It's a long time before I fall into the hands of sleep, but feels like only minutes have passed when a heavy knock on the door from the peacekeepers confirms that it's time to get up. The sun is shining, already hot through the dirty open window. This is the first day I have missed the sunrise in almost an entire year, I feel partly worried that I wasn't up to see it, as the thought dawns on me that it could've been my last, but I push it to the side of my head. No one wants to think that way on the day of the reaping. I have made it through three years of being eligible to be picked as a tribute for the Hunger Games and don't plan on going anywhere today.
As I scrape the knotty, tangled, brown mess of my hair out of my eyes and mouth, I spot a pretty yellow dress hanging from the end of my bed. My mother must have left it there for me to wear to the reaping. It is the colour of the sunflowers that sway in the summer breeze out in the fields. Many times a day when we are working the land, I turn to look at them. I pull the dress over my head. It fits well and somehow makes me look less scrawny then I am.
One of the nicer things we have in the house is an ancient mirror, my great-grandfather was one of the first victors of the games, and it was his present to my great-grandmother, made in district one but bought from the Capitol. I finish brushing my hair out and take a peek into the mirror. I look quite pretty, a rare occurrence. My tan skin, dark eyes and hair match the dress well.
Out in the kitchen pots and pans are already at work, my mother is preparing the little food we have for the celebrations tonight. My brother, Stef and sister, Abbey run screaming and laughing, chasing a chicken through the house, and knocking over a pot of the tesserae grain on the way back outside. They are still too young to be told about the Hunger Games. That every year, two children of the district, one young male and female are selected from each of the twelve districts to fight to the death in an arena. I have known nothing different.
Wrapped in an old towel on the table is my reaping day gift from my family. It is a pastry, still hot from the bakery. Warm arms wrap around me from behind and my mother plants a kiss on my cheek.
"Better eat it up while it is still warm, Eve", she tells me. I thank her, and cut it into quarters, a piece for my mother, sister, brother and myself.
I take a small bite out of the quarter, flavour floods my mouth. We rarely get anything from the bakery; it is too expensive for us. Treats like these are saved for special days.
"This must have cost you a fortune", I say, feeling bad.
"Don't worry about it, it wasn't much" she says kindly, but her eyes speak another language. I can tell that she is worried. "Here, put yourself to use and take these to Maisie." She hands me a bunch of carrots, grown from our vegetable patch. I give her a reassuring hug, finish off my slice of the pastry and step outside into the sun. The hut across from ours belongs to Maisie's family. Since she has so many mouths to feed, and it is only my mother and I to look after Stef and Abbey, we have a sort of had a food agreement since my father died when he was bitten by a snake in the harvest season after the twins were born. We supply her family with half of everything we grow in the vegetable garden, and whenever a flock of grouse fly into the orchards where her family works, we are sure to eat well that night.
Maisie opens the door and greets me with her kind smile, she is a tiny woman, as are the rest of her family, and in her arms she nurses the newest addition to the family. Maisie's eyes light up when she sees the carrots and asks me to hold the baby while she puts them away and fetches some meat in exchange.
I bounce the baby up and down and she giggles, probably making fun of my terrible baby voice. Rue is her name, she has beautiful dark skin and eyes like her mother, and an elastic band holds her curls off her face. I bend down to pick a dandelion that is growing amongst the yellowing weeds beside the path, and put it behind her ear. She is growing up too fast.
"Happy Hunger games, Evie!" she says in her fake Capitol accent, laughing at my disgusted face.
"As happy as they'll ever be, the odds better be in my favour", I say. Maisie chuckles and takes Rue from my hands, beyond the jokes there is some seriousness, but again I push it from my mind and try to smile. I tell her I have chores to do, and we say goodbye and I head back home.
I busy myself for the rest of the morning with cleaning, and am beginning to bury myself into a book when the dreaded Capitol anthem blasts out of the speakers in the street. The signal to start to move to our designated areas for the reaping.
