The Hunger Games
The day is bright, a beautiful clear sky with the puffiest clouds you could ever wish to dream of living on as a child. The sand beneath my 8-year-old self is warm, soft, and molding to my feet. I remember this day well. It was 10 years ago, when I was young and free without a care in the world.
Before acting like an adult became a necessity.
Before hunting for fish became a way of life.
Before taking care of Jemmie because my parents were now gone became a reality.
I know the only way I could be in this day, this wonderfully beautiful day, is because it's a dream. Normally, I would forbid myself these wonderful dreams of my life before, but now I all but welcome it. This one little glimpse of pleasure before the long arduous task of taking care of everyone takes over again. Before the bell rings, before I go off to work at the water's edge, and before I worry about school and homework and dinner…
Just focus on the dream. I have to remind myself. Don't think just remember.
And remember I do. I wiggle my toes around, searching…searching for something I can't really remember.
But somehow I still know it's there.
That's when my father comes. Strong and good-looking, he has hard features that define his face and character. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a broken nose, square jaw and clear porcelain skin. He's stunning, and his features light up when he smiles, erasing the face of the hardened young man forced to live in poverty in District 4, fishing everyday with the rest of the workers.
But today, today my father is happy and he runs toward me, arms open and grabs me, dunking me in the water, into the vast and deep ocean.
I scream, laughing, as I gasp for air in the undeniably cool water. Most parents would have their qualms about throwing an 8-year-old girl into the tempid waters of the sea, but not my father. My father trained me to move with the ocean, the sea. He taught me to love it, to savor it on my tongue, and feel it as I swam in the water. He taught me to breathe, to see with my hands and feet, and hear with the sounds of the fish and the mammals of the deep-water world.
I come back up, laughing and running at my father, throwing sand at his feet.
I am happy to see him.
"Da-ddy!" I cry this as I go back to where my feet were, searching. "Daddy you made me loses my clam."
"You're clam?" He asks this, smiling and rolling his sleeves up as he kneels to look with me. "Pumpkin, what would you need a clam for?"
"For Mommy! It's her birthday and I found a pearl in a clam, and I wanted to give it to her." I cry, and then smile when it's suddenly there, placed in my hands by my father. I laugh and hug him, as he picks me up, and carries me back to our small house, one level with white cement and a red roof made of clay. It's small, and cool.
And it's home.
The sounds of the bells arouse me from the memory. As I shoot up in bed, I have to remind myself that it was only a dream, and that father wasn't around anymore.
The asshole.
I sighed, placing my head in my hands, not ready for the day. It was only 6 am, but that still was late for me. Usually I was up by 4 or 5. But I guess the town was being easy on their workers today.
And then I remembered.
The Reaping.
Suddenly I find it hard to breath as I remember why the gongs were only going off now, why there was no bustling in the streets of merchants and bakers and entertainers. Why Finnick had not come running up the cobble pathway, worried why all the kids weren't at school and why I wasn't down at the docks, skipping school for work like always.
Today was the day that was, once a year, different from any other day of my life in this world. Today was the mark of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. A day, after my first reaping 6 years ago, that I was mostly used to.
Get up. Get everybody ready, dressed and fed. Go to the town square, pray for someone else's name to be called, and then go home.
I suddenly can't find any air, in my lungs, in my room. I push open the window beside my bed and stick my head out in relief. The cool morning air wet with the scent of the ocean calms my nerves.
This is the scent that I am used to, that I wake up to every morning and the smell I breath in on my sheets before I go to sleep every night. As I hear the waves rock in and out as they pull on the sandy shore, I feel my muscles relaxing, and I feel calm, almost as calm as I had during my dream this morning.
Which reminds me…
"Zhane! Khor!" I scream, climbing back into my room, slamming the windowpane down and marching out of my room and down the hall to my twin brothers'.
The two are just rousing from sleep on their low-lying beds, Zhane rubs his eyes while Khorr tries his hardest to act like he hasn't heard me and is still asleep. But having dealt with this for about 6 years now, I just sigh angrily and march to the covered window, yanking the curtains back and the light from the sandy shore floods in.
