheek.