Yes, I know, I got halfway through careers don't cry then suddenly started The story of Lily Evans, and now there's this one... But I'm going to continue with this, see it all the way through, THEN finish my other stories. Promise!
Chapter 1:
I watch the District One escort as she skips across the stage, on which she will decide the fate of two very, very, fortunate people. As she speaks, I don't notice the shouts and calls of onlookers, the rustling of the paper in the girls' bowl, or the excited chattering of the others in the seventeen year old section. All I notice is the words that bounce off every house in the town square, echo until they reach the ears of everyone waiting eagerly to hear them.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I wish you a happy 73rd Hunger games! Let the reaping begin!"
Ear-splitting noise numbs my ears. Waving limbs almost prevent me from seeing that one movement that my future depends on. Then, its over. The slip is chosen. The name is announced.
"Silver Brook!"
My heart beats fast. Silver Brook is only fourteen - someone will need to take her place if District hopes for a good chance of producing a victor. I'm only seventeen, I'll have another chance to volunteer next year, but... Sometimes temptation is too great.
"I volunteer!" The words slip out of my mouth, and I instantly regret saying them. Waves of shock radiate through my body, creating a shudder that I desperately try to conceal as I walk to the stage.
I can feel the the sceptical eyes of everyone in the crowd before me, burning away my confidence. Redness creeps into my cheeks and I can barely hear the escort as she asks my name.
"Perrie West." I expect to mutter the words, but they come out cold and clear. I almost faint with relief.
"Our District One female tribute, Perrie West!" I can hear cheering, and smile weakly. I know I shouldn't of volunteered - in my head I'm kicking myself for doing it. I'm sure that I'm not strong enough, now I think about it, to win the Hunger Games. Yes, I've been training for most of my life. However, I was never the best, never mind the best of the best, and that's really what a winner needs to be. The realization that I'll probably be dead in a few weeks hits me hard.
"Now time to select our male tribute!"
Dizzyingly loud screams threaten to shatter the glass in windows in the surrounding area. I inwardly yell at the people uttering them, all the noise is causing me to lose my concentration. Thankfully, as the male slip is picked, all sound dies down.
"Aspen Thompson."
A tall boy extracts himself from the eighteen-year-old section. His hair is short and dark, his eyes laughing and blue. Without hearing much, I watch Aspen turn down volunteers, position himself next to me. We shake hands, and are escorted to the justice building. The peacekeepers that do so don't bother keeping a tight grip on us. It's obvious we're not going to run away. When I sit down in the velvety chair that is pushed towards me and wait for visitors, a sad thought drifts across my mind. Both my parents are one of the few people that are given consent to not attend the reaping - they both work at the power station that provides all electricity for District 1. Therefore, they won't be able to say goodbye to me. I'm reflecting on this when my older sister Sienna enters the room/my prison. She's nineteen, and not eligable for the reaping. She never trained for the games, but pretended to work at a wine-making factory for most of her teen years. Really she was flirting with all the men there and saving up for make-up and magazines. We have never been close, though she takes care of me often when our parents are absent. Frankly I will not miss her in the slightest.
"I'll make sure you have a nice funeral." Sienna drawls. I want to punch her. I'm almost about to when she grabs my fist. "Joke, Perrie. I don't want you dead, however idiotic you are." Her voice is sarcastic and sickly sweet. I'm filled with the sensation of complete irritation.
I kick the wall in frustration, only succeeding in sending a searing pain through my toe. Sienna brushes her light blonde hair, exactly the same as mine, only longer, out of her face, eyebrows raised.
"Seriously, though, don't die. I'm not kidding."
"Great advice." I spit. "I'll keep it in mind. Because it's so original and genius." I throw the chair at a wall. It's surprisingly heavy, so it only lands a few feet away from me and I end up looking foolish. A huge crash can be heard, however, and that just about satisfies me.
"Tell Ma I'll make her proud." I say, more calmly than before. "And tell Dad that I'll miss him." I wipe away a tear that's navigating its way down my cheek. Sienna nods and wraps her arms around me. This is actually the first time we have hugged in years.
"And one more thing." I whisper.
"What?" my sister is hanging on my every word.
"Don't forget to feed True."
Sienna bursts out laughing. I glower at her. Bitch. "You are obsessed with that monster!" She giggles. I think of my pet lizard, who shrinks away at the smallest noise.
"True is not a monster! She's just scared of you!"
"Of everybody! And she's violent when your not around!"
I'm just about to make a indignant reply when a peacekeeper arrives and tells us our time is spent.
"Bye, Sienna." I sigh.
"Bye, Perrie." she replies. I watch her leave, then pick up the overturned chair and sit on it. A few of my friends from school, Ruby, Shine, and her twin Glow, enter. We don't talk, just sit and hug. Shine starts to cry, which nearly sets me off again. Nearly. I don't really know what everybody has to be upset about. District 1 are meant to think the Hunger Games are great and fabulous and amusing.
"I brought this." says Ruby finally, offering me my precious anklet, that's encrusted with Peridots. Ever since I was little I planned to use it as my District token.
"Thanks." I stammer. There isn't really anything else I can say. But I feel regretful aboout my lack of words as I watch my friends leave. Over the next few minutes, hours, whatever it is, I get many visitors. Aunts, uncles and cousins, friends, classmates, neighbours, and vague acquaintances, all of them. Many bring gifts, mostly food, but also flowers, woven and real, and kind words. Most of my presents are confiscated as I am taken to the train that will take me to the capitol, but my anklet and a single daffodil I manage to keep with me. I'm surprisingly touched by how thoughtful people have been, though.
