"Haymitch, sweetie, your father has left for the mines now."
My mother is standing in my doorway, alerting me that the coast is clear for me to make my way downstairs. I nod, climbing out my bed and following my mother down the stairs. I daren't go downstairs when my father is home. He is an alcoholic, and has been known in the past to abuse my mother and I. There's no point in lying - when he arrives home to find there is no liquor anywhere in the house, he becomes a frightening monster, tearing down the house with his bare hands.
When he is angry, it reminds me of the story "The Three Little Pigs". My father is the wolf, and my mother and I are little pigs, hoping that our house will hold against his mighty breath. Unfortunately, our house isn't made of bricks, so it quickly gets demolished, allowing him free entry inside.
Sometimes, he devours us quickly. That's the best way. Other times, he chooses to walk around slowly, eyeing us up, deciding how he should cook us. The many ideas running through his head excite him. He enjoys the suspense, enjoys our terrified faces, our shaking bodies. We don't.
Entering the kitchen, I'm grateful to find we have food on the table. Here in District 12, where I live, food is hard to come across. There is a line between the people like us, the people of the Seam, who struggle for food, and the people who live nearer the centre of town, the ones with money and warm homes. The people whose kids come to school in new clothes, well groomed and clean. When we show up to school, in clothes with holes, smelling like mud, they laugh and sneer at us. Damn rich kids.
Sitting down at the table, I take a bite of the meat on the table, and instantly recognize it. Venison. Extremely rare and valuable. It must have cost my mother a fortune to buy this.
"How'd you get your hands on venison, mother?" I ask.
"Clive Everdeen brought it to use. He even gave me first pick of which part I wanted. I chose the body, and he still didn't charge me any more than usual." My mother put down the plate she was drying, gazing out the window to the house opposite, occupied by the Everdeens. Clive is the youngest son, at 16, but is quite popular around here with the ladies. "He'll grow up to be a great man one day."
I don't know how to respond. Clive is nice enough to me at school, if he bumps into me. He asked me just yesterday, in fact, if I'd signed up for tesserae. Of course I had. Signing up for tesserae means getting extra grains of food, in exchange for having your name placed in the reaping ball more times, depending on how much you signed up for. It's cruel, as it means parents have to ask their children to up the percentage on their lives in exchange for keeping their families alive. I hate the system. I hate the Games.
"Anyway, make sure you prepare yourself. Today is Reaping Day, after all, and you have to look presentable, in case..." My mother trails off.
"In case I have to go to the Capitol," I finish.
My appetite disappears, as I think of my name being called, climbing the stone steps to the stage, where the mayor sits alone. Normally, the two mentors sit up there, too, but District 12 is a rare case - we have no mentors. Mentors are victors from previous Hunger Games. The most recent male victor and female victor have to mentor the reaped tributes, by teaching them how to perform in the interviews and gifting us in the arena. The only victor we've ever had is dead. This leaves us of 12 at a disadvantage.
My mother, finished with the drying, takes a seat opposite me. "Make sure to get ready after work. I don't want your clothes getting ruined."
"I don't have work today, mother. It's Reaping Day - I've been let off." I stop to take a sip of water. "I will have to pick up my pay, though."
What I don't mention is that I'll also be stealing from the butchers and bakers again today. On my salary, I'd never be able to afford food, and I can't hunt to save my life. Father's salary just about scrapes the food, but it's not nearly enough. I have to resort to stealing to help feed us. Mother pretends she doesn't notice, but it's not hard to guess. We all have to do something to survive, though.
"Well, pick up the liquor first, then get prepared. I assume you'll be seeing Edith before the reaping, correct?"
Edith is my girlfriend. We've been dating for about six months now, and we promised to meet at her house before the reaping started.
"Naturally, mother," I reply, giving her a quick smile, before I take my empty plate to the sink.
I head upstairs and put some casual clothes on. I'll have plenty of time to put my suit on later. Grabbing my rucksack, I head for the door.
Outside, the street is dead. My street is run-down, and the houses are packed with families who struggle to make a living. Mostly miners' families. The butchers is nearer the centre of the District. The owner of the butchers is an old man, named Robert. When Robert was younger, he was married to a lovely woman, who passed away after their son, Paul, was born. I knew Paul - he was a year older than me at school. Reaped for the 48th Hunger Games, he was stung by a nest of Tracker Jackers, dying a slow and agonizing death.
