My name is Rue Turner. I lived in District 11, with my folks and sibs and friends. But I can't go back.
–0–
The Past: Before The Hunger Games
I was twelve, sneaking home from the fields where I'd lifted a little corn and fruit for my sibs. Hidden by the reedy bank sloping down to the river, I ran into Billy Joe Ewell, heading back from the same kind of jaunt. We startled each other in the moonless night, then laughed about it softly, and lay down by the river, near an apple tree. He asked how were my folks, how were Jim, Holly, Pet, little Albert and the new baby? I asked after his sick Ma and little sisters–I loved how much he cared for them. We chuckled over all kinds of silly things, and I pretended to watch the stars. Waited for his smile to shine in the dark and make my cheeks burn.
Billy Joe was a quiet boy, kind of intense. He'd lost an arm years ago in an automatic cotton gin. At fourteen they'd already whipped him twice in the square for food stealing. His voice was low and calm, that night. All peace, nothing bitter. When he smiled, I wanted to tell him I thought he was the nicest, bravest boy in town. The Reapings were in a week. I could've told him, but I never did.
–0–
I was eleven, trudging home at 3 a.m.–it was harvest, all the kids worked nights in the orchard. Then my friend Martin pulled on my sleeve. He was real simple, but he had a knack for happiness. Even if a dog, a cat, or a lovely-voiced Mockingjay can't talk like you or I, they can truly be the nicest friends. Anyway, we ducked down into a cane break, and he pulled what he wanted to show me out of his pocket. Pushed it at me, grinning. It was one of the night-seeing glasses they'd handed out for apple picking in the dark. The ones they'd told us to hand back each and every morning, because they were worth ten of us together.
I pushed the glasses away, leapt up and ran. Just as Peacekeepers strode out of the gloom, bawling at all the kids to line up. They pulled Martin out, found the glasses he'd been playing with, and shot him dead.
There was screaming and chaos–no grown-up knew whose kid had been shot in the dark. As the Peacekeepers blared through a megaphone that this was what happened to troublemakers, I grabbed hold of my sibs in the crowd. We ran to find our Pa, and he hugged us all warm and tight, thanking the Lord we were safe. As the eldest, I had to wait till last–no one could see my tears.
He was just a nice, simple boy, and I'd run and left him. I could've snatched the glasses, thrown them over a fence, run away with them. Maybe I'd have died, and left my family alone. Maybe poor Martin could've lived. But I can't go back.
–0–
I was nine when my sister Pet was in bed a week with fever. She'd dreamed of eating strawberries one day, so I stole some from their greenhouses by digging under a barbed fence in the night. When my Papa saw us eating them, he dragged me out behind the house, threw the strawberries in the privy, and told me to bend over.
"Pa, no! Why shouldn't we, when we grow all their food–!"
"Quiet, girl!" He threw his big red face from side to side–I realised he was scared, scared anyone might hear me, "The good Lord says it wrong, what you did. They whip you in the square for taking such fancy food, so bad you never climb no tree again."
"But, Pet, she sick, she need food–I don't want her to die like Daisy did, Pa!"
"Just leave those things to me, and your mama. Whatever happens, we gonna get through it as a family. But I'm never letting you get into trouble with them. Rue-girl, I couldn't bear to see it…"
"If you and Mama cared if we lived or starved, you'd never have had so many of us!"
My face burnt. I wished I could pull the words back into my mouth, but I couldn't, and Pa threw me over his knee and gave me a dozen of the worst; I howled and howled. All my sibs were really sorry for me, but I couldn't look them in the eye. Couldn't forget I'd almost wished they were never born, but it was only because I loved them. I wished they'd never had to work harvest day and night with fingers bleeding, or live for months on end with hollow stomachs ripe for sickness.
Pet got better, but baby Frank got ill and died just after that. He wasn't even one yet, just older than Daisy had been. I started stealing corn from the fields, so my other five sibs had enough to keep them strong. My parents never knew. Two times a Peacekeeper caught me, but let me go with a beating. I lied and told Mama I'd fallen out a tree.
–0–
When I was seven, I bust my arm falling from an apple tree. I let a little squeal out, before Jim and Holly dropped down round me, and I had to clam up in front of my sibs. I stared through my own teary little fog, searching across the meadow for Mama and Pa. He was struggling with another two workers, wanting to run and hold me–but if they caught him stopping work, he'd surely get punished. Mama was stood still, watching and waiting for me to get up.
"Rue! Sis!"
Jim and Holly were blubbing, alone in the harsh sun of that terrible great orchard, with their big sister fallen. I managed to smile up at them, and got to my knees before passing out.
My head went swimmy and hot, even thinking about the next apple harvest–but they said I had to work and pick the apples. All the kids in District 11 had to. So did Holly and Jim, and they were afraid. I had to shim up the tallest trees, the longest branches, stay higher for longer than anybody, so they wouldn't be.
Of course I loved it up there, in the cool air with next to nothing between me and the sky. I could leap from branch to branch, just to feel the rush of breath like flying. Or rest in the top branches, on the sharp-smelling bark as warm as my Grandma's cheek. I could watch all the sparrows and Mockingjays flit through air so rich with apple-scent they were almost swimming. Hear all the faint, low songs from the pickers in the golden fields below us. Songs to keep our hearts alive, even when there was nothing for them to do but break. Songs like a good spirit in your breath. When I sang the Mockingjays listened and all the fieldhands found weary grins. My Pa always said, I should never let nothing in this world stop me from being happy, doing good and trusting the good Lord to take care of us all.
