Today was the Reaping.
The day that was dreaded by most of the citizens on Panem.
The day each of the twelve Districts would send two Tributes, A Male and a Female, between the ages of twelve and eighteen to compete in our sadistic, morbid game known as The Hunger Games. Or as I like to call it, the worst thing in this world.
You see, the bad thing about it is the fact that twenty-three children die every year in these games, and for what? To prevent people from rebelling. To give people a little bit of hope, but not enough to create a spark that would turn into an ember, that would turn into a flame fueled by the citizens rage and hatred. Me? I wanted the rebellion. I wanted a revolution to bring the districts closer, to cut back the labor done by certain districts, like 11. The agriculture District. They were in poverty, which was completely ironic considering their industry.
But of course I couldn't worry about the rebellion now, today was the Reaping. And I was forced to go, since I'm only sixteen. My name is Amelia F. Jones of District 10, the Livestock district.
I turned away from my mirror where I was fixing my hair and faced my bed, eying the dress I had laid out for myself earlier that morning. It was blue, with fake white flowers sewn to the front to mimic a sash. I carefully undressed, making sure I didn't mess up my hair. Maybe I should have done that last..
I slipped my dress on, and after some effort, I managed to zip it up by myself. I checked myself in the mirror one last time. "heh… I look pretty hot." I said, pushing my hair behind my ear. Not that I needed to look good- I wasn't going to get picked, after all. I just liked looking nice, duh.
I slowly opened the door silently, hoping to get passed my parents without being seen. They were always an emotional wreck on the day of the reaping, and never came with me. I walked into the living room, and saw no one there. Typical. "…I'm on the way to the Reaping. I'll see you guys later," I opened the door. "hopefully." I stepped outside and closed the door behind me with a sigh. I hesitantly made my way down the road, staring at my feet and kicking the ground beneath me, scaring a few loose chickens away in the process.
Every year I convinced myself I wouldn't get picked. And every year, I was right. I had been of age for the hunger games for four years now. And I only had to power through three more reapings, including this one. And with enough luck, fate wouldn't choose me to be next. Competing in these horrid games was a nightmare for me.
It was a nightmare for everyone.
Pretty soon I ended up in a big crowd of terrified children. Two of us would be going to face our death. Or if we were lucky, be the one the one to end another Tribute's life.
we were corralled by peacekeepers, the Capital's soldiers, into two lines leading to two different tables; one line for the girls, one for the boys. We had to get blood taken. Ugh, I always hated this part. But I suppose I could take it, considering that in the next month or so, innocent children will die for no reason. And losing a drop of blood is nothing compared to being brutally murdered by your peers, or dying of starvation, dehydration or disease.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the lady on the other side of the table grabbed my hand and stabbed one of my fingers with the needle. I felt my eyes fill with water after she did so. Wow, Amelia, pathetic. You wouldn't last a day in the games. After that we were corralled for the last time, luckily. This time into to groups. Again, one for boys and one for girls. I rolled my eyes as a lady with a bright yellow outfit walked onto the stage in front of us. She was from the capitol, no doubt. Crazy hair, even crazier make up, and an odd accent. All the signs of being from the capitol. Oh, and her enthusiasm about the games. That too, was a capitol trait. I must've spaced out for a moment, because they were already about to select the tributes.
"as always, Ladies first." The woman on stage said with a large smile before sauntering over to a clear, plastic orb filled with the names of possible female Tributes. She stuck her hand through the hole in the top and dug around for a moment before pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. The already silent atmosphere seemed to become quieter in anticipation of the name that was about to be said. Families stood at the back of the crowd, all holding their breaths, praying their children's name wouldn't be called.
"Amelia Jones."
Before I could even process what had just happened I was dragged up onto the stage by Peacekeepers. The Lady on stage nodded at me, still with that ridiculous smile of hers.
I stared out into the crowd in disbelief, the people seeming to stare back in the same way. I was going to participate in The Hunger Games, I realized. I'm going to die.
"And now, for the boys." The Lady giggled slightly before making her way over to another orb, identical to the one she'd pulled my name out of, that was on the opposite side of the stage. She did the same as with the girl's orb; but this time didn't dig around as much. Instead she pulled a name right off of the top, opening it up and not waiting as long before calling the name. the people always seemed to like the girls better—that's probably why.
"Kyle Kirkland."
A frightened looking young man with a bandage stuck to the bridge of his nose, and two, odd, hairs sticking up from his hairline was escorted onto the stage. I think I had seen him around the villiage before, but I didn't know him personally.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, District 10's Tributes for the 74th Hunger games, Amelia Jones and Kyle Kirkland. May the odds be ever in you favor!"
Instead of claps there was silence, the usual. No one ever clapped at the Reaping, except for the Capitol. They didn't have to watch their neighbors, friends, and family die the most gruesome death, after all. Why wouldn't they clap? Its all fun and games to them.