Horrible thoughts enter my head. That could be me, I think. I could be reaped today, and die a death similar. The odds are certainly not in my favour. I have my name placed in many more times than usual, as a result of taking out tesserae. Plus, President Snow had announced, on live television, that double the number of tributes were to be reaped in this Hunger Games.
This is because this is a Quarter Quell. Every twenty-five years, it was written that a Quarter Quell would be held. The Games on the Quell were to have an exciting twist, that would keep the horror of the rebellion fresh in the District citizens' minds.
In the 25th Hunger Games, it was written that the Districts would vote on which tributes they would send. It must have been horrific, to have been voted. Knowing that your District were willing to send you to your death.
About six months ago, a mandatory viewing had been organized, and President Snow had opened the envelope, which contained the information for the second Quarter Quell.
"As is written in the law of Panem, on this 50th Hunger Games, the second Quarter Quell, twice the number of male and female tributes shall be reaped from each District."
I shook my head, clearing the words from my head. This could be my last day in District 12 - I was determined to forget about the reaping coming.
I reached the steps to the butchers, climbing them two at a time, knocking on the door. It took a few minutes before the old frame that is Robert appeared at the door.
"Haymitch, lad, you're here awfully early," he yawned.
"Yes, sir. Have you forgotten that today is the Reaping Day?" I replied, not surprised in the slightest. Robert tended to be a bit forgetful sometimes.
"It is? My goodness! I've sure been out of it!" Beckoning for me to follow him, he led me into his shop, disappearing into the back room.
I seized my opportunity, and grabbed a leg of lamb from a shelf, cramming it into my backpack as fast as I could. The leg was small enough not to be noticed missing, but enough to feed my family. Slipping my backpack onto my shoulder, I cleared my face, so as not to show any guilt. Just in time, too, as Robert returned from the stock room, carrying a paper envelope in his wrinkled, gnarled old hands.
"Here, Haymitch, son, your wages," he whispered hoarsely, barely audible. I assumed this was because he was losing his voice during old age. Or maybe it was the fact that it was two years today his son was taken from him...
"Thank you, sir." I took the envelope out of his hand, and opened it to count the money inside. After checking it through once, I was sure I saw more than usual in there. I made sure to count carefully, and, sure enough, there was double my usual salary.
"Sir, you've given my too much," I said honestly. I'm not the type to lie to my employer.
"You need it more than I do." With that, he winked. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm busy setting up shop. As much as I love your company, you're not wanted now."
Taking the hint, I nodded and backed out the shop, heading down the street. My next stop was the Hob, to pick up my father's liquor.
The Hob is the local black market, but even the Peacekeepers shopped there. Hunters brought in their daily catches, and traded for clothes, stew, alcohol and anything else they needed. Bringing money to the Hob was a rare thing for most people, but it was the only thing I could trade with. I wasn't talented at gathering or hunting.
Arriving at the Hob, I headed straight for Ripper, the liquor seller. Her liquor was top quality, and about the only kind my father likes. Also, I have to admit that she is quite attractive. Her parents recently passed away, so she had taken over the family business. She had many male suitors, but I personally think she prefers solitude. Many people would believe there was something going on between us, if I didn't already have a girlfriend. The only man Ripper ever talks to is me.
"Good day, Ripper!" I grin as she jumps, too absorbed in her own daydream to even notice me.
"Haymitch! Really?" she hissed.
"The usual please," I say, ignoring her question. Ripper nods and smiles sympathetically in response, grabbing the usual three bottles of liquor of the shelves and handing it to me.
Reaching into my pocket, I produce the usual amount, but she shakes her head, taking only a fraction of the normal price.
"Treat yourself to something nice." She smiles, and turns her back on me to serve another customer.
Ripper recently turned 19, so she is no longer involved in the reaping. She does remember the traumatic experience that you go through, hoping your name isn't picked, so she must have let me off out of pity.
Walking through the Hob, I ignore the usual looks of disgust I get from other traders and sellers. The only person outside of our family who knows about my father's drinking problem is Ripper, and she only knows because she's not allowed to sell alcohol to people underage usually. I daren't tell anyone - it'd be too risky, as my mother and I could be taken away, causing father to really explode with rage.
