I pace slowly down the ravine that leads me out of the woods; the sun is starting to set, and my mother will want to start supper. The sun almost appears like it's dipping into the water, extinguishing its flames for the day. The sky is a magnificent array of pastel colors that give off a very dreamy feel. I walk along with my brother Ignatius, and we both hold large pails that contain many fish. We've spent most of our day fishing at a small pond that is about a mile into the thick green woods. Typically, this would be considered illegal, and could earn us a death sentence or the worst if not severest of beatings. But it's done so much that it's the last thing anyone here has to worry about.
I cross our lawn, and set the full pail on the porch steps. My brother sets his beside mine, and we sit to clean the fish to be cooked for tonight's supper. My mother comes to check our progress and she's not disappointed as usual. Tonight we will have a large meal. Everyone here will, because tomorrow is the reaping. And in that case why not make your possible last night of peaceful supper your best supper? Tonight people will be either celebrating or will sit and worry. There are also those that just do not care one way or the other.
Everyone I know celebrates. Only few choose to sit and wallow in a pool of worry. Many consider it honorable to be drawn because they've been for this since they could hold a knife and toddle around. I could be counted in this majority, but I am not conceited like the rest. In the past few years of my life I have humbled myself. I have been raised by my parents to be selfless, and bold. But training is also technically considered illegal, but the capitol favors our district. I am from District Four, the fishing district. The Capitol absolutely adores seafood, so they tend to let it go.
My supper is awfully subdued. I play with my food using my fork. My mother glares at me for a moment, then shakes her head and continues eating. My father is silent and stern; he has a crease in between his eyebrows as he cuts his food. My brothers Ignatius and Jae, flick things at one another. I sigh, and my father clears his throat as a gesture to my brothers. They stop immediately and lower their heads.
"Oliveira, please eat something." My mother says softly. I look up at her then look away. I'm not hungry, but I finish my plate, and go to wash my dishes.
I walk into my room, and it's awfully dark. I find the oil lamp that sits on my dresser against the wall and light it. Then the other one on the small night table between the small four poster beds that sit adjacent to one another on either side of the room. I quickly light the other lamp, and then my eyes flick to the bed with pale green quilts. I almost want to get on my knees and break down hysterically. This bed that's been made for countless years belonged to my sister. My dead, irreplaceable sister, Aurelia. Her death was so despicable in my eyes. Four years ago my sister was drawn in the reaping for the 26th Hunger Games. I remember the day, the pain still fresh and immediate.
It was a sultry day, the sun beamed down on us. My hand was wrapped tightly around my sister's. I was helping supporting her, she was still a bit weak from her sickness, but she was not on her deathbed, so she was still required to go. Before we reached the square, my sister stopped me and got on her knees, and cupped my faced in her hands. Her voice still echoes in my head.
"Oliveira, listen to me. Alright? Are you listening? Whatever happens, do not go crazy. Okay? If I get drawn, do not volunteer. Do you hear me? Don't. If you get chosen, I will take your place. Promise me you understand, okay?"
I nodded and I remember my stomach dropping. I told her I promised, even though it was barely audible. She kissed my forehead and hugged me, and we continued to the square. I was only a small thirteen year old girl; I was rather fragile at the time. When my sister and I separated into our age groups, I felt my body go into an everlasting tremor. Then aura's name was called, and I ran screaming her name, bawling. Our peacekeepers threw me back; I landed hard on the concrete. My brothers who were only fifteen and seventeen at the time, scooped me up, and I still screamed. The cameras were fixated on me. My mother took me, and held me my sister's death was not despicable in that sense. Everyone in the capitol adored her and she even mentioned me in her interview. The interview also plays over and over in my mind.
"So Aura is there anyone special back home?"
"My family of course."
"Ah, yes, yes. Could you tell us one person very precious to you?"
"Yes, my younger sister Oliveira. I love her very, very much and I hope she realizes it."
The Capitol audience sighed with sympathy. Some even started crying. My mother and I both cried. But that is still not the despicable part. The games come, and her and the boy from our district ally with both from District Seven. Soon enough, the boy from our district and the girl from Seven get killed off by the boy from District Two, who gets killed by Thom, the boy from Seven.
One day the game makers decide to send in a horrendous thunderstorm. Aura, who was already very sick before the games and had just healed from it, was already sick again. And it was worse, so much horribly worse. I was so scared. I clutched on hard to my mother and bawled. Thom and Aura were trying to find shelter when Aura collapsed. Her heart was failing, and in that moment I was sure mine was too. She couldn't move, and Thom couldn't do anything but sit with her, until her eyes widened and her chest sunk in. Thom ran his fingers over her eyelids, closing them shut. Gently, he laid he flat on the ground, and folded her hands on her stomach.
