Chapter One: The Reaping
I feel the sun rising. The slight movements of District Twelve wake me, like they do every morning. But this morning they do not wake as suddenly and do not fret about the usual problems, like having to go to work, or finding food, no this morning people are taking a break from their problems, but only because a bigger problem is on their shoulders today. Today is the Reaping. Today is the day everyone – in district twelve at least – hates. This is the day when two kids, boy and girl will be called to their death. Today the 100th Hunger Games begin.
It has been exactly 100 years since the uprising; the time when the districts began to doubt the capitol and stood up. Our punishment was The Hunger Games, which meant every year each district would provide one boy and one girl and send them to the capitol where they would be pampered and then let loose to kill one another, the last one standing wins. Twelve districts were beaten, the thirteenth district, destroyed. One hundred years of bloodshed and torture and chaos. One hundred years of exactly four winners from district twelve. Five years ago, my elder brother had been entered into the Hunger Games and five years ago I watched my brother die as a spear pierced his heart, and his killer won the Hunger Games.
Today is the 100th Hunger Games, and today my name has been entered four times into a giant glass ball with 1000 of other girls. It's like putting your hand into a snake pit with 1000 other girls; it's going to bite at least one.
I push my legs over the thin bed I slept on and walked across the rock, rough floor, feeling my way towards the bathroom. Overnight the wind has coated my hands with dirt and my hair with knots. I wash my hands first, feeling for the cool water to run over my smooth hands. Turning that off, I run a brush through my hair, one of the things I had been gifted with from my father on my 13th birthday.
Brushing my hair I can feel it smooth on my head, the dark brown hair I see in everyone's minds. Oh yes, I may be blind, but I can read minds. I guess you could call it a perk, if you could call being blind in this day in age a perk for any reason at all, you must be extremely mental. For being blind in this day in age, where I could easily die of hunger and no one would find it odd or even grieve for more than a day, is a very unlucky thing.
Walking into the kitchen I slice myself a piece of stale bread, it's actually fairly good to what we usually have. It's only been me and my dad these past five years, mother died seven years ago, she had become ill and there was no cure, for in district twelve the only thing we can hope for is our good health. And then Micah died five years ago, and today was the anniversary of him being sent off to his death. Today is the Reaping and today is not a good day to be alive.
I move out into the front lawn. Five steps forward and two steps to the left, I tell myself. Sitting carefully I know the chair is under me. I hear people waking up, their thoughts all muddled together. I block most of what I can out, and my head is somewhat quieter, except I can hear one woman walking up the street on her way to the market. Poor child that Sukie Landor is, such a poor child, blind, nearly an orphan and is living in district twelve, what a horrid world this is when God is playing nasty jokes like that. She titters as she walks by.
"Good morning Sue," she calls to me, I merely wave in the direction I hear her thoughts of voice. What a queer thing, she waves right at me, though she can't see. Sometimes it feels like she sees more than I do. I sigh. I see myself in her mind, pale, skinny and poor. I see myself, sitting on a single chair in the middle of a dirt lawn with a somewhat dead house behind me. I sit alone, my dark hair resting on my shoulders, long bangs hovering over my light blue eyes that never seem to focus on anything. In her mind I look utterly dead, a ghost almost.
Mrs. Burton walks on and a minute later I feel something jump into my lap. She rubs against my chest, and purrs as she licks my arm. "Good morning Jasper," I say as the pure white cat nestles on my lap and starts to clean my hands.
Jasper found me when I was only nine years old, so six years ago. I was walking home from school with Papa in the lead, when he had to stop by his store to pick up something. I sat on a nearby bench and waited for him, and then something jumped up in my lap. Back then, I was scared straight and jumped up and nearly fell. But when I sat back on the bench again Jasper jumped up in my lap again, and it took two weeks for me to figure out she wasn't going to leave me alone.
Ever since then Jasper has been mine, but she's a pure alley cat. She loves me to death, but she's out hunting most of the night.
More people start to wake and I know I should wake Papa and let him know another day waits and a crummy one at that, because within a few hours, one of my friends will be picked to go off to their death.
Don't get me wrong, the mentors the tributes for district twelve have are nice folks. Katniss and Peeta, I think they are called. They won the 74th Hunger Games but they were the only winners since 15 years ago and that doesn't seem very promising. So 15 years ago, the year I was born Katniss and Peeta had been sent into the Hunger Games and both came back.
