"There's no reason to worry, Finnick. It's not like you'll be in any danger if you do get picked. You're a fighter. You're resilient. You'd make it." Annie's words are kind, but they don't reassure me. This time comes every year, and as it approaches, my heart beats just a little faster. It's the time all of Panem falls silent, and shares in two brief moments of universal grief: The Reaping.
"It's not like they'll pick you, anyway. Your name isn't in nearly as many times as the older kids." She brushes her hair to the side and scoots a pebble across the sandy beach. Annie's not one to mince words. I hardly knew her before. At first it was innocent. A local girl, learning to make fish nets; not much younger than me. But as time went on, I found myself drawn to her. Now I can't stay away. Her words have little meaning, but I cling to each one.
I look her right in her eyes. "I'm not any of those things," I say. "I'm just a simple boy with a net and no way out of getting sent off to die for sport." She pats my shoulder and looks straight into me, not at me. "You're much more than that, Finnick. You're the smartest one at school, the best swimmer of all the boys at the fishing yard. Not to mention how the girls gawk when you walk by…" Her face rushes with a red pallor and she stares down into the sand. I can see her shake slightly as she lets out a giggle. She looks back up. "You're wicked with that trident," she says as she points to the weapon sitting next to me in the sand. "What's that gonna do for me?" I pipe up. "It's just for fishing. They never put tridents into the arena. Or nets," I say as I motion to the net sitting on the side opposite the trident. District 4 never really has any weapons in the games they're familiar with, and very little time to learn to use any others. The Career kids in our District still have trouble managing the change, only growing up with fishing tools, and not swords or flails.
"Still," she says, "I'd be willing to say that you'd do more than you think." A bell gongs in the distance from the old lighthouse that's been converted to our Justice Building. Annie and I look in each others eyes. The gong rings again. "It's time," she says, and we both get up from sitting and begin our long walk to the most dreaded day in all of Panem. The sand scorches my feet, but my heart is pounding in my ears so hard, I don't even notice as we approach the square and our feet step on the cobblestones.
The minute we hit the street, we're herded like cattle to our registry station. We're pushed along to the table. "I'll need a finger," the attendant says, and I hold out my hand. She takes a small, pen-like device and touches the end to my fingertip. A stab of white hot pain sears my finger, and she forcefully grabs my hand, and blots my finger on my registry paper. The red smudge, smeared with my fingerprint, stains my card. I read over it. 'Finnick Odair, 14, Blood Type: O +, Number of Tesserae Taken: 5". Every single detail of my life, they know from one drop of blood. Imagine what they could do with my word of mouth. The thought of it chills me to the core. A Peacekeeper grabs me by the arm. "Move along," he barks, and carts me off to my age group. The gate slams shut behind us. The shrieking metal slam marks the sound I've been dreading to hear all day: The sound of the impossibility of escape. I'm trapped in here, huddled together with every 14 to 18 year old in District 4, with no way out but a Peacekeeper's bullet if I try to run away. I'll take my chances with the reaping, I suppose.
The Justice Building's been completely decked out. Large monitors surround us. Speakers blare the anthem as our District Representative waltzes onto the stage. He staggers, walking to the microphone, stutter-stepping and giggling the whole way, decked out in a flower-print shirt, a straw hat, shorts, and all the latest Capitol trends in tattoos and jewelry. His hair's been colored a fire red, burning almost as much as the sun bearing down on us, and the redness of his cheeks. He's obviously been enjoying his stay and celebrating it at the bar. A Peacekeeper walks up, and grabs his arm, walking him to the microphone. The Anthem blares and all fall silent. Looks of stoic apathy to utter fear mix in the crowd. No one wants this. Anyone who acts like they do is just putting on a show.
