I sneak back into our tiny home before the sun is due to start rising. My eyes flicker to the wood stove before I decide to unladen myself and my pack. Slipping between two of the three sheets that act as a room partition, I give myself a second to adjust to the darker area. I know the location of every creaky board and every dark corner of this house, well I suppose shack is more accurate; what I don't know is the position any of my six siblings could be taking.
I make out Barley's stocky form on the bed against the wall, his thick hair giving away the position of his head. He's curled around a small figure I can guess is Laurel, the youngest of us and the only other boy. On the bigger, double-sized bed I can make out two similar sized bodies, Heather and Anise, and a smaller form between them, Ivy, the second youngest. The area around my feet seems clear, but I can't make out Rue anywhere. Walking towards the foot of the closest bed, I see that she's decided to settle on floor space between them again. I shake my head- you would think she's the oldest sometimes. Before Laurel was born, I used to take that spot, and Rue would typically share a bed with Ivy.
I stealthily creep towards the wall, to my hiding spot. My short, grubby nails dig into either side of the old, ill spaced boards and pull up slowly. The board grinds softly against it's neighbor, and I hold my breath. The younger girls are all breathing softly in their sleep, but the sound might wake up Rue, with her ear against the floor. I perk my ears- she shifts in her sleep, quietly smacks her lips, before settling back into even breathing. The coast is clear. I reach into the pockets of my worn canvas pants and remove the small coil of fishing line. It's dry, having gone unused tonight, and I put it on the board near the opening. I unclip my pa's old knife from the hem of my pants and hold it in my hands, comforted by its solidity. The cracked leather of the case hides it from view, not that it would be easy to see in this darkness, but I know every last inch of it by heart. The seven inch blade, smooth along one edge, serrated towards it's base on the opposite side. The metal doesn't gleam- it's old- but it's rough surface belies it's sharpness. I have a pale scar on the palm of my right hand as proof, from poor handling when I was younger.
I scoop up the coiled line with my pinky, hand now clasped around the knife, and reach them into the hole in the floor. I gently place both items in the lidless tin down there, biting my lip at the miniscule sound it makes. I pause for a moment, but can't hear anything aside from even breathing from the room's other six occupants. I switch from my kneeling position to laying on my stomach, and move the tin as silently as I can away from the opening. I shake my hand as I pull it out again, I don't want to pull any dirt up onto the floor and get hell later from my ma. The board is replaced quicker than it had been removed, this time with less noise. I soundless grab my bag and raise up, slipping back through the sheets.
My biggest pride is how silently I can move, but there's someone in this family that can do so better than me. My pa's snores from behind the third sheet mask her movements, at least that's what I tell myself, but the sudden rustle of sheets draws my attention to Rue's big, golden eyes. I can see her sweet smile in the blue light streaming in through one of the windows- the sun is preparing to rise.
"Good morning, Katniss." I smile and rustle a handful of her thick curls, "Good morning yourself, little bird." She passes through the curtains, no longer a disembodied head, and walks past me to the door. I'm sure she's out to get some firewood. I stay where I'm standing for a moment, enjoying what will likely be the last bit of coolness I'll feel for the day. The sun doesn't wait long to bring sweltering heat upon us, and starting the stove for breakfast will shorten that time considerably. In no time, Rue is starting the fire in the stove and begins cooking some grain into a mush for breakfast.
"I have a surprise, little bird." Rue turns her head to me in curiosity, leaving the gruel to cook a bit on it's own. I know she's interested from her body language, she's resting her weight on the balls of her feet, as if standing on her toes will allow her to see quicker. I grin and open my satchel, first pulling out a fist sized bundle of cloth. "I got some berries for all of us to eat with breakfast," I say as I untie the knot on top and reveal the small fruits. She sends me a sweet smile.
