Just a quick author's note:
This is my first fic so suggestion are much appreciated. I already have a plan for this fic (it literally came to me in a dream). The main character is based off of me (except I changed my middle and last names) but in this version of me I didn't stop being strong when I quit gymnastics. Anyways that doesn't matter. Basically this will be about the Centennial Celebration (aka the Fourth Quarter Quell or the 100th Hunger Games). I won't spoil much of it but the main thing this means is that there will be a lot more tricks; the biggest one being that they have to compete in pre-made groups so no one can pick their allies and so that they develop protective feelings and bonds for their fellow tributes thus making it harder to kill them in the end.
Please Read and Review; if you don't review I doubt I will continue writing since it is definitely not my strong suit.
CHAPTER 1: The Reaping
I wake up and brush the sleep out of my eyes. It feels like any other day in District 7 but I know it's not. Of course it's not. Second Rebellion was nothing more than a power struggle. Now that President Coin is in power very little has changed. Sure everyone has a share of food, but that means no one is well fed; except of course District 13 and the Capitol. But that doesn't matter right now, what matters is that today is Tristan's first Reaping. He may be a typically 12 year old boy obsessed with knives and violence but he can't be a tribute, especially not this year.
Today is the Reaping for the Centennial Celebration. Who knows what kind of trick they're going to pull. Maybe increase the tributes or double the amount of boys; what if they make it so that it's only people with siblings? What if they make it so I have to look at my brother and sister and know that either I have to live with killing them or they have to live with killing me? No. I have to stay positive. Anything could happen but Tristan won't get picked. He can't get reaped. Neither can Ava; though if Ava is reaped I can at least volunteer.
My siblings drive me up a wall, but in a place like this you have to look out for your family. Tristan is a 12 year old boy, 4 years younger than me making him the perfect age to drive me insane. He's around 4'11" and probably only between 80 and 90 pounds. He's skinny, but then again we all are, but at least he has some muscle on him. All the girls love his blonde curly hair, but I think it just looks messy. He has grey blue eyes and lightly tanned skin from all his time in the sun. He's ADHD like me and my sister but because of that he can't sit still, meaning my parents are able to convince him to do work, not that he'd say no to cutting off branches with a saw and being destructive in general. But none of that changes one fact, he's my brother and I can't let him die. Ava is far more tolerable. She's only 2 years younger than me and despite her odd tendencies she's kind and fun to be around. She doesn't seem nearly as ADHD as the rest of us given she can sit still when she's interested in something. She always memorizes random facts, which, though interesting, can be annoying at times. She's taller than me, around 5'8" and weighs about 120 pounds. She has long skinny legs like the super models in the past. She's nearly as pale as me and has blue eyes. Her hair is a cacophony of blonde curls and waves that gets poufy when brushed. Yet she still always looks pretty, the boys in her grade fall for her left and right despite her strange interests.
I look different from my siblings. I have straight dirty blonde hair with hints of platinum blonde, light brown, brown, black and even red. My eyes, my favorite part of my body without a doubt, are blue but they change depending on the day from blue to green and even to grey at times, when I cry my eyes are a bright cerulean blue. I have the same pale skin but mine is far paler; my tan is still not much darker than a desert sand or apricot colored crayon. Like my mother I love art, though I'm not nearly as good at it, as a child my crayons seemed like my most valuable possession. Once my mother fell sick and I had to work that changed; that's when I realized that my most valuable possession was my family, followed closely by my saw, and my most valuable skill was my strength. Gone were my dreams that my math skills could get me anywhere in life. Instead I had to face the harsh reality that when you live in District 7, lumber is your life. I would have done better in District 3, where size doesn't matter but intellect does. I'm not small per say, however being only 5'5" and 110 pounds can be a burden in the lumber industry. Lucky for me I'm nearly all muscle do to my life style. Growing up I taught myself gymnastics, in fact I trained nonstop whenever I could. Resultantly, my whole body is muscular and toned, though my small stature hides it. I may not be bulky but I am strong, I often carry smaller trees on my own, only trees above 200 pounds require help, and even then I don't require much.
"Maris Angelic Davant, get your lazy ass out of bed!" called my father snapping me out of my thoughts. I stretch and look at myself in the mirror, my hair has random bumps and stray hairs, I have dark bags under my eyes. "Ehhh… I've looked worse" I think to myself. I get out of bed and make my way down stairs slowly and loudly, not bothering to gently place my feet on the stairs. I nod to my father who's cooking the allotment of eggs, sausage, and even bacon. "Figures they feed us better before slaughtering us, we're nothing more than pigs in their eyes" I remark cynically. I sit down at one of the seats and stick my tongue out at my sister as a way of greeting. I mumble hello to my brother and wait for my father to bring over the food.