A glanced at Kylie as we were taken to the hallway behind the stage. He still had the same expression as before, as if he had been frozen there. He still looked petrified, though, I couldn't blame him. I was just as scared, I was just better at hiding it.
Each of us were taken into a separate, small room where visitors could come. I, honestly wasn't sure if anyone would come to say goodbye. It was fifty-fifty with my parents, if they had heard about it, and I didn't have any friends that would bother going through all the trouble of saying goodbye when they knew I'd be dead soon.
But I guess I was proven wrong. One of my older friends, Alice, discretely walked into the room and allowed herself to give me a small curtsy. "I'm Sorry." Alice said in a hushed tone. She almost had an accent like the people from the capitol, but the way she said certain words, such as 'capitol' itself, differed it from capitol accents.
"its alright.."
"win."
"what?" I asked. Did she say what I think she just said? Was she really expecting me, a little, crybaby farm girl to win the games? Ha.
"win the games. I really don't want to see you die out there, Amelia. Please, just try."
"I'll do what I can." I said softly, sighing. At least someone didn't want me to die."
"and think of it this way: if you win, you'll be considered a hero, yes? And what have you always wanted?" Alice let out a small chuckle and folded her arms over her chest.
"to be a hero.." I mumbled, managing to smile a bit.
"that's right. Fame, money, everything. Its yours if you can beat twenty-three other people. And almost half of them usually die on the first day, remember? You'll do fine."
"I'm probably going to be part of that half, but whatever." I muttered under my breath and Alice rolled her eyes at me.
"try not to think so negatively, attract lots of sponsors, don't die, and you'll be fine." She stepped closer to me and hugged me tightly.
I awkwardly wrapped my arms around her, she was about a foot and a half shorter than me so hugs between us weren't exactly comfortable. "easier said than done."
"I know that, believe me. Now, I have to leave, before peacekeepers drag me out themselves." She pulled away and curtsied again before exiting the room. Without hesitation, peacekeepers came to escort me out of the room and back into the hallway. It was time to leave for the train now, I guess.
On our way to the capitol Kyle and I were forced to watch the footage of the reaping of the other districts, so we could see our other opponents. I assumed the other districts were forced to do the same. District 1 was the first reaping we were forced to watch. The first thing I noticed was how clean and proper looking the District 1 children looked. Nicely dressed, perfectly kept hair, perfect make up, too.
The first tribute for this District was Francine Bonnefoy. She had blonde hair styled up into a beautiful bun, and a fitting white dress. She was rich. I could tell. Well, I suppose, Everyone in District 1 was rich. Right? But anyway, she looked like a Priss. She was smiling, too! Who smiles at the reaping? Especially if they've been chosen as a tribute!
The male tribute from this district was Lovino Vargas, who volunteered for his brother, Feliciano. Although, I'm pretty sure he just did it to become a favorite. People from higher Districts do that sometimes. Or at least I had been told that's what they do. Lovino had dark red hair with a peculiar curl sticking out from his hairline. He too, was very well dressed.
Moving on to District 2.
This was an interesting one, for sure. The female tribute was a girl named Julchen Beilschmidt. And I'm pretty sure she's gonna die really quickly. Her eye sight can't be to good, considering the fact that she appeared to be Albino. Whether or not she wears contacts to make her eyes red and dyes her hair white just to look unique or not, is still a mystery. They might have said, but we had the volume on mute before Kyle hesitantly reached for the remote and turned the volume up. I didn't even bother to ask why he did.
"and now, for the boys." Said the woman on the screen, who was different from the woman who was at our reaping, but very similar. The typical capitol woman. The lady on the screen pulled out a name from the plastic—no, glass, orb. The richer districts got fancier things, even when it came down to small details such as what the names were kept in for the reaping.
"Ludwig Beilschmidt." The same last name as the other tribute, huh?
The was a scream of terror, and it came from the supposedly Albino girl. "Brother No!" she screamed, her knees almost giving out underneath her.
I swallowed hard and kept watching, I felt bad for people in situations like this, even if they didn't seem like nice people. These two, however, looked alright.
The look of horror on the brother of the Albino girl, Julchen, reminded me of the expression that Kyle had when his name was called. Julchen looked like she wanted to run over to her brother and hug him, but as soon as she tried, Peacekeepers held her back.
My lip quivered as the realization hit me. The realization that I might have to witness one of those two die. Or both. Or worse, I might have to kill one of them. Or both.
I snatched the remote from Kyle and muted the sound again, then fast forwarded it to the next District.
After District 2 it became more and more difficult to watch this. I couldn't remember hardly any of the last names that were said during any of the reapings, but I managed to memorize the first name of every tribute by the unique look of terror that was plastered to each of their faces. Accept for Francine, of course. The smiling girl from District 1.
From 1, Lovino and Francine. 2, Ludwig and Julchen. 3, Kiku and Chun Yan. 4, Yao and Lien. 5, Arthur and Lucille. 6, Vash and Analiese. 7, Matthew and Natalia. 8, Feliks and Elizaveta. 9, Sadiq and Carmen. 10, Kyle and I. 11, Carlos and Michelle. And finally, 12, Ivan and Yekaterina. Or as I heard someone call her, Kat.