On the train, I meet my mentors, Cashmere and Gloss, who are both blonde, beautiful, and brother and sister. Gloss is assigned to Aspen, and Cashmere to me. We find an empty room on the train to talk.
"What are your weapons? What's your approach going to be? How do you plan on winning these games?" I'm bombarded with questions. Cashmere seems approving when I tell her I like using a mace and an axe, but when I mention being reasonably talented with a slingshot she seems disbelieving. At the training centre back home, they showed us a hunger games where someone used a slingshot that sent poisonous spiked balls at people to win. I trained with a slingshot ever since. I don't mention this, though, wanting to keep in my mentor's good books.
I am later pronounced as 'very cute', but it doesn't seem to be a good thing in Cashmere's eyes. I guess careers should be brutal-looking, however, I know for a fact that Cashmere won her own games by being heartbreakingly girlish and innocent to get sponsors, then sneaky to murder a dozen people. She isn't really in a position to think being sweet an unlikely tactic of success.
I'm thinking this whilst I try to control my fury, that was aroused by a sudden realization of the injustice of the Hunger Games. And maybe just a little by the fact I don't like being called cute. Also, for the first time, I'm cursing my tendency to go bright red at the slightest embarassment or anger inciting thought. I really do wish I was one of those people who kept their faces a hard, cold mask. Those who wear their heart on their sleeve, a.k.a. me, are never really of a strong personality, I've found. Which means I just don't stand a chance of surviving for even a day in the arena I'll be locked in soon. Nothing is going my way at the moment. Certainly the odds are not in my favour.
At dinner, I stuff myself with the amazing food that is set out. Sure, District 1 is known for always having enough to eat, but that doesn't necessarily mean the stuff we get is actually tasty. Mostly it's tinned things and a lot of bread, so tender steak with perfectly cooked vegetables and apple sauce, cream and peach soup with warm white loaves, and caramel cheesecake covered in warm fudge pieces is absolute heaven. I take sips of exotic fruit juices that I'm offered once I can't eat another bite.
I think Gloss and Cashmere want to discuss tactics when Aspen is finished, but 'unfortunately' it's time for the live broadcasting of the reapings. Everybody walks into a dimly lighted room where sofas and armchairs dominate every inch of room, save the spot where the flatscreen television stands. I make myself comfortable on a soft blue couch next to the window, or rather the pair of tightly closed red curtains, and wait for the reapings to begin.
I don't pay attention to my own reaping, half-closing my eyes in fear that I will look like a scared child on the screen. In fact, five sixths of the reapings I barely notice. The two I do note are the two and four ones. This is because along with me and Aspen, the tributes from those Districts will form the career pack. My life and their lives depend on us working together... to kill.
The girl from One is nothing special. Just your average career with dirty blonde hair and a strong build. The boy, however, surprises me. Many Districts, like 4, 10, and 11, are populated by people who all bear resemblance to each other. Some, like my own District, have citizens with unique looks. Two comes into the lookalike section. Most of them have pale skin, brown or blonde hair, and blue eyes. This boy, though, has dark skin, a somehow menacing afro, wears coloured leather wristbands and is covered in scary tattoos. I think his name is Tayne. Jannie, the girl, couldn't differ more from him, really.
Four's reaping is easily the most interesting out of them all. You can see towering greenish-blue waves in the background, and everyone's blonde locks shine in the sunlight, creating a magical effect. When the boy is reaped, Kent Mcbarren, I instantly like him. I like the way his soft brown eyes are warm and gentle. I like the way he walks casually yet gracefully with his hands tucked in his pockets. I like the way that he has let his brownish blonde hair grow too long, past his shoulders, and tied it back into a ponytail. I just like him. And I feel kind of disappointed knowing that if I'm to live he'll have to die.
The girl is a volunteer and a horrible surprise. This little midget is called first, and then there's silence. Too much silence. Then words, so cold, hard, unfeeling, ring throughout Four's town square.
"I volunteer." The girl, of all things, is only fifteen. But it's not shocking me that a fifteen-year-old has volunteered. It's the way that girl looks. She is breathtakingly beautiful, yet not at all like the rest of District Four. I don't process her name, as my brain feels fuzzed and unfocused. Her hair is such a dark brown it's almost black, her eyes are amazingly bright, hazel with specks of gold and grey, her skin is deathly pale with perfect rosy circles on her cheeks, and her lips are full and pouty. She looks at least seventeen. Even this, though, is not what shocks me. It's her expression. Icy, closed, trapped, free of all emotion. A mask. Just what I wanted before. Concealing a broken, destroyed past.
That last thought makes me laugh at myself. Probably she's just a horrible person, not crushed and trying to prevent herself from getting hurt. I don't look forward to meeting her at all.
When Kent and the girl shake hands, I notice Kent looks like his world is coming to an end. The fact he doesn't seem quite arrogant enough to be a career occurs to me as I walk away from what I now think of as the chair room.
When enter my bedroom, Aspen is waiting for me. He disregards the sharp squeal I give when he moves out of the shadows, and seems seriously worried.
"We need to talk." He says. It honestly scares me.