I stood in front of the full length mirror and stared at the unfamiliar girl who stared back. Her mouse brown hair was so neat and tidy - too neat and tidy - in a tight bun at the back of her head leaving two strands at the front to dangle either side of her pale face. She seemed flawless, and with her larger then normal green eyes and pale pink lips, she was like a doll. Her skin was white and clean like porcelain. Her slim form was supporting a plain cream dress that fell to her knee. There was not a single speck of dirt on her, not a single hair out of place.
This girl was not me. This girl was a reaping child.
I turned away from the reflection in disgust and looked around the small barn room. It was once a hayloft but since the house could no longer squeeze in me, my sister and two brothers I had no choice but to move in here. It wasn't much but it was a little piece of sanctuary and protection. I loved my family to bits but I just didn't like being around people for too long. I much preferred the company of the barn animals.
My mother, who was a sweet kind lady, once tended to the many animals that we raised but after a horrible miscarriage during her last pregnancy she fell into a deep depression and never left the house. She stopped speaking, stopped eating. She just wasted away until one night she never woke up. The doctors said it was a broken heart that took her. My father almost lost everything trying to hold us together.
Life at that point was hard and food was scarce as my father couldn't work hard enough to support all of us by himself. Often times we found ourselves eating the same things we feed our livestock. My older sister Tiffany who had only just turned nineteen tried her hardest to help dad and with my brothers Hiram and Sam close by her side, not to mentions the handful of tesserae they took out, it wasn't long until they had pulled us out. I was only seven at the time, helpless and so dependant on them. I just stayed at home, hiding as I always did from the world that terrified me so.
District 10, my home, had been hard to us. Now it wasn't so bad. The other residents were friendly enough and those who weren't…well, I just hid from. That's my talent. I hide. If I don't want to be seen I can just slip away. Mother used to call me her mouse princess.
But hiding wouldn't save me today. Today was the 'reaping'. Today was that start of the hellish entertainment known as the Hunger Games, a sick and vile punishment thought up by the Capital to stop us from protesting. Every district, of which there were twelve, had to give up two children, male and female, of the ages twelve to eighteen to take part in planed events. The aim? Survive. The outcome? Twenty three deaths and one victor, who would go home with everything they wanted plus the nightmares they never dreamt they could have.
Poor people. Poor or foolish. It was either their bad luck which sent them to the arena or they stupid pride which fuelled them to volunteer. Lucky for me my name will only be entered into the reaping five times. My sister refused to let me get out of a tessera -a 'contract', which enters your name in again.
The odds, as the saying goes, were definitely in my favour.
There was a knock at the barn door which made me jump with surprise. I ducked down and peered over the edge of my bed to see Tiffany waiting by the open barn door, wearing a pale pink dress that used to belong to my mother. Her jet black hair was pinned up beautifully in a tight bun.
"Melody? Melody please we're going to be late," she called, a hint of worry in her tone.
"I'll be down in a second!" I called back and grabbed my brown bow that I had worn every day since my mothers passing. Every time it left its soft touch I couldn't help but think of her hand stroking away tears on my cheek.
I grabbed the bow and fastened it around my bun before sliding down the wooden ladder of the hayloft and hurrying toward the door.
My sister looked worried; she had all right to be. The reaping was no laughing matter…At least to any decent person it wasn't. It was not rare to see the odd group of people taking bets on who will cry, who will be picked and who will most liking die first.
I held out my hand and she held it tightly as though I was a balloon that she feared would fly away and leave her. She did this every reaping since I was twelve and of 'reaping age'.
We walked in silence, no one daring to utter a word. Everyone in District 10 was being rounded up into the town centre where bright streamers and flags were pinned up, in some desperate attempt to raise moral. There were cameras everywhere and huge screen that relayed the images from them. We began to line up and I was force to let go of my sister's hands.
"No matter what happens, be careful," she muttered as she kissed my hair.
I closed my eyes and hugged her. "I'll be fine…the chances are far too slim."
"Please don't jinx it." Her voice trembled as though she was going to burst into tears.
I wrapped my arms around her tighter, everyone who was were stood by turned at stared. Many shook their heads with sorrow. Others sniggered.
She knelt down and looked me in eyes. "I promise you I will never let them take you away from me."