"Hello, District 4, and Happy Hunger Games!" the little man, slightly drunk with the tattoos says. "May the odds be ever in your fa-" he slips, and nearly falls, but catches the arm of the Peacekeeper who brought him to center stage. He manages to get a firm plant back on the ground, straightens his flower print shirt and straw hat, and finishes his salutation of luck. You'd think a drunken representative would lighten the mood, but not a single person laughs. The watchful eyes of the Peacekeepers leer out over the crowd, waiting to silence anyone who interrupts the proceedings. Guns train on the crowd as Peacekeepers march up and down our streets. Their presence isn't welcomed, but it's feared, and forcibly tolerated. As if any of us could stop them.
As I stare at our representative, I can't help but notice that it's not the same one as the year previous. He's the new guy, and he's enjoying everything he can while he's in our District. He beings to speak, slurring and stuttering his speech. "As you can see, I-I, I am not the same person who stood on this stage last year. I've been assigned as her replacement. Never worry, though! Y-you all," he hiccups, "are in the best of hands. I am Gatticus Dominion, and from now on, you can see my shining face," he drunkenly touches his cheek, leaving a finger indention into his surgically altered, sunburned skin, "every year from here on out. And-and now, a special message from the Capitol, from our dear President Snow." The Anthem blares once again, and Gatticus drunkenly hoops and hollers at the top of his lungs, giggling and clapping like a fool.
The President's face has always repulsed me, but on Reaping Day in particular, it stands positively repugnant. He looks so smug. So sure of his superiority. The only thing I can't stand more than his arrogant, pale, wrinkled face and his white beard that nearly reflects light, is a rose he has pinned to his collar. The rose is a placid white, but on my closer inspection, I notice red droplets on the pedals. There are droplets on the corner of his mouth as well, the same ruddy color as the ones on the rose. A rose. A pure plant. Something that makes him so sure of his own "purity". It makes me sick to think that a man that condones sending children to their death is anything close to pure.
Even drunken Gatticus falls silent as the President speaks. "Thank you, District escorts, and now, I have a special message for the people of the Districts." His voice is like ice. It disgusts me so much I can feel my skin crawl. "Though this is not a special event, like the Quarter Quell," he says, "I felt the need to reach out to our beloved Districts, to show the feelings of adoration and closeness we all feel and share with them here in the Capitol around the time of the Games. As always, I must emphasize the importance of this occasion, and to do that, I will do as I always do: read from the Treaty of Treason." He clears his throat. "In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and a female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public "Reaping". These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol, and then transferred to a public arena, where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as 'The Hunger Games'." Silence still overcomes the crowd. The President speaks again.
"The point of these Games, is not merely to show that you are all weak without us, but to show that every action must have consequence. Everyone must pay a price. And sometimes, that price runs as deep and thick as blood." The screen flashes the Seal of the Capitol, and the screen goes blank. There's a pause of silence, and Gatticus goes back to clapping and screaming cheerfully like an idiot.
After Gatticus finally realizes that no one else is clapping, he motions for them to bring out the glass balls with all the names of potential Tributes in them. In the brief bustle of motion, I notice someone's been staring at me across the way. Annie's gaze is fixed on me, and I shoot her a small smile. It seems to comfort her some. I can tell she's on edge. The girls always get picked first. As I try my best to give Annie some distant comfort, I feel another pair of eyes burning down on me. I swivel my head to my left, and spot the wall of muscle that is Annie's older brother, Breaker, staring me down. He's a clear foot taller than me, 18, with spiked black hair and a chip on his shoulder. He's the type of kid you'd expect to train for the Games. The kind that's sure of his dominance over everyone he looks at. Someone who always gets what he wants.
"Odair," he whispers in his acid tone, "whether or not we get Reaped, hands off my sister. You're to teach her only about fishing, and nothing else, or I swear, I'll end your little pretty boy streak with a massive face shot." I glare. If there's ever been anyone unpleasant in District 4, it's Breaker Cresta.