Carefully, I eye up the stalls as I walk through the Hob, looking for something that could be useful. My eyes wander to the jewellery stall, and on it, the most beautiful necklace I have ever seen. Even though it is obviously made out of fake gems, they still gleam in the sunlight. I approach the stall, my feet moving by themselves, dragging me towards the stall. My hand reaches out to pick up the necklace, when it's suddenly slapped away.
"Oi, don't go touching anything you're not buying!"
I glance up to see that the seller is giving me a dirty look, obviously presuming I'm planning on looting her of the jewels.
"N-no, I'm not planning on stealing, honestly! I just think it's so beautiful..." My words trail off, as I stare at it again.
"Thinking of buying it for yourself, eh, lad?" the woman asks sarcastically, but her voice has softened considerably.
"Not for myself... As a gift to my mother. Either as a general gift, or, if I'm reaped, as...as a goodbye gift." My voice starts cutting off, an embarrassing thing to happen to a 16 year old boy.
"What do you have to offer me?" the woman asks kindly. I hold out my hand, and she gazes over the money I hold out, making quick mental sums. "Alright, you can have it for half of the money you have left over. Keep the rest as a treat for your Mum." She winks and hands me the necklace.
"Thank you, this is incredibly kind of you," I reply, taking the necklace from her hands and giving her the money owed.
I don't dawdle too long after that, eager to get back. I decide to give my mother the money now, but the necklace later. It will be more special after the reaping.
When I arrive home, my mother is sitting at the dining room table, reading a book.
"Mother, I'm back," I say, smiling. She looks up and returns my smile.
"Welcome home, dear. I trust you have the liquor?" In response, I hand her the bag with the bottles in, and she nods, taking the bag and placing it in one of the cupboards. "Good. I think it would be wise to tidy yourself up a bit and change clothes before you head out. The reaping will start soon."
"One thing before I go upstairs." I produce the money from my pockets, and watch her eyes light up in surprise and glee.
"Oh, Haymitch! Where did you get this?" she exclaims.
"Ripper charged me less than usual," I reply, leaving out the part about the purchase of the necklace.
"Oh, bless her soul! Thank you so much, Haymitch! I can put this towards a hearty meal tonight, one like we haven't had in ages!" She is grinning broadly now, making me momentarily forget the horrors of the day that await.
I hand her the leg of ham, claiming it was a gift, and head upstairs soon after, changing out of my every day t-shirt and shorts into a suit that has been passed down in my family for generations. I take a bath and rinse my hair, cleaning most of the grime off of my skin.
Soon afterwards, I'm out the door, heading towards my girlfriend, Edith's, house. She lives only a short walk away, which makes visiting each other a whole lot easier. We see each other every day, either at school or at home. We also sometimes like to take a picnic with us to the Meadow, where we sit and gaze at the flowers and trees, and discuss the latest topics in our lives.
Arriving at her front door, I'm just lifting my hand to knock when she's opened the door and flung her arms around my neck. I'm quick to return the hug. She stands back, and I notice she's in a light blue dress, with matching shoes. She looks beautiful. In one hand, she holds a comb, which she is using to style her hair.
"The day is finally upon us, Haymitch," she says sadly.
"Yes, but you have to remember that because there are more of you in your family eligible for the games, you didn't have to take out as much tesserae. You are less likely to be reaped than most girls." Edith has five siblings, three brothers and two sisters. They're all between the ages of 12 and 18, meaning they're all able to be reaped for the Hunger Games.
"That just makes the worry for me larger, Haymitch. Knowing one of them could be reaped," she sighed. "Anyway, come on in."
Edith's house is rather large, but it has to be to accommodate her large family. Edith enters the living room, which is filled with the siblings, all preparing themselves for the games. Well, almost all of them...
"Where's Elizabeth?" I ask. Elizabeth is the oldest of all of them, at 17. However, she's always been strange - despite her age, she has the appearance of a 12 year old, making her seem much more vulnerable.
"She's gone out for a walk, for some fresh air and to clear her head," Edith replies, still combing her hair. She reaches across the table, picking up what looks like a small butterfly clip, sliding it into her fringe. "There, how do I look?"
