Chapter One: Waiting.
Bryson's feet were hitting the ground, one after the other around the edges of District Nine. Two o'clock in the morning, and he was running again, his dark hair dripping, pale skin shining. He hadn't slept the night before the Reaping since he turned eleven, five years ago. With every extra slip that went into that orb, every year, he ran faster. Faster and faster until he couldn't run anymore, because he knew that if he was chosen, that was all he could do to survive.
***
"ASPEN! NO!" Rain screamed in her sleep. Her younger brother had turned eleven last week, the week before the Reaping. This was the one fear that tore Rain apart more than any other, that her brother would be chosen the next day and nobody would volunteer for him. Illogical, really, considering it was District Four, and volunteers were heroes. An eleven year old wouldn't stay up there for long. As Rain woke up, shivering, sweating, she tried to reason. "There's always going to be a volunteer, a Career. Right?"
***
Amara sat by herself in the 'kitchen' of the abandoned, run-down shed she called a home, her black her falling in waves across her face. The clock on the wall read 4.02 AM. It may, or may not, have been in working order. But Amara didn't care. She was bracing herself for the Reaping. Bracing herself for the day that she, a seemingly normal girl from District Ten, would volunteer. For the sake of revenge, defiance, or pure insanity, she would volunteer.
***
Jasmine's sleeping that night was distinctly unrestful. She expected that one, she figured every child between the ages of eleven and eighteen would be 'distinctly unrestful' in District Nine that night. She heard footsteps every now and then, a sure sign that there were people out of bed, wandering, running. But Jasmine just lay there, contemplative. Seven slips, she had in that orb. Less than the poorer street children, but seven nonetheless. Jasmine was scared, as much as she hated to admit it. Sure, her parents may not care; her friends may not be real friends. Regardless of that, Jasmine was terrified, if only for herself.
***
Bryson hadn't showered, slept, eaten. He just changed, under his father's instructions of 'looking presentable' and proceeded to the square of District Nine. His legs ached, and for that he mentally berated himself. How could he win if he couldn't run far enough? He'd never be able to. But with his chin up, and a stony face, he stood towards the back of the square. He waited.
Jasmine passed Bryson on the way to the square, but took no notice. He was just another resident, just another face that was trying to be emotionless. Just like Bryson, Jasmine was trying not to show her fear. Yet far more people noticed Jasmine than they did Bryson. Jasmine, in her special blue, floaty Reaping dress, was stunning. Some may argue that Jasmine was stunning every day, but today especially so, with the exception of the sadness, the fear in her eyes. And so she stood, 'emotionless'. And she waited.
***
Rain held tightly to her younger brother's hand as the pair walked solemnly to the square. Aspen was a little scared, certainly, but more confused than his elder sibling as he felt the waves of fear, anticipation, roll off of her body. He didn't understand the emotion given through the kiss to the top of his head as he walked away, towards the front of the square. But Rain was trembling with fear that a particular name would be called. Not hers, no, she didn't give a thought to that. But her brother's name being pulled out of that orb would break her. And so she stood silently, trembling. Waiting.
***
Amara was ready. She hadn't been more ready since her sister was killed in these games four years ago. Amara's sister was the better sister, blonde, giggly, seemingly supernatural. So when her name had been called and her skull had been crushed, the family died along with her. Amara's father and mother committed a joint suicide on the anniversary of her sister's death. Amara had no one, nobody cared. But that was okay, because Amara was going to tear that goddamn Capitol apart for tearing apart her family. Amara had taken out 50 lots of tesserae that year, just in case, so that her name was so much more likely to be called. She had no need for any of the grain and such, but she gave it to the poorer children with what heart she had left. And she waited.
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Heya guys, hope you enjoyed this. There'll be more coming shortly, so keep checking!
xxo