My name is Clara Dukeum. I live in district 8, the textile district. We are the poorest of the districts, and my family is the poorest of the poor. I have two brothers, both younger than me, and we do not have parents. I am thirteen, and they are eleven and ten.
When I walk about our district, I can only imagine how it would be to be somewhere else. On the victory tours on the televisions they make us watch, at the justice building, I can see the sky in the background, and it is as blue as a jay's wing. I can only imagine what it must be like to wake up every morning and see a blue sky, with a golden sun rising up above the clouds. My brothers often babble about seeing that, but I scold them often, just as I scold myself, for the only way we would experience something like that would be to be drawn for the Hunger Games.
Which, speaking of that, the drawing is today, and my name is in the bowl eight times, no including the three for civil disobedience. That means I've got eleven chances to be drawn. Not a lot, in comparison, but enough to make me worry, for who will take care of my brothers if I am shipped off to the arena?
The smog surrounding the district is just starting to lighten when I rouse my brothers. They yawn and look up at me, their blue eyes wide with nerves and hope, but they get dressed quickly and we emerge from our alley home quickly, as to avoid the peacekeepers daily sweep of the streets to round up beggars like us and throw us in one of their evil child projects where they let the children stay in the factories but they must work until they drop each day. I work part-time at a seamstress's shop in the main town, and my brothers were taken in by the cobbler just across the street.
We arrive shortly at our workplaces, exchanging quick goodbyes before entering. Mrs. Goldress, my employer, looks up from her fabrics as I walk in, and she smiles sweetly at me.
"Sorry for asking you to work today. I know it's the Reaping day, but a lot of people come in early today to pick up their last minute dresses and suits for the Reaping. I'm sure you understand." She grins more sheepishly.
"Better than having to get around the streets without running into the peacekeepers. Your know how tedious those child programs are for the orphans."
"Ah, yes. And I assist you in breaking the law, so you better not get caught young lady." She scolds jokingly.
"Don't worry, I don't intend to." I smile as I sit at my table and start to stitch the fabric lain there, a light, ocean blue that ruffles out at the bottom. Looking up, I see Mrs. Goldress watch me, beaming.
"Do you like it?" She asks, motioning to the dress in my hands, nearly finished, that she had started yesterday. I nod vigorously. It was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. "Well, when you finish, you can wear it to the Reaping. I have dress clothes for your your brothers too, and Mr. Dravis has shoes for all of you as well." She frowns sadly, looking into my eyes. "Also, I got permission to take you three in and provide you with food and bed. So if, heaven forbid, you get chosen..." she shutters, "your brothers will be cared for."
"I... Thank you so much. It means a lot to me that you would think of us, and of them, in case, well just in case." I feel tears of gratitude well in my eyes.
Mrs. Goldress nods bittersweetly and we both focused back on our work. I pull the last stitch and hold the dress up to me. I look like the children from district 4 at their Reaping, when they wear flowing dresses that look like the ocean that surrounds their district, but at the same time, it looked like a reflection of the blue sky that never shows here. I look up to see Mrs. Goldress grinning at me, and I beam back.
"Well, go put it on, and then run over to the cobbler's and take these to your brothers." She points to two white, ruffled shirts and straight black pants. I nod and run into the back room before pulling off my grimy clothes from the streets and pulling on the beautiful dress. I walk to the sink and rinse my hair, like I always do before I leave work. My golden curls fall down to my shoulders, shining brightly in the candle-light.
When I emerge, Mrs. Goldress is no where to be seen, so I call out a goodbyes and scoop up the clothes for my brothers. I stride across the grey cobbled road before entering Mr. Dravis's shop, calling out a greeting. My brothers swarmed me like excited bees, buzzing about our new predicament of finally having a home, and I laugh and hand them the clothes.
"Hurry." I urge them. "The Reaping starts soon."
As they disappear, I look around to find Mr. Dravis. I see him sitting at a desk near the back of the room, but when I reach him, I realize he is snoring. I reach out to shake his shoulder, and he jerks awake, yelping.
"Oh, Clara, hi." He mumbles, embarrassed. "Your shoes are over there. You had better hurry. You need to join your age mates."
I smile and nod. "Thank you, sir. I'll see you later."
He grunts, and I can tell he is already drifting back off, so I go to where he pointed. I find the shoes lined up neatly, and I pull them down. Dress shoes for my brothers, and a pair of heals the same color as my dress and covered in sequins. When my brothers rush back out in their fancy clothes, their hair damp, I hand them their shoes.
"Tell Mr. Dravis I said thank you if you get a chance." I comment. Drew, the eleven year old with shaggy white-blonde hair grins and nods, but his eyes are shining with fear for the coming Reaping.
"We will. Right Tommy?"
Tommy nods, his green eyes wide and his golden hair bouncing over his forehead. "Yep, we will sis."
"Good. Now, come on. The Reaping starts in ten minutes."
