A/N: Hey! How did you guys like my girls? I'm trying really hard to get a chapter out a day at the moment, at least until we get these crazy gals actually INTO the arena,! I'm VERY excited about this arena *cackles evily*
Chapter Two: Reactions
Ireland Lerark
District 11
/
I wish I had been listening more carefully to the Capitol man instead of focusing on his stupid trousers because now... Well now I'm not sure what's happening. Everyone around me looks confused too, they look confused and they're also looking at me, looking at me like... Oh no. It can't be me? Surely my brain would have registered my own name if it had been announced? I'm not that stupid right? But people are still looking me so maybe I am that stupid. I turn to my best friend and and mouth the simple words;
'is it me?'
She nods in response, and I notice there are tears in her eyes, and I feel them starting to form in my own. Without speaking she pulls me into a hug and I do my best to keep from sobbing out loud. People will be watching me and I've already marked myself as incompetent by not even responding to my own name. Maybe people will think I'm in shock. Maybe I am in shock.
"Once again, the name of the tribute reaped is Ireland Lerark!" Says the tanned Capitol man in the tight gold outfit and I know I'm out of time. I give Taya my best 'I'm fine' smile, which comes out more of a watery grimace, and I walk towards the stage. I'm not thinking about my mother, I'm not thinking about my brother. I won't let myself cry.
Samara Almas
District 1
/
"The female tribute representing District 1 this year will be...Samara Almas!"
My breath catches in my throat as I recognise my own name. Samara Almas. Yes, that's definitely my name. That means I've been reaped. For the Hunger Games.
I'm gonna die.
No! I can't think like that. That's ridiculous and I'm going to psyche myself out. There will be a volunteer, there's always a volunteer.
I look straight ahead and see the cameras trained on the crowds, waiting for this 'Samara Almas' to make herself known. This was not the close up I was expecting. I take a step forward and throw Marilyn and the girls a quick wink over my shoulder before I head up to the stage. Calm down Samara. Calm down.
I take a few steps and let the cheering of the crowd wash over me. Once the shock starts to wear off I think maybe I'll be able to pull it together. It's District 1 after all, there's always volunteers, so I may as well enjoy the attention while I have it. I'll just smile and wave like a career and act all disappointed when the other girl takes my place, which should be any second now... Any second now.
Alydia Lewis
District 6
/
It's me.
It's me.
It's actually me.
I clench my jaw up tight and try to prepare myself. Right now, no one knows who I am. Right now I'm still who I was a moment ago, just another face in the crowd. But, as soon as I look up, as soon as I take a step forward, that girl that I was will be dead, and a tribute will stand in her place.
I hold my head up proudly as I walk onto the stage. I take my place behind the Capitol woman and risk a look out at the crowd. No one looks happy. People in District 6 never do look happy, no matter who is reaped. I'm grateful to them, it would be easy for them to be happy, happy that their own daughters are safe. For another year at least.
At the edge of the square I catch sight of my father being restrained by two other men. He looks terrifying, like a man possessed. He isn't crying or shouting or lashing out, he looks how I imagine a sleepwalker to look. Not in control of his own body, his face completely slack, he's trying his best to walk to me, to save me. But he can't. It's surreal to see him like this, the only desperate movement in a still crowd of hundreds. I turn my face away from him and line my vision above the crowd. I need to be strong now. But, as I look out, I give a quick stiff nod. A nod that's meant to mean; 'accept this and 'we'll both be fine'. Whether he understands this, or even sees me I do not know but I do it anyway, my own silent goodbye to my life here and to the girl I was a moment ago.
Ireland Lerark
District 11
/
I keep my eyes on the floor as I walk to the stage. I'm shaking from head to toe, and I'm beyond trying to stop myself. At least I'm still managing not to cry. The man in the gold trousers pats me on the back and leads me by the arm to my place on stage. He might be doubting my ability to walk as he's gripping me quite tightly. Fantastic, that's just what the people want, a tribute who can't even walk.
