The Reaping

Hello to everyone reading, hope you enjoy the story! This story will become SYOT after the next chapter, so please do think of some ideas for then, when the form will be up!

Thank you!

The day was finally here.

For the last few weeks, Jack Williams had thought of little else. Now, the Reaping Day was finally upon Panem. As he hauled himself out of bed and wandered over to the window, he felt an unfamiliar sense of foreboding. Of course, he'd always known that this day would come. But for some reason, he'd never quite believed it until recently.

Today was Jack's twelfth birthday. It would be also, naturally, be the first time that Jack's name would be entered into the infamous "bowl of doom". Some birthday present that would be. Still, the boy thought brightly, the actual reaping wasn't until the afternoon; he could celebrate the morning with his parents, just like he always did.

He dressed quickly. For a family living in District Eleven, the Williams' weren't particularly badly off financially. Jack had always had decent clothes, and only rarely did he have to bother with stitched or second hand goods.

Today, he decided, he'd wear something simple. His "reaping clothes" were already laid out for him on his chair. The shirt, he recognised, was quite finely crafted, and his trousers and shoes had both been cleaned and prepared to perfection by his mother.

But he didn't want to wear them now; it would only keep reminding him of the awful event that was yet to come.

Jack bounded downstairs, expecting a warm reception. He wasn't disappointed.

"Happy birthday Jack!" his mother and father both stood up and embraced him as he walked into the living room. The breakfast table had already been laid; toast, scrambled eggs, cheese and ham…not to mention the fact that a small pile of presents had been left in the corner.

"Mom," he said sheepishly, "you didn't have to do all this…"

Jack's mother could be a stern and intimidating presence; she was almost six feet tall, though Jack had recently had a growth spurt and was fast catching up with her. She narrowed her eyes. "Jack Williams," she snapped, "You open those presents and you eat this breakfast we prepared, and don't you go feeling guilty about it." For the first time, Jack saw a certain kind of sadness in her eyes, though she quickly regained her composure. He realised that this show of celebration wasn't entirely for his benefit.

"Alright," he smiled back. If this was going to be the last day he spent with his family, then he was certainly going to enjoy it as much as he could. He sat down and began tucking in with gusto.

Any feeling of guilt quickly disappeared. The eggs, meat and cheese just tasted so unbelievably good. Usually he had to make do with stale bread.

"Tastes good, right?" Mr. Williams winked at his son. "You won't believe how many peacekeepers I had to kill to get all this stuff."

"Jameel!"

"I'm only teasing! You know," he addressed his son as Jack went for his second helping of scrambled eggs. "I hear that they eat this kind of stuff for breakfast every single day in the Capitol."

"I know," replied Jack, "They're so lucky."

"You think?" Mr. Williams was sceptical, "Don't you think it would just get so boring? I sometimes wonder what those bastards do for fun," his tone became more serious. "What happens when they get so goddamn sick of doing nothing all day? I suppose they just go to bed and get up in the morning and do the same. But what about when they've watched every T.V. show, bought every fucking ridiculous item of clothing, got every stupid tattoo on the go?"

"We know what they do for fun." Mrs. Williams murmured sadly, before taking a sip of tea. A tear ran down her cheek.

Mr. Williams paused for a moment. "You know," he smiled at his son, "I don't envy them one bit. I think their lives must be pretty sad."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, between mouthfuls of egg.

"You're a man of few words, aren't you?" his father said fondly.

"Well, I suppose one of you has to be," Mrs. Williams had regained her brusque manner. "Now," she gestured towards the stack of presents, "Let's stop all this Capitol talk and move onto something more interesting."

The three of them sat on the sofa in the living room. Jack counted five presents in total; he'd open them as slowly as he could, he decided. As usual, his parents had wrapped them in plain brown paper. Jack had heard of somewhere in town where you used to be able to get colourful, sparkly paper, but apparently they'd stopped selling it. He wasn't surprised; in District Eleven, there presumably wasn't much demand for sparkly paper.

