Blue Moons and Shell Games
By: Aoife O'Regan
A/N: Hello readers! Emberwind8 here, with another Hunger Games fanfiction. Nothing much to say here I suppose... Oh right. I don't own the Hunger Games.
Chapter One:
"Really?" I laugh sarcastically.
"Definitely. How could I possibly go wrong?" jokes my twin sister, Arrietta. Arrietta, whom people called 'Arri', as if her full name was too much of a pain to say the entire way through. If you looked at us together, it would be tremendously hard to believe we were twins, related even. There is me, average height and weight, face distorted my blemishes, stringy unkempt hair, and then there is Arrietta, with her long and graceful legs, stunningly gorgeous face, and glowing, vibrant, golden locks. Beside the looks, we're still complete opposites. I'm that socially awkward geek, even in District Three, the home of nerds. Arrietta is the popular girl everyone looks up to, and yes, the home of nerds has one of those. But we look through our differences and are closer than anyone else we know. I should probably hate her, like I do her friends, but how could I? She's my twin sister.
"First of all, you'd run out of food and water right away. And do you think the Gamemakers wouldn't throw some mutt at you so you'd get into the action, and then—"
"Okay, okay," Arrietta interrupts, "so maybe hiding in a bush during the entire Hunger Games would be stupid. But I don't think either of us; no offense Lyra, would be able to survive any other way. And to add to what you were saying, if I did happen to win that way, I'd probably be the most hated victor in Hunger Games history for a few more decades."
"Yup." We both stay silent for a few seconds. Even without telepathic twin powers, I can tell that Arrietta is dreading the Reapings, using witticisms to comfort herself. This will only be the eighth time the Hunger Games have been played, yet the children of the Districts still fear tomorrow's festivities. Especially here, in District Three. No victors have come out yet that we can home in our poor little Victor's Village, and frankly, it doesn't look like any will soon. Even this early in time, Districts One and Two, Four as well possibly, have been deemed the most vicious competitors. They've even started training the children there to be accustomed to weapons and fighting, just so they can volunteer to go kill each other. No other District has a chance of killing them.
Sitting in the backyard of our average-sized house, we stare at the full moon peeking through the fluffy clouds. Not only is this a full moon, I notice, this is a blue moon, one of the rarest things anyone can witness in their lives. Nobody could possibly enjoy it now though, not while knowing that tomorrow will send twenty-three children to their deaths.
"I guess we should go inside," I finally speak.
"Guess so," Arrietta agrees.
Arrietta stands up, brushing off her off-white skirt, and extends a hand to me. I take her hand, and she pulls me up off of the soft grass. We stroll together into the house through the sliding-glass door separating the inside and outside, up the carpeted staircase, and into our separate rooms. We're pretty fortunate to have all of this, though it might not be so amazing in Three, compared to the lower Districts, we are living in paradise. Looking at the small digital clock on my nightstand, I see that it's almost eleven o'clock in the evening. It's not abnormal for Arrietta to stay up this late at night, it's a daily thing for her, but this is much too late for me. Even considering that, I toss and turn for around an hour. Not all because of the events of tomorrow, this is very normal for me. I can't remember a night where I fell under the darkness of sleep directly after hitting the bed.
Eventually though, I do fall asleep. I dream of what could happen tomorrow. I watch an image of Arrietta being dragged by the unmerciful Peacekeepers through the aisle separating the different genders to the stage, where our escort congratulates her. Her, the girl with tears streaming down her gentle face. And I couldn't volunteer for her, I can't do anything at all. But why? Because I think she can win? No. She wouldn't be able to hurt anyone. Because I'm simply stuck in place? In a dream, that could be the reason. But when I lift my imaginary feet off of the sandy colored stone ground, they come up like they normally in real life. Could it be… Because I'm a coward? No, no, of course not. No. I can't bear to face the reality, but deep inside, I know that's the true reason. I couldn't sacrifice myself to save her.
~Time Lapse~
Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep! Beep beep be- I thrust my hand out to save myself from the appalling sound that was the alarm clock. 7:00 AM. Just enough time to clothe myself before leaving for the Reapings. Opening my blue closet doors, I see the outfit I had chosen for this day. A knee-length teal lace dress and polka dotted black flats. Why I should dress up for this occasion, I cannot say, but apparently it's 'necessary', according to my mother. We're supposed to show the Capitol that we're 'excited for the Games', and that 'we want to show our joy through fancy clothing'. That's funny, isn't it? I change into that right away, without bothering to take shower. I took one yesterday afternoon, that's good enough.
I walk down the hallway to the bathroom, unoccupied, and brush my hair. Thanks to that shower I took yesterday, it actually looks presentable. After putting on my large and obnoxious blue and green glasses, the frames of which are right below my side-swept bangs, I head back out to the kitchen, where my mother, father, and Arrietta are already starting to eat breakfast.
"Good morning, Lyra," my mother greets me without looking away from the stove. After only a few more seconds, she flips the contents of the pan, scrambled eggs, onto a plate, and hands it to me. I play around with the eggs for a while with my shiny fork, not having an appetite at all. I look to my left, where Arrietta is sitting, and notice that she has barely touched her food either. I know I should eat, so I just think about the good things in the world. We only have out names in the Reaping bowl twice, one for each year we've been in the Reaping, no tesserae taken. That's a pretty reassuring thought, reassuring enough for me to take a few bites of the egg. Eventually, the plate is empty. I quickly drop it in the sink, and then head back down the hallway to brush my teeth. After spitting out bits of yellow, I leave there for a final time, until after the Reaping of course.