I pull a few handfuls of root vegetables out of my bag before getting out a second, bigger bundle. I let the wet noise it makes landing on the table speak for itself. Rue turns her whole body now, absentmindedly stirring the quickly thickening gruel. Her eyes look at the package and I can tell she doesn't know what it is once she flickers her eyes to mine. I hold up my left hand and wiggle my fingers at her in the growing light. Her eyes lock on small cuts on one of my fingers, and I know she's made the connection.
"Is that a catfish?" She sounds a bit alarmed. I nod at her, "I went noodling. I just wanted to make sure we have something special to eat tonight." That might have been the wrong thing to say, as she draws her shoulders in and turns back to stove. Her voice speaks up softly, "Going noodling must have been dangerous, Katniss. Is that why you stayed out so long this time? How did you keep from being caught?" I'm sure she's only asking questions to keep her mind from what's in store today. I pick up the bundled catfish from the table and give it a wipe with the sleeve of my thin cotton jacket.
I put the entire bundle into the big cast iron pot next to the stove, ma will deal with it later. I wrap my arms around Rue's little shoulders and push my face into her hair, "I know you're scared, Rue... so am I. It'll be okay. I know our names are in there more than we'd like them to be, but District 11 is so big. There are lots of us with names in, and there are lots of families as big or even bigger than ours, and I'm sure they're all taking tesserae as well." I'm not very good at comforting. Her shoulders are shaking a bit, so I give her one last squeeze before going to grab the younger siblings.
I look at all of them sleeping and suddenly the fact that I've been awake and moving too long catches up with me. I want to cry. I love every last one of my little sisters, but I sometimes hate my parents for bringing so many of us into this world when it's hard enough feeding two people in our district. I'm sixteen years old this reaping, and I've taken tesserae for everyone in this family, all nine of us, since my first reaping when I was twelve. My names in the pot have accumulated over the years and there are fifty little slips of paper with Katniss Fields on them this year. This will be Rue's first reaping, and there are ten slips of paper saying her name. I fought with her over this, but she's just as willing to sacrifice for our family as I am. This year we'll be eating better, but I'm not ready to have to worry about my little ones.
Only two more years (and seventy slips of paper) until I've had my run with the reaping. Rue's only twelve, she's got seven years of it ahead of her. Barley is eleven, he'll be there with us next year. Heather is nine now, so she doesn't have much time before she has to go to reapings, Anise is eight, Ivy is five, and little Laurel is only three. Luck willing, I will not be able to rest easy until I'm thirty-one years old and Laurel is eighteen. I'm overcome with premature grief for a moment, but steady myself with a deep breath. Looking at Laurel sucking on his thumb in his sleep reaches through the darkness in my heart and brings a small smile to my face. I go in order from the bigger bed to the smaller one and kiss every one of them on their foreheads to wake them up. No one will be working today, but with so many of us in the house we'll have to start preparing ourselves early.
After breakfast, ma begins to fix the catfish to prepare a stew for dinner. Pa has laid himself down in bed again, his bad leg acting up. It's relief that he has today to rest it, rather than working in the fields. If only it were a happier occasion. With Rue and Barley's help I fill up the iron tub in the drafty back room rather quickly, and I take command to bathe the youngest ones first. Ivy and Laurel play in the water while I scrub them both down, and I sigh in the relief that little bodies don't take so long to clean. Ivy goes to dress herself in one of my old blue dresses, and I wrestle Laurel into a little pair of slacks and white button down shirt. Rue begins to fix Ivy's hair while I lay out dresses for Anise and Heather who are bathing now. All of our clothing is old, but at least the worn material is easy to smooth with just hands. Barley bathes, then Rue, and by the time it's my turn the midday sun is already high in the sky and cooking the air inside the house.
I scrub myself clean, getting rid of the mud on my legs and arms from noodling earlier. I had tried to clean myself off in the water, but was more anxious to leave the pond and get myself home. It's safer to use a line on smaller fish than to go for catfish, what with the violent splashing, but the catfish pond is so far away from the meadow where the Peacekeepers usually patrol that I took the risk on a whim. I'm proud of my catch, but my pride is smaller than my fear of a public beating.
