Let the 175th Hunger Games begin!
I sprint though the Seam, not wanting to run into Darious. Ever since what happened last week, I've been avoiding him. I leap through backyards and over bushes until I come to my best friend Carra's back yard, to get to her for the yearly Reaping. She yells something I can't quite make out from her kitchen, and then hustles out. She is volumtuous for being so skinny. Her silver eyes are trained on something in her bag. Her dark hair is flowing and wavy, framing her face perfectly. I have always envied her. Her eyes are silver while mine are charcoal grey. Her cheek bones are more fitting. My hair is dark as well, but flat and dull. It is however thick, which I pride myself on. Most people in the Seam have the effects of anorexia nervosa, thinning hair, slightly discolored skin, patches of odd green stuff on them. I have thick hair, olive colored skin, and I'm definantly more curvey then most of the girls in District 12. But Carra is full breasted and stocky. Her only flaw is her slim lips. I have much fuller ones, fortunantely.
"Hurry," I say slightly winded from running 4 blocks. "We still have to get to the town square and you have to fix my hair." I smile.
We walk the rest of the way. When we get there, most of the people have yet to arrive. So we go inside a shop and she fixes me up as she does every year. When we go back out, wind blows at the loose bun that is now stationed on the back of my head. I check in, and as the lady Peacekeeper pricks my finger with that weird thing, I can't help but think where Darious is and what he is thinking. President Milston Paylor wanted to wait until the Reaping to announce what would happen durring this Quarter Quell. It could be anthing. The first, each district had to vote on tributes, the seccond was twice the number of tributes, the third had the tributes be reaped from the existing pool of victors, in the fourth there was aloud to be two victors from the same districts, the fifth the tributes were forced to face their greatest fears. What will they do for the sixth?
"Willow... Come one." Carra yells. She grabs my hand and pulls me to the group of 17 year old. "Don't look now, but Darious is totally staring at you." She says playfully.
I wait a couple seconds, then look. "You're totally right." I chime back.
"God, you're so lucky. You actually got to have his-" she starts.
"Shhhh!" I don't want her telling the whole world!
"In your-"
"Oh my gosh!" I loudly whisper while laughing.
"While he kissed you and-" She says teasingly.
"Carra!" Our conversation is cut short by my cousin, Primrose Hawthorne, when she smacks my hand and laughs at us. She is also 17, but has the merchant look. Blonde hair, blue eyes.
"Pay attention. The treaty of treason has already been said and they are about to pull the names from the oversized fish bowls." She says maturely.
We look over at the odd women onstage with bright orange hair and a blue mini dress. "As usual, ladies first." She says in her silly Capital accent. Her heels click on the stage as she walks over to the bowl, pulls out a slip of paper and clears her throat. "Carra Pattersmith."
Carra looks horrified as people clear her a path to the stage. She starts walking slowly, and as my great grandmother Katniss Everdeen did, I run to her and volunteer. The women on the stage looks annoyed.
"Oh, whatever," she says tiredly."Come on up, dear."
I mount the stage and shake her hand. "What's your name, dear?" She asks me.
"Willow Everdeen." I say. My mother and grandmother both decided to keep Katniss' maiden name. And so have I.
"Everdeen," She says to herself. "As in Katniss Everdeen?" She says exitedly.
"Yes... She was my great grandmother." I say looking at my feet.
"That's lovely. Now, for the boys." She walks to the other end of the stage and digs her orange nails into the bowl, and pulls out another slip. "Darious Undersee."
I look at Darious's shocked face, his grey eyes locked on mine. He mounts the stage and we shake hands. I cling to his arm, not caring what people might think of it.
"And now for the Quarter Quell announcement!" The esourt says to estatically. She motions to Darious and I to face the screen behind us. President Milston Paylor's face appears. His voice is low and deep.
"For the 175th Hunger Games, to show the rebels how merciful the Capital is, each tribute will be aloud to bring a small knife, and one food item into the arena. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." The screen goes blank.