He had a sneaking suspicion that the first present would be a book of some kind. And voila! It was. "Thank you," he said automatically before taking a good look at the cover. When he did, he was quite taken aback. He raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at his amused parents. "But…this is a fictional book! 'Animal Farm'…where did you get it?"

"Oh, I know a guy," his father winked again. "There are only so many books on the history of agriculture that can be endured." Mr. Williams worked as a manager on the local wheat farm; there were in the office a shelf full of books that Jack had already read. Just like sparkly paper, fictional books weren't something you saw often in District Eleven. Not ones that were authorised as appropriate by the Capitol, anyway. Not that Jack would generally be interested in such books.

"What's it about?"

"Well…" Mrs. Williams said, "I wasn't sure about giving it to you. I read it and it was quite hard to read at times. I don't mean that you won't be able to read it," she laughed as Jack opened his mouth to protest. "It's just that, well, there are some messages in it that are quite…hard to deal with for me."

Well, that had done it. Jack couldn't wait to read it now. He thought about asking his parents if they'd mind him reading his new book and then opening the rest of his presents this evening, but then the sinking feeling returned to his stomach as he remembered.

"But you're not a kid anymore," Mr. Williams said firmly, putting his hands on Jack's shoulders. "It's unfortunate, but it's something that we all have to accept. You're growing up and…" for a moment Jack's dad had to pause and look away, "…and you've grown into such a lovely young man. Your mom and I are so proud of you, and I hope you know that, Jack."

Oh dear, thought Jack, we could be at serious risk of the waterworks here. Let's move on to the next present.

The remaining presents were nothing unusual; Jack received a set of coloured pencils, a box of nuts, some new pairs of socks and a model elephant, which his father had crafted for him. He was very touched by it all, and wished that the morning could just continue forever. Alas, there was work to be done.

Jack's father went out to work almost immediately after the final present had been opened. He always worked such long hours, Jack had come to realise, but he supposed it was worth it. He knew that there was no chance in hell that any of his school friends would ever have got five presents on their twelfth birthday, even if it did fall on Reaping Day.

Jack helped his mother wash up the plates and tidy everything away, and offered to help her with the rest of the household chores, but she shook her head, smiling.

"No, you go and play with your friends," she said, "I know that they'll be dying to see you. But I want you back in an hour or so; I want us to walk down to the courthouse together."

Jack didn't need telling twice. He left the house almost immediately, and ran down the road to his best friend Luka's house. Luka's house was a bit smaller that his, which Jack thought was a little sad considering that Luka was one of three brothers, whereas Jack was himself an only child. But Jack had always liked the idea of having siblings all crowded together in one space. It seemed as though it might be fun, even if you had to go a little bit hungry on occasion.

One thing was for sure, Luka and his family wouldn't have had eggs and cheese for breakfast this morning. A sudden thought occurred to Jack; he hadn't washed since eating. He hoped that Luka wouldn't be able to smell the eggs and think he was boasting about his family having more money. But then he dismissed the thought. Luka was a very energetic and outgoing guy, but he certainly wasn't the analytical type. He was the opposite of Jack in a number of ways. The family was one of the very few white families who lived towards the centre of District Eleven. Most of the rest who had come over the years had made their homes working far out into the countryside; Jack was expecting to see some of them later today. He had to admit, he was hoping it would be these kids who were selected as tributes; he didn't want it to be someone he might know.

Stop it! This is my birthday morning and they aren't taking it away from me!

Arriving at Luka's house, he banged on the front door enthusiastically, but no sounds came from within. This was strange. He knew that Luka's older brother Kiro worked during the day (Jack's dad was actually his superior in the wheat fields) but that didn't account for why the others didn't seem to be in. He was about to knock again when he heard the gentle sound of shuffling, and the door was answered by a small, blonde woman – Luka's mother.

