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Rue:
I wake up to sunlight streaming through the window, right into my eyes. It throws patches of light into our house (shack, really) through the windows and cracks onto my siblings all sprawled on the threadbare mattress that we share. Then it hits me-the sun is streaming in! We're late! I let out a shriek, which makes the twins, Aero and Fletcher, stir ever slightly.
"Wake up!" I scream. I'm remembering what the Peacekeepers did to that family last week who tried to steal some apples from the orchards.
It was the end of the day. I had just seen the flag and was about to whistle to my mockingjay friends, when I hear another melodic whistle from above me. Craning my head up, I see Brooke, younger than me by three years, balanced very precariously directly on top of the persimmon tree I'm working in. A surge of anger goes through me; music is one of the few joys in my life! How could she take that away from me? "Brooke!" I hiss. But Cleo and Betsy have already started singing the tune and then it spreads through the orchard.
I scramble down the tree with ease, jumping the last ten feet or so. A thump next to me tells me Brooke did the same. I know it's petty, but I'm still kind of annoyed with her for signaling the end of the day. Jealous, at the same time, of taking what is usually my role. It's a role I take pride in, too, everyone's always so happy when they hear my end-of-the-day whistle.
Brooke just started working in the orchards, and only because it's harvest season and there was a recent flu outbreak that took our numbers down quite a bit. I walk with her out of the orchard after dropping off the rest of the gathered persimmons to the waiting Peacekeepers with baskets, and I see them. It's getting dark out and I thankfully can't tell who it is. It's a group of four, most likely a family, two adults and two kids. The adults have slight bulges in their clothes, barely noticeable, but I can see it. And if I saw it, then so did the Peacekeepers.
At first, I think the Peacekeepers may have not noticed, and that the family can go home and enjoy some food for once. But then one, the really cruel one who hits with his gun, stops them. Pointing his gun at them, he says something, and the family reluctantly obeys. What choice do they have? They begin to take off their clothes and, unsurprisingly, a few apples come rolling out. Now they will be lead to the whipping post in the middle of town, tied up, and beat until the Head Peacekeeper is satisfied.
A small figure bumps into me, reminding me that I am not alone, that I have to take care of Brooke. "What are they doing?" she whispers.
Even at nine years old, she's learned what to say, when and where. I lie, "I'm not sure. Come on, looks like it's a jam, let's take the other exit." The one that does not lead to the center of town, and the inevitable gallows and posts where the family will be dragged to, but rather through the grain fields and to our house. I've grabbed her hand and started to push through the crowd, now murmuring unhappily about the impending punishment, when Brooke stops.
"Rue," she says a little louder, "Look!"
The family isn't being lead anywhere, in fact, the Peacekeeper is hitting the woman repeatedly with his gun right there. "Look away Brooke," I say, but she doesn't. I see the Peacekeeper cock his gun, and I can't believe this is happening. "Brooke," I say urgently.
"Look at me," I order. I make sure she has her back to the crowd and I sing softly, "Deep in the meadow, under the willow-"
BLAM! The shot rings out and some woman near us lets out a small whimper. I can see tears forming in Brooke's eyes, and she starts to turn her head. "No!" I say fiercely. "Look at me, listen to me." I resume my song, "A bed of grass-"
BLAM! I allow myself one look, and I instantly regret it. There's blood and the two kids are screaming hysterically. Peacekeepers have restrained them and another is readying his gun. Following my own advice, I look into Brooke's dark brown eyes, eerily similar to mine, "A soft green pillow," I sing, "Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes-"
BLAM! BLAM! "And when again they open, the sun will rise." I whisper to myself and to the Peacekeepers' latest victims. Who knows where you go when you die, but it has to be better than Eleven. Brooke is crying, and I make the decision to just take the main gate home and walk past the Peacekeepers. "Head up, wipe those tears away, you're better than them, don't give them the satisfaction of making you cry." I whisper to her as we near the gate.
"Rue," she begins, tears still running down her face, "Th-they-"
"Shhhh," I whisper. "It's okay, it's okay," I murmur, even though it never will be. "The important thing is that we're still here. So let's go home, Ma will be worried now."
We file past the Peacekeepers and I'm so proud of Brooke for keeping a straight face that I almost cry. But I hold myself together until we get home. Ma, Papa, Tessa, Aero, Fletcher and even little Sadie are waiting for us in the doorway, arms out. I really start to cry then, as does Brooke, and then we're enveloped by the only people in Panem who love us, our family.