Khorr shoots up and starts swearing his mouth off, which of course, does not bode well with me.
"Seriously, Khor? You do realize if the peacekeepers ever heard you talking that way you'd be beaten for sure. Not to mention Eileana is in the next damn room. Do we honestly want her to repeat those words?" I ask him, hand on my hip, and an exasperated look on my face. I'm not even really mad at this point, Zhane and Khorr's constant attitudes have done nothing but made me tired, and fed up with dealing with them all the time. Now of course I know how my parents felt before they left.
"Well maybe if we didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn because of your constant 'sneaking around' everyday I wouldn't be cussing so damn much." He says this as he scratches the hair in his armpits, and then wipes his nose on his arm.
Right, I'm the problem here.
"Just get your asses up and dress in something nice. It's reaping day for Christ's sake." The old saying passed through my lips unnoticed by the two, but I silently cringed as I said it. After father left, I was told never to say those things again. That people would take it the wrong way, take ME the wrong way should they hear me say something from the old countries of North America, before Panem.
I guess now's the best time to explain myself.
My name is Arielle Greene, I'm 18 years old and this is my last year of being reaped. It couldn't come sooner, the relief of knowing that I've made it this far without being chosen for the Games. I know what you're thinking, how can this girl possibly be from District 4? Well, don't let the kind demeanor and hard lifestyle fool you; I'm as true to the fishing district as President Snow is to the Capitol. Deep red hair in waves that reaches just below my shoulders, golden brown skin and wide spring green eyes, I match in with the rest of the crowd here. The only difference? My voluptuous body shape, I look like Christina Hendricks, a famous actress from North America, before Panem.
My brother's are the same, Zhane and Khorr, at the ages of 16 are identical twins, both with long red manes of hair that are usually tied back, the same brown skin and eyes. They are brawny, with strong able-bodies that are ready to fight, just like my father was.
Then there's Jemmie…sweet little Jemmie at 17, with freckles splashed across his face and with orange hair. But this is where my mother's District 4 traits end and my father's unknown traits begin. He has pale, porcelain skin just like him, and tiny blue eyes. His smile though, is the most radiant thing about him, and that's where he's like my father the most.
And then of course theirs Eileana, only 14 and already she's absolutely beautiful. A short curvy girl with long blonde hair in ringlets, deep emerald-green eyes and pale skin. She's so sweet and lovely.
And she's so terrified of the reaping, I am afraid it's my fault that she gets paralyzed at the thought of it.
The though comes to me and rouses my panicking mother mode, and I run into my little sisters room, and sure enough there she is, just how I expected her to be.
She's curled herself into a tiny ball, knees locked in and rocking herself. I wince at the sight of this girl, usually so headstrong and brave when it comes to the training they teach at the schools here in District 4. But my family has been taught to be scared of the reaping, of the Games themselves, and so it's my fault that she's stuck in her room curled up in a ball and having a panic attack.
"Oh E!" I cry, and wrap my arms around her; my motherly instinct that I have honed over the years kicks in just when I need it to. At least this is better than Zhane and Khor were their first couple of years. The two idiots tried to escape the house through the window and run off in the woods, like the Peacekeepers wouldn't notice and they would get away to someplace like the Capitol. But this is still bad, how can my little sister put on a tough act so she'll be able to fit in with the other District 4 kids if this is how she reacts to the reaping every year? I can already see the torments, telling her to 'go back to District 12' just like they told me when I was younger in my first two years of being reaped.
"Don't worry, it's just the reaping, it's not as bad as the games themselves. And besides, since we don't really need any tesserae this year, your name will only be in there 4 times. That's not bad at all! And you're great with scavenging for food, we know this. You stand a chance, and even if you get reaped I guarantee there will be someone else volunteering immediately after you. It's not your first year, you know how it is. It'll be fine." But from the horrified look she gives me I know I somehow got the story wrong. And I must admit, it did strike as odd why my sister, having not been reaped two years prior, would be in such hysterics now. And I know what's about to come out of her lips as soon as she says them, making me feel conceited and uncaring, even though I know that's not true.
