The dart slides out of my fingers, finding its way into the small red dot in the center of the dart board.
It was chance, I'm not good at anything.
Still, my twin brother Len grins and praises me. I shoot him a forced smile, then return my attention to the dartboard. I should feel bad for my smile being fake, but his probably was too. Everyone's smile is fake today, because today is the day of the reaping. Today, one helpless boy and an equally helpless girl from each of the twelve districts will be plucked from their homes, shipped into an arena, and forced to kill each other in the 18th Hunger Games.
Len and I have been eligible to partake in the games only twice before, but being the children of an alcohol salesmen we had it pretty good and only entered our names once, whereas other children had to enter their names plenty to receive enough food to feed their families. This year, things got a little worse and we both entered our names twice, just so we'd have a little extra to ensure our health. Still, one slip can't make a difference, can it?
Of course it can. As long as one slip is chosen, one can mean a death sentence. But I won't let Len see my worry.
Another dart in the center; I must have good luck today. Good thing too, because I need it.
I prepare myself to throw another dart, but right as it escapes my fingers, the door smashes open and a drunken man stumbles in, and distorted mumbles tumble out of his mouth along with a wad of spit.
Delightful.
Although, you get used to the sight when you see these types of people everyday, at least Len did. I still can't stand spit, or anything that comes out of humans. I grimace, turn back to the board and notice the dart still found its way to the center, knocking the first one to the floor.
I don't like having to work at our fathers shop. The sight of these people are too gross for me to handle, and spit is the littlest problem we have to clean up. Vomit, all too often blood, and even the occasional urine when someone gets too out of hand. I normally just play darts to avoid it all.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and stiffen, but Len started talking to me and the tension was lost. I can talk to Len about anything. He's the best brother I could ever ask for- considerate, smart, and surprisingly strong even though he's so short. He also kind of looks like a girl, with his blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and bright blue eyes. Well, I guess he just looks like me.
"Rin, are you nervous?" His face looks concerned.
"Of course I am, but I know I shouldn't be." Lies. I continue after an awkward gulp, "I'm two in thousands. So are you. We'll be fine." I throw the last dart in the jar, the other ones had gotten lost long ago. The dart landed in the green part outside the center. I tighten my jaw.
"Rin, it's okay. I promise. You'll be safe no matter what." He takes my hand, it had started shaking. Maybe that's why I missed.
"I know." Another lie, but I'm a horrible liar. Good liars don't cry when they're pretending to be okay. Len wiped a tear away, and gave me a quick hug before leaving the front door. He always leaves for at least an hour in the day, but I never know what for. He also always comes back with something different: a dead rabbit, some candy, once he even brought me an orange, my very expensive favorite. I never ask where he goes, but I assume he'd just go to the market. He always seems to make something out of nothing though... that's why I don't ask. I doubt I want to know.
Sighing, I scoop up the darts and return back, about twenty feet or so, to where I throw them from. I used to have to be further up, but boredom improved my skills. I'm practically across the shop from where I throw them, but people have learned to steer clear since I accidentally poked some guy's eye about two years ago. This half of the store is my half of the store. I should write that down on the chalkboard, or something.
I throw all the darts once, twice, three times, sixteen times. I only miss once or twice. It's almost time to leave for the reaping, but Len isn't back yet. We still need to get dressed for it, too. I collect the darts from my last round and place them in a cup, then stash them in a corner under a table so no one can loose the rest. I step over a couple pieces of trash to make my way to the door in the back of the room that connects to our house. My mom sits in the doorway, sewing something. She likes sewing, but it's not often that we get a scrap piece of fabric for her to practice with. Sometimes Len and I will purposely rip our clothes to amuse her, so she can try different stitches. She grins at me and holds up an old white blouse, obviously fixed up by her. I put on another fake smile and thank her for it, she probably went through trouble buying an old torn one, washing it, than sewing to her hearts content.
I wear the blouse with an old brown skirt, I have nothing prettier anyway. Len knocks and lets himself in, and holds a ribbon out to me. It's white and made of a soft fabric, my guess is silk, although I've never felt silk before. I smile- this time it's real- and graciously accept it. He smiles back and leaves to get himself ready. I tie my hair in a ponytail, the ribbon supporting it, but I decide I look too much like Len and end up tying it around like a headband. It still looks good, I like it.
Len got ready fast, but I suppose all he had to do was wear nicer pants. My whole family walks to the center of town, and Len and I hug before we have to split up in our predesigned boy-girl age groups.
After what seems like an eternity of waiting, a small but giddy-sounding hostess walks onstage, her deep purple curls bouncing in the wind. She speaks softly as she can, but the microphones make it sound like she's screaming something so after she announces, "Hello, District 12!" I just cover my ears and watch her hand. It makes its way into a bowl full of names, and I return my hands to my side. I don't know what to expect, I don't even know what gender this is. What if I get chosen? What if Len gets chosen? What if one of my old friends get chosen? I clench my jaw tighter and my hands ball themselves into fists. The purple-haired lady slowly holds up a slip, and the crowd winces, knowing what will happen next.
"Rin Kagamine!"
The speakers blast and I could barely make out my own name. After about a moment, I realized what just happened. The shock still hasn't set in, but my nails dig into my fists. I step from the crowd and onstage. I'm panicking. I can't breathe. I can't see, either. Everything is a blur. I wonder how everyone's reacting. I wonder what my mother thinks. I wonder what Len thinks. No, I don't I can't bear to think of that. He'll probably bite his lip off with nervousness. The announcer lady says something to me that I don't catch, but I stand in the general area she gestured to. My head pounds and my throat swells, but I'm not going to cry.
That'd be stupid. Plus people would think I'm an easy target- which I am, growing up with no training. Maybe I should just kill myself first, before I get pounded with rocks.
I regain enough of my senses to watch when the woman chooses a boy name. She pulls out a slip and the tension rises again. "Henry O-" but before she can finish you can hear a boy break out into sobs, and then someone shouts "I volunteer!".
What an idiot.
But then I realize that I know that voice. I shake my head, I cover my hands with my mouth. He's so stupid! Why would he do this? The idiot!
The sobbing continues, but Len steps out from the crowd. His face looks serious and determined. From TV, I bet you couldn't even tell how much of a pipsqueak he is because he looks so courageous. But still, he's my brother and he can't do this. I try to shout out and tell him no- but all that comes out is a squeak.
The purple haired lady smiles, and ignores the sobbing boy. She welcomes Len onstage and asks his name. He smiles pleasantly and answers, almost like he's oblivious to the fact of what he just got himself into. He takes his spot next to me and holds out his hand, implying a handshake. I look pleadingly into his eyes for a minute, then swing my arms around his neck the second I realize there's no going back. There's no hope for either of us. At least one of us is going to die.
He strokes my hair and comforts me, "it's okay Rin, it's okay. I'm here now. You'll be safe, just like I said."
I can hear the confused voice coming from the speakers; "Uh, well, there you have it ladies and gentlemen, the District 12 tributes for the fantastic 18th Hunger Games! It'll be a good one, and may the odds be in... uh, these twos favor!"
I sink to the ground, still holding onto Lens neck. He kneels, following me to the ground and we stay like that until they kick us off stage.
I'm horrible and don't have inspiration for my other story, so here's a crossover!
-Ezzi