CHAPTER 1: THE REAPING
IT WASN'T ODD TO FIND HALE sat on the porch of her small wooden home, gutting fish like no man's business. It was strange at first, truth be told, when she wore her white cotton dress that allowed the cold red blood to seep into it as easy as a canvas. It wouldn't matter however, this predicament a little like magic, because no matter how dirty it got, it would be washed and pristinely white the next day. Some say that they see her, washing away the blood at sea, almost as if she was returning what she had taken of the fish. It was said that the sea heals all things, truly a miracle- but never like this.
Over time, the absurdity of Hale's cotton fish gutting dress had faded away; after all, Hale was no mystery. She went to school like all the others, and fished to earn a living for her family. Hale had no interest in being a career, as some in her district did. She knew every aspect to surviving and never cared much for winning, without a reason to.
However, on the morning of the Reaping, you would not find Hale on her porch. You would not find her in her bed. At the crack of dawn, she would wake and head quietly to the shore. For the most part, whilst the sun rises, she would sit there with her toes dipped into the cold water, thinking how this could be her last sunrise from the comfort of District Four. Once this thought had unnerved her so much so that she couldn't think or breathe properly, she would swim out into the sea. She left her clothes on, in a way liking the way it dragged her down.
She could think the clearest when submerged and the cold sting of the water felt like heaven on her skin. This is what she was familiar with and she would never leave this home.
Hale floated for what seemed like hours, the skin on her fingers pruning so much that it resembled something alien. It was only when she heard the first voices that she swam back, trying desperately to avoid everyone today.
It was not so easy at home. Funnily enough, her elder sister was waiting for her on the porch. Hale thought to herself about all the fish that had yet to be gutted today, but this soon flew out of her head when her sister greeted her.
"Hale!" Rosia called happily, almost leaping off the step to embrace her sister.
Rosia was lean and tan, with pin straight brunette locks that were almost always tied back in a bun. Today was an exception. Hale had seen her sister just last night, seen as they shared a room so there was no need for the great display but today was Reaping day and all sorts of unfamiliarities occurred.
"The Reaping is soon," Hale reminded Rosia softly, watching the smile falter on her face. "We need to hurry."
"Don't worry, May is making us toast. With strawberry jam!"
May is what the girls called their mother, though that wasn't her name. It was often that they would sell strawberry jam at the market, rather than eating it for themselves. The two entered the house hand in hand, although Hale was dripping wet and shivering. Quickly before she went upstairs to ready herself, she went to the kitchen to kiss her mother on her cheek, which the woman responded by laughing and wiping away the salty kiss.
"Sleep well, May?" Hale asked, although knowing the answer.
"Not today. Never today."
Hale knew that the tiredness in her voice extended further than just losing one night of sleep. It was the constant fear over more than twenty years, paranoid that the two most important things in her life could be taken from her. Rosia had escaped this fate for four years now, a weight lifted from a mother's chest. Hale, only 17, still had two more draws with death.
Hale left her mother and hurried upstairs, running to the bathroom so she could strip and dry herself. She wrapped the towel around herself afterwards and walked out to her room, where Rosia was waiting, concentrating on sewing a missing button back onto her Reaping dress.
"I know it's what you wore last year but it's still so pretty," she said brightly, holding up the dress.
Hale looked at the the thing, one of Rosia's old dresses, all floral and made of a stiffer material than what she liked wearing. She hated to disappoint Rosia but the dress just didn't feel right on her skin the last time she wore it, all scratchy and uncomfortable.
"It's lovely, Rose, but I think I want to wear my white dress this year."
She didn't need to specify which white dress. It was her fish-gutting dress, slightly too big for her and small delicate buttons. It was an off-white colour now, but no blood stains. It was Hale's favourite and she would wear it today. She slipped it on and did a small twirl, just to make her sister smile. Rosia nodded understandingly and placed the dress back onto the bed, picking up a hairbrush instead.
"Let me brush your hair at least, it's all knotty."
Hale groaned but sat compliantly on the bed, knowing it was more an order than a request. Rosia dragged the brush gently through Hale's dark tangles, sometimes tugging more harshly than needed with a small laugh. She let her hair hang loose around her shoulders, not bothering to pin her sister's waves back. Hale was unruly sometimes and was the opposite of her sister; she liked having her hair free unless she was working.
Neither of the girls owned make-up as it wasn't common in their district, unless you were on the wealthier end of the scale. Hale wouldn't bother with it anyway as she didn't find it a necessity However, Rosia had a knack for making her own sort of make-up, naturally, from plants and other ingredients. She had suggested Hale put on some blush, to which the younger sister scowled at. In turn, Rosia chased her around the room till she pinned Hale on the bed and forcefully applied whatever ground up plant it was onto her cheeks. Not that she needed it anyway, both of them red from physical exertion and from laughing.
