Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. That all belongs to its lovely author, Suzanne Collins. I only own what and who you don't know [:
Author's Note: I've actually started this story a week ago :D But I was unsure so I just postponed it for a while :P Hope you like it! I am very dedicated to this~ Oh yeah, and I don't own the song by the way. ON WITH THE STORY.
[Chapter 01: The Reaping]
Chemical. Acid. Explosion.
These things race through my mind as I dream about the day my father died.
Lab. Fire. Father. Death. I cannot take it anymore.
My eyes instantly open as my hands search for my two siblings, Lily and Etlen. I turn to see them both sleeping next to me, completely deep in slumber. My breathing comes heavy as my hair cling to my face with sweat. The moonlight shines through the window in our room, casting an eerie shadow.
I prop myself up on my elbows, slowly slowing my breathing. As I watch them in the darkness, I start to envy them. After all, it is not them who wake up every now and then, drenched in sweat, scared out of their wits. No, it's me.
Of course, that is not the only reason for my fear. Today is reaping day, a grim day for all of us. Already are fifteen slips of papers with "Ivy Willow" in the reaping balls.
Unable to sleep, I swing my feet over the bed, careful not to wake the others, and pull on my normal attire. It consist of an elbow-length cotton shirt, a cozy black jacket, worn leather boots that has shaped into my soles, and a warm woolly cap with long tussles on the side.
I quietly slip out of the house and walk to the edge of the forest where my "friends" were. The closer I got, the more I could hear them, singing and chirping for the rising sun. Chirping, you say? Mockingjays, that's who they are. I do not socialize much in town, though my brother often tells me that I am the most desirable girl there. I merely laugh when he does.
"Hello," I say quietly, slipping into the covers of the woods. Here in District 6, the forests are not forbidden, only a small part. I quickly scale a tree and make myself home on a branch. A song quickly comes to mind. The mockingjays go silent as I begin.
Somewhere, beyond the sea
Somewhere waiting for me
My love still stands on golden sand
And watches the ships, that go sailing
Somewhere, beyond the sea
She's there watching for me
If I could fly, like birds on high,
Then straight to her arms,
I'll go sailing.
After a few repetitive lines, the mockingjays quickly pick up the song and they sing it back to me. I listen with giddiness. It is one of my only comforts in this despicable world.
From my line of view, I could see the old ruins of the lab that destroyed my father and grit my teeth, clenching my fists with anger and grief. Black, charred, rubbish litter the ground that barely anyone had bothered to clean. The explosion was far too strong for anyone to survive, so there were no bodies to bury.
My father had been killed in a chemical accident, consisting of too much neutrons that had overweight the other atoms, creating an unstable chemical reaction—the great explosion. He was a great man, my father. Maybe even the best scientist in our district.
And my mother… She was his true love. After his death, she couldn't bear to live without him. Two weeks after his death, she flung herself off a cliff, severing her spine causing an instant death.
It was only through strong persuasion and trickery did Lily, Etlen, and I not get sent to the community place for children. It was also a good thing that Etlen was a good six feet, or else we could have not passed him off as eighteen years old. According to the world, he is nineteen and a half when actually he is only seventeen.
Lily is my twin sister, older than me by a minute, so I'm told. She's the exact duplicate of me, save for her eyes, which are a bright jade green while mine are an iridescent blue, like ice. Other than that, we both have wavy ebony hair, a willowy petite body (standing only at five feet five), and pale, porcelain skin inherited from our late mother.
But even though she looks exactly like me, she is nothing like me. She loved animals and hated the thought of killing them, which is why she went vegetarian, surviving on roots and nuts, but somehow she maintains her healthy looks. I bet she wouldn't even last ten minutes in the Games. Me? I loved meat. Especially juicy grooslings. She was the mother figure in our little trio, which was fine by me.
