Chapter 2: The Reaping
Brian's POV
"Hey, Brian" a voice cooed from somewhere above me.
"Brian, it's time to get up" added another.
"Come on, little Brian, wake up" yet another person sang.
I moaned, burying my head in my pillow and pulling the blanket up over my head.
"Baby Brian better get up…"
"If little Bri-Bri doesn't get up, Bri-Bri's going to get in trouble"
I merely groaned again, trying to sink back into my wonderful dream. The voices whispered and giggled for a moment before they shut up and one set of footsteps traveled away from my mat on the floor. Soon, I heard the footsteps returning, and an odd sloshing noise.
"Is baby Bri-Bri going to get up?" I didn't move.
The next thing I knew, it felt as if I was being bitchslapped by a tidal wave, soaked in freezing cold water. I jerked up in my bed to see my 3 older brothers doubled over in laughter.
"What the hell?" I wiped water from my eyes.
"Your face" choked out Jake before relapsing into laughter. Sam and Andrew just laughed harder.
"Very funny." I muttered, climbing off of my mat and stalking to the corner of our hut to grab a towel.
"Think of it this way," Andrew snorted, "at least you don't have to bathe for the reaping!"
"I'm so grateful that I think I will strangle you all."
"Just get dressed. You'll never be as funny as us." Jake sneered, "we'll be at the square, waiting for the reaping."
"What? It's way too early for the Reaping."
"Uh, no it's not. You slept in. It's 11, the Reaping is in an hour."
"WHY DID YOU NOT THROW WATER AT ME EARLIER?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. We just forgot."
I just stared at them, speechless.
"We're going to meet Mom and Dad, don't get picked, Bri-Bri."
"Good luck, baby Brian."
"I hope little Bri-Guy doesn't have to go to the Capital, who would we throw water at then?"
They walked out the door, shoving each other and joking.
I buried my face in the towel, loudly cursing whatever temporary insanity that had caused my parents to insist on all of us living together, to promote "bonding" or something idiotic like that.
Quickly drying myself off, I threw on a nice, button down shirt and some neat pants. I hopped out the door, pulling on my shoes, my tie draped around my neck.
On the walk to the main square I finished tying my shoes and tie, ignoring the strange looks I got from passerby. Once there, I joined Darren, Joey, Dylan, Nick, and a few other of our friends in the area sectioned off for 17 year old guys. A little ways away from us, beyond the dividing rope, stood the girls. Lauren looked especially beautiful today in a black flowered dress, her hair curled and hanging down her back. She stood between Julia and Meredith, her face composed but a glint of panic in her eye. I continued to watch her until Walker nudged me out of my reverie.
"Yo, Brian. It's starting."
The mayor mounted the stage, sending a ripple of quiet spreading out through the people watching below. He began to read the boring, seemingly never ending Treaty of Treason, outlining our horrible sins against the glorious Capital, detailing the horrific form of compensation we must now pay for our wrongdoing, showing us that they own us. Entertainment. Fun. That is what we are, merely another game for them to enjoy. They take what we create, our resources, products, animals. Our children. They take, and they destroy. They use for their own pleasure, and we stand by and watch and grovel at their feet because what else can we do? He reads the list of District 7 victors, a decent sized list, and for a moment an unbearable rage rises up in my chest, but then the mayor introduces Avarya Rison, District 7's escort, and that rage transforms into contempt for this primped woman, prodded into far too small clothes and masked with what looks like pounds of make up.
"Hello!" she chirps, excited. "Happy Hunger Games! Ooh, I can just feel how excited you all must be!"
Darren and I look at each other and roll our eyes.
Avarya prattles on for a few minutes about how truly excited she is to be here and how honored each and every one of us should feel to be able to represent the glory of our District. Cue more eye rolling.
Finally she wrapped up her spiel and skipped to the giant glass ball with a shrill giggle of "Time to find the lucky lady!"
Absolute silence fell over the assembled District. Avarya's slender finger probed the white paper slips inside the ball, swirling them around, until she snagged one of them. I glanced over at the girl's section. Our friends were holding their breath, waiting, with faces pale and muscles taut. Lauren and Julia had seized each other's hands with an iron grip. I had just returned my eyes to Avarya when she plucked the chosen slip out of the ball, unfolding it.
"Hem hem" she cleared her throat, and then, in a high pitched and excited voice, read out the name:
"Lauren Lopez."
I stopped breathing. No, no, no, no, I must have heard the name wrong, because that simply couldn't happen. It couldn't.
And yet Lauren was walking towards the stage, her face still in that calm, composed mask, but her eyes an ocean of panic and disbelief.
I wanted to run towards her, to scream and yell and make everyone see how much of a mistake this was. Lauren was too small! She would be crushed! No, this couldn't happen. I stood, rooted to the ground, unable to breathe, as my life fell to pieces around me, because the moment that she was taken from me was the moment that I, for the first time in my life, allowed myself to truly love her.
Lauren's POV
"Lauren Lopez."
Me?
I stiffened, my brain on overdrive as I tried to process what was happening. Julia pulled me in closer to her, embracing me and whispered "stay strong" in my ear before releasing my hand and stepping back.
I took one step, then another towards the stage. I saw my face projected on the screens hung on the sides of the buildings surrounding the square, and arranged my features so that I would at least look calm. How soon before those screens would show my death?
People parted before me, like Moses parting the Red Sea in those stories we read in Ancient Culture class in school.
I reached the stage and went to stand beside Avarya Rison, the escort. I was a good foot shorter than her, though that may have been assisted by the gigantic heels she was wearing.
"Would anyone like to volunteer as tribute in the place of Ms. Lopez?" Avarya chirped.
I searched the crowd, locating my friends. Jaime was crying into Denise's shoulder, Meredith stark white and clutching her hand. I caught Julia's eyes, saw her internal battle between the promise that we had all made and the fierce instinct of friendship telling her to help me, to save me. Never breaking eye contact, I, almost imperceptibly, shook my head. Here was one thing that I absolutely would not allow her to do for me. I watched as her eyes filled with pain and tears.
Stay strong
"No? Anyone? Okay then, on to the boys!" gabbed Avarya, skipping away from me and to the boys' ball. Now it was time to stop worrying about my own future and worry about the futures of my friends. I looked over to the boys' section. Most looked completely shocked, staring at me with horror. Brian was just watching me, his eyes brimming with pain and worry and something else, something that I couldn't identify.
Avarya picked a slip, calling a name that I couldn't care less about because it wasn't Joe or Darren or Joey or Dylan or Jim or anybody else. Especially Brian. We just watched each other as Avarya finished the ceremony, finally tearing my eyes off of his when I was instructed to turn and shake hands with my male counterpart. This was the first time I got a good look at him. A tall, skinny boy, all arms and legs, who couldn't be older than 15. He was trying desperately to look strong, but, as I clasped his hand, I felt his body's violent shaking.
Soon after we were ushered off the stage and into the Justice Building, into an ancient elevator that creaked and shuddered dangerously. We were separated then, and placed into rooms where we would await our visitors.
My first visitors were my parents. My mother cried, rocking me back and forth, and I buried my face into her shirt, inhaling one last smell of her comforting perfume. My father stood to the side, clutching my hand.
Stay strong
Soon it was time for them to go. They were yanked out of the door by impatient Peacekeepers, their hands extended to me, pleading with the Peacekeepers, with the Capitol, with all of Panem to just go away and let them have me back.
Stay strong
Once they had been pried from the doorway and thrown from the room, I barely had enough time to take a deep, shuddering breath before the door almost burst off of its hinges and my frantic friends came flooding into the room.
Stay strong