Reaping Day is tomorrow. The 4th Annual Mockingjay Games is imminent.
The adolescents of Panem are all in a paranoid frenzy. Me probably being the worst of them all. Just turning 12 this year, my name was now entered into the poll of contestants that will take place in the "new" games. Somewhere, within the hundreds of entries, laid a slip of paper with my name, Schenios Paltan, upon it.
However, a lot has changed since the Mockingjay Revolution (that's what it was called throughout Panem). After Snow's death at the hands of the infamous Katniss Everdeen, there was a time of great turmoil. The Capitol crumbled and many, including Miss Everdeen herself, were unsure of the future of Panem. After a few months of uneasiness, a somewhat democratic government was set up, following in the footsteps of our ancestors. Through a unanimous decision throughout the new governing body, it was decided that Plutarch Heavensbee would be appointed President and come up with a new games, which he so arrogantly titled the "Mockingjay Games". The children of the old districts were safe; however those survivors from the Capitol would now be reaped and set out to fight and day for the amusement of thousands.
If only his fat ass was left to die instead of our great leader, Coriolanus Snow.
It has been 5 years since the revolution, and I have seen many of my neighbors picked for the games, never to return to their families or homes again. This year would be the first that there would be a chance for me to be picked as well. But would the odds be in my favor?
That was a stupid question though, because the odds are never in anyone's favor.
The night before reaping was a restless one for me. Tossing and turning in my bed, sweat soaking in my pillow. And it was freezing within my cabin. After about an hour I gave in and made my way to the kitchen, avoiding the squeaky floorboards like a game of hopscotch in order to avoid the wrath of my parents. They were a nervous wreck today as well and it could be seen easily throughout the day. The shaking of my mother's hand when she was pouring her coffee, or the extra time that my dad spent hugging me before he went off to work were clear symbols of how frightened they really were.
Reaching the kitchen, I propped open the fridge and reached out for the milk. Maybe a glass of warm milk will set my nerves straight, or at least tire me out a bit. Taking the mug of warm milk out of the microwave, I pull my head back and let the warm liquid slide down my throat. Closing my eyes, it seemed to lace my esophagus with a warm tingly sensation.
"Can't sleep either?"
A voice from behind startled me and I nearly choke up my milk. I glance behind and there stands my mother. A robe full of holes draped down to her ankles while a pair of dusty slippers keep her feet warm from the bitter cold of Winter herself.
"No," I say as I finish the remaining milk. "I can't stop thinking about tomorrow. Like, what happens if I get picked?"
"Well you best not worry about that," my mother says, coming to my side and placing a hand on my shoulder. "And the odds are the slimmest."
I look into my mother's sky-blue eyes. I can tell that before the revolution, she was a young, eager woman who loved life and all aspects of it. Now that stress and turmoil has surrounded her life, dark bags began developing under her eyes and wrinkles took control of her face.
She smiles at the corner of her mouth, bends to my height and throws her arms around my shoulders.
"I love you and no matter what happens, I always will."
I can't help but choke up a bit but force myself to keep composure. I can't let my mother hear me cry, I must be strong for her and for my family.
She releases me and I can see from the twinkle in her eyes that she's trying to do the same, but failing.
"I love you too ma," I manage to croak out, holding back sobs between words.
"Now off to bed you go," she says, shoving me towards my room. "And try and get a good night's rest."
I walk away, head drooped towards the floor. Tonight, there is no such thing as a good night's rest. Reaping is tomorrow and 24 of us will be called upon to fight, and only 1 will come out alive.