Without anyone speaking any words, the four of us head out of the front door to the streets of District Three. Arrietta immediately sees a friend of hers and races off to meet her, leaving me with my parents. Wanting oh so badly to leave this awkward situation, I look around to see if my next-door neighbor, Red Gates, is just now leaving as well. Other than Arrietta, she is my best friend, one in a collection of very few more people I could consider to be 'friends'. Thankfully for me, she's exiting her house just now as well. After making brief eye contact, something I don't do very often, we head towards each other.
"Hey Lyra," Red greets, pretty unenthusiastically. The smile on her face is obviously fake; she's just putting it on to make everything seem okay. She flicks a piece of her very short brown hair out of her face.
"Hi," I mutter sheepishly.
"Did you take any tesserae this year?" Red asks me, clearly without anything else to talk about.
"No. It's not worth it. Did you?" I respond.
"One. Three times in there isn't that much. Plus, a year's worth of oil and grain is worth it, I think."
"I suppose so."
We tread closer and closer to the town square, finally reaching the line for getting blood samples taken. I remember being nervous for that one pin prick last year, and it's not much better this year, I've never really been the most tolerant to pain.
The Peacekeeper beckons each person in line in front of me to come closer, and then it gets to me. I close my eyes and wait for the needle to pierce my skin, and barely notice it happening. Good.
"You may go," the Peacekeeper tells me in monotone. I clutch my right arm with my left hand nervously, and go stand with the other thirteen year old girls. The brunette girl next to me I know from school, Aine.
"Good luck, Lyra," she simply states, smiling. I don't respond at all to her.
Red comes into the roped off section from the line for taking blood and stands on my opposite side. She stands still with her head down, just wanting to get through this without being picked. After a few more agonizing minutes, District Three's mayor walk onto the stage, delivering a speech I pay absolutely no mind to. After him comes Pixie, Three's escort.
"Welcome, welcome, everyone, to the Reaping for the Eighth Annual Hunger Games!" she screeches in that awful Capitol accent. Pixie, an atrocity to the human race, has dyed pinkish purple skin, and is wearing a shimmering short dress, fading from light green at the top, to light blue, to light purple, to light pink at the bottom. And, to make the outfit even worse, there are sparkly pink fairy wings, or should I say, Pixie wings attached to the back. And of course there is makeup to compliment the disaster.
"As always, we'll start with ladies first, yes?" she says, spoken as if it were a question. Her glittering nails sparkle in the sunlight as she places them in the clear glass bowl. Swirling her hand through the mass of names, she picks one from the very center. My heart is pounding as she opens it up, reading the name first in her mind, then out loud: "Noemi Hansen!" It's not me. It's not me. But nobody steps up to the stage. "Noemi Hansen? Are you here Noemi?" asks Pixie. I feel a hand shove me out of my joy.
"Lyra! It's you," Red exclaims, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. I think about what she said for a second. Then it hits me. I've been going by my middle name for so long, my full name doesn't sound right anymore.
My name isn't Lyra Hansen.
It's Noemi Hansen.
I stumble out of line, head bowed to hide the tears, and rush up the stairs to Pixie, who is smiling blissfully, thankful that I exist.
"Any volunteers?" Pixie asks, somewhat hopefully, probably not wanting a pathetic thirteen year old to go into the Games. I scan the crowd for Arrietta, partially hoping she'll save me, partially hoping she won't sacrifice herself for me. I see her with her friends, bawling into the hands while they pat her back and tell her I'll be fine.
"No? Okay!" Pixie starts to move on to the boys, but I motion for her to give me the microphone, which she shoves in my face for me to speak. All eyes on me.
"It's actually L—" I stop myself from saying 'Lyra'. Maybe if I go by Noemi, people I know won't automatically think it's me. It'll be weird, people calling me Noemi, but I'll get used to it.
"It's actually what?" Pixie asks.
"N-Nothing," I stutter.
"Well, then let's move on to the boys, shall we?" Again, stating it like a question, when in truth, it wasn't a question that needed to be asked at all. This time, Pixie wastes no time choosing a name. She drops her hand in the bowl and picks one off of the side. "Elliot Bolt!" The boy tribute, Elliot Bolt, steps out of the sixteen year old section. He looks like much more of a competitor than I'm sure I do. Tall, a little athletic, something different for this District. Though, like me, tears well up in his face as he walks up to the stage.
"Here you are, District Three, Noemi Hansen and Elliot Bolt!" Pixie nods at the two of us to shake hands. Without looking at Elliot, at shake his trembling hand with my own.
Pixie escorts us to the Justice Building, where I enter a plain room with dark wood walls. The goodbyes go by like a blur. All I can see are my sobbing parents, Arrietta, and then my friends. I can't believe this is happening, it must be another dream. My name was only in twice, twice. The chances were nearly impossible for me to be Reaped, but it still happened. Now I just have to await my death.
A/N: Yay the first chapter's done! So what did you think? Please review!