I towel off my body slip through the house to our shared room where I find my mother has laid out one of her old, yellow dresses. She has an attachment to her old clothing, so I'm very touched by the sentiment. I slip it on and find that it fits me rather well. I have my ma's straight black hair, so different from the curls and thickness of my younger siblings and pa. Her skin is an olive color, but we are all darker like our pa. We all share ma's golden eyes, though. Rue and I have her slight build, while Barley, Heather, and Anise are a bit stockier like our pa is. Ivy and Laurel are too young and small for me to be able to tell what they'll look like. We're all thin, though. That's what we have in common. It's something most of us in District 11 share; malnutrition is no stranger to anyone here.
When I dress, I sit in the kitchen where my mother fixes my hair in two braids and pins them across the back of my head. I'm putting twists into Rue's hair, and everything suddenly feels calm all around the house. I can only appreciate the moment for a few minutes until the commotion picks up outside. I peer out and see the mass of folks growing- it's time to head to town. My steady hands hide how much everything shakes inside of me, and I help my parents hustle together all of us to walk to town. Ma looks tired as we walk, holding Laurel on her hip in silence. My whole family is silent, so different from how we typically are. Pa walks next to me, holding Ivy's hand, and when he catches my gaze he gives me a sad smile and grabs my hand. This is a hard day for me, but I forgot how hard it must be for my parents. I squeeze his hand and hold it the rest of the way into town. My parents take the young ones off to the side, and I grab Rue's hand to line up for the check in.
Rue's watched me so many years now that she knows what to do, so she focuses instead on the insect like cameramen around us, the crumbling Justice building, and the large screens ahead on the stage. She checks in before me and waits for me to follow through. She looks at me and I can see her shake with nerves. I pull her into one last hug and kiss her forehead. She squeezes me so tight, her fear seeps into my body for a moment. Breaking away from her now is hard, but I do so and take my place amongst the other sixteen year olds. There are groups of girls holding hands, giving each other moral support. I have no one to hold hands with, my whole life has been about my family, my sisters. The feeling of loneliness hits me for a moment, but I fix my face to an emotionless mask and look forward.
It tightens my chest every year to see how many scared children there are with me in front of this stage, but this year it offers a bit of relief. I know many of them come from big families like I do, so I know that there are numerous entries for most of us here. Rue's ten entries are nothing in such a sea of slips, at least I try to tell myself this. The fifty slips belonging to me are forgotten today. I see our mayor sitting on stage, his calm face hides the concern I'm sure he feels. His three boys are out here with me. Beside him sit the two living victors that District 11 have to offer. Seeder, a woman who looks rather similar to my mother, sits with a small frown on face. Beside her is Chaff. He looks to be half asleep, it's likely he's already been hitting the hooch today. The empty chair belongs to a Capitol man, Crispus Balbina, my district's escort. With a start I realize that he is at the microphone, which means my flighty thoughts made me miss the mayor's reading of the history of the Hunger Games.
"Welcome, my dear District 11! A happy Hunger Games to you, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" He articulates his words in the odd Capitol fashion. He draws out his 's' like a snake, the vivid green of his hair and makeup on his pale face only completing the image. He moves gracefully to the first sphere of names. His left hand loosely pulls through the numerous slips before delicately picking a slip. He walks slowly back to the microphone, doubtlessly confusing our collective held breaths for anticipation. I hear the muted sound of girls shifting beside me, some gazing over to the crowd of parents around us, some to what may be their brothers or friends or boyfriends on the other side of our fenced off area. My mind is blank, I can only register the heat, how damp the dress is across my back, under my arms. I feel a droplet of sweat make a path down the side of my face. I feel flushed. Crispus opens his lips and first I only see his mouth move silently. Suddenly my senses catch up with me and I can decode what he has just said. Who he has just called.
"Rue Fields."