Trust me though, that was a pure miracle. I've heard their story more than once. They had pulled a romantic scheme for the sponsors to show pity on them. Halfway through the game the Capitol came up with another rule. Both tributes from the same district could win; therefore there could be two winners, from the same district. That went on until the last second when Peeta and Katniss were the last two standing. The Capitol came on and basically said, that the rule they had stated halfway through the game was now being revoked. They had done that on purpose to drive Peeta and Katniss together, to where they would have to kill one another, leaving them with the most exciting Hunger Games. Well, as you may have guessed that didn't settle to well with Katniss and Peeta. They both grabbed a handful of toxic berries, shoved them in their mouths and the Capitol gave in. Therefore Katniss and Peeta were the winners of the 74th Hunger Games.
Both have been mentors for the past 15 years, and every single one of their tributes had died. This year was going to be no better, I can tell you that. Course it was a miracle that Katniss and Peeta had won at all, with their mentor, Haymitch. Haymitch was a character for sure. Drunk every second of the day, he still managed to pull Katniss and Peeta to victory.
But enough about past Hunger Game victors, I need to get ready for the Reaping and I need to make breakfast for Papa. Walking back into the house, with Jasper at my heels, I walk into my room and pick out what feels like a soft, cotton dress, it was my mother's. She had worn it to her last reaping day, and she was tiny, about my size. If I remember correctly it's purple, but I can't be sure, I'll have to see what Mr. Larkin see's when I get to the bakery. I brush my hair again and then put on my dress. Everyone is supposed to look nice for the Reaping, because it's televised. Everyone knows District 12 is the poorest, I see no point that we should hide it.
I pull my hair onto my right shoulder, put on the matching purple shoes that were also my mother's, grab a few coins from the money jar and am out the door, leaving Papa a note on the kitchen counter. I figure I'll let him sleep in. Walking down the deserted street feels odd. Almost everyone is still asleep. There's no point in waking up early, all work is closed for the Reaping. I only am going to the Bakery because I'm friends with Mr. Larkin and his son; they give me a discount on bread. I feel Jasper still walking with me, and I hear a few people making breakfast or washing their faces, or getting dressed. But I'm the only one on the street.
I knock on the wooden door when I've counted out 293 steps from my house. It only takes a few minutes to get to the bakery. I can honestly say I'm glad I don't live in the Seam, that's a name for the lower class in District Twelve, basically the lowest class in all of Panem. I live on the fringe of the Seam, not far from the wealthier part of District Twelve, where the bakery and the nicer shops stood.
The normal voice does not answer the door.
"Oh, Good Morning Sukie," says Tom's little sister, Stella.
"Good morning Stella," I say. She hugs my hip, because she is only 12, and today will be her first reaping. "Happy Hunger Games," I say dryly and sarcastically.
She giggles, "What a great day to be alive," She says, mocking my flat tone. I hear footsteps coming down the stairs behind the counter. I hear his thoughts. Oh, Sukie's here, I see through Stella's mind that Tom is smiling at me.
Oh boy here we go, Stella thinks and I see her roll her eyes.
"Morning Sue," Tom says, walking to stand next to Stella.
"Good morning, Tom," I say, more chipper than usual. I'm always happy when I'm with Tom, I'm not sure why.
"Here for the morning bread and jam?" He asks, already moving to the ovens that smell intensely of warm bread and a counter stuffed with jars of different jams.
"Yes, please." I say.
"Well, I'm going to go get ready," Stella says. I can hear the edge in her voice as she realizes what she's getting ready for.
"You're absolutely safe," I say, pulling her into a hug. I hear her stifle a cry and I rub her back. She smiles.
"Thanks Sukie," she says, and then walks up the way Tom came down.
I hear him pull out a warm loaf of bread from the nearest oven and I can't help over hear his thoughts. Gosh Sue looks pretty today. I see myself in his mind. Yes, the dress was purple, and my skin seemed glowing in his mind, not the pale, ghostly color I saw in Mrs. Burton's. In Tom's mind I look actually pretty. I blush, and then shut his mind out. I would give Tom some privacy.
