Alright here's the next chapter. This is Roxanne Chamber. From District 8, in case you have forgotten. Roxanne has an interesting past. This chapter doesn't reveal a lot about it, but when it is all the little details will fall into place. Hope you all enjoy.
Chapter Two
What Goes Up... You Know the Rest
Roxanne Chamber POV
"Reaping Day, it's a death sentence dressed up as a holiday." That's what one of my teammates said once, and he was right. We get out of school and work and dress up all nice and neat just so we can be sent to the slaughter. Stupid Capitol, I would love to see how entertaining they thought it was if it were their own kids dying on television.
I picked up another baseball from the bucket I had beside me. I tossed it up in the air and caught it. It took me only a second to focus in my target, an old beat up mattress from the junk yard with a target painted on it. The ball rocketed out of my hand. It hit the worn bedding leaving an indent and sending up a cloud of dust.
I had been doing this since early this morning. There were two reasons for me pitching: one it calms me, two after the reaping my team has a game to celebrate or commemorate.
I went for another baseball when I heard my name called. "Yeah," I yelled back.
"Sweetie," it was my mother, "come on in you need to get ready."
"Okay."
I collected the baseballs, one at a time. With them all back in the bucket I trudged back my house. I set them just inside the kitchen.
Jessie, my mom, stood at the entrance to living room with her hands on her hips. "Could you have taken longer?"
I stood there for a few seconds pretending to ponder the thought.
"Just go upstairs and take a bath," she snapped.
I was heading upstairs when I heard her, "Your reaping day dress will be on your bed when you're finish."
I stopped halfway up the stairs. "Dress? Dress? I thought we talked about it last year. I know you are going to make me dress like a girl, but anything but a dress," I reminded her. "I will wear a skirt."
"That was last year. Besides, you look so pretty in a dress."
I sigh as I continued up the stairs. I didn't feel like arguing. "It isn't too girly is it?" I asked.
"I don't think so," she replied.
That wasn't too reassuring. We had two totally different views of girly. If there were floral patterns or frills I would give it away as soon as I could.
The bath was already ready. I submersed myself in the warm relaxing water. It felt exceptionally nice on my shoulder. I think I over did it while practicing. My shoulder started to get sore the moment I was called in. I moved it a little as I soaked.
"Hope this doesn't mess up my game," I thought.
Once I was done I scurried to my room. I pushed the door close behind me with my foot. I grabbed a comb and ran it through my short red tomboyish hair. I then eyed the vile thing that was on my bed. It didn't take me too long to slip into the dress. I felt like a clown.
I decided to see how bad I looked in it. I walked back to the bathroom, and stood across from the mirror to examine myself. It wasn't horrible. It was a deep purple colored with light blue trim at the bottom. Personally it was shorter than I would have usually liked, just barely reaching my knees, where it flared out. It looked good how it was, and not too bad on me.
The more I looked I couldn't shake the feeling I had seen this dress before. I'm not sure where. I don't go dress shopping. The only time I'm ever around dresses is when… Then it hits me.
"Mom!" I yelled.
I stormed out my room and down the stairs. We met at the foot of the staircase. I wouldn't say I was furious or even steaming, but I was pissed.
"I made this dress for Mrs. Help's daughter," I snapped.
Yes, I make dresses. It is one of the few, very few, girly things I do. It was something me and my grandmother did together before she passed away. I sometimes made dresses for the district's girls for some money.
"It was never attended for Jocelyn," she explained. "She did pay for it, but I was the one that gave her the money to pay for it. I was also the one told her the description."
I stood there for a second trying to figure out why she went through all that trouble.
As if she read my mind she continued, "I knew you wouldn't make a dress for yourself, and if you did you would have sabotaged it." She did have a point. "It's really important that you look nice for today."
"Why? What for? For the reaping, the capitol?" I threw my hands over my face. "You didn't, did you? You set me up on another blind date." I didn't give her time to respond. "Mom, I don't want a boyfriend."
I started to storm up the stairs when she called after me, "Roxanne, your dad is coming home."
I stopped dead in my tracks. "D…Dad?" My voice caught in my throat for a second. "Daddy is really coming home?"
"Yes," I could hear the emotion building up in her voice, "he told me the last time I went to visit."
I can feel tears well up in my eyes. "But I thought he wouldn't get his first parole hearing for another four years."
"He's not sure how it happened, but it got moved up. And, well now he's getting out, today.