"Hi Mrs.- oh, are you alright?"

She was crying. Her face was a deep pink and the tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Hi," she said, "I'm sorry, Jack. I know it's your birthday and you're here to see Luka, but…well, this is a very difficult day for us all, and…I'm sorry." She bent her head into her hands, before shutting the door in Jack's face.

Well, how rude.

Jack was flabbergasted. Luka's mom was usually so nice, so cheerful. He wondered whether it was something he'd said. Then of course he realised, just as he was turning away. Her odds of losing a son today were much greater than those of his own mother.

Luka was twelve, Kiko fifteen and the eldest brother Yaro would be seventeen now. So that was, what eleven slips of paper in the bowl? Then of course there were the tesserae…he imagined that their family were in need of a bit more money than his own.

Jack felt a rare wave of fury as he trudged back home. This whole thing was just so unbelievably, ridiculously unfair. He just didn't understand why one small group of people in the Capitol had to have so much. How did that even help their leaders obtain power? And why didn't the Capitol citizens try and do something about the way this country was run? His dad was right about what he said about them; they were probably just too stupid. It never occurred to Jack what the Capitol people saw of the Districts and to be honest, he didn't care. Tears sprang into his own eyes now. He just wanted this day to be over, as soon as possible. He couldn't wait for the Reaping now; there was no point in trying to enjoy the rest of his birthday.

Yes, the sooner the Reaping was over, the sooner he could get home and get back to enjoying his life. Well…enjoy it as much as he possibly could, under the circumstances. Thinking of the tesserae, it seemed selfish to have even worried about himself, given how remote his chances of being picked for the Games actually were. By the time he returned home, he ran straight past his surprised mother and up to his room, slamming the door behind him.

It was still only 9.08AM. Jack threw himself onto his bed and lay staring at the ceiling, letting the tears flow. His mom obviously had guessed what had happened and decided to leave him alone. She was probably right to do so; Jack wasn't a conversationalist, especially when he was sad.

Out the corner of his eye, he noticed that his presents had already been brought up for him. Once he'd got over his initial upset, he realised that, without a friend to spend the morning with, he had very little to do. He wouldn't have to get ready for ages yet; he was lucky in that his family lived within walking distance of the huge town square and courthouse. By District Eleven standards, the Williams family actually lived in quite an urban area.

So he picked up Animal Farm, and began to read. Thinking for a moment about the title, he could now see why his mother had been so upset about it. But it turned out that George Orwell had been an excellent writer, going by the first few pages.

Jack was engrossed for an hour and a half, until his mother came in. She smiled softly. "Time to get ready, Jack."

At 11:30, Jack and his mother arrived in the Square. The town centre of District Eleven was a bit of a pitiful sight, really. There were only a few dilapidated shops here or there, since most people grew their own food. Of course, what they did grow mainly went straight to the Capitol, but their beloved leaders at least let them keep some of it. How else would they have enough people to keep the crops growing?

Today, the area was a hive of activity, and Jack began to feel a knot tighten in his chest. All over the place, families were arriving. It was so bizarre. Some were silent; some were talking in hushed whispers. Some children began crying hysterically, even the teenagers. And then were the parents. It was still early, and there were only a few peacekeepers milling around. The time for silence had not yet arrived.

Who knows, thought Jack, maybe some of them have kids. Maybe some of them understood. Maybe some of them hated doing this, and were forced to do it under threat of death. He supposed that everyone in Panem was forced to participate in the Hunger Games, in some way.

Jack's mother had been unusually quiet on the walk down. It was her first time at the Reaping as a parent, and it was clear that she wasn't sure what to do- or rather, what she was permitted to do. Jack's father had been due to make the trip from the fields down to the square, just for a moment, to see his son off. But there was no sign of him yet.