I jolt back to the present, and find myself hovering over all my siblings, right above Brooke. But seeing that they aren't waking up, I run into the other room while struggling into my well-worn shirt. I have it halfway on when I trip over a pot and go crashing down, making very loud clanging noises. I still haven't woken up, yet I'm terrified of what the Peacekeepers will do to my family. I can't control myself and I burst into tears.
"Who's there?" I hear Papa's familiar voice coming from outside.
He stands in the door, tanned from working outside so much, but not stooped over like some of the people who work on pulling roots and weeds from the ground. Instead, he has a broad, flat back and muscled shoulders from carrying heavy buckets of apples, plums, cherries and other assorted fruits in the orchards. "Papa," I blubber, "Th-the Peacekeepers, th-they're coming!" He sits down with me and pulls me into his lap, stroking my hair. But then he looks at me curiously.
"The Peacekeepers?" I can only nod. "Rue, the Peacekeepers aren't coming to our home, it's the day of the Reaping," he says soothingly.
"Oh," is all I can say. But I don't have to say anything, because at that moment my siblings shuffle in. I don't know how much they heard, and so I instantly regret my break down. Since I'm the oldest, it has often fallen to me to be the third parent to my five younger siblings. I love them and would never want it to be any way else, but I'll admit, sometimes it gets tiring always being the strong one, the protector. Sometimes I think, I never signed up for this! But then I remind myself that my parents never signed up for this life either, but we all just have to keep going.
After that, there was no going back to sleep. We had a quick breakfast of plain tersserae bread. At first, my parents were concerned about me taking out so much tesserae: one for each family member and the mandatory one, which gave me nine entries in all. It seemed like a lot to me at the time, but after I thought about it, it really isn't that many. Eleven is the biggest district, all of Panem know that, but no one knows how big it truly is. Even though I live here, I have no idea. The Capitol might have a census somewhere, but if they do, they're not sharing it. All I know is that nine entries isn't that many. My chances of being picked are pretty slim, or so I tell myself.
The waiting is killing me, but I don't tell anyone. Instead I play a round of hide-and-seek with the others in the trees surrounding our house. They're old, dying trees, which is probably why they haven't been cut down yet. I won by climbing as high as possible in my favorite tree. They never would've found me if I hadn't gotten bored and started whistling with the mockingjays. If only we could all hide up in the trees. That would be paradise.
Finally Ma calls me in to bathe while the others continue to play. I'm jealous of them, how carefree they are. But when I get in all thoughts of jealousy have washed away. My mother has laid out the most gorgeous dress I've ever seen. Granted, it's nothing compared to something from the Capitol, but it's a hundred times more special than normal. It's a simple white dress, but my mother has hand-embroidered mockingjays around the edges. I don't know where she found the money or time to do this. But before I can say anything, my throat closes up with emotion.
"You like it right?" she asks a little anxiously, after a few moments.
"Oh Ma," I gasp, "I love it!" Gently, she eases me into our cracked old wooden tub and massages soap into my hair while I scrub dirt and sap off of the rest of me. She helps me into the gorgeous dress and brushes my hair until it falls just so. She holds a cracked mirror up, and I see my reflection and catch my breath. No words can describe what I'm feeling, and so I just throw myself into my mother's arms. At that moment Brooke comes rushing in.
"Ma-" she begins, but abruptly stops. "Rue," she breathes, "You look...amazing," she says.
"For once," I respond with a little smile, squeezing her shoulder. I take a deep breath. "Come on, let's get the others, we don't want to be late."
We walk into one of the many fields dedicated to the Reaping. My heart gives a little stutter when I see all the cameras. District Eleven is so huge that all eligible children can't possibly fit in one field. There's a rumor that the names are drawn ahead of time, and the cameras go to whatever field the set tributes are in. It's probably just a rumor, but seeing all the cameras ready have me on edge. The cold, mean voice of a Peacekeeper snaps me back to reality. "Eligibles only," he commands, poking my mother with his gun.
"Alright," I say hastily, before he can do anything else.
"Rue," Brooke whimpers, "What if-"
"Shh," I cut her off, knowing what she was wants to say. I take a deep breath. "There are still thousands of slips," I say as bravely as I can. I kiss her on the forehead and turn to Tessa, planning on saying something to her, but the same Peacekeeper pushes us apart roughly. "Let's go!" he snaps, pushing me towards the fields and my family towards the side, where they will wait anxiously for the names to be called.