Although both seemed to be in a pleasant mood, neither ignored the heavy grief in the atmosphere. Today was a day of mourning and however much they smiled, it would not go away. When Rosia had gotten ready as well, they tumbled down the stairs, in a hurry to get to their rare breakfast. They didn't really have the stomach for it, knowing the occasion but neither would allow a good piece of toast with jam to go to waste. Rosia seated herself at the table whilst Hale launched herself onto the kitchen counter, knocking over some cups and cutlery and earning herself a playful slap from her mother.
"Are you leaving early to meet with Cas?" Cassian Locke was Hale's best friend, a mess of a boy, with wild dark curls on top of his head and coffee brown skin spattered with freckles.
Hale nodded, her eyes widening when she had to meet Cassian soon. She ate quickly but still managed to savour every bite. She picked up another slice, "Can I take this for Cas?"
Her friend wasn't necessarily poorer than she was, he, just like her, didn't often experience the luxury of jam and buttered toast.
"I'll walk there with you, May. We'll see you afterwards, Hale. Jules' has managed to get some champagne since it'll be his sister's last Reaping. Cas is invited if he wants."
Hale grinned widely- if she thought jam was a luxury, champagne was a gift from the gods. Still, the occasion deserved it. It was better than a birthday, the relief of never having to be a youthful corpse. She wiggled her fingers goodbye to her family and was out of the door before she knew it. Cas always complained about her being late, a habit that she just couldn't shake. He had often said that she would be late to her own funeral and in this circumstance, it might possibly be the case.
Hale bolted down the sandy streets of District 4, the streets generally empty apart from those still milling to get to the town centre. She paused to wonder if she was too early or too late but the lonely boy standing in the street answered that question for her when they met eyes. They both broke into a run, Hale catapulting herself into Cassian's open arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as he spun them both around.
"Hey, Cas. I've not seen you for like ten years," she exaggerated, hopping off the boy.
Cassian frowned. "You saw me three days ago." Hale just smiled in reply so he shook his head and tugged her hand, dragging her along in the direction of the Reaping. "You're late, again."
"You can't use again if I haven't been late a first time."
"Don't make me hit you."
The two made their way to the front of their Justice Building at a leisurely pace, insulting and abusing each other in a friendly manner. He gladly took his slice of toast from her, even though it was slightly crumpled. When they arrived, their escort was taking the stage already, a woman who looked like a kraken had just spat her out. The lady registering them gave them both a nasty glare whilst a peacekeeper lightly prodded Cassian's back to keep him moving. They parted ways as the boys and girls were segregated, Hale squeezing a little harder than usual on his hand before they split.
She took her place amongst the other 17 year olds, squeezing in besides two of her school friends, to both of whom she offered a shaky smile. They returned the favour then faced the stage as the Capitol lady began speaking.
"I'm your escort, Winona White, and it's my pleasure to pick the tributes for District 4!"
She continued on with the usual spiel, stopping only to let the tedious video from the Capitol play. She had never seen a woman with such pale skin before, with a blue tint like Winona's. Except if the said person had hypothermia or something of the like. She could almost be certain that the escort had draped seaweed in her hair, a look so strange to the eyes of District 4. Her blue dress had millions of tiny gold beads fringing on the bottom and brightly coloured sequins almost resembling the shape of fish. Hale looked down at her own dress and then at Winona's- the woman probably had never known comfort in her life.
"Wasn't that lovely? Shall we pick our tributes now? The ladies always have the liberty of going first so now, I'll let the fine boys of District 4 get their fair chance."
Her hands reached into the bowl and swirled around, taunting. You could almost hear the breath everyone was holding. Hale clutched her eyes shut and prayed over and over in her head,
Please don't be Cas.
Please don't be Cas.
Please don't let it be Cas.
When Winona had decided, she smiled widely and sauntered back over to the microphone. "Lukos Duverne!"
It wasn't Cas.
The boy was a year older than Hale, one she knew to be a regular at the training centre. He didn't look angry or shocked. There was no sobbing from the audience or whispers about who he was. He was completely passive till he got to the stage, where he allowed a smirk to remain on his face. He looked every part the victor, handsome, built, tall. That was a boy who knew he would be coming home.
"Let's see which lucky girl gets to go with this young man!"
Winona didn't take nearly as much time with the girl's slips, not allowing Hale to catch her breath. This moment of weakness was her first mistake, as it seemed the cameras had turned to her before Winona had even said her name. It sounded funny to her ears and she wasn't quite sure if it was her own name that she was hearing.
"Hale Vincoré?"
Her legs felt hot and they didn't seem to be able to stand up by themselves, evident in the fact that the girls beside her were holding her up. Everything, everything was spinning and she couldn't remember what was left and what was right when walking up the stairs. Once on stage, Hale forgot how to breathe and she didn't feel as calm as she did when under the water. She might as well been made out of paper because when Lukos took it, he may as well have torn easily through her. No matter what Winona said, she did not feel lucky. Not at all.
rosia: roh-sh-ah
vincoré: vin-core-eh