I stand there, shaking like a cowardly flan for a few moments while the man asks the crowd if any volunteers would like to take my place. I try not to look too pathetically hopeful, but of course no one comes forward. They never do in District 11. I feel a tear slide down my cheek as my last ray of hope dies in front of me. Gold trouser man flashes me a quick smile, like the fact no one wants to take my place is the best news ever, before crossing the stage to the glass ball containing the boys names. He reaches around the ball dramatically for a moment, show boating for the crowd, before producing a sliver of white paper.
"Hunter Fallon!"
A boy near the front of the stage steps up almost immediately. He's a tall boy, and well built, with the dark skin and eyes so common in our district. He looks as though he could do quite well in the Arena, and I think, at least my district has a hope.
Samara Almas
District 1
/
Any second now. Any second now a big tough career girl is going to barge up here and take my place... Any second now.
"Is there no one who would volunteer as female tribute for District 1, in this the 68th Annual Hunger Games?"
Of course there is. There always is.
"No one?"
Always.
"Moving on then, to the men."
"No" I say "There must be some mistake." No one responds. I'm talking out loud but no one is paying any attention to me. Rude. I don't have a microphone so the crowd can't hear me, but the other people on the stage should be able to. I look desperately around at them but no one is looking at me. They're all watching the pale willowy man from the Capitol who is about to announce the name of the boy that will join me in the arena.
Join me in the Arena!
I can't believe this, I won't believe this. And why does everyone look so damn happy? Don't they know this is a mistake? That they have the wrong girl? I am not a career! I am not a tribute! Why can't they see that?! I'm clearly distressed now, shouldn't someone come forward?
"Sir" I say, stepping out of my assigned place to tap the escort on the shoulder "Are you sure because-"
The glare the Capitol man is gives me cuts me off cold. I've never seen anyone from the Capitol up close before and honestly I used to think all their plastic surgery looked sort of cool and interesting, but seeing it up close. It looks sort of scary. He's sort of scary, like he would gladly tear off my arms as punishment for speaking out of turn. I make a motion of zipping up my mouth and throwing away the key and the man returns to his duty. And I return to my assigned place.
"Garnett Gintaras!"
A tough looking guy I recognise from school steps out of the crowd almost at once. He's fist pumping the air and looking way too pleased with himself, like he just won man of the year or something. Mr. Snooty Capitol man seems much more pleased with him than he did with me and his plastic face even manages a small smile, or at least I think it's meant to be a smile, it just looks painful. He turns back out to the crowd and speaks again.
"Is there no one who would volunteer as male tribute for District 1, in this the 68th Annual Hunger Games?"
At least five people raise their hands.
"You've got to be kidding me!" I say, although by now I know that no one is listening. "Seriously?"
The boy I recognise as Rider Harkins reaches the stage first and announces that he 'would be honoured to represent his district as a tribute' and I make a show of gagging into my hand. I find replacing my blinding fear with mockery and light humour is helping.
There's a full ten minutes of arguments before the Capitol security guards have to come and restrain Garnett, Rider and the wanna-tributes. Mr. Snooty Capitol Pants then announces that, as the first to present himself, Rider Harkins shall be named official tribute of District 1. Wonderful. How nice for him. I can't believe I called him cute not 10 minutes ago. He's not cute. He's stupid.
He leaps up the stairs of the stage two at a time and takes his place on my left, flashing me a huge smile as he does. I roll my eyes back at him.
The mayor makes his boring speech and then it's time for my new friend and I to shake hands. I turn to face him properly for the first time and realise I kid of sort of know this boy, he used to be friends with one of my brothers and I have memories of them playing some ridiculous game in our back yard, probably the Butter Games. He's medium height, athletic build, with ashen hair and steely grey eyes. His skin is pale I notice, which is odd for someone from District 1. He grips my small hand tightly in his large one and gives me a grin.
"Are you excited?" He asks.
"Can't wait." I say, and I don't think he gets my sarcasm.
