So, this it my first story here!~
A few notes...
-Disclaimer-I do not own The Hunger Games no matter how much I wanted to.
-This is rated-T because of swearing, violence, stuff like that you know.
-You don't need to ship what I ship, I don't care if you're on Clato side or whatever. You could rather read or leave. It doesn't go simpler than that.
-Please do no steal the cover or any parts of the story verbatim as I worked very hard on it! All credit of the cover goes to my friend, 1derfulx, so it's her original art work.
This was it. I'm going to DIE tomorrow. Why? Why? Why?! How did I get into this freakin' mess?! I tried to calm myself from shaking all over. I was going to be okay. Hopefully.
I'm the younger daughter of two. You can call me the spoiled one. I didn't want to be, but Mother always put me out of chores and works. "You want to do chores?! Hell, no, Glimmie! You'll get wrinkles or splinters!" Mother would say when I ask to help out. My sister, Ivy, is the hard worker. She is the ugly witch of the family. Some people can't believe we're sisters. It's not my fault.
Mother always favored me, providing all the advantages as possible. Ivy only got to go to school if there was time to spare. I felt really bad for her since Mother always tried to hide Ivy from embarrassing Mother. I tried to help, I really did, but she would shoot me a dirty look. She had been holding this grudge for years.
Today was Reaping Day for the 100th Annual Hunger Games. Since it was a Quarter Quell, there were special requirements for it. Everyone would be gathering around, watching the President of Panem, President Gold, read the special requirements.
I'm still at risk to commending suicide (seventeen). Just have to get through this year and next before I'm in the safe zone. Ivy passed the age limit years ago. I showered and then kicked back in the living room and switched on the television box. President Gold was just taking the card out of the box. I held my breath as Mother and Ivy entered the room.
Gold cleared his throat.
"As a reminder to the rebels of those that were lost, tributes will be chosen from ages 12 through 25"
No. Impossible. They extended the age limit! Not only I'm still at risk, so is Ivy.
Mother buried her face in her hands, while Ivy cursed. She was 25 on the dot.
I took a deep breath and entwined my fingers in my hair, which I have a habit of doing. Curse the Capitol. The three of us sat in silence, can't believe the misfortune.
Finally Mother stood up. "Come on, Ivy," she said. "We must prepare ourselves for the reaping."
All was quiet for a moment until I heard whispering in the hall. I urged myself to stay, but curiosity killed me. I crept over, couldn't help eavesdropping on Mother and Ivy's conversation.
"Ivy, dear, I have a bad feeling about this reaping," said Mother.
"Well, may the odds be ever in our favor," Ivy replied drily.
"As the older one, please, if Glimmie gets chose, please," Mother broke off. It was obvious what she was going to say.
"Volunteer her place?" Ivy snarled bitterly.
"Please," Mother pleaded. "If she agrees with Mayor Stone's son, we would be rich!"
"Oh, and I have to die for her?" Ivy's voice rose.
"Don't be silly," Mother insisted. "She's got a groom waiting for her. Just be a kind, loving big sister will you?"
I backed away. I couldn't believe Mother could be so ruthless, uncaring about her daughter. She just wants a better life for her to live in. why haven't I realize this before? I was not going to let Ivy volunteer for me. If I get picked for tribute, I got picked. I was going to have to live with it.
I glanced at the only picture of my father. I wanted him to be here so badly. He would make things right with Mother. He was much gentler than her. He loved me and Ivy equally, no matter what. I wonder where he is. If he was alive at least. The Peacekeepers caught his illegally snaring animals and he got his tongue cut out and joined the army of Avoxes.
Tears grew in my eyes. Before he left four years ago, everything was nice and peaceful. Mother had less stressed and we didn't have to work so hard for food. It was the best thirteen years of my life.
"Why did you have to leave me with Mother?" I whispered.
His image stared solemnly back with a half-smile.
I looked away before I could really burst into tears. There was a huge chance I could lose Ivy toady. I couldn't lose her, no matter how bitter she was. Before I could stop myself, I knew what to do.
"What the fuck did you do?!" Mother screamed at me.
"Just made a few tesserae," I replied simply. I turned to Ivy, who was avoiding my eyes. "Now, we're equal." I had registered myself 18 more times so Ivy and I had 24 slips of paper with our names on them.
She blinked at me, but didn't say anything. Mother did. "Go to your room!" she cried.
I sat on my bed. Did I do the right thing? I didn't want Ivy have a greater chance of getting chosen for the Hunger Games. They were just too cruel in making innocent children die for no reason at all. Every year, at least 23 children die because of the fucking Capital.
The bell rang to gather at the Justice Hall. It was time.
We three solemnly dragged ourselves to the podium where we registered. They pricked each kid's finger for blood. For proof of what age they are. I held my breath as I joined the group of sixteen-year-olds.
Effie Trinket, escort of District 12, stood up on the podium in between of two glass bowls that were fuller than they were last year. "Hello, hello, hello," she chided. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor." Empathize on "ever".
Mayor Undersee read off the past Victors of District 12, which were exactly four, three are still alive. Katniss and Peeta Mellark and Haymitch Something. They stood below the podium, facing our miserable faces.
"Well, let's get started," Effie Trinket shot us a gummy smile. She walked over to one of the glass bowls and dove her hand deep into the sea of papers. Everyone held their breath as she opened up the slip.
Something flashed in Effie's eyes as she took a gap of air.
"Glimmer Jackson."
No, no, no!
I jolted up from my bed, clamming with sweat.