The fact that I would be pick was ridiculous. Five in a million chance, almost. This was a good thing. To be picked was almost a death sentence. Only two people from our district have ever survived. One of them was a woman named Bess who left the district a beautiful smart and brave young girl. Now she was a scarred and unstable old lady who had a tendency to throw knives at random passers-by.
The other was a handsome young man named Isaac who seemed to have been unaffected by the events. He scared me. Something in his eyes seemed to cold and too joyful to belong to someone who had been a killer.
I let go of my sister and I lined up in front of a long line of tables. Somewhere in the large crowed my brothers were doing the same. Slowly the line began to file down until it was down to me. I stared at the moody looking blond peacekeeper who sat behind the table. He looked up at me and waved me forward. Cautiously I stepped closer.
"Hand," he ordered sharply.
I said nothing and held out my hand toward him. He snarled and grabbed my wrist, pricking my finger with a computer device. The computer beeped and he pressed my bleeding finger to a piece of card, smearing my blood on to it. He let go of me and, with a backwards gaze to my sister, I walked off to join the crowd.
We stood in two huge groups in front of a stage outside the justice building. We were split into girls and boys and separated by a thin rope with made a large walk way up the stage. On the stage were four chairs, a microphone and two large, glass bowls on white clothed table. They were filled with small pieces of paper. Each piece contained the name of which every unlucky girl or boy who could be sent off to be the tributes.
My stomach lurched as it always did at this point. Could it be someone I know? A friend, a enemy or even a family member? I shuddered at the thought. I could all ready feel my heart beat begin to race. I looked around at the sombre faces of the others. They were most likely thinking the same thing.
We all stood in nervous silence waiting, fearing, holding our breath in anticipation for the events that were about to happen. It was the waiting that was the worst part, like waiting for the news from a doctor informing you if your sickness was more serious than first thought or not.
After what felt like a whole life time, a thin tall man in a fine bright purple suit strolled on to the stage. His hair was so green it looked like it was made out of strands of emeralds that glistened and shimmered in the midday sun. His skin seemed to dyed blue giving him a frosted look, and his lips were bright yellow, plump and thicker then normal lips. His purple eyes scanned and flickered across the crowed .The man stood centre stage as three more people made their way there. One of them was a thin skeleton of a woman with grey whispery hair and eyes so sunken it they were almost holes in her face. This was Mayor Everlean, the woman in charge of our district. Close behind her were the past victors Bess and Issac. Bess wore a beautiful if not slightly faded blue dress, and had her silver hair tied behind her head with a matching blue bow. Issac on the other hand wore a jet black suit that seemed to spike out at the shoulders giving him a harsh edge to his form.
They all sat behind the man in the purple suit who cleared his throat loudly.
"Hello my dear District 10! I am Tartoka, and it is my pleasure to announce that I will be your new escort." His voice held a thick capital accent. "I am honoured also to announce the start of the Hunger Games…and may the odds be ever in your favour."
I grimaced at the last bit, it was so terrible. I stood silent with the rest of the sheep like children, each in their best outfit. If we were to go the Capital we would want to look our best right?
Someone behind me began to sob. I couldn't bear to turn around to see their distressed face. I knew that if I did I would break down myself. I wish I could run away from this but this was something everyone had to do. Only people who were at death's door were permitted to not be present at the reaping.
This was law.
Tartoka grinned brightly over the crowd. I could see on the large screens the faces of the young children who seemed to grow paler by the minute. This was a thing of their nightmares. This was something we all feared.
But we were forbidden to go against it.
Tartoka rocked back and forth on his heels, surveying the scene, before waving his arms wide. "Well, let's get this show on the road!" He walked over to the first large glass bowl and ran his fingers around the rim. "I do believe its ladies first." He dipped his hand into the bowl and fished around until he gripped one piece of paper.
The crowd held its breath. Who was it? Was it someone I know? I made a note to send my condolences to the family.
The capital man stood up straight and opened the paper out. "And the lucky girl is…Melody Larkenshon!"
And that was when my life changed forever. For better, or for worse? I wasn't sure yet. All I knew was that my number - or name - was up.
I was Melody Larkenshon, female tribute representing District 10 in the Seventy-First Hunger Games.
The odds had not been in my favour.