"I'm NOT crying because of the reaping Arielle. I'm crying because Jemmie got scared when he looked on the calendar this morning and actually remembered what today was for the first time." Eileana spits this in my face, angry that I could possible forget the sibling the needed me most, even if he was second oldest.
Because in his head he still thinks and acts like a 5-year-old child.
Because he's one of 10 kids in all of Panem with the disease Autism.
And because he still doesn't know to the full extent what the Hunger Games means.
"But he gets like that every year sweetie, why are you crying so hard then?"
"Because…because I have a bad feeling this year Arielle. A dream. That you and him both got reaped, and went off to the games leaving us all alone." The anger is gone from her voice, replaced with fear.
"Oh sweetie, you know it was a bad dream. How about this, you go back to bed and I'll make you some hot tea after I wake Jemmie up okay?" As I ask her this, I know it's not enough. But what else can I do? I can't promise her that Jemmie won't get reaped because that would be a lie, his chances of getting reaped are almost as much as mine- 6 for him, and 7 for me.
But so far, all of us have been lucky.
After everyone is up, dressed and ready, I can't help but feel the need to leave the house, to be on my own, and clear my head for a little while. I'd leave Jemmie in charge, but he can barely remember the difference between me and mom, let alone the difference between acting like an adult and a child.
So, Zhane and Khorr are left controlling the house, and while I know that's a mistake considering they will do NOTHING but make Jemmie so upset that he starts crying, there's nothing I can do to stop it.
I walk out, already in my reaping dress and by the time I reach the square, the boys my age are already whistling. I sigh, roll my eyes and move on, my red stilettos slipping in the cobbled streets purposefully paved over the sand, before I reach the town of square concrete houses. Most of them are more than one floor, being three or four floors high in the least. This is the rich part of town, where almost everyone else in the District lives.
The fork in the road comes sooner than I thought it would, and I turn to the left, heading for the docks that are usually filled with my co-workers, knowing full well that they will be empty today. To the right is the Victors Village, filled with huge tall mansions full of colors and flower beds and everything else you can imagine a fine house needs.
The cobbled street that I am walking on soon turns to gravel under my feet, and then altogether the gravel dissolves into the larger sandy beach, with the wooden dock on its end, ships tied to its side. I sit down on the dock and remove the strappy shoes that are so beautiful yet so painful to wear, and put my feet in the warm tepid water, lifting the hem of my red dress up around my knees. I immediately regret the decision, because next thing I know the thigh-high slit springs open, revealing my underwear, and I have to quickly adjust my dress to hide it. The dress was my mothers, her mother was a victor in the 60th Hunger Games, before she died and my mother was back to living a poverty-filled life. The dress is made of red silk, with a thigh-high slit on the left, and a nice V-neck that fits to my figure. This is the only thing I allow myself to have of hers after what happened all those years ago, from when I was just 14 years old, and barely able to fend for myself.
My father…he couldn't deal with the fact that he had given birth to a 'retarded' son. So he convinced himself that the son was not his and that his wife had been unfaithful, and strayed to another man while he had worked in the docks during the day. But instead of getting mad and leaving us like he should have, he did something far worse. He became angry, and abusive, spouting drunken words at Jemmie and slapping him, hoping that if he kept teaching him things through pain that he would somehow become smarter. And my mother, being weak, never did anything to stop him, convincing herself that somehow she was the problem. So finally, when Jemmie turned 13, my father realized there was nothing he could do to stop the Autism from making Jemmie different from everyone else. And so he left, just walking out of the house one day and never coming back. I remember it well, two months before the reaping, and my mother just collapsed right then and there, falling apart for a man who didn't deserve her. And then on the day of my reaping I went into her room after a bad dream, and she was gone, a note on the bed apologizing and saying that she couldn't live without my father and had gone in search of him. I didn't have time to be upset, all I could do was get ready for the reaping and hope not to be picked, and if I wasn't I would worry about what to do with my new situation later. 6 years later and I still don't have time to worry about what could happen, because I'm too busy worrying about everyone else.