"Beautiful, as always," I grin.
She reaches up to hug me, but places her lips nears my ear so she can whisper, "Don't volunteer for anyone. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."
"I won't, I promise," I whisper back, meaning it. There's no-one I really care to volunteer for, not even Edith's siblings. They never particularly liked me, anyway.
Suddenly, from outside the house, I can hear the bell sounding, meaning that the reaping was officially going to begin, and all children were to gather in the square. I squeeze Elizabeth's hand, and we set off together.
The square is only a short distance from Elizabeth's house, meaning we get there rather quickly. I walk up to the male sign-in desk, and have my finger cut so the Peacekeepers can verify it's me with my blood. Satisfied I am Haymitch Abernathy and not an imposter, they wave me through, leading me to the males age 16 pen. The ropes surrounding the pen remind me of that of an animals'. To the Capitol, we are animals, needing reigning in.
It takes just over an hour to get everyone in place, and by that time I'm sweating buckets, and everyone around me is getting fidgety. I've been pushed and bumped more times than I care to remember in the last ten minutes alone. I find I'm actually thankful to see the escort climb up to the stage.
The escort's name is Ophelia, and she is dressed in a bright purple dress, covered in blood red spikes. On her head is a funny coloured wig, that resembles an animal that is curled up asleep. All in all, her outfit represents the Capitol perfectly - boisterous, flashy and over-the-top. She approached the microphone, and tapped it with a long nail, checking it worked. Satisfied it does, she began.
"Good day, good day, citizens of District 12! Today is a very special day!" she exclaimed, her voice pitch changing dramatically through her speech. "Today, not two, not three, but four lucky children will be chosen to represent District 12 in the 50th annual Hunger Games, and the second Quarter Quell!
"As usual, ladies first!" With that, she bounced over to the reaping ball on the left, leafing through it until she holds two small pieces of paper, folded up, each one containing the name of a tribute that will be sent to their death.
"Ahem, first we have..." she unfolded the paper with slow movement... "Maysilee Donner!"
Silence fills the crowd. I feel my heart quicken. I know Maysilee. She's in my class at school. She's very popular with the little children, and often spends time playing with them. In class, she tends to keep to herself, much like I would if it weren't for Edith.
The silence is broken by the screams of little children, rushing to cling to Maysilee. Peacekeepers come to brake them apart, but they aren't needed. Maysilee is gently pushing them off herself.
"Now, you littlies just relax. I'll be back before you know it." She gives them a wan smile, before letting herself be taken up to the stage by the Peacekeepers. Ophelia beams at her, guiding her to her spot, where she stands, trying not the shake.
"Now, onto the next tribute!" Ophelia announces in her sing-song voice, slowly opening the next piece of paper. "Elizabeth Bryan!"
Heads turn to stare at the unlucky girl. Judging by the direction of their heads, the girl is a 17 year old...
That's when it dawns on me. Elizabeth is Edith's older sister.
Elizabeth slowly leaves her pen, legs shaking. Her appearance of a twelve year old makes your heart leap out in pity and sorrow to her. Still, she stays standing, and doesn't cry, not giving the Capitol the satisfaction.
"NO! NO!" come the screams from the crowd, as Edith bursts through, desperately running for Elizabeth. "NO! ELIZABETH! I VOLUNTEER!"
NO! I think to myself. She can't! She even advised me not to! What the hell is she thinking?
Elizabeth turned, fixing Edith with a cold stare. "No, Edith. I can't let you do that." Despite her appearance, Elizabeth still has some maturity in her.
"If she volunteers, she volunteers!" Ophelia called from the stage.
"In that case, I volunteer in her place," Elizabeth retorts, turning and climbing the steps to the stage. Ophelia is taken aback by her attitude, but goes along with it.
"Well... Okay, I guess so." She nods to the Peacekeepers, and they drag Edith away. I can relax a little now, knowing Edith isn't going anywhere. "Now, moving onto the boys."
She walks over to the other reaping ball on the right side, and shuffles the paper until she has chosen two slips. She returns to the microphone.
"Our first male tribute is... Haymitch Abernathy!"
It doesn't take long for the screams to start again.