That's when he noticed it. The small silver locket around her neck. He opened it and looked at the two pictures inside. One was of Aura and I when we were young. I was about five then. The other was of the whole family when I was a baby. He looked sorrowfully down at the photos, and closed it. Then he cut the pack off of her back, and then the cannon fired. "I'm so sorry." He kept saying. Over and over. The Capitol said they had tracked no trace of her sickness, but I knew that they lied. That's what made her death so despicable to me. The fact it could've been prevented and she could be home right now.
I shake my head and walk to my closet. I open it and take out my white blouse, and my black skirt. I lay them out on my sister's bed, and stare at them. They disgust me. I only wear this outfit for the reaping. Once I turn eighteen, I plan on burning them. I dig through my closet and pull out the matching black dress shoes. I throw them beside the bed and walk out of my room, to see my family huddled around the old TV propped up on the table against the wall.
"What's this?" I ask.
"President Snow has a mandatory speech." Ignatius says.
I sit on the floor and watch the TV. The Capitol seal appears, and the anthem plays in the background. The seal fades, and President Snow stands upon a balcony.
"Greetings citizens of Panem. As you all are aware of, tomorrow is the reaping. Upon this date, we have received information that will be announced at this time. Thirty years ago, when the games began, a rule was agreed for. This rule decrees, that on the thirtieth hunger games, there will be twice as many tributes. This means, that two boys, and two girls will be selected from each district. Alas, this is not the end of this statement. The rule also decrees, that if the last tributes standing are all from the same district, they will be crowned victors. Thank you for watching, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
His image fades, and the seal shows again, and the anthem fades. My mother quickly turns off the TV, and rushes to her room, followed by my father. My brothers stand up and look at me, nod and go to their room. I am the only child in my family left who is in the pool of names. My brothers have nothing to worry about. But I do. I get up, and walk to my room. I change into my white nightgown, and lay down. I close my eyes, and I feel them swell up with tears. Now might be the only time I have to cry. Tears flow down my cheeks, and brush down my lips. My tears are salty, and warm. In some unknown way, I drift to sleep.
I awake to the sound of my own sobs. I am drenched in sweat, and my hair clings to the back of my neck. I brush it over my shoulder. I had horrible nightmares. It's the same dream every time. I stand beside my sister, on her deathbed. She keeps telling me it's all my fault and I could've saved her. She repeats it over and over in the coldest tone. Then the cannon rings out and I sit in the rain screaming. It has never failed to scare me to pieces.
I get up, and look out the window. Rosy streaks fill the sky, and the sun peaks above the eastern horizon. There's no point in going back to sleep. I get up and start to get ready for the horrible day ahead. If all goes well, and I am not reaped, then my family and many others will celebrate. But I feel a pang of sorrow for the four families that will go home and lock their doors and windows wondering what will become of their children.
I brush my hair, and put it up. I look at myself in the mirror. Tan skin. Long, shiny, dark brown hair. Bright hazel eyes. This is who I am. On the outside at least. I hear a light rapping on my door. I turn around and see my brother Jae at the door.
"It's time to go." He says softly.
"Jae?" I begin, "What if I get chosen?"
My brother walks over to me and embraces me, "Whatever may occur, I know you'll get through it. If you do happen to get reaped, then our district will have a wonderful victor this year."
I force myself to smile, and he lets go of me and walks out. I look out the window, and see that rain is starting to fall. So far, the odds are not favorable. I smooth out my blouse, and walk out into the living room. My parents have dug out the old umbrellas, that won't probably do very much to keep us dry. My mother comes up to me, puts her hands on my shoulders and gives them a squeeze, with a pained smile. She kisses my cheek, and strides down the hall into my room. I don't question it.
The square is loud and busy for such a rainy day. I am already soaked as I walk under the tent to get my finger pricked. I feel the tiny jolt of pain, and the peacekeeper gives a curt nod. I go ahead to the holding area, which is in the wide open space. Rain is now falling in icy sheets, and I sigh. Since the front of the justice building has a roof over it, everyone underneath it is nice and dry while we all sit out here, getting cold and sick. The mayor steps forward and gives his usual speech, and does what he's required to, each year. Then Felicity, our district advisor steps up to the microphone. I grit my teeth; her ludicrous accent is enough to set me on edge.
"Welcome citizens of District Four! Happy Hunger Games! It is such a pleasure to be here on such a—lovely day." She pipes in an almost sing-song voice. A few people scoff, and some snicker at her poor humor. She shakes her head and begins to take off her black leather gloves. "Before we begin, we have a film for all of you. What a treat!" she exclaims. It's the same film they play every year. To remind us how stupid we were for even trying to defy the Capitol. I pay no attention to the stupid thing; I don't care about it.
