As I reach home, I notice that the door is open ajar, and I step inside to the sound of yawns and walking feet on creaky wood planks. Everyone has just woken up, and they all must be hungry. I turn to my left into the kitchen, putting the loaves and pint on a plate. My mother is the first one to enter. She has ashen skin like all of this, with long blonde hair unlike my father. My sister and I both have brown hair, so the blonde hair is recessive. She's also wearing a long nightgown that she bought when she got married to our father, its silky fabric now treading on the floor while she walks over to me.
"Why are you up so early?" she asks, and I can't help but smile.
"That's exactly what Sparky said when I went to The Gear this morning." I say. "He gave me these free of charge." I point to the food on the plate.
My mother rolls her eyes at the comment.
"That Sparky! He shouldn't be handing out things for free, even if it's Reaping Day. He needs that money to support his family just like the rest of us."
"Yeah but look!" I exclaim, hoping to turn the attention away from Sparky towards what he gave us for breakfast.
Her eyes widen as she sees the bread and berries. She walks over to the plate, lifts it up and brings it over to the counter, and begins to cook.
"I'm going to make these berries into some of my favorite jams." she says.
I wait for a second before starting to walk away from her. She doesn't ask if I would like anything else, the silence of her cooking meaning she wants some peace and quiet.
I quietly leave the room and saunter down the hall to my sister's bedroom. I don't bother about the drawing, but more care if she is up and ready to eat in a few minutes, since jam is probably all we'll eat until the Reaping. Her door is unlocked, which is a hopeful sign, and I step inside.
I see her sitting on her bed, her legs hung over the side, her brown hair to match mine falling onto the mattress.
"Clarissa?" I say. She doesn't respond.
"Clarissa?' I ask again this time a hint of question in my tone.
"Yeah?" She answers. "I… was just thinking about what's going to happen today that's all."
I walk over to her and sit down beside her.
"You are not going to be picked, and neither will I. Alright? It's only 15 slips out of thousands."
We each decided to buy tesserae for each of us when we turned 12, which lead to us to have 5 slips instead of just one. After 2 years, we both being 14 years old, means that Clarissa and myself will both have 15 slips, meaning 30 slips in total.
"How do you know? How are you so sure?" Clarissa asks.
"I know. I just do." I say to her quietly. "Let's go eat before it turns 2pm."
We then both maneuver up from her bed and out to the door again to the kitchen, the floor now creaking with each step we take.
Our father is now awake, his movement as silent as ever, and his shaggy brown hair that hasn't been brushed in days is now matted. He is wearing the clothes he usually needs for work, even though the employees of the factories have a day off today.
Our family lives in the factory section of District 3, which is the poorest section because the workers aren't paid much, and there's always dust or ash from the fumes on just about everything. It's better up north, where most people are specialists in electronics rather than gear work and assembly lines. They usually get little amounts of tesserae, or none at all if they're lucky. We don't despise the people up north, but there's always tension between us. There are almost always disputes about income and working hours. On the other hand, we both don't know what the other has to deal with, what struggles they have go through to survive.
We almost seem to eat in silence, using a dull butter knife to gently glide the jam onto the slices of bread. We don't speak about what will happen later today, how 2 children between the ages of 12 and 18 will be selected to fight to the death. Or how almost all the families in District 3 will eat with pleasure, knowing that their children weren't picked this year. Or even how the other families, the two that had their children snatched from them, will have to decide what to do in the coming days before their children die.