He wraps the bread in a box and adds two jars of strawberry jam. "What's the damage?" I ask playfully.
"Watcha got?" He asks.
"Um…" I rummage through the coins in my hand. "Two dollars and 25cents," I say, frowning. It wasn't nearly enough.
"That should do it," He said, and I know he was just being nice. Normally, fresh bread and two jars of jam would cost over ten dollars. I hand him the change.
"I'll see you at the ceremony." I say, walking out the door.
"Bye," I hear him mutter.
I count the steps home, before I walk in I hear Papa up and around. "Morning dear," he says kissing me on the forehead.
"Morning Papa," I say, placing the box of bread and jam on the wooden table.
"I see you've been to the bakery?" He says, opening the box and slicing the fresh bread.
"Yes, and Tom sends his regards." We sit at the small table, and enjoy breakfast, counting the hours until a friend of ours is sent off to their death bed.
After Papa has put on crinkled slacks and a dirty button down shirt we make our way to the Square, we're supposed to get there an hour early for the attendance and stuff. They actually take attendance for this, because if you're not here you better on your death bed at home. And if you just skipped, you will be on your death bed, as soon as the Peacekeepers find you.
As soon as we reach the square I hear Tom coming towards us. "Good day, Mr. Landor," He says to Papa.
"Good day, Tom." Papa replies.
"Well, we better get to our seat," Tom says to me. I nod, but Papa pulls me aside for a moment.
"May the odds be ever in your favor," Papa murmurs in his well done capitol accent. I smile, and he kisses me on the forehead. I see in Tom's mind that Papa goes to sit with some friends that work in the Mines. From Tom's point of view all three of them, Papa, Lance and Digger all look worried. I would be too if my children were waiting to see if they will be killed in a matter of weeks.
Tom takes me by the hand and leads me to where the group of 15 year olds sits. I sit next to Tom and Sherry Ponkart. Oh I hope I don't get picked, to hell with the Capitol, if my name should come up, I'll kill myself before they can throw me into an arena with carnivores. It took all my strength not to burst out laughing. One year that actually had happened, a boy from District One had taken to eating his victims; it was before I was born, but it was still a topic of conversation when it came to the Hunger Games.
Instead of laughing, I just squeeze Tom's hand, which he thinks is an effect of the nervousness. "Don't worry Sukie, you won't be picked." I sigh.
"You can't promise me that Tom, what happens will happen." He sighs too. We have an hour to go, and I've become tired. Laying my head against Tom's chest, I close my eyes. Might as well rest before the adrenaline starts pumping and the crying starts. Lying on Tom like this isn't an uncommon thing. Tom is like a brother to me, my protector. At school he takes me to every class, though I don't need it, and he basically gives me food. I've known Tom since I was two, we are best friends.
Ten minutes before two Tom wakes me; I haven't realized I'd fallen asleep. Opening my eyes doesn't do much difference, though the cloudy blue of my eyes can now be seen by others, it still looks as if I'm sleeping, everything is black. There are six chairs on the stage next to us – I can see it in Tom's mind. One is for the mayor, an elderly man, tall and bald. I've met him once, but it was a while ago and I know he remembers me, who could forget the only blind girl among 8,000 people? Next to him sits a woman, Effie Trinket, who looked as if she has done way too much surgery on her face, she must be at least 50 now. She has short pink hair, lots of make-up on, and a grin like a scare crow. The Mayor and Effie look to be having an intense conversation.
Beside Effie sits a tall, strong, beautiful woman. Her hair is braided down her back, and she wears a simple blue dress with matching shoes. I know this to be Katniss Everdeen. Next to her is a muscle of a man, with ashy blond hair that falls over his eyes, a stocky build and at least 6 ''5'' in height. That is Peeta Mellark. Both Peeta and Katniss are now in their thirties. I hear Tom scoff and I see the way his thoughts direct. The seat next to Peeta is empty. This happens every year; Haymitch comes late to the ceremony, drunk as a skunk.
I scoff, and that alerts Tom. "What," he asks. I stiffen; I shouldn't be able to notice that Haymitch isn't there.
"Um, I just have a feeling Haymitch isn't sitting on stage with the others," I said coolly, believing my own story. Tom laughs.
"Just like every year before."
'What time is it?" I ask.