The bustle on stage ends as Gatticus sticks his hand into the ball on my right. He swivels it around, and extracts a paper slip, and unfolds it. He studies over it, and motions over a Peacekeeper. He's trying to talk away from the microphone, but his head's still close. "Can you come over here and tell me what this says?" he yells boisterously. "I can't see anything. My vision's as blurry as a bad view screen." The Peacekeeper walks over as the rest chuckle, and whispers in his ear. "Oh, oh, okay! Thanks, man!" Gatticus shouts, and turns to fully face the microphone. He gives time for dramatic pause. "Pearl Victoria!" he calls out. I can see a girl about my height walk up to the stage, her blonde hair in pigtails. She's about my age, maybe a year older, and she's crying her eyes out. Normally, we have all kinds of volunteers. No one says a word.
"Come, come! Say a few words to your fellow District citizens!" Gatticus booms and gives her a friendly, drunken slap on the back. Pearl muddles forward, and is sobbing profusely. She stares out into the crowd from behind the microphone, looks around, and immediately sends her head flying into her hands, crying her eyes out once again. A Peacekeeper brings her over to one area of the stage, where she stands, bawling away. Every boy in every section tenses up as Gatticus manages to slur out, "Now, the boys." His hand searches around in the ball, and I send a quick glance over. Breaker's got his serious face on, yet, I can sense something underneath all that stoic look. Something I can sense to my very core, as I see a bead of sweat roll down the side of his head: he's worried.
Gatticus withdraws another paper slip, and finally manages to read this name himself. The looks on two peoples' faces have the most effect on me as he calls out Breaker's name. I see Breaker's face turn sheet white, his mouth agape, and he's firmly planted into the ground. I'm in a state of shock, as I never thought I'd see Breaker ever afraid. The other look, the one that damages me, and effects me the most, is Annie's face. Her unnaturally pretty face contorts into a shrill cry as two Peacekeepers come to drag Breaker to the stage.
Breaker's struggling to get free, but they keep moving forward. "No, no!" he screams. "Please, please don't make me go! I don't want this! I wanna go back home!" No one really liked Breaker in the first place, so they all move and clear a path as the Peacekeepers drag him. I feel an odd sort of satisfaction as I see the big jock brought to humility, crying and screaming for his mother. The only thing that makes me feel the least bit bad is Annie, who's on her knees, crying into her hands.
For the first time in my life, I'm torn. I look at Breaker, see how he's acting, and I'm satisfied that his ego bubble's finally been busted by a heavy dose of reality. I can see him cry, and shriek like a baby as he's almost to the stairs leading to the stage, and then I see Annie, crying away. I see the sadness in her heart, and it tears me up inside. So much that I realize how I've truly felt about Annie for the longest time. So much, that I decide to do something crazy. As Breaker and the Peacekeepers make it to the top step, and run out through the cleared path. "I volunteer!" I scream. "I volunteer!" Annie shoots straight up and stares at me, her mouth wide open. The Peacekeepers release Breaker, and he's still sobbing, and wiping the snot off his face. "You're alright, Odair." he mutters, as they take him back to the crowd. I walk up to the stage, and Gatticus puts his arm around me, mostly to appear friendly, but mainly for balance.
"Well look at this brave, handsome man!" Gatticus says into the microphone. His face is so close to mine, I can smell the liquor on his breath, and I scrunch my nose in disapproval. I look out into the crowd, and all I can focus on is Annie's face. She's smiling at me, and her mouth is quivering. She's still crying, but she manages to mouth 'thank you', and blows me a kiss. Gatticus gives me a friendly shake with his arm around me. "What's your name?" he says, and angles the microphone towards me. "Finnick Odair," I say shakily. "I bet you're quite the ladies man, son! Go ahead, give us a look see! Lose the shirt!" I look at Gatticus, and give him a glare. He whispers to me, with all his liquored breath, "Look, kid. You-you may wanna flaunt what you got. It could mean you coming home alive, so I'd do it." As much as I hate to do anything a drunk man tells me to do, he's right, so I strip my shirt off and throw it to the stage floor. I turn to face the crowd, and see several girls start to whisper, point, and smile among themselves. I can hear the words, "sexy" and "gorgeous" thrown around by more than fifteen. I couldn't disagree more. I'm nothing special. If anything, I'm an idiot for volunteering to die in the place of the brother of a girl I have such strong feelings for. No one prizes care and affection over survival. Well, no one but me, apparently.