So I learnt to climb higher than any kid in the District, so all my sibs would be happy to have such a sister. I helped Holly to the clinic when she twisted her leg. I slipped all of them apples to make their quota up, and told Jim I'd tan his hides if I caught him stealing. I got them all singing to take their minds off it, when we'd got no food at all. Whenever Pet was ill, I sat up with her all night. I helped Mama nurse Daisy and Frank, though they both of them still died. I climbed high, and I learnt a lot about falling down.
The Present. 74th Hunger Games: Day One
I couldn't go back. Not trapped in that roaring prison of a hovercraft, left arm hurting from the tracer. Headed to the Hunger Games. I couldn't flee in my mind to dreams of home and sunshine. I knew I had to be here, in those straps. I had to keep watch, keep ready, run, climb, hide. Stay alive until everyone else was dead, and then I could…
Go back, go home. But I couldn't hardly imagine it. There were so many tears when I left them behind. Pa, Mama, Billy Joe, Grandma and all my sibs. It's almost, almost certain that I'll never see their darling smiles again. I glanced over the shaking aisle to where the Girl on Fire was strapped in. I tried to smile, but she stared straight ahead, not seeing me. I wished then that we could've been friends, if only we'd met some other way. But she didn't look too friendly right then. Just strong and fierce. Like a Victor.
Thresh looked even less friendly than Katniss did. Other kids on the hovercraft looked like they were scared, and trying not to show. I'm almost sick from wanting home, but I'm not so scared. I've known I could be shot or crippled with a lash tomorrow, since I was nine. I still sneaked and stole, so my sisters and brothers could live. For them, I couldn't ever be scared. And I'd not ever died yet, so why start now?
Maybe they were taking us somewhere with trees. I could hop up there, and be still among the leaves, with the warm bark on my hands and my cheek. That wouldn't be so bad a place to end. Then the Lord would carry me up to heaven on his wings, with Daisy, Frank and Grandpa. I could dream of my home forever, there'd be nothing to make me afraid. Nowhere higher to climb. Nothing to do at all.
I almost screamed out, I hated that hovercraft seat with the straps so much. They were pinning me when I wanted to jump right up and run for dear life.
74th Hunger Games: Day Nine
Katniss's plan was that I set three green-wood fires, to draw the Careers from their camp, so she could destroy their supplies. But they must've smelled a rat. Running through the woods to light the third fire, I heard crunching leaves as they came. I had to shim up the nearest yew tree quick as a squirrel. I stayed mousy still and quiet, but they found some tracks I'd left. Then they circled round below with their shining weapons, and finally saw me. That Clove was just about to sling a knife at my head, when the blast went off. All the Careers rushed back to their camp, but I just curled up in those branches, weeping with my hands on my ears.
Only the Games-people could make a bang like that. It wasn't enough that my Katniss was the bravest, lovingest girl in the nation. They couldn't let an uppity pauper from Twelve win their stupid Games. Maybe a richer District bribed them, but now Katniss was dead. I'd never see her again, not even her body. With a blast like that there'd be nothing left–I didn't care who heard me howling.
I'd started the Games ready to hide away and await the end–I could stand being alone, at first. When I saw Katniss again she was injured and trapped up an oak alone, but she was fighting. Fire, arrows or poison couldn't stop her. And I knew she was kind, however tough she looked. Just as quick-in-spirit and gracious as the Mockingjays that flitted about when I sang for them in the orchards–like the golden pin on her shirt. A big sister cares for her little sib with all the love she's got, I can swear to that. Katniss gave me all that love and strength, but now it was gone. I couldn't ever go back; it was so impossible I could hardly think how my home or family existed. There was nothing but the Games, killing and choking all else to leave everyone alone in the dark. I felt so alone that night I didn't care whether I lived or died.
–0–
I stayed curled in that tree until the night, when the anthem played, and the dead faces came up in the sky. I could hardly believe that her face wasn't there. Thank the Lord, she was alive! But I knew Katniss could be in trouble, I couldn't lead anyone to wherever she was. I just had time to shift hiding places, jumping between branches to a nearby oak, before the Careers came back to prowl round for me some more. I stayed up the tree all night, heart hammering through my chest. In the morning I waited half an hour after all of them gave up and cleared out. Then I edged down the oak, ready to whistle the signal to Katniss that I was safe.
But those Careers weren't so dumb. One of them had crept back and hidden himself, waiting for me to break cover. I might've seen a glint of steel in the bushes, before fear shot through me like a bird–I leapt away from the tree trunk, hit the ground. A net was sailing past the oak at me, too wide to dodge, but it caught on a branch, then I was running and screaming Katniss's name.
It happened so fast. I flew through the wood, with him crashing after in long-leg bounds. Then the arrow hit his back, I threw myself down. His dying, wild spear-cast shot over my head and quivered in an oak.
"Rue! Are you safe–?"
"Yes, I'm okay! Oh Katniss, you're–"
I was too weak to get up as Katniss ran to me. She'd shot the Career, the tall District One boy, from near to seventy metres through the trees. She held me with all the strength in her arms, choked out her little sister's name. I was going to tell her how scared I'd been without her, when our bodies jerked. The District One Career had raised himself up without a sound, buried his knife in her back.
He groaned, fell on top of us both. After I struggled out from under, I pulled the arrow from his back. Drove it so hard through his neck, I cut my own hand.
"KATNISS!"