CHAPTER 1
I was stretched out on the shoreline of the slow-moving stream. My fingers coursed through the slick mud. The sound of frogs and toads was music to my ears. Ripples flew across the water like birds in the sky. The sound of my friends' laughter was all around. This was the Marsh of District 4.
District 4 was considered a very clean and wealthy district. You knew you were high-class when you were part of labeled "Career Tributes". But our small portion of the district was detested by the country. Heck, even our own people disapproved of our lifestyle. We were called the Swamp People. Besides, who else in our district wrestled alligators in our free time? And I was damn sure proud of it.
A glob of mud flew on my face. My friend Percy laughed under his breath. I lifted off the ground and compressed a mixture of grasses and mud. "You could use a mud bath Percy. Don't move," I said with a wicked grin.
Percy cocked his eyebrows. He clutched his chest. "I can already hear my cannon firing. Please make it quick." Our other two friends were playing dead.
I marched dramatically through the stream and stood over him. Percy splashed water on his face, looking like he'd cried a river. I looked up at the sky. "This is for my district!" I shouted. And then I glared down at Percy again, who was looking more and more pathetic. "I will be the victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games!" Catching Percy off guard, I dived into the mud.
Percy and I mud wrestled, hitting each other in the chest and face. Soon enough we could camouflage perfectly. Gilligan and Wade made a three-finger claw over their chests, imitating the hovercraft picking up the corpses. The small fish and shrimp fled. Times like these almost made me forget the reaping.
Of course that was impossible. And no matter how much escapism we had, the Capitol's cruel games would shake us into reality. It was noon so we had two hours until everyone had to gather in the town square for the unlucky fate of two kids. And here I was, mud wrestling with my best friends while the 74th Hunger Games was right around the corner. And if I was chosen then it would be time well spent.
"Remy!" my older sister Cynthia said. "It's all fun and games with you, isn't it?"
"Aren't they called the Hunger Games?" I asked. Cynthia was my 18 year old sister and her last year as a participant in the brutal Hunger Games. Percy envied her, as did about everyone in my class. But my fear for her and my own life doubled with each year as our name was entered more each time. After today I'd have one less life to worry about.
"You know that man who never comes out of his house? I went over to give him a plate of shrimp and I found out he's a fortune teller! Guess what happened next?" Percy opened his mouth to answer but her lips were already running. "He told me that our family would be spared during the reaping!"
"What about us?" Gilligan said.
"I'm sure you'll be fine," she said with the wave of her hand.
I looked down at the water. Like the games, I tried to snatch the small fish up. In their eyes, it was probably cruel. But in my mind it was just an afterthought. The same was for the Capitol. They took lives like mowing the lawn. A routine of killing the grass and coming back when there's more. We were the grass.
I got to my feet and wiped the mud off my clothes. "I wanna talk to this guy," I said. They all looked at me. "Some shut-in is spreading false hope at a time like this. Next thing you know he's gonna say there's a rebellion against the Capitol. I wanna give this guy a piece of my mind."
"It's no big deal Remy. He didn't charge or anything. It was just a harmless prediction. And he's probably right."
I didn't hear it. I was already trekking out of the marshland.
The smell of fish drifted around the district. Of course families were having a very special lunch. They had to make sure their family was together just in case it was the last time.
I visited my house first. My mother was sitting on the couch in front of the television, practicing for when the games were on. The way she sat screamed stressed. The way she would be if Cynthia or myself (or us both) were battling it out in some outdoors arena. The odds of both of us being in the games were slim to none. Yet my mind kept returning to the subject, reminding myself of how that could not happen.
I snuck past her and went to the bathroom door. Running water was coming from inside. My father was taking a shower. So I just went into my room, took off the filthy clothes, wiped my body with a towel, and put on some fresh clothes. Thank goodness the fish scent was still heavy in the air.
I knew the man Cynthia was talking about. Of course he attended the annual reaping. And I saw him one day catching catfish. He wasn't old like everyone claimed he was. The man was probably forty or so. But he definitely carried the look of a tired, lifeless nobody.
Knocking on the door, it took a minute for him to open the door. When he did, I was speechless. His present state was much worse than before. The bags under his eyes had grandchildren and his face was hauntingly defined. District 4 was known for having attractive features. We were different. That's why the Marsh felt like its' own district.
"You missed your sister. She was just here," he said.
"That's why I'm here. Can I come in?"
He backed away from the doorway, allowing me entrance. The interior of his house was bare and cold. It wasn't just the reaping atmosphere. There was only a wooden rocking chair and a TV. Of course the Capitol had to provide the fellow districts with access to the ever-so-loved Hunger Games. But there were no lamps or tables. Boy this was depressing. I was already feeling guilty for coming over here with the intention to tell him off.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
In a normal house he would've offered me a seat. But I would've felt bad taking his only chair. "Cynthia tells me you do predictions now."