Luckily there is only one twelve year old, and that was the girl from District 11. And the girl from 5 is thirteen, but at least it wasn't her first year at a reaping.
But now that I think about it, that doesn't make much of a difference.
The next day we arrived at the station in the capitol. There were cheering people everywhere—and not normal people, either. Weird Capitol people with their dyed skin and dyed hair, similar to the lady that pulled the names out of the orbs at the Reaping at district 10. And all the other districts, actually.
As we stepped off the train we were greeted with cheering. Cheering, waving hands and clapping. The fact that they were having this sort of reaction really told you something about the capitol. All fun and games.
Almost immediately after getting off of the train we were led into building, and then led Into a room filled with small, escalated beds, and lamps, and small drawers. Is this where we were going to be staying?
I realized this wasn't what we were here for when I was escorted by someone who seemed to be a stylist, to one of the beds.
As the stylist sat me down and prepared to do who knows what to me, I looked around the large room, noticing that there were curtains that were pushed back, and I assumed they would encompass each set of bed, lamp and drawers.
And my suspicions were confirmed as another stylist walked in and closed the curtain around him. All the stylist looked even weirder than regular Capitol people. Their eyelashes were insanely long. I mean, like, four to five inches. Sometimes six or seven. And not to mention their hair, but I suppose it isn't as weird as the lady's from the reaping.
It all went down from there as the stylists started preparing me for the opening ceremonies. I'm not going to go in to detail, but lets just say I cried.
Well, at least I look somewhat presentable. And I knew I wasn't done. Now I would go to see my real stylist, not just the ones that prepared me. Confusing, I know. but the actual stylist would be with us until we entered the arena, and dressed us up for interviews and such. The stylists that just handled me were doing simple things such as um, shaving, and plucking.
I was reunited with Kyle and let me just say, he looked pretty good. the most noticeable thing that they did was tone done the amount of bushiness in his brows, and it suited him. He was pretty handsome now. And judging by his reaction, I looked good as well.
Apparently I was going to see the stylist first, which I wasn't too happy about. Couldn't I get one moment of silence? I was still processing that my name had been called at the reaping, let alone anything that had happened since.
I was escorted into yet another room, and inside were two large lounge chairs, and a man was sitting in one.
"good morning, darling. Amelia, correct?" the man smiled. He looked similar to the boy from district 1, the same silly curl an almost identical face. Except that this man looked a bit older, and had blonde hair.
"yeah.." I hesitantly sat down in the chair next to his.
"I'm Flavio, your stylist. Its quite nice to meet you." He smiled sweetly and gingerly took off his purple sunglasses. His eyes were also purple, like his glasses were. "so, District 10? Interesting. Livestock.. that's going to be difficult."
"what's going to be difficult?"
"oh, honey, you and your other tributes outfits. i'm going to design your outfits, of course. I've never worked with district 10 before. And what am I going to put you in? cow skin? Chicken Feathers?" Flavio said with a laugh.
"that actually doesn't sound too bad."
There was a long pause before Flavio spoke again. "sweetie, this is why I'm here. Without me you wouldn't get any sponsors. Your reputation is I my hands, and if I put you in cow skin and chicken feathers, both of us would be the laughing stock of Panem."
"oh." I mumbled. Well, I've already succeeded in feeling like an idiot.
"its alright. Now, if you don't mind.. would you stand up and turn around slowly, please?"
I gave him a questioning glance before doing what I was told.
"alright, thank you dear. I just wanted to get another good look at you." Out of the corner of my eye I saw him wink at me, which caused me to shudder slightly. That was kind of creepy.
"anyway, here's what I'm thinking; thigh high cowgirl boots, short shorts, and a crop top with a half vest. Oh, and of course a mini cowgirl hat. It doesn't sound very good , but I promise it'll be much more glamorous than it sounds. What do you think? Of course I'll have to bring it up with the other kid from District 12, but I think it's a good idea."
I honestly didn't understand most of that, but I didn't want to embarrass myself again. "yeah, that sounds alright."
"good! you can leave now, I'm sure Olivia is waiting outside eavesdropping as we speak." Flavio let out a small laugh.
"who's Olivia?"
"you're pretty oblivious, huh? Olivia is your escort, and the doll that called your name at the reaping."
"oh, her," I said nonchalantly, walking over to the door.
"I'll see you tonight before the ceremony. I have the measurements from my helpers already, so you'll be able to relax for awhile." Flavio smiled again and moved his hand in a small motion that I assumed was a wave, and then quickly walked out the door, only to be greeted by Olivia.
"Amy, that outfit he described? It will look wonderful on you!"
"my name Is Amelia." I hissed before walking passed her and down the hallway, and Olivia quickly followed me.
"you're going the wrong way!"