THE HUNGER GAMES
Peeta's POV
It was hot this morning.
I knew as soon as I'd opened my eyes today was going to be more miserable than any other day this year. But perhaps I was just duly prejudiced. After all, today was the mark of yet another reaping.
The annual Hunger Games was a scourge, a plight against the districts that festered and burst in the hearts of many of the districts. Today, they would choose two of us, one male, one female, to destroy twenty three other children in a ruthless game of cat and mouse that had taken place for nearly three quarters of a century.
My brothers are already downstairs, halfway out the door when I stepped off the last stair. My mother barely passes a glance in my direction, but says, "Take your breakfast and get to the mill. You have work to do. Your brothers have already begun to walk over." I know they have. They make it a point to get out of the house as quickly as possible. Every morning. Like clockwork. This was the usual exchange between my mother and I. It matters very little to her about today's date. Most people tend to put it out of their minds I suppose. Safer that way.
I take the bread, hard like a rock, and make a mental note to heat it over the fire to soften it before I attempt to eat it. I'm pretty good at making little fires right outside the mill this time of day. It's a ritual that is a necessity when it comes to food. Otherwise I'd have several broken teeth and a terribly bad attitude.
The mill wasn't a far walk, and even if it was, it was never hard to catch up to my brothers. Neither of them walked particularly fast, meandering slowly, wishing to waste as much time as possible to avoid having to slave over the hot stove with father.
Personally, I never minded working with him. It was more peaceful than working with my mother, whose garishness usually ended with my face on the bad end of her hand or some cooking utensil, whichever was easier accessed.
However my brothers were not so enthused. Glenn, fair haired with the same striking blue eyes as the rest of us, was a rowdy sort. More apt to want to work with his hands in hard labor. He was usually the one to work with my father, though when he could he went to the mines to work, preferring the deep silent catacombs to the smoldering heat of the oven. I couldn't really fathom it, being it always seemed to me like such a dismal job. But he liked it so, who was I to argue it with him?
Collin was the odd one of the three of us. He neither liked to labor hard in the mines, or in fact, work with his hands at all. Glenn always joked that Collin could be mistaken for not being a Mellark, were it not for his blue eyes that mirrored our own. His hair was almost brown it was so dark, and he was very thin compared to Glenn and I, who had earned our sturdiness from hours carrying heavy bags and manual labor around the shop.
Collin preferred to help the goat herder on the other side of the street. Why, I'll never understand, for the smell itself was enough to repulse most people to stay a safe distance away. But then, Collin wasn't quite like the rest of us. Though, he was still my brother, and it would be a strange world without him.
Glenn was boisterous this day. He was newly nineteen and now immune to the reaping. His whole demeanor made it clear that he was proud of that, if not relieved. As were the rest of us. For him. He'd escaped the games.
Collin and I were not so lucky. I, at sixteen, and he as nearly eighteen, we would both have at least this year to have our luck run dry. I would have three more chances including this year, and he would have two. More chances to be pulled to our death.
It wasn't a pessimistic thought. More so the truth. District twelve hadn't had a victor in nearly twenty five years. Not to mention the only living victor we have had in the history of all seventy four hunger games, has yet to train another from our district to succeed him. The Hunger Games was merely a guarantee of a double funeral, every year.
Putting aside the morbid thoughts, I reached the cart where we would be placing the heavy bags of flour. Collin and Glenn were already heaving a few of the bags over to the cart to place them in. Glenn tossed one at me, and I caught it gently. If he wasn't more careful, or I wasn't paying attention, The bag would have split, and Peacekeepers would be here to shuffle us out within minutes. Its good that he and I have become good at this game. I never drop my guard, and I never drop the flour.
Once the cart is full, Glenn and I push it home. Collin waves us off, muttering about needing to do something before he comes home. We both know what's running through his mind, though, so neither of us say anything. If anyone in all of district twelve could worry themselves to death over the reaping, it would be Collin.
I looked up into the clouds, and felt suddenly very uneasy. The clouds swirled above our heads in a foreboding manner, and I felt that today, something was going to change drastically. Glenn was grunting in frustration at my distractedness, so I hitched up my handle of the cart and we made our way forward.
Glenn and I unload into the kitchen; six bags to my mother, six to my father. The flour lasts two to three days, and then we make the trip again. My parents have it down to a science most days, but don't account for the few days during the week where business increases. This doesn't happen too frequently, but when it does my mother is never quite prepared for it, and her rages become harsher. I hadn't ever really had to worry though, for during these times, I was usually in school or helping my father.
I walked into the heart of the bakery, where my father worked. He kneads bread on the counter, hard, slow curling of his fingers, working the ingredients together to make the bread that feeds many here in the district. I place two of the six bags on the side of his counter, and pat his back. My place here is with the pastries, though any day spent in the kitchen with my father is well spent. Glenn more often than not joins my father on days like today, so I head over to the next area over to take up my days work.