When it finishes, Felicity claps her hands quickly, and returns to the microphone. "You all are well aware of the fun little rule we have this year! On that note, it's time to select the two boys and two girls who will represent this wonderful district. Ladies first, then."
She shuffles over to the girl's bowl, her high heel shoes clicking along. She starts to circle her pale hand around the bowl, and I feel my heart begin to rush. My blood boils, and a lump forms in my throat. She plunges her hand into the bowl, and digs around for a few seconds, and then takes a piece of paper. Everything is quiet, and I hear the rain falling on the ground. Felicity scurries over to the microphone and carefully plucks the black tape of the folded slip. She opens it, and clears her throat to speak the name that may or may not be mine. Her lips part to speak and my heart stops.
"Katen Surrey." She says looking out into the crowd.
I recognize the name, and turn my head to see the small girl start to walk past me. Her ashy blonde hair is in a braid down her back, and her big brown eyes flick around nervously. She walks slowly to the stage, and climbs the steps even slower. She is only thirteen, but I've seen her at the academy. She is excellent with knife throwing, and she can run and climb so quickly it's unbelievable.
"Let's give a hand for our first tribute!" Felicity exclaims. Not everyone claps, but there's a small applause, it's not much. I hear what I think is a female sob in the distance. Must be the girl's mother. "Moving on to the next girl then!"
I sigh with some relief, there is a prominent chance I won't get chosen after all. I watch Felicity's hand circle the bowl again, and then it plummets in and she digs around deeper, her whole arm almost in the entire bowl. She picks up two names by accident, and puts one back. She merrily skips back to her place, and opens the slip. I am more relaxed this time, and put my hands behind my back.
"And our next young courageous woman is…Oliveira Willow." She chokes on my name. Of course she knows it. She was the one who drew my sister's name after all.
My heart drops, this is the worst irony; out of the two slips she picked up, I am not spared. I want to break down and run, but I have no viable option. I see disturbed gazes all around me. I catch a glimpse of my family, they all have blank, dismal expressions. This is usually when someone steps up to volunteer. Why isn't anyone? I do not know how I am walking to the stage, I have no will for it. I feel completely frozen. My body is automatic. I have absolutely no control. I take my place next to Katen and stare out towards the distance. I see nothing but the tall buildings and rain falling on them. I wish they weren't so tall so I could see the ocean.
I turn my vision to Felicity who's just walking to the boy's bowl. She grabs the first slip she sees and walks to the microphone. She reads an unknown name to me, and a boy named Winfreigh Percival volunteers. It makes sense, he's eighteen. I know Winfreigh; he's a friend of my brother's and something of a genius with a trident. I've seen the way he dominates in training.
Felicity basically sprints back to the bowl with the other name. "Seamus Quentin." The name is not very familiar. I look at the boy with dark, dark brown hair. He's not bad-looking, a rather handsome face, and a lean build. I think I've seen him train a few times before, but I don't remember anything about him. Not even what weapon he's skilled with. This has led me to believe he's going to be dead. The sooner this is over, the better.
"Shake hands!" Felicity pipes up. I shake hands with Katen, her grip is awfully firm for so small. I shake Winfreigh's hand, his grip is strong. Then I shake Seamus' hand. He gives my hand a squeeze, and lets it go quickly. We're taken inside the justice building, where we will let our families say goodbye before we're hauled off to the capitol.
I'm put in a room that looks to be some sort of sitting room. I sit on the small red couch my mother calls a loveseat. I tap my foot nervously, and fiddle my thumbs. I feel my soaked hair pressed against my skin, and it makes me shiver. The door opens, and my family comes sweeping in. the peacekeeper outside tells us we have five minutes, and shuts the door. Instantly I go into my mother's arms and cherish her warmth. "I love you" is all I can say to them over and over.
"Take this." My mother says, taking my hand and placing a silver necklace in it. My sister's token I gave her when she left. I thought it was buried with her. I guess not.
"I couldn't…" I say running my thumb over the locket's surface.
"She'd want you to." My father says. I look at him and give a small nod.
"Thank you." I mumble.
Jae takes me by the shoulders, "Oliveira, you know how strong you are. Use that strength, okay? The odds are high this year, I don't think you can win, I know you can." He embraces me and I'm almost at the point of tears.
"Time's up." The peacekeeper is shooing my family out the door. Ignatius stuffs a bag in my arms.
"This isn't goodbye, you know. I'll be seeing you soon, very soon." He says. The peacekeeper pushes him out and shuts the door.
As soon as the door shuts, I run to it, as if they'll actually come back. But perhaps Ignatius is right. This isn't really goodbye.