"I think that he's going to receive a lot of sponsors, don't you ladies?" Gatticus booms, and a few give out cheers. Others just gawk and smile, mouths wide open. Another one mouth to me, "I'll be sending you gifts, cutie." I feel like a trophy, and I hate it. I've always hated being the center of attention, and now, I'm center stage, shirtless, being gawked at by around a thousand or more girls my age, and countless numbers of Capitol girls, and I can't help but feel as if I'm under a microscope. Gatticus leads the girls in a round of applause and finally staggers back to the microphone, and goes over the other reapings. I watch as a massive boy from District 2 practically sprints to the stage, following a girl that looks like she could clean and jerk a small boulder. I see a devastatingly gorgeous girl from 1, and a stocky, mustached boy from the same District saunter to the stage, smiling and waving as they beat everyone else to volunteer.
There's a stocky, dark-skinned boy named Porter from 6. He's short and to the point, but nice enough. Perhaps he'll be bearable enough to get to know before I have to try to kill him. His District partner that was reaped is a scrawny, ashen-skinned girl named Lisa, with long, flowing, scraggly blonde hair. The two Tributes from 3 are twins. A rare phenomenon. The male Tribute from 11, named Fielder, is tall, dark-skinned, and starved to the point of disillusionment. His ribs poke through the ratty shirt that clings to his frail body. The female, Magnolia, is short, stocky with muscle, and sullen. She hangs her head as she walks forward to the stage.
The Tributes from 12, the boy called Don, and the girl, Mary Jo, look at each other and exchange worried glances. Other than their worry, the boy looks strong, and has the look of a boy who can swing a mining implement with deadly effect. It's his last year, so he's just started work in the mines. I'll be sure to watch out for him in the arena. I don't commit any of the others names or details to memory much, and only focus on the Tributes who either look the strongest, weakest, most reliable, or deadliest. Fielder from 11 and the large wall of a boy from 2, burn into my memory instantly. Fielder's gaunt appearance is almost frightening, and I pity him instantly. The one from 2, as I listen more carefully, is named Tiberius, and he has the look of a typical Career. Strong, determined, arrogant. The girl's named Olga, and she already starts demonstrating her strength by taking her District representative's car and lifting the back end a clear 6 inches off the ground. The Peacekeepers escort her into their Justice Building, and the screen flashes to another reaping. One after the other, we see our enemies. Then we're ushered into our Justice Building, and made to sit. "You get visitors, and only 3 minutes with each," a Peacekeeper says. "Make them count."
Pearl looks at me and says, still wiping away tears, "I hope you get plenty of visitors. You're a nice boy." I give a thank-you nod and walk into the visiting room when I'm called. My first visitor, surprisingly, is Breaker. He walks into the room, and stares at me for a second. Sizing me up, I suppose. He's always judged me, in any way possible, to get me away from his sister. I already realize she's out of my league. He made it a point to make it a daily revelation. The next thing he does, surprised me more than when he was reaped. He grabs me, and bear hugs me, picking me up off the ground, and walks out of the room after he puts me down. I wait for another few minutes, and my teacher from school comes. Next, the neighbors that I stayed with after Mom and Dad passed. Finally, the one I'd hoped for comes in. Annie.
"Annie, I-" I start, but she puts a finger over my mouth. "Just listen," she commands, "I have something to say." I obediently wait as she clears her throat. "Out of all the most brazen, most stupid, most…" she pauses, "sweet things, that anyone's ever done for me, that was by far on the top." I start to speak again, but she silences me once more. "No one likes Breaker. He never gives anyone a reason to like him. Especially not him. He's defensive, arrogant, and rude." I can't help but agree. "But he's my brother. No matter how bad he is, he's my brother. What you did, I'll never forget." She wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me right on the mouth. I'm taken aback, and a Peacekeeper comes in and escorts her out. Funny, I always thought my first kiss would be a bit more romantic than this.