"Where is he?" whined Mrs. Williams, looking around the square uncomfortably. Scaffolding had been erected over the past few days, creating five levels of shaky looking balconies on which the parents could stand at the far end of the square, facing the courthouse. This was itself an extremely old and rather grand building; Jack had been in there once on a school trip; apparently it was good to educate the children about order, and the history of the country. Jack would have agreed, had the history on the curriculum actually been accurate. Obviously, all books from "The Dark Days" had long been banned in every area of the country, but everyone knew that Panem had not been a haven which corrupt representatives from each District wanted to destroy, as was the official line.

Speaking of school, Jack saw a number of his classmates pass by as he and his mother waited for his father to show up. Jack didn't talk to any of them, just gave a wary smile. Several of them ignored him completely and just stormed ahead, their eyes completely blank.

"Darling…" Jack's mother whispered to him, "I think you'd better get in line with them."

"But Dad isn't here yet!" Jack turned to look at his mother and recoiled in horror as he saw a peacekeeper standing next to her. Tall, and clad in the white uniform, baton at the ready, Jack couldn't remember being this close to anyone quite so horrifying. His insides went cold. He couldn't see beyond this man's visor, but he could just imagine his eyes boring into his mother, who stood frozen in fear.

Jack had never felt hate like his. He swallowed his fear, and replied. "OK, mom. I'll see you later." He turned to glower at the peacekeeper, as though daring him to disagree. His mother bent down to kiss him.

"I love you," she croaked. One bit of emotion, and she would collapse. How could she allow a peacekeeper the pleasure of seeing that?

"I love you too. And I love Dad too. You'll tell him that if I…"

"But you won't," she said sternly, before breaking into a sudden giggle, "the chances are tiny! How silly! Now go and get your I.D. thing done, and I'll be right here watching when the time comes."

Jack waved at his mom as she hurried off to the stands. He turned away, and got in walked over to the east side of the square, where peacekeepers were herding the children into lines. It was like a cattle market. Jack already knew where he had to go. He'd seen one of the guys from his class, Chaff, get into the line on the far left out of seven. He supposed that there were seven lines according to the seven ages the tributes could be. Well, if he was wrong, he'd get put somewhere else. Chaff was laughing quite loudly and prodding the girl in front of him. Jack didn't like Chaff; Chaff used to bully him quite badly because of his quietness and love of books. It had stopped recently, but if Chaff were selected for the Games, Jack certainly wouldn't be losing any sleep.

He had not yet seen Luka or any of his family. Then again, his thoughts had been elsewhere when he'd been standing with his mom waiting for his dad to make an appearance. He was a little disappointed he hadn't had a chance to talk to his dad since breakfast time, but still. There was always tonight. Luka had probably already been to get his 'I.D. thing' done.

Come to think of it, Jack wasn't actually sure what this entailed. The queue he was standing in moved quite quickly, and he craned his neck to see who was sitting at the desks at the front. He was surprised to see that the officials seemed to be fairly ordinary-looking people. There girl a few spaces ahead of Jack was the next one to be called up. Jack saw the official jab a metal device into the tip of her finger, followed by placing her finger on a sheet of paper. He supposed they were taking fingerprints as a way of making sure everyone was here who was supposed to be here.

When it was his turn, the dull looking male sitting at the desk yanked his arm and took Jack's fingerprint before Jack even had time to draw breath. Well, that was easy enough. He then found himself ushered into another pen of sorts, where he recognised a number of the kids as being from his own class in school. But there were dozens more, who he had never seen before. The numbers were quickly filling up, and Jack felt a sense of relief; he hadn't realised just how many people actually lived in District Eleven. There was no way he'd get selected. He didn't dare move to go and speak to any of the other kids, or go and see where Luka was; there were a number of peacekeepers only a few feet away behind the rope cordoning everyone else off.

The more people who arrived, the more relaxed Jack became. How stupid he'd been! Everything was going to be fine, and he'd be back reading his new book, sitting between his parents, getting ready for dinner in just a few short hours. Perhaps he'd even go and call on Luka, who was going to be alright once the day was over.