Tom looks up at the clock on the huge television screen but I already know before he says it. "1:59." We have exactly one minute before the picking of the hunger games begin. Besides the five occupied chairs on the stage, and one unoccupied chair, there is a small podium, and two large class balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. My name is in there exactly four times. I know other girls, my age whose name is in there 20 times.
Tom looks back to the stage and I get another glimpse of Katniss. Her features are hard but beautiful, she and Peeta are talking slightly, but only a 'how's the weather', type of talk. I strain my hearing and I block out the rest of the towns conversation, I can finally hear Katniss. Her voice is a pretty alto, and Peeta's is a medium bass.
"Where could Haymitch be?" Peeta asks, though I know he's just asking for the sake of conversation.
"Where he is every year, getting drunk and eventually stumbling into the square where the reaping just happens to be taking place." She sighs, "He should know better than this." They stop talking then and the Mayor steps forward towards the podium. For the next half hour he tells the history of Panem, the successes, the Dark Days – the days when the uprising began, the days when twelve districts were defeated and the thirteenth was destroyed. This is protocol. They have this exact same speech every year.
By the time the Mayor introduces Effie, Haymitch comes stumbling into the square, jumps on stage and sits next to Peeta. Loud cheers take place and I join in. Haymitch stands and raises his fists, declaring victory for himself. Tom laughs as we die down.
"Why do you always do that?" He asks shaking his head.
"Why not, this is the little fun I can give myself during the Hunger Games." I say and turn my attention back to Effie.
"Happy Hunger Games," She yells thick enthusiasm in her voice. "May the odds be ever in your favor." I laugh at this, and Tom gives me another look. I just shake my head, he wouldn't get this. My dad had said those words not an hour ago and he said it just like Effie had, with a thick, Capitol accent.
"Alright, let's start with the gentlemen, shall we?" Watching through Tom's mind I see Effie opening a glass ball and rummaging her hand through thousands of names. As she pulls out a piece of paper, I feel Tom stiffen beside me. "Thomas Larkin," My heart is racing and adrenaline is pumping.
"No," I whisper. But Tom stands and walks to the stage. His hand slips out of my grip. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, is all that is coming from his mind. Suck it up Tom; make your face as bored as paint drying. And he does, I see through other people's thoughts that he looks utterly bored with the fact that his name was called. He walks onto the stage, shakes hand with the Mayor and stands next to the podium. Before Effie moves on to the girl's names, she asks for volunteers, no one usually ever volunteers in District Twelve, our life is all we have.
"Well then, now the ladies." Effie walks closer to the girls' ball, and I feel my muscles tighten, sweat bead against my brow. She shuffles through and brings out a small piece of paper, "Stella Larkin," She calls, and I'm up on my feet.
"I volunteer!" I shout. "I volunteer for Stella Larkin." I see myself in Tom's mind, standing tall, though for my tiny size, I look like a kitten pretending to be a lion. Thank you is coming from Tom's mind.
"No, Sukie, you can't!" I walk towards the stage, knowing where it is, only because my dad is guiding me there. I see me in his mind. My brave girl is all he is thinking. Walking onto the stage, Stella follows me. "Sukie, I won't let you!"
I kneel down next to Stella and I see her crying through Effie's mind. "Listen to me Stella." I say. "I could not volunteer for your brother, but I'm sure as hell not going to let the both of you go. Do you hear me?" I ask fiercely. "Do you?" I ask again, softer this time.
I see her nod through Effie's mind, and I pull her into a hug. I hear Mr. Larkin coming through the crowd to help his daughter. She's still hugging me when he pulls her off. She kisses me on the cheek before her dad pulls her away.
"Thank you Sukie," he says. But I hear his thoughts as well, not my daughter, and my son, thank you Sukie, you are forever in my debt. I nod to him and take my place on the other side of the podium, opposite from Tom.
"What is your name sweetheart?" Effie asks, for the benefit of the cameras.
"Sukie Landor." I say firmly. I wash my face of all emotions, making me look as bored as Tom.
"Well then, we have our tributes." The anthem plays and I stare off into the sun, watching as it slowly makes its way closer to the ground. The 100th Hunger Games has begun, and I am the weakest opponent, and to top that, my best friend/brother is now my enemy.