The water is nice on my bare feet, and the hot sun has started shining down on me. I guess I have stared out at the water thinking of the past for longer than I thought. So when the hands grab my shoulders, the first thing I do is grab the wrists and turn myself around, my bare foot against his throat and his hands turned down, the forearms tight with his muscles straining as I twist his wrists.
"Honestly Arielle, if you wanted to get it on, all you had to do was say so."
The condescending tone, the humor in his eyes, and his undeniable good looks slap me in the face, and I roll my eyes as I let my foot down and let go of his hands.
Ladies and Gentlemen, let me please introduce you to my good friend Finnick Odair.
I know you're thinking this: How? If she's so poor, how does she possibly know the great District 4 victor Finnick Odair?
The fact of the matter is that his family and my family are old friends, going back to when my mother's mother was competing in the games. The male tribute was Finnick's Uncle…well he would have been anyway, and my Grandmother tried everything to keep him alive during the games, but he became sick and died of disease. That was the year that everyone had to beat each other to death, and so food and water were scarce from them moving from hideout to hideout all the time. After that, my Grandmother did everything she could to take care of the Odair family, and because of it Finnick has always helped me whenever I need it. Whether it be covering for the fact that my parents haven't been into town in years (apparently they are very sick and bedridden with a VERY rare disease from what Finnick has told the peacekeepers.) or the reason that I don't always go to the school, instead going to the docks to work for money and to catch extra fish so I can smuggle them out for food. (I have had enough training over the years, and since I have 'excelled' in the test simulator they put the students into every year to feel like we're in the games, I am allowed to get away with it.)
"Hah! And here I thought you were actually getting serious about someone." I said, and Finnick was confused.
I guess he didn't realize I knew.
"Me? Serious? About who?" he asks this as he sits down, plunging his own feet into the water, and I join him. His open collared shirt shows off his bronze skin, and black dress pants with a nice jacket. For once, Finnick actually looks like he hasn't been helping me fishing, sweating in the hot sun all the time.
"Annie of course." I say this, and he stares at me, before smiling.
"Mags told you, didn't she?"
"Well of course she did, I mean Annie's games were only a couple of years ago Finnick. Besides, I think it's kind of sweet, you and her." I laugh and look up at the sky, thinking that if I had the chance of true love with someone, even if it was someone like Annie, I wouldn't be afraid to embrace it, and I'm glad Finnick was chasing after it after being alone for so long.
"Arielle what are you doing out here? I mean, usually you're marching around the house, cleaning up spills and screaming at the two identical brats, while still being a kind mother to Jemmie. What happened?"
I sigh at the concerned tone of his, and look down at my feet, before looking straight and blowing a stray hair out of my face. Finnick was always too good of a friend for me, no matter how shallow the Capitol makes him out to be, I know who he really is.
My friend.
"It's just…Eileana had this dream, that me and Jemmie got reaped this year. And I know that it's no different from the ones I used to have when I was getting used to being the leader of the family. But when I saw her, so scared at the idea of me being gone, I realized that if I ever got reaped she would try to volunteer without even thinking, and you know that EVERYONE volunteers at the reaping. But theirs also that rule that family gets picked over other volunteers, so even if there were other people trying to take my place, she would still be unlucky and stuck going to the games. And I could never let her do that..."
"That won't happen. You guys are lucky enough that you don't need tesserae; you're well off enough that your name is in the bowl, at the most, 7 times. She's only been in 3 times."
"Yea but what if she gets reaped? What if I suddenly have the problem of dealing with my little sister being at the games and have to watch fight and possibly die and I can't…" I break off as my voice cracks. Seeing Eileana curled up into that ball reminded me why I hated the games, and feared them at the same time. Suddenly I felt like that abandoned little girl 6 years ago, banging on her friends front door crying and having no idea what to do." I looked down at my palms, wondering when they had gotten so big and I so much older. Had we really grown up that fast?
"Like you said, there will be plenty of volunteers. The best you can do is not let your worrying cloud your judgment, and hope that you'll be spared for the last reaping you'll ever partake in. You just…need to stay calm."