Etlen, looks wise, is pretty much the opposite of us. He stands at exactly six feet, with dark tanned skin and dark green eyes, with tousled black hair, the only thing that we all have in common. He's fairly good looking, I suppose, which is a total understatement. It's irritating to hear girls sigh over him. Makes me want to slap some sense into them, actually.
I realize that the mockingjays had stop singing, and come up with another tune. This time, it is a short, bitter-sweet aria that I came up with during my mother's memorial. Soon enough, they catch up on my tune and mimic me.
An hour later, I leave the forest with a grim smile. The sun has risen—nine-thirty by now I'm guessing—and Lily and Etlen will begin to worry when they realize I'm not there. Only three more hours until the reaping, I think. Three more hours until hell begins.
When I arrive home, I see that Lily and Etlen are awake already. Etlen greets me at the door as Lily pulls me into a sisterly hug. "Well hello to you too," I say with a small laugh.
"Why didn't you tell us you were going to the woods again?" asks Etlen with a frown. I shrug, thinking of my previous (and repetitively annoying) nightmare.
"I had a bad dream," I say honestly, pulling up a straight face. His features soften as I say those words, but harden once more.
"Next time, at lease leave a note," he says. I nod and go through the hallway to my—I mean our—room, changing out of my clothes. The home we live in isn't very big, but it was all we had. It had three rooms in total, a kitchen with an old, beat up TV in the corner, a bedroom in which we all share on one big bed, and a living room, which hasn't been used since my mother's… death.
Our mother's death has affected us all greatly. We went from the happy-go-lucky kids to the kids who had nothing to lose besides themselves. We taught ourselves survival skills, how to shoot an arrow, hand to hand combat, how to use different varieties of weapons, but most importantly, how to keep our emotions in check.
I wash myself in semi-warm water, gently massaging my scalp, and rub all the dirt and grime off. After I bathe, I put on a faded crimson dress that used to belong to my mother. It was held up with two skinny straps and had a sweetheart line. It came all the way down to my knees. I love the way the cool satin felt against my skin.
For my hair I decide on leaving it down where it rested an inch below my shoulders. I look in the mirror and think: I don't look that bad at all. Maybe Etlen was right. Maybe I was the most desirable girl in town. Often I hear whispers from girls, saying how I was a "cold, icy being" among many other unpleasant things. And the boys? Well, let's just say their whisperings are the very opposites of the girls.
As I gaze into the mirror, the thing that pops out the most is my eyes, which rests below long, dark fringe of lashes. They are a cool, iridescent, icy blue that I often use to glare at people, if not, accuse. I am no longer the happy girl who skips with the woodland animals. No, I am now a cold, fierce girl who is constantly fighting for a meal at the table, with only a meager amount to eat.
"Ivy!" calls Etlen, using that annoying nickname he dubbed me five years back. "Hurry up!" I groan. Soon the reaping (and the crying) would begin.
"Coming!" I yell, feeling irritated that he had call me that. I rush down the stairs to find Etlen and Lily waiting at the foot of the steps. Etlen wears a crisp white dress shirt paired with our father's black slacks while Lily wears a pumpkin orange version of my dress, also belonging to our dead mother.
They both look tense, as if they were preparing for a fight. We made a pact after our mother's death, that if one of us were ever a tribute in the arena, we would sponsor as much as we could, and to fight harder on if one of us dies.
We silently walk to the square where many people of District 6 were. The square gets smaller and smaller as more people arrive. Everyone had a grim expression. The air was tense and claustrophobic, and the only person who seemed to be in an actual happy mood was the strange lady next on the stage, who must be District 6's escort.
To me, she looks silly. She had light aqua blue skin and bright curly pink hair with sparkly golden tattoos decorating her skin. She wore a white, frilly dress that shimmered with golden sparkles to match her tattoos when she moves. Her name was Steffi Tark. If you take away… everything, she would have looked very pretty. Not to mention normal.
Etlen's lucky, I think grimly, he doesn't have to reap anymore. That clever liar. Lily and I quickly sign in, and then we walk over to the fifteen year old section while Etlen follows behind. While standing in line, I hold onto Lily's hand.