Maybe it was a build up of repressed emotion, but Jack was beginning to feel quite giddy. He only realised he was actually humming to himself when another boy turned around in bewilderment, looking at Jack as though he were mad. Then reality hit home again, and Jack went back to being serious. After all, he might not be on his way to certain death, but somebody else certainly was.

The crowds gradually fell silent. For the first time, Jack got a good look at all the technology that had been set up at the entrance to the courthouse. He had never seen anything quite like it. What on earth was it all for? Wires, everywhere! Then there was the stage itself. Of course, the banner featuring the Capitol's emblem had been draped across the roof flowing right down to the stage, which was at least six feet high. There were a number of well dressed government agents – probably the President's best friends – sitting on either side of the wide, oak panelled double doors out of which the real star of this very sorry show was set to emerge.

The microphone was ready. The last peacekeeper descended the stage. No more whispers, no more whimpering. You could here a pin drop.

The doors opened, and here he was.

"Welcome, everyone!" With a theatrical twirl of the hands, Tymerius Till waltzed onto the stage, as though expecting everyone to be pleasantly surprised to see him. He was only in his mid-twenties, but he'd been working as District Eleven's escort for about five years. This year, he was clad entirely in purple. From the trousers all the way up to the hair – styled in very short spikes – let nobody say that Tymerius didn't make some kind of effort. From what little experience Jack had of Capitol fashion, he thought it was usually women who wore high-heeled boots, but he could be wrong. God knows what went through the minds of these people. He wondered if Tymerius was paid to look utterly stupid, or whether he genuinely liked the entire of District Eleven thinking of him as a laughing stock. Then again, Tymerius Till didn't spend each day eating stale bread and nuts, so he probably didn't care either way.

"What an honour it is to be here today! Among such wonderful people! I wish so much that I could stay and chat about what I've been up to since we last met, but…" he sighed "we have business to attend to." He went through the usual spiel of talking about the Capitol, mentioning the Rebellion, all of that.

Then the moment came.

"And now," beamed Tymerius, "The selection! Which one of you girls will be representing your district this year? There's only one way to find out!" He tottered over to the huge glass sphere on his left. In there, were the slips. Each girl in the audience had her name in there somewhere.

In theory.

Given the sheer size of District Eleven, and the fact that there were theoretically thousands of girls participating in the draw, Jack had wondered for a long time whether there was an initial random set of names picked before the Reaping, behind the scenes, and that only these names actually made it into the bowl. It didn't seem possible that all the names, including the tesserae, were already in there.

But he didn't think about that now.

Tymerius plucked out the name, and sauntered back to the microphone, smiling at the crowd. He opened the slip slowly, and Jack's heart began to race.

"Elana Hillbury!"

Silence. Jack breathed a sigh of relief; he didn't recognise the name.

He also didn't recognise the girl as she climbed the steps to greet Tymerius on the stage. The widescreen got a close-up of her face. She looked to be about sixteen. A tall, very dark-skinned girl with a long black ponytail, she looked wide-eyed and terrified, but she contained her emotions quite well. Tymerius seemed to whisper something in her ear, before giggling. She remained stone-faced; obviously she didn't find whatever he said to be quite so amusing.

"Well then Elana, time to meet your fellow tribute. You never know, he could be a total cutie," he cackled, before moving to the bowl on this right.

This was it. The knot tightened in Jack's chest. The boys around him seemed to be shuffling around nervously. This really was a horrible experience. It seemed so much different to watching it on screen. Thankfully, it would all be over soon.

And it was.

Tymerius opened the paper in the same precise way he had done just now. Fold here, fold there, smooth out…

Just get on with it!

"And the male tribute competing in this year's Games is…my, what an unusual name…Jack Williams! Is that right? How-old fashioned! Now, where are you? Time to meet your destiny, Jack!"