"I think you should look your best."
I wiped away the tears that started to run down my cheek. Without turning around I added, "I wish you told me. I would have made a nicer dress."
"You look beautiful."
I turned around and gave a halfhearted eye roll. "Yeah, right." I wiped away more tears. I couldn't make them stop.
At that point my obnoxious brother, Caleb, burst through the door. He had been out doing who knows what. From the smell I guessed drinking, probably to celebrate that he wasn't in the reaping this year.
"Hiya," he greeted rubbing his eyes. "Why are you crying Rox?"
"I'm not," I shot back. He covered his ears in pain. He was definitely hung over. "Dad's getting out today."
"Quit yelling," he groaned. "Wait, what? Dad is coming home?"
"Yes you idiot," I chuckled. My brother was always funnier/ oblivious when he was drunk or hung over.
"Now hurry up and get dressed," our mother ordered, "and when we get back your father and I are going to have a long talk about your drinking."
"I wasn't drinking," he defended.
"Dude, the only way you it could be more obvious is if you walked in with a beer bottle," I explained.
He stumbled up the stairs drunk and defeated. After a few minutes, and a few smashing sounds, later he came back down. I fell to the ground laughing and Mom shook her head disappointedly.
"What?" he asked clearly confused.
"Your shirt is… it's on backwards," I told him between fits of laughter. To make it worse it was a button up shirt.
"I… I knew that," he said after he figured it out. "It's a new fashion statement."
It had been turning out to be the best day ever.
After he got everything straightened, we headed for the prison. Caleb walked the whole way squinting against the shining sun. I did feel bad for him. I knew what sort of pain he was in.
Mom made sure we left early because the prison is on the opposite direction from the town square. Still we had to hurry. It wasn't a secret that my father was in prison, so people looked at us like we were dirty. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed in the slightest.
The jail was set on the outskirts of the district, with no other buildings around it. We waited outside the large solid gates. Time seemed to creep by, but it didn't dampen my spirits. Mom was worried though. She checked her watch every so often.
"I'm going to go check see what the holdup is."
Just as she started the doors began to move.
"Dad!" I yelled.
I ran toward him with arms open. I tripped over the heels or pumps or whatever you call them, but Dad was there to catch me.
"Careful," he told me.
"Sorry got too excited."
"Well, you seem to be okay, little Roxy."
He helped me back to my feet. "Now, don't you look pretty?"
"Thanks Dad," I said with a sarcastic eye roll. I did like the compliment. It's just a bit weird for me to be called pretty.
"Learn how to take a compliment, without the eye roll," he instructed, ruffling my hair.
At that point Caleb ran over and knocked us both to the ground.
"Get off me you drunken idiot," I complained. I didn't mean for the 'drunken' to slip out.
Dad grabbed him by the hair and asked sternly, "You've been drinking?"
"Yeah," he responded sheepishly.
"We'll talk about it later."
"Yes sir."
"Guys we have to get to the reaping. We don't have a lot time left," she informed us.
We unscrambled from each other and started to the square. People avoided us all together as we headed for the square. They saw him for what the peacekeepers made him, a criminal. Not for what he was, a hero.
That day couldn't have gotten better. My father's out of jail, my brother will actually be funny for at least another half an hour, my team was going to cream the other team. What in the world could have gone wrong?
"And your female tribute is Roxanne Heart."
There was that. I was still on my emotional high that it took me a few moments to realize that my whole world had crashed around me.
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. My life had just got better, and then I was put on death sentence.
I fought the tears as I walked up to the stage. I wasn't going to cry. Only girls cry.
I could see my dad. He looked like he was going to kill someone. The only thing that I think kept him was my mom's grip on his wrist. He had his teeth bared and stared at the pink cotton candy looking escort. Personally I would have loved to see him rip into her if it wasn't for the fact he would be killed on the spot and I would still be sent to be killed. She was the only the second person that I thought deserved to die, but she wouldn't be the last.
I was shortly joined by a 13 year old boy named, Donald Donald. It started to rain as we shook hands.
Alright that's all for now. Just two more tributes. Hope you all have enjoyed it thus far. I've tried my best to give each of the character's a unique voice from one another. I think I did a good job, but if you think otherwise just tell me and I'll try ti fix that. Also if there is something that I can do to make the story more interesting or better just tell. Either by PM or in your reviews. So until next time.