Oh, I think to myself. Well that could've been a lot worse. Two Peacekeepers escourt Darious and I into the old justice building.
I run my fingers over the velvet couch, finding it strangely soothing. I have never seen a more beautiful room. The wood ceiling is carved, the walls matching and the furniture looks very expensive. Carra and Primrose burst through the door sobbing. They rush over to me and wrap me in their arms. I hug them back not wanting to let go. I tear up as well. Primrose pulls back and cups my face in her hands.
"If Katniss could do it, you can, too." She nods at me with tears still running down her cheeks. She kisses each of my cheeks just as Carra pulls back to.
"Why did you volunteer?" She asks this as if she were accusing me. Maybe she is.
I look down, not wanting her to see in my eyes that what I am about to say is true. "Because I knew you wouldn't make it in the arena."
She averts her gaze and purses her lips. A Peacekeeper opens the door and lets them know that their time is up. We all hug one last time, then they go. I am left alone, waiting for my dad to come in and say his final goodbyes. But he doesn't. Time ticks away and then I am escourted to a car. I ignore the pain of my father's absense. I watch as District 12 speeds by, and then we are at the train station. A load of cameras wait for us there. Darious takes my arm and leads me to the train door. What am I going to do? I think. Darious and I are both going in... and only one victor comes out. We will probably both die. But I atleast have to try. Maybe I could win. What Darious and I have isn't even love. I know that. We may have been intimate, but we were pressured into it. Not by my friends, but by his. This is all an act, really. If it came down to me and him in the end, I would surely take his life. Survival instinct is more powerful than love in the Games. I have seen it happen many times since Katniss. There have been many star crossed lovers. And they usually killed eachother. I figit with my blue dress, the one my mother and grandmother both wore for the reaping when they were 16. According to my grandma, Katniss wore it, too. She said it was Katniss' mother's. But last year before my mom and gandma died, I was so mad at them for something I don't even remember and I refused to wear it. But I am wearing it this year. This is the Katniss wore into the Capital. As did my grandma and my mom. They were all victors. And all sixteen. Now it is my turn. And when I have a daughter, she will probably end up a tribute. Not if I don't have kids, I think. But there was a time when My mom and grandma and even Katniss all said the same thing. And now I'm here.
The train doors slide open and Darious leads me in. The sooner I kill him in the arena the better. I walk to a window and as soon as our escourt steps in, the doors close. My home speeds away at 200 mph. I don't want to think about it. So when the escourt introduces her self as Credinsa Mallasc, I run to my compartment. I am going to have to kill or be killed. I will die. The careers have gotten more and more fit since my mother won in the 155th Games. I examine my room trying to distract myself. A large bed in the in the cent wall. Plush couches and bedding. i walk around a bit more, and find a shower with all kinds of controls. I shower off, and let my hair loose. I dry off and walk around in a satin robe from one of the drawers until Credinsa calls me to dinner. I dress in an ebony colored flowing dress. The fabric is soft and see-through. It is sleeveless and cinched around the waste. It fits my form. I dress it down with a braid down my back. I wear kitten heels with black fluffs on the toes. As I walk to the dining cart, I notice the pictures on the wall. It's the victors. One is a man with the seam look. Underneath it says 'Haymitch Abernathy- 50th'. The next one over is a beautiful girl with dark hair and grey eyes. The same exact shade as mine. 'Katniss Everdeen- 74th-75th' and right next to her a boy who must have been my great grandfather. He has blonde hair and blue eyes. 'Peeta Mellark- 74th-75th'. After that my grandma with dark hair and blue eyes. 'Monika Everdeen- 106th'. Then my mother is the last. Dark hair, grey eyes. 'Posy Everdeen- 155th'. I look away. I look exactly like katniss, I think to myself. When I reach the dining car, I see my mentor for the first time. Dark hair, grey eyes, olive skin. It's like looking in a mirror. "Katniss.." Katniss is my mentor.