Chapter One
I looked at myself in my cracked, filthy mirror and groaned. My mother's old Reaping Day dress wasn't unsightly, but the memories with it had faded into the material, leaving me with something I dreaded wearing every year. I hadn't argued: I never did. I just tugged at the loose seams at the end of the knee high gray skirt and loosened the white shirt tucked into it. No one wanted to look graceful and elegant today, but it was required: for me, for my brother, and all of Panem. I ran my fingers through my dark hair, trying to get the knots untangled. I sighed and looked at my brothers reflection as he stood behind me, staring blankly at my face, "What is it, Xavier?"
"Are you really asking me that, Ronnie? It's Reaping Day," His face is stone as he begins to walk towards me, "You look ... beautiful."
I smile and turn around, "This isn't our first reaping. We can get through this. My name has only been in there five times." But, that was a lie. My name had been entered thirty-five times. In return of our names entered more times, we got a meager amount of food. It barely lasted us a week, sometimes more. I smiled and fixed his hair, which was tousled.
But, he stopped me and grabbed my hand, "You're name has been in there more than five times, Ronnie. The odds are definitely not in your favor this year." Xavier let go of my hand abruptly and ran back to the dilapidated couch. I looked more closely at him; His jaw was clenched and his eyes showed sorrow. I walked to him and kneeled down.
"You're scared for me? You think I'll get picked?" I ask him, I take his hand and squeezed while he nods, "You're seventeen, Xavier. This is your last Reaping, you should be happy."
He shakes his head rapidly, "You're my fifteen year old sister Ronnie! I promised dad, I promised mom I'd protect you. If you go into the Hunger Games, I'm going with you." He grips my hand and looks at me with his big brown eyes.
"The odds may not be in my favor, but I have a chance. I'll always have a chance. You have to promise me that if I get chosen, you can't go with me. This is the 4th Quarter Quell; they'll be crueler than any other of the 100 Games. I can't lose you, ever." I pull my brother close and hug him, tightly. I never wanted to let go of him. I didn't want to attend the Reaping. I didn't want to be a tribute in the Capitol's Games.
He whispers, "I can't promise that."
"You have to," I pull back, yet I still whisper, "I promise you, if I'm a tribute, I'll try everything to win." He reaches out his hand and wipes my face of its streaming tears.
"Don't cry, V. I love you," He's never said that to my face before, only in mixed messages. I knew he loved me like I loved him, but the reassurance made me smile.
"I love you too, Xavier." I sniffled. I gave him one last hug before I heard a hard knock at the door. I walked towards the door, hesitant to open it. Peacekeepers were what my brother and I feared the most. After the rebellion, nothing seemed safe in our part of district 12, the Seam. I opened the door slightly and our neighbor Marisol stood at the threshold, "Are you and your brother alright, dear?" Her soft voice always soothed me, yet I didn't understand why. Marisol wasn't old, and she wasn't young either. If you're middle-aged in the Seam, your skin wrinkled in the sun very quickly, and your eyes showed lifelessness faster than the elders lost their breath walking. But, Marisol's skin was at the peak of perfection while her eyes glimmered with hope and pleasure: something most of us lacked in our physical state.
I nod and open my mouth to speak when Xavier interrupts, "The odds aren't in Ronnie's favor." He stands and walks over to us, "She won't let me protect her,"
"You can't always protect her, she needs independence. My son can also—"
"No, not Xander," My brother interrupted, "He can't protect her. She needs someone older, not the same age."
They argued as if I was already chosen for the Games, like I had no chance. Was I at that much of a risk this time? Could I go into that arena as a contender and come out as just bones? I pictured myself standing at the podium in the square today, still and frightened, but I shook away the thought immediately and said, "There is a chance my name will not be picked, Xavier. There's a chance I will not be a tribute in the Capitols competition, can you not think of the bright side?"
Marisol and Xavier stood, silent and motionless. The look in their eyes signified that they knew more than I did about what will happen at the Reaping this gloomy May afternoon. I begin to say something, but a sweet voice interrupts from behind Marisol, "Mother, the Reaping's beginning."
It was Xander Rybak: Marisol's one and only son. He sidestepped Marisol and looked up at me. His face was hardly like I remember; dark brown hair styled and combed, his arms were well built which matched his sleek face which was decently handsome, as I'd heard all my the girls in my grade whisper, "Hey, Veronica, right?"
I nod, "Yes, Ronnie," I've known this boy my whole life. I expected he at least knew my name, but I presume not. I pretended like I had forgotten his just so I would look like a fool, "You're Xander?" He nods as well, a bit of confusion sparkled in his brown eyes.
Marisol snapped out of her silent stage, like my brother, and examined me more closely, "Oh, my, Veronica! You look beautiful! If only your parents could see you today." She sighed.
I smiled, "I wish so too, Marisol." My mother and father, in the cruel Capitol's mind, were just a disadvantage in the Rebellion, like a setback. I knew I couldn't have saved my mother or father from the Capitols clutches, but the guilt settled in my mind each and every day of the few years since the tragedy. Ever since my mother and fathers vain deaths, my brother and I lived by ourselves, with of course the guidance of Marisol. She was too, like a mother to me. But, she isn't a replacement, no one will be.