"It wasn't real, it wasn't real," I murmured. I'm lying to myself than if that was true. The reaping happened. I was chosen as one of this year's tributes for The Hunger Games. I've been through the tribute parade, earned my 10 on the training center, and I just finished the interview. They were not good. At least I wasn't alone. My district partner, Daryl was with me. He wasn't all good. The boy from District 2, Cato, threatened us during his interview and Daryl responded with a challenge. I knew we are not going to survive the first night. I'm going to hell tomorrow.
I lied down again, trying to get sleep to consume me again, but it wouldn't come. I finally decided to get out of bed. I paced back and forth on the hallway, trying to figure out my scrambled thoughts.
"You, too?" a voice said behind me.
When I turned, I found a damp Daryl with messy hair. It seemed like he just came out of the shower.
"Yea, too many nightmares," I gave a tight smile.
He laughed and then headed for the roof. Nothing to do, I followed his lead.
I leaned over the railing and stared down at the lit up streets. The capital residents were still up in the middle of the night. A good gust of wind made its way over and I felt my hair floating lightly out behind me.
Daryl sighed next to me. His dark curls rani in the wind like tufts of black fire. His black eyes watched the moon wistfully.
My last night to be alive peacefully in humanity. I will never go back home, to see Mother or Ivy again.
"Listen to them," I whispered.
"They don't have to die," he shrugged.
"They're eager for the ones going to die."
"About tomorrow," he turned to face me hesitantly. "Let's split up so if we're going to get killed, we won't die because of each other."
"Cato can't get us at the same time," I agreed.
"Just promise me you won't kill yourself, alright?"
"No promises," I promised. "I don't do suicide on purpose."
"Right," he said sarcastically.
"I'm serious," I snapped.
"We'll see who's serious in the arena."
When I woke up, three heads were in my face.
"Time to wake up," Valentine said solemnly. Laurie and Kim helped me sit up. They weren't as cheery as they were on other days. Today was date of death, who would be cheerful about that? They didn't say much as fixed my hair and made me look polished. Once they did their last job, they lost it.
"I'm so sorry, Glimmer!" Laurie cried.
"I'll miss messing with your hair," sobbed Kim.
Valentine didn't say anything, she didn't have to. She sobbed and snorted in a hilarious way which I would've laughed if I wasn't going to die.
"It's okay," I gave each of them a hug followed by a group hug. "I'll be okay," I promised, but I'm lying to myself. I gave them one last squeeze before my stylist, Mitchell, came in. Sadly, my prep team had to leave weeping with running noses.
I bit my tongue to keep myself from melting down, too. I couldn't blame them. Every year, the probably do the same for the tributes they treat.
"They care about you, you know," Mitchell commented.
"I know," I whispered.
He adjusted my hair, braiding it more securely than Kim did. "Let's go."
When I walked out the room, I was embraced by Daryl, Effie, Tia(Daryl's stylist), Katniss, Peeta, and even Haymitch was there. Tia was weeping silently, Effie's eyes were watering, Peeta's face was pink, Katniss' eyes were bloodshot, and Haymitch had a grim expression.
Katniss warped me into a hug. "Good luck," she whispered. I shook Peeta and Haymitch's hands while Effie and Tia bid me a final farewell. Daryl yawned.
"Do I get to say good-bye?" he asked.
We bumped fists. "Remember the plan," he murmured.
"No suicide," I promised.
Mitchell brought me to the roof. Seconds later, a hovercraft floated above our heads and rope ladders were dropped. Once I was settled in, a woman went over to me and instructed me to hold out my arm.
I obediently straightened my left arm and she stabbed me with a syringe. It hurt. A lot. I clenched my jaws together as the strong wave of pain traveled through. Before I could ask why, the woman said, "Your tracker" with a poker face. This was how they kept an eye on you. Trackers. It was a dirty word to every tribute.
Am Avox led Mitchell and I to our breakfast. I stuffed myself as much as I could. Who knows when my next meal will be?
The hovercraft flew for a long time. I was starting to regret my pig out. My stomach felt a little queasy and my heart thumped every time it flew a minute more.
When it finally landed, Mitchell and I were underground. This must be the catacombs under the arena. What will this year's habitat be? Ocean? Tundra? Forest?
In my chamber, I showered, brushed y teeth, and Mitchell redid my French braid, twisting it into a bun. "Better keep you hair out of the way," he explained. Finally, he used the dragonfly pin, my district's token to me, to secure it.
Afterwards, I changed into a loose shirt with leggings and thin socks. I put on my jacket with the number "12" on it. When I ran my fingers along the shell, it was surprising smooth, but was familiar. "Waterproof," I mused.
My camo pants were also non-absorbent. Interesting.
Mitchell laced up my boots with a rubber bottom. He made sure everything was where it was supposed to be and it was nearly time.
There were still a few minutes before the launch and my heart thumped out of my chest. I drank my last cup of water in haste before the woman speaker announced to prepare for launch.
I shook all over a tried to remember to breathe. Mitchell hugged me tightly and I didn't want to let go of him.
"Remember everything you know about survival. I know you can do this. Good luck," his last words were hushed and brisk. I stepped into the tube. It automatically slid shut. My eyes widened and glanced desperately at Mitchell.
His face looked pained and avoided my eyes.
Then, the plate I was standing on began to move.
It was dark for several seconds before light fought its way back.
Twenty-three other tributes circled the Cornucopia. Few have determined looks on their face and stared hungrily at the Cornucopia goods. Others were trembling stared blankly in space.
This was it.
Claudius Templesmith's voice roared into the mike. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he addressed the crowd in front of the screen. "Let the 100th annual Hunger Games begin!"
So, that was the first part of it. Hoped you liked it! Any reviews, comments, or suggestions will be very much appreciated! Chapter 2 will be around the corner! :D