Alydia Lewis
District 6
/
The lady from the Capitol, my escort, whose name I think might be something Nu, is smiling at me. I worry for a moment that she might want me to make a speech. I quickly dismiss the idea though, I'm 99% sure I've never seen the tributes make speeches before. I give her a tight smile back and this seems to satisfy her as she moves on to choose the name of the male tribute. She has short white blonde hair and kind eyes, and when she speaks she does so in a way that is soft and gentle enough to almost hide the metallic sound of the Capitol accent.
She reaches quickly into the ball and announces the name.
"Tam Basset. Could Tam Basset please come to the stage."
A boy with greasy black hair appears from the middle of the crowd, he looks about 14 years old and walks with measured steps, his fists clenched tightly to his side. He stands next to me on the stage and Miss Nu smiles at him as well. I listen to the Mayor's speech and continue the challenge of not looking out at the crowd. I distract myself by watching the shimmering silvery highlights in Miss Nu's hair. Before long we are instructed to shake hands and I turn to face the boy who shares my fate.
His face is scrunched up in what looks like concentration but I suppose could be pain. He holds his hand out stiffly and I take it. I notice his hand, like his hair, is very oily.
"It's nice to meet you." I say. He does not respond.
Ireland Lerark
District 11
/
Hunter Fallon, the tall boy with the dark hair and eyes, has just reached my side when there is a small voice from the throngs of the crowd.
"I'll volunteer! I'll volunteer for the Games!"
Mr. Gold Trousers looks a bit taken aback, but flashes his best Capitol smile to the crowd.
"Is that a volunteer I hear?" He asks dramatically, as if he's a dame in some amateur pantomime. I can hear the gasps and mumbling from the crowd, a volunteer here is 11 is unprecedented and I can only imagine the type of person who would volunteer here must lead a very sad life, as to volunteer is almost certainly to die.
"My name is Luca Lerark and I volunteer as tribute!"
My heart stops instantly.
No.
NO.
NO!
Luca? What? My baby brother? The boy I held in my arms when he cried? The boy I taught to ride my old bike? The boy who still has to sleep with the candle burning sometimes because he has nightmares? I don't have to look very hard to find him, his arms flailing around dramatically as he marches his way up to the stage.
"Luca!" I yell, I can't stop myself "No! Don't! Go back! Go find mother!"
But he's ignoring me. If I wasn't crying before I definitely am now, I can barely see him through the haze in my eyes, as he walks past me to tap Hunter Fallon on the elbow, as if to tag him out. I scrunch my eyes and try to shout at him to go back, to run, before it's too late. But no sound will come out, only high pitched noises of grief.
He takes my hand and I can't believe what's happening. I can't even process what's happening around me any more. Why would he do this? I might have been okay, it was a tiny chance but maybe through some miracle I might have made it. But he can't, he's too young and too foolish. My little brother has just committed suicide and there's nothing that can be done to take it back. And he's killed me as well, I now know my fate, I know how I will die, my last action will be protecting my brother. Neither of us are coming back from the Arena. But, worse than that, worse than the knowledge of my own death, is this horrible feeling, a sinking gnawing hole in my stomach I know I can never get rid of again. Guilt.
The Gold Trouser man approaches us, probably to ask me to calm down, I'm sobbing quite loudly now, and I grab his arm. He recoils at my touch and I can tell that underneath his pantomime smiles and show boating, he's disgusted by me. As though I'll taint his fancy Capitol suit with my filthy peasant tears and snot.
"Please, my brother... He's too young. Please, please he's only 12, he doesn't understand. He'll die! Please-"
But the music is playing and the lights are going down and I know I've been cut off. After all tributes aren't meant to show emotion, aren't meant to show fear. God forbid our pain and grief would make the audience feel bad for us.
That's it for another chapter! Can you believe Luca? What a crazy kid. What did you think of the girls reactions? How to do you think they'll handle their goodbyes? Tune in tomorrow to find out! R&R people! I'm kind of winging this so I'm open to suggestions ;)
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