He looked amused. "It was more of hopeful advice. She looked worried about you."
"Had her fooled," I said. "What's your name?"
He didn't seem offended by my rudeness. "Sheldon," he replied. At least I had a name for him. "Do you feel confident with this year's Hunger Games?"
"I don't hope to be reaped," was all I could say. One of the attributes of being a Career Tribute was volunteering for the games. The people in the Marsh had more sense. And sometimes I thought it paid off. We were a small population of the district but it was rare that we ever got reaped. And it was even less likely that no one would volunteer to take our place. Maybe the Capitol rigged our bowl, making sure the healthy, strong, and clean take the death sentence. Heck, they could have it.
"Could you win if you did?" Sheldon said.
"I'm not buff like the other guys. I wouldn't bet on myself." Like about everyone in District 4, I could swim. And I'd learned how to hold my breath for 3 and a half minutes during contests with my friends. Those weren't very reliable survival skills.
The man's eyes lit up and he dashed around a corner. When he came out, he was moving around a golden object in his body fingers. I took it and prodded it with my mud-caked fingernail. I'd never seen something like this. It was a salamander in the center and its' tail was connected to the ring surrounding it. It had a pin to attach to a shirt. Surprisingly, it seemed in good condition.
"What's this for?"
"Adapt to survive. A salamander can live in the worlds of land and water. They started in water but they adapted and made it to the land. And so can us. We can start somewhere and end up totally different without truly losing our roots. Will you hold on to this?"
I clasped the pin and gently put it in my pocket. Did Sheldon think I was going into the games? He seemed so sure I was going to die. I patted my side where the golden salamander sat.
"I'll see you at the reaping," I said and left his house.
Returning back to the house, my parents and Cynthia were waiting for me. They were all dressed formally but me. My sister was even tapping her foot. "Shut up," I told her and retreated upstairs to get cleaned.
After washing up, I put on a white shirt tucked in a pair of dark pants. And after getting my shoes on, it was almost 2 o'clock. Before we left out, we stood in a square formation, all giving each other looks of love and appreciation. This was something the Hunger Games threatened to take away. But they never could.
Arriving at the town square, I already felt like I was in the arena. The cameras were capturing every face, every tear. Cynthia and I split up from our parents. They waved at us and whispered good luck.
"We're gonna be alright," Cynthia said. "What will make this year any different?"
I was too nervous to wear the pin so it just sat in my pocket. Right now it weighed a ton. My eyes darted over the fear-stricken faces for the hollow face of Sheldon. It's not like you had a choice to show up or not. Unless you were on the verge of death, you had to attend. And if you didn't, there was a prison waiting for you.
Eventually we arrived at the potential tributes. And now it was time to split to our own age groups. Cynthia kissed me on the cheek and just when she pulled away did I realize that she was holding my hand. And a part of me (a very small part) didn't want to let go. Once I found Percy and the other guys, I was comfortable again.
The boys from the richer parts pushed and shoved us aside as they went to get a good look at the stage. The mayor was there, along with District 4's escort Pearl Harbor. She was a very prude woman with a bad sense of humor and a worse sense of fashion. Her dress was purple and had strips of cloth that were supposed to resemble octopus legs. The sea witch was making us Swamp People look normal.
In another chair was our district idol and famed victor Finnick Odair. He was a heartthrob for the ladies. Luckily for him, he was usually at the Capitol so his fans couldn't peep in his house in the Victor's Village. Finnick represented all what was wrong with the majority of District 4: vain and a big ego. But his sharp looks were enough for people to ignore his faults.
The mayor got up to the podium right when the clock struck 2. He cleared his throat and ran through the normal introduction. And then the sea witch took his place.
"Happy Hunger Games to you all. Once again I am proud to be the escort for the gorgeous District 4." But the way her voice came out like she was suffering from chronic depression didn't make her words very believable. Unfortunately she continued. "I won't leave you anticipating any longer. Let's start with the ladies."
Finnick gave a wave to the crowd. I thought I saw a girl faint. Making girls sweaty idiots was probably a good perk.
Pearl's manicured fingers reached into the girl reaping ball. She turned her hand in the paper like a washing machine to build the tension. And finally they hooked on a single sheet of paper. Our escort slowly walked back to the microphone and opened the paper.
Just like any other year, I repeated in my head.
"Destiny Sanders," Pearl announced. My lungs released all the air they could contain. Cynthia was safe and sound, never again to fear the wrath of the Hunger Games. I would never tell her but now I was jealous.
Percy patted me on the shoulder. I wasn't even looking for Destiny. I was too busy searching for Cynthia. The whole group of 18 year old girls were giggling and waving at their family, telling them they were safe. And finally I found Sheldon. My fingers instinctively gripped my salamander pin. He mouthed a word: adapt.
The sound of Pearl's clearing throat grabbed my attention again. But before I could turn around, a name was already called. It was Remy Dubois, my name.
