Author's Notes: This is my first ever fanfiction, so please cut me some slack in the reviews! This is the starting of my attempt towards Johanna and her games... hope it isnt horrible:)
Johanna's Games: Morning of the Reaping
The blustery wind chills my skin as I hurry navigating through the currently deserted streets near the poorer houses in District 7, where I live. Much like my mood, the sky is gray and dismal. It is difficult to realize it is mid-spring and that summer is well on its way. The weather seems to be depressed and anxious, just like any inhabitant of any of the twelve districts.
A terrible gut-wrenching throb immerses from the pit of my stomach as I pass all houses and cabins alike. This will be someone's last night living in the security of their house. Any one of the people sleeping soundly in their homes could be swept away from their friends and family, never to return.
Despair washes over me. There is nothing I can do to stop this absurdity. There is nothing I can do to stop their feeble cries for help, nothing aside from causing myself the same anguish they are doomed to. I could never be brave enough to do that. Typical. Everyone wants to change the world, but no one wants to die.
My emotions ranged from miserably dismal, to pity, to despair, to anger all within minutes; not that I'm surprised. Mood swings were simply expected on Reaping Day.
In attempt to escape my worried thoughts, I push everything from my head. Nothing penetrates my blank state of mind as I draw nearer and nearer to my destination, the remote edge of the District seven's smallest forest, the one in which I work. Only today I am not working, it's a poor excuse for a holiday today. Today I'm here to meet my best friends, Laurel and Scout, for our now annual pre-reaping meetings.
The outskirts are strangely soothing amidst the chaos now returning to my head. This pre-reaping ritual began as an attempt to calm the inevitable nerves and stress that is associated with Games. Although no one would like to admit, all it does is the exact opposite; especially since the only topic we discuss seems to be the Games. I have considered many times that the only reason we still subject ourselves to the torture of these meetings is in case any of us are unlucky enough to be chosen as tribute. Subconsciously, this has to be the reasoning.
As soon as I plunge into the densely wooded area in which I feel accustomed, I notice Laurel and Scout nearby waiting for me. This year's meeting appears to be no different from the ones in previous years. Once the silence between us is broken, our emotions pour out into a jumbled mess. Being as close as we are –we are practically each other's family- it takes no time for the facades of normalness to crumble.
Laurel's pure, hazel eyes are unnaturally submerged in emotions similar to the ones I contained earlier, and sadly, still contained. She practically sobs out reminders about this being her sister's first year entering the reaping. Quite a big fit over one slip within the other thousands of unfortunate teenagers' names. Her fit painfully reminds me of my unfortunate twelve entries; I cannot rid myself of a worried panic. Nonetheless, I still comfort her. She needs my reassurance, not my presently bottled anger.
In attempt to rid myself of any terror, I switch the topic to the first thought that enters my head: what would each of our strategies be if we entered the games. Wow, great subject change. Really smooth, Johanna. As I continue contemplating how poor of a move I just made, Scout effortlessly answers my poorly-thought-out question.
"I would act completely useless. No brain. No guts. No skills. I wouldn't be a target and others would leave me alone, giving me the element of surprise."
Not a bad idea. Leave it to Scout to come up with a genius plan for survival, even if it would only work for the first few days. It would work after all, right?
"I wouldn't make it past the first day," retorts Laurel. "That plan couldn't would for me. I wouldn't just be pretending not to have skills, I'd actually have none."
A worried glance must appear from my attempted stone-faced look, because Laurel winces into an obvious silence. Another smart move on my part.
"What would you do, Johanna?" Thank you for the save, Scout. I owe you, yet again. How could I survive without you?
In effort to not plunge this conversation back into oblivion, I reply somewhat emotionlessly, "I like your idea. Only instead of being useless, I think I would act scared out of my mind, a weakling. Wouldn't have to do much acting, you know."
Now it's my turn for a round of worried glances. How come not even one educated comment has come out of me all morning? It has to be the nerves, and hopefully, they'll pass soon. Who am I kidding? It's Reaping Day, the nerves surely won't pass for a long time from now. Better get used to keeping my mouth shut.
Apparently I am not the only one feeling poor currently, because all of us awkwardly stand at the same time. All making some excuse for leaving what has to be our worst meeting ever. We can reconvene later, after the Reaping is over with.
More notes from the author: these all seem so much longer when I'm writing them than when I go back and re-read them... Anyways, thoughts on the chapter?
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my story, and a special thanks to EStrunk for all her help and constant encouragement:)