"Ronnie, will you go with Xander to the square? Your brother and I will follow not far behind." Marisol spoke. She smiled and nudged me toward Xander, who focused his eyes on the town square.
"You look nice," He complimented. I nodded and walked forward as he did. We hadn't spoken much over the years I've spent living next door to him. I'd come to their house once in a while asking to borrow a cup of sugar or two, but I'd never see him around. I hadn't asked where he'd gone to, but I was extensively curious. As we walked, some girls from our school greeted us, mostly Xander.
A girl with blazing red hair jumped in front of us, "Oh, Xander! So nice to see you," I believed her name was Margret,
"Hello Margret," Xander smiled, he looked surprised, "Do you know Ronnie?"
She looked at me, annoyed. "Yes, I suppose so. " Her aggravation towards me was because I accompanied Xander, I don't see why the girls adored him so. I, of course, didn't, "It was nice meeting you here!" She nodded at only Xander and rolled her eyes at me before she quickly turned and ran back to her other freckled friends.
I turned around as we reached the square and saw Marisol and Xavier talking softly to one another, "What do you think they're talking about?"
"You don't know?" Xander asks, and I shake my head. "Never mind, just keep walking."
"No, Xander." I grab his arm before he could walk any farther, which got me about ten dirty looks from a group of snotty girls off to the side, "Please, what aren't you telling me?"
He leans his head closer and says, "It's you."
Before I could ask for further information, my brother calls my name and motions me over to him. Marisol does the same for her son and he reluctantly walks over as I do, "Whatever happens, I'm here." Xavier squeezed me. It felt like he'd never let me go, but he did.
"I'll never let you get hurt, Ronnie." Xavier said as a guard dressed in all white pulled me away from him. His words echoed in my head, never? What if I'm already hurt?
The guard pricks my finger as he pulls me into the girls' line and presses my finger atop a clear glass plate, "What's this for?"
"Precautions," He says and lets my hand go to deal with the rest of the girls. I stood patiently next to a girl who was in my class named Melissa. She greeted me with a soft and quiet, "hello" and then looked back down at her fingers, twiddling them into jumbled puzzles. I looked over to the boys line and saw some people I knew, but I waved to only one; Xavier. A tear fell from his face as he watched the guards take their positions. He slid a paper out from his pant pocket and stepped out of line for just one moment to hand it to the guard nearest to him while whispering something into his ear. I had yet to figure out why Xavier was so emotional this Reaping. He'd kept a straight face last year, the year before, and the year of my first Reaping. But, what is so important about this Quarter Quell?
He knows something I don't, he won't tell me to protect me. But, what is it?
The thought circled my mind a million times before Effie Trinket walked up elegantly to the stage. She has grown old since the last reaping in which she looked fairly young. He skin sagged a little; no wrinkles appeared on her picture perfect skin, though. She still was thin, but more so that it looked almost sickly and malnutrition seemed like a piece to her unsolvable mystery. Why are the Capitol people so polished and clean while the presenters are coarse and unkempt? It was almost like they have realized that perfection has its limits, even for the Capitol. . .
Effie tapped on the microphone and cheered, "Welcome, to the one hundredth annual Hunger Games!" Her capitol accent made me slightly smile. Melissa nudged me and whispered, "It's ridiculous." I nodded and looked at Effie. She was talking frenziedly about the Quarter Quell and it's surprises.
"We keep our past tributes our salute in greater gratitude for bravery. These Games represent us." She drowned endlessly about how much it meant to her to be standing on the podium announcing the fourth Quarter Quell, "I cannot wait for the Capitols surprise this time, District 12, can you?" A silence followed. She tugged on her bright green dress. Her blue and white curls began to straighten from the nervousness.
"Well, on to the Tributes! For the girls' a special girl has been picked from the vote of the Capitol for stamina, fighting skills, and survival abilities. I have this girl's name in my hand." She reaches her arm up into the crisp, damp air. A small paper was folded into fours in her hand. Melissa gripped my forearm; I could hear her faint whisper, "Please, let it not be me. Please,"
Effie pulls her arm down, unfolds the paper and speaks into the microphone, "Our Girl Tribute For District Twelve is …" The district was silent, no one spoke. Melissa even stopped her trembling for just one moment, "Veronica Argent!"
No, Please. No. This isn't real, no.
But, it is real. I am a Tribute for the 100th Hunger Games.
Melissa whispers, "I'm sorry," in my ear one last time as I get pulled away by a guard into the center of the square. I looked at my brother; his face was cold and hard. His eyes were red from crying, but he wasn't weeping now. I am helped up to the stage by Effie, she greets me with a glorious congratulations and a weak hug, I don't say, "Thank you" nor do I wrap my arms around her. I just stand next to her, staring blankly at the crowd, unknowing what I should do,
"Since this is the Quarter Quell, the Capitol has asked me to choose a Boy Tribute who's close to our girl tribute, Veronica." Effie says. My heart completely shatters, did Xavier and Marisol know about this?
They knew, I know they did.
"Our boy tribute is…" She unfolds another paper she grabbed from her pocket a few moments ago, "Xavier Argent!"
I have to murder my own flesh and blood. Then, a shout from the boys' line startled me, "I volunteer as tribute!"
It was Xander Rybak: The boy who didn't know my name. But, this boy was now my target, in the Fourth Annual Hunger Games…