I look down, staring at my brightly colored toes.
Red looks good against my skin.
But so does blood.
My mind reminds me this, and I shake my head. "Yea…You're right. It's just really hard, of course."
Finnick punches my shoulder lightly, and I laugh a bit. But of course, all too soon the town bell rings, the old brass one at the tall tower right in the town square. It's near the justice building, and the fact that it's going off now, at 11, means that the reaping is happening soon.
This is the bell that reminds us why we hate or worship the Capitol.
This bell is the reason that we train in a special school, harder than any other first district schools.
This is the sound of the beginning of this year's Hunger Games.
When I walk back into the house, it's a mess. What looks like food is on the floor, mashed up by stomping feet and pounding fists, which annoys me. It's bad enough that I skip one day of school for these idiots every week, but Finnick has to go out of his way and break the rules of his being a Capitol victor to help us with scarce food for our bellies. And to waste it? That's Capitol behavior. Not something that they would EVER learn from me.
Then I hear it: A cry.
I run to the back of my house, and the back yard, facing the woods that stands before the fence that blocks us from escaping to another district.
Zhane is holding up the cage of Jemmie's precious mockingjay that he keeps for a pet. He caught it awhile back, running in the woods, and from the way Khorr is smiling and reaching for the lock, the teasing has now gone to full on bullying.
I can't hear what their saying, but as I start running up to stop them, Khorr is about to open the lock when he sees me, and thrushes it open, letting the bird fly away free. I stare at him crossly, and the first thing I do when I reach them is slap them both across the face, before looking at Jemmie.
His face is confused at first, be he starts crying soon. He's upset, and screaming about how he wants his bird back immediately, and all I can do is hug him, trying to prepare him for the reaping.
"Stop it!" Is all I can say, all I can coherently come up with. "It's gone."
The glare from my eyes is enough to make Zhane and Khorr burn into cinders as we walk back inside.
I gel Jemmie's hair up into small spikes and give him a white button down shirt and tan dress pants, paired with simple shoes. Zhane and Khorr wear button down shirts and blazers with jeans, ignoring me the whole way and shoving Jemmie as we walk out the door. I hold his and Eileana's hands as we walk down the cobbled streets- the same as this morning, only somehow the beautiful sun streaks and shining blue of the ocean seem gray and misty as we walk towards Town Centre, where the victor podium is set up, the two sections for male and females.
I see the two tables set up with peace keepers, as teenagers and children of all ages are lining up to get their blood taken, most having a look of glee or triumph as their blood is collected, running up to their friends in excitement as they wait for the reaping to begin.
They sicken me.
All too soon, Eileana is up next in front of me nervous, scared- the way it is supposed to be. She squeals in pain as the blood is pricked from her finger and processed and gives me a nervous glance back before I give her a nod and she turns and walks to the section with all the other 11 year olds.
I'm next, and the peacekeeper forcefully grabs my hand, pricking my finger a little too hard to draw blood. But as always, in a small district where everyone knows each other, being a black sheep doesn't benefit.
I walk slowly to the 18-year-old section, sweat dripping down already as the hot ray of the sun clings my dress to my back, people forcefully bumping into me as I make my way to the middle of the section in the back. The oldest are ALWAYS in the back.
My heart is pumping, my breath stinking up with nervousness. I feel faint, I feel sick, the sun is too hot as it beams down and my vision blurs a little. I gasp as I remind myself to breath as I look over at Eileana, and see her tapping her foot, biting her lip, playing with her hair- anything to pass the time until the reaping is over. I look back and down at my palms- my hands are shaking violently and are covered in sweat. I think I'm about to pass out when I see the mayor walk on with the victors.
I see Mags, Annie, and then Finnick walk on and I take a slight breath of relief that is masked with the adoring sigh of the crowd as they fawn over him. If anyone could help me get through this, it's Finnick. He smiles and winks at me, and I can see him mouth the words calm down as Evanna Lynch, covered with her ridiculous trademark purple skin and cat eyes, walks onto the platform. Her smile is phony white, gleaming along with her crayon yellow hair and crystal rhinestones around her eyes, set against her deep purple skin. Everything about her is nauseating to me, while the rest of the people cheer for her when she walks on.
