I'm back, hey! Happy 2015 to all of you. I've decided, no matter who is reading this, I'm going to finish my story eventually, whether it take me months or decades (decades is looking to be more likely). But first, I'm going to fix up the early chapters and all that stuff that needs fixing. I do not own the Hunger Games, but we can all indulge a bit, can't we?
I arrive home from the woods just a little later than I intended to. My mother and Prim have the hot water ready for my bath, although it has cooled down slightly. I'm late, naturally, so the water's a little stained from when they washed earlier.
I strip off my hunting clothes, leaving my precious boots neatly by the door. Then I hop into the fast-cooling bathwater and wash my hair. I'm tempted to keep it in a braid so I don't have to go through all the extra hassle, but I can't wash it tied up.
Once I'm done, I'm running even later, and I barely have time to dry my hair. I just give it a quick rub to stop it dripping down my clothes, which are laid out on the bed I share with my sister. I'm surprised to see a proper dress, not a blouse and skirt like I normally wear to the reaping. I remember my mother's anxious face when I walked in this afternoon, and realize that I have reached the point where it won't be surprising if I am reaped. I turned sixteen recently - I have twenty slips this year. Twenty. I begin to shake, but only notice because my wet hair starts to knock against my shoulders. Twenty.
I return my attention to the dress. It might be one of my mother's from her apothecary days, but if so, it has been shortened considerably. After all, I am naturally very small, only a few inches taller than Prim, who is small for a twelve-year-old. I slide the blue material over my head and find the shoes. My hair is only damp now, but it has decided to annoy me as much as possible and the curls tighten into ringlets, rising up past my hips. I don't cut it often, because long hair can be useful for warmth, but normally it dangles just above my hips when it's unbraided. I run a brush through the black tangles, removing most of the knots. We don't have time to do it up, so I just hide the more obvious tangles underneath the top layer, hope they don't notice, and head out to my waiting family.
My slightly more extended family has arrived. Grandmama is sick - unsurprisingly, since she's over 60 years old - but my aunt Lauren and uncle Aiydn are here, with my cousins. Anabelle is nineteen, so she's only watching the reaping this year, having made it past 18. Next oldest is JJ, who is my age. Her full name is Jessalyn Joyce, but she thinks it's too girly and I have to agree. So, JJ it is. Mietta is 12, the same as Prim. She is adopted, but she doesn't know it. I'm not very worried about either Prim or Mietta as it is their first reaping and they only have one slip each. The twins are also watching with Anabelle and our mothers, since Willow and Sage are only eight. I love my family more than anything else in the world, especially since I lost my father to a mining accident. I want to shudder, but my family would worry that the reaping was making me scared, and I am not scared.
Well, not very scared, anyway.
I exchange a hello with the Baileys, my cousins, and we head for the square. I fall into pace beside JJ. If the world was black and white, we'd be practically identical - we have the same shaped eyes, the same unruly curls, the same and the same ears that poke slightly through our hair, which is another reason I keep it tied back. We even have the same light spatter of freckles across our nose and the same heart-shaped birthmark between our hairline and our right eyebrow. Since my father's death, I am the only member of the family with Seam colouring, hence the black hair and grey eyes. It adds to my feeling of not quite fitting in, although with JJ I don't have to look up and meet her eyes.
Now JJ turns to look at me with a grim smile. "How many?" I don't need a clarification to know that she means the number of slips in the reaping bowl.
"Twenty. You?" She grimaces, because some sixteen-year-old girls will have just 5 slips - the rich ones, like Madge, who don't need tesserae.
"Just 14. I count Mimi as one though, so I have 15. She's scared to death, but she'll get over it. What about Priminess?" My father enjoyed making up annoying nicknames for us, and JJ just loves to be annoying, so she uses them a lot. Hers is Joycie, which isn't too bad. Mine is worse.
We arrive at the square and sign in. Aunt Lauren takes the twins, my mother Lyssa, and Anabelle up to the back, to watch. JJ and I walk with Mietta and Prim to the back, where the other 12 year old girls wait, drop them off with reassurances, and go back to the sixteens. We're easily the smallest ones there, although some of the fifteens behind us are slightly smaller. Clearly they haven't had much access to meat throughout their life. Through hunting, I eat more meat than the average Seam girl, but I'm still little - I share my mother's frame. I feel tiny next to Gale, who is almost 6 feet tall.
After a while, Effie Trinket walks over to stage. She is the District Twelve escort and she will reap this year's tributes. The tension is getting too much for me, I have to say something, so I turn to JJ and say, clear enough for other sixteens to hear me, "Oh look, the Grim Reaper herself." There is soft laughter because Effie Trinket is probably the least grim Person in the whole of District Twelve. She trots up to the microphone with her ridiculous wig bobbing around and starts the ceremony. I tune out, only glancing up when the mayor, one of my best friends Madge's father, starts to talk. I try as hard as possible to look like I'm paying attention, and hope it works. Both Effie and Mayor Undersee look like they wish they were anywhere else. After all, District Twelve is the least prestigious district in Panem, and although Effie trills about what an honor it is to be here, she's itching to get boosted up to a proper district, where the only living victor doesn't fall off his chair halfway through the opening.
Finally, Effie announces in her ridiculous Capitol accent that it's time to pick the 'lucky two people to have the honor of representing District Twelve in the 74th Hunger Games!' I feel sick. If JJ has 15 slips because of Mietta, I have 21 because of Prim, and that's more than a lot of girls. "Ladies first!" chirps Effie, dipping her hand into the bowl. I squeeze JJ's hand and look towards Gale. He watches me back, and neither of us can smile.
Please, God, if there is a God, don't let it be me. Don't let it be me or JJ. Please. Please...
Effie moves her hand around a little, selecting a slip and then dropping it, doing the same thing several times. Finally, she decides on a slip and takes a deep breath to read the name as she unfolds the piece of paper. Not me, not me, not me."And our lucky young lady today is-"
-not me, I'm begging you , whoever is in charge of this whole universe, not me!-
"... Primrose Everdeen!"
Well I think that was a touch better written than my first attempt. Go ahead and keep reading but you might be confused, I've changed a few small things here. Thanks for reading and reviewing.