As he makes his wave over with the food I study him. He looks tired; then again he always looks tired now that mom's gone. He always looks worse on the day of the Reaping. His thinning, grey-white hair is sticking up at all angles. He used to have dark curly hair and a well-trimmed beard, but now that he's over 50 and tired all the time he's showing signs of aging. He's tall, 6'3" if he wasn't always hunched over. He's strong but lately his strength has been starting to give way to age. He does his best to make up for the fact that mom is gone but I know he can't provide for us forever, and if we can't make the quota we don't get our food allotment. He has kind blue-grey eyes, but ever since my mother passed away there's a hint of sadness lurking in them. He used to always tell jokes, he could light up a room with laughter, but now he rarely does.
We eat in silence. As I finish I thank my father and bring my plate to the sink. I go upstairs and look through my mother's old dresses. Technically they're mine but I just can't think of them as mine. I look through them and find a white dress. I've gazed at it longingly for years and I figure I'll hardly get another chance to wear such a beautiful dress. I set it on my bed and go scrub myself down, I try to stay clean and wash somewhat regularly but it's hard to find time or reason. When I'm done my skin is slightly pink from the scrubbing but not as bad as it is for my brother who had to be rubbed raw. I come into the room and see Ava in a flowy blue dress that is tight around the waist. When my mother wore it, it came bellow her knee in the front and around mid-calf in the back, but on Ava the front stops about two inches above her knee and the back only goes a few inches down her calf. She looks upset, I wordlessly come over to her and lead her over to my mother's old vanity. I have her sit down as I run a wide comb through her wet hair. When I get out the knots I begin braiding it, leaving out just a little bit of hair in the front which I curl around my fingers. She has on simple wood earrings that my mother gave her. She looks lovely.
"Thanks Maris…." She said dejectedly.
"What's wrong kidlet?" I ask. I've called them kidlets ever since I started looking out for the family. Back then I thought it hilarious that I could combine piglet and kid to make them sound even younger than me.
"I'm fine, it's just that…. What if Tristan gets reaped? What if I get reaped? What if you get reaped?" she worried looking up at me through tears. I wipe her eyes and sigh.
"We'll be fine. Tristan is only in there once. If you get reaped, which is unlikely, then I'll volunteer." I put my finger up when she starts to protest. "I stand a far better chance at getting out alive than you do. Besides it would kill Tristan if you died. Everyone loves you, if you're around you can use that to survive. You're kindness gets everyone on your side, just ask for help and you'll get it. Just relax, okay? We'll get through this. Besides if the 'Odds are ever in your favor' then we'll be fine. It's unlikely we'll be reaped." This assured her and she looked calm once more.
I slip on the white dress and tie it behind my neck. I appreciate the little white flowers on the bust. The opaque white slip that makes up the bottom layer of the dress goes down to mid-thigh and the flowy outer material goes down just below my knee. I actually look like a girl for once. Ava asks if I want help with my hair and I thank her. She twists it and pins it up so that the hair twists at the nape of my neck from one ear to the other. Like her I have a few strands down near the front, plus I have my bangs. My sister puts on her sandals and I go to my mother's closet. I take out the one pair of heels we owned, that I luckily fit and slid them on. They were completely impractical and came from the Capitol. Tall, 4 inch heals covered in silver sparkles. I actually look pretty. If it weren't for the fact that my hair is blonde as opposed to her red hair, I'd think I looked a bit like my mother.
I walk down the stairs carefully, even though I'm a natural in heals. My father and brother both have on plain black pants and clean white shirts. "Hey you don't look uglier than shit for once!" my brother exclaims quickly followed by an "OW!" as a result of being smacked upside the head by my father.
We walk up the street to the town center where all the other victims, I mean children are waiting. I walk up to Tom, my boyfriend. "You feelin' lucky today?" I ask him nonchalantly.
"When I'm with you? Always," he states as he pulls me into a strong hug. I haven't said a word but I know he knows I'm scared. "It'll be okay" he says reassuringly. He squeezes me a little tighter then lets me go. "It's going to start soon, you should head over to the girls section." I nod, look up and give him a peck on the lips before turning around to walk away. He pulls me in by the waist and kisses me on the cheek and again on the lips before saying "I guess I should let you go now."
"Awww…. If you have to" I say with a fake whine in my voice. As I walk away he lightly smacks my butt. I turn around and stick my tongue out as I continue walking to the 16 year old girls. Tom's lucky, his little brother is only 9, his sister is only 7 and he's 17 so he only has a few years left and then he won't have to worry much.
"Attention" says a voice over the loud speakers. I turn my attention to the official on stage. Once Coin took over the Reapers, the ones who pick out the tributes, are not frivolous Capitol people but no nonsense officers from District 13. "Welcome members of District 7" he states in an unwelcoming voice. He then goes into the story about how Coin has improved life in the Districts and how she can only continue to help if we do not oppose her. "What bull shit… can't you just get this over with? You're giving us all ulcers" I think angrily. "Let's not waste any time. We'll pick from the girls first and then the boys" he states matter-of-factly.
"Our female tribute from District 7 is…. MARIS ANGELIC DAVANT!"