"HELLO!~" She booms with plastic enthusiasm. "Welcome District 4, to the reaping of the Annual 73rd Hunger Games!~ We have a special video to show you all the way from the Capitol, before this year's reaping can begin."
She motions to the giant white screen on the side of the stage, and the video starts. President Snow's voice booms the word 'War' and the history of our country begins, taking 4 minutes to explain. Evanna is mouthing the words, while Finnick sits behind her, mimicking her to me and making me chuckle- forgetting for a few moments how serious this actually is.
The moment is over way too soon however, and Evanna pops back up with a smile that could curdle even the strongest amount of milk ever with its plastic gleam.
"Well! Wasn't that absolutely SPLENDID! To all the newcomers: welcome to the honorary reaping of the Hunger Games. To all the returnees, let's hope this year you have better odds than last." Almost everyone chuckled, the parents even laughed and the victors looked at each other and smirked-including Finnick, who pretended all the time as to try to fit in.
Only a few people like me looked disgusted, including my sister, whereas Jemmie just laughed along with everyone not really understanding the joke.
"Now, now settle down so we can start! As always, ladies first!" Evanna cried with a flourish, and strutted over to the bowl. As per year, every announcer had their own 'signature' way of grabbing one of the names. Evanna's way was always plunging her hand straight down to the bottom and picking the one that was right there.
Strutting back to the microphone, I noticed the girls standing next to me nod at each other out of the corner of my eyes. I sighed, every year, even though someone's name was drawn from the bowl, the teenagers always planned in advance who was actually going to volunteer for the games and try to win. The way they picked, was a series of brawls planned afterschool leading up the games, and whoever made it to the final two and won, was picked to be our tribute. I never participated. Ever. Zhane and Khorr have tried many times but luckily I had Finnick to step in and make sure they didn't.
This year was different; I honestly had no idea who was going to be the official tribute this year. Even if I never participated, I always knew who it was going to be by the week before the reaping. My stomach lurched, as she opened the paper. I knew that even if Eileana's name was called she still wouldn't be the tribute. Somehow that thought didn't make me any less nervous.
"Finch Davidson!" Evanna cried, and I sighed a breath of relief-saved, finally out of the games forever.
Then, like a huge crushing wave it started- I felt myself be lurched forward as the crowd of girls my age swarmed around me and started pushing me towards the stairs, passing between the groups until I fell hands first on the ground right below the steps to podium, and someone imitated my voice screaming 'I VOLUNTEER!'.
Quiet, Evanna smiled, seeing nothing wrong with the situation, completely used to someone volunteering each year. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a volunteer! Best learn how to walk in those heels with a crowd darling." Evanna said and winked, as the crowd burst out laughing. I was shocked and sat there sputtering before the peacekeepers picked me up by the arms and pushed me again to stand in front of Evanna.
"What's your name sweetheart?' Evanna cried over me as I started to say 'But I didn't'.
"Oh don't be modest, of course you did we all heard you! Now please, what's your name?" She smiled and pushed the microphone in my face as my eyes widened, completely stunned and numb.
"Arielle Greene." Was all I could stammer as Evanna smiled and clapped her hands together saying "Wonderful, let's hear it for our female tribute and volunteer, Arielle Greene!" She laughed, as everyone clapped fast and hard smirking at me. I couldn't do anything but stand on the pedestal with a shocked face as Evanna walked over to the boys bowl, and all I could think was 'Eileana…Jemmie…what will happen if I DIE?'
The plunge was all I heard as the blood was pounding in my ears, papers rustling in the bowl as Evanna reached all the way down. A 'pop!' as her hand shot out with a thrust and her heels clicked as she walked back to the microphone. The paper opened and I looked over as Jemmie smiled and waved at me, before seeing my saddened face and looked confused.
"Jemmie Greene!" Evanna cried, and all I could see around me was black and Jemmie, brow furrowing at the silence and opening of the crowd around him to let him through.
We had both been reaped for the games.