I spot little Dani, a lovely girl I used to babysit for her mother. She is only twelve, but her innocent features make her seem like she was nine or ten. She was the only girl who's ever felt more than a stranger. In some strange way, she was kind of like a little sister to me. She was so young and innocent; it's hard to imagine her killing someone.
Dani is in the twelve year old section, her eyes drawn and glassy. It doesn't take an idiot to see that she's sick. Her skin is pale and drawn, her eyes hallow. The bright sunshine yellow dress does nothing to flatter her complexion. I watch as she coughs violently, another girl patting her back gingerly. I wish I could go over there and reassure her, but I couldn't. There were too many peacekeepers around. Reluctantly, I turn my gaze away, determined to focus on something else.
There on the stage are three chairs, a podium, and two glass reaping balls, one for the boys and the other for the girls. The mayor, Mayor Lockwood, fills one of three seats while Steffi and our only living victor fill the other.
When the clock strikes two, Mayor Lockwood stands and walks over to the stadium, his footsteps heard all over the now empty square. He clears his throat, and gives a speech about Panem, the country that rose out of the ashes of the once prestigious North America. On and on he lists the fatal disasters and describes the brutal war that had shattered the country. The result? Panem. Then he talks about the Dark Days, the uprising against the Capitol. He talks more but I ignore him. I've already heard this a thousand times.
"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," he intones gravely, but he isn't done. He then lists the past District 6 victors. In exactly seventy nine years, we've only had nine. One in which is alive today—Nicolette Callens, who won the sixty-nine, which makes her only twenty-nine, I think.
She sits straight on her chair, her eyes scanning the crowd, trying to predict the new tributes I guess. She has sleek black hair that was in a pixie cut, her eyes the same color as her hair, and a tall slim figure. She dons a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, looking very neat and crisp.
Nicolette stands as her name is being mention, and gives a slight bow as the crowd claps. I couldn't help but notice how pretty she is. Soon, Steffi walks up to the podium and does her usual pep talk. "Welcome to the 79th Hunger Games!" trills Steffi, as bubbly as ever. I stifle a laugh and I see that other people do too. Her accent is just so ridiculous! Do all the Capitol people have it? I watch her expression carefully. She doesn't seem to have noticed, or she doesn't care. "And may the odds ever be in your favor."
She goes on about what an honor it is to be here but I know she is itching to go back to her precious Capitol. In the crowd, my eyes meet with Etlen's and I force a small smile. His face darkens as he grimaces. I squeeze Lily's hand for reassurance as she returns the squeeze. I try to slow my beating heart, but I can't. My heart feels like it has run for miles. A small sheet of sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I wipe it away with my free hand.
Steffi walks over to the two reaping balls as I try to reassure myself, there are thousands of slips in there. My name won't be picked. I know I'm doing a bad job of reassuring myself. "Guys first!" she says, and reaches a hand into the guy's ball. She pulls out a slip as the crowd tightens with anticipation. "And the male tribute is… Michael Cain!" A shaky boy from the fifteen year old section walks up the steps, trying to put on a brave show, but you can tell by his slight shakings that he is silently crying. Somewhere in the crowd, I hear a family (his, maybe?) sobbing.
I recognize him, I realize. He's not too shabby looking, I guess. He had light brown hair and dark brown eyes, with a medium built figure. The only reason I recognize him is from the times I go shopping at the markets, where he works at the clothing stalls.
"Excellent!" trills Steffi, oblivious to the tears being shed. I begin to loath her. How could she not react to the cries of the people around her? Was she really that ignorant? "It's okay dear," she says, patting Michael's back, "you'll feel better at the Capitol!" Hah, I doubt it.
"And now the ladies," she says, reaching into the second glass bowl. She calls out the girl tribute's name, and I feel myself draw in a gasp. No… it couldn't be!
It is a name I know.
A name who's not feeling well.
It is innocent little Dani Keller.