"Rue!" My father yells out, and I whirl around, hoping for a glimpse of him, but he's lost in the crowd.
"Move it girlie!" the Peacekeeper growls and shoves me to the ground. I just back up as quickly as possible to avoid being crushed and then melt back into the throng.
Too soon the bell chimes one o'clock and Mayor Pinkberry reads off the boring history of Panem, the Dark Days, the Rebellion and finally the Treaty of Treason. I had to memorize this for school last year, and allow myself a small smile when he messes up.
But then our ridiculous escort, Goldie Starbuck, hops up the stage and I start to feel woozy. The edges of my vision blur and my heart seems to be beating double-time. "Ladies first," Goldie chirps. I'm so nervous that my fingers have started to pick at my mother's beautiful embroidery. Immediately I stop, and begin to wring my hands instead.
She pulls the slip out and you could hear a pin drop.
The paper unfolds, and even the wind falls silent.
"Rue Goldwood."
My mother's scream pierces the silence.
The train's luxury sickens me. The gold drapes with real gold thread. The diamond-encrusted bathroom sinks. Even the water coming from the faucets stink of money. I spend the few days of the trip to the Capitol looking out at the passing scenery from the last train car. It's entirely of glass and it's one of the few things I've enjoyed since getting reaped. The one thing that ruins even this is the fact that this is the very first and very last time I'll probably get to see Panem.
"Rue! Rue, if you don't come and eat lunch right this second, young lady-" I groan and cover my ears to block out Goldie's nasally voice coming over the sound system.
A minute later, a hand is on my shoulder and I turn. It's Seeder. She smiles at me and gestures behind her, the hallway leading to the dining car. I sigh and get off my window seat and start the long walk to the table.
It's a tiring routine. I get up, eat breakfast, and spend the rest of the day at the very last car where I watch the countryside fly by. Those moments of solitude are broken only by Goldie's insistent calls over the train's loudspeakers that all tributes and mentors should have a "delightful reunion at mealtimes". Then I get to return to my place next to the crystal clear glass walls of the caboose and spend painful hours remembering each of the three minutes the Peacekeepers allowed my family. They came in in pairs, so they could get more time with me. If they had come in at once, that would've been three short minutes for all seven.
Brooke and Tessa came in first, with baby Sadie. Brooke's face was surprisingly dry of tears but her hands, clutching Sadie tightly and trembling, gave her away. Tessa was a mess, her entire face scrunched up and vulnerable. It broke my heart. We spent the entire time in a close hug, and then the Peacekeeper came lurching in, barking that our time was up. Brooke had to wrench Tessa from me, and Sadie, barely one year old and with no idea what was going on, started to cry. I'd pushed them from the room so the Peacekeeper wouldn't have an excuse to do anything to them.
"And how was your day, Thresh?" Goldie's plate contained two lettuce leaves, half an avocado, and an entire bowl of caviar. She was both overly spoiled (the caviar) and overly frugal (the lettuce). Supposedly she could survive on the caviar alone, but "had to balance out her diet to avoid early-on wrinkles", which explained the lettuce and avocado.
Everyone but Goldie kept eating, faces turned toward their plates. Goldie had angled her whole body towards Thresh, an exaggerated motion of attentiveness. He merely grunted. Pouting, Goldie turned towards me next. "And how was your day, dear?"
I almost get up from the table right there. I've been giving the same answer for the last three meals straight, and she keeps asking like an idiot. "It was fine, Goldie," I say through gritted teeth. Not like she cared if any of us said that it wasn't.
She looks away from me and turns to Seeder and Chaff expectantly, but both are turned away from the table and eagerly discussing Game tactics as if their lives depended on it. But there's don't. ours do. Thresh and I exchange glances and smirk. Last time Goldie managed to catch the mentors in a conversation, they ended up having to stand two hours of planning schedules and then another three discussing proper manners and behavior. After a final hour going over the latest styles in the Capitol, Goldie was luckily pulled away by an incoming video feed from her "besties", who were just "dying to hear about the fabulous new tributes".
Turning back to my bowl of soup that I had left unattended, my mind flashes back to the hour before the train. Aero and Fletcher came into the room second, my adorable little twin brothers. Both were seven, but at that moment they looked about four. Fletcher burst into tears the second he saw me and Aero started bawling the next second. I hugged them both but after another minute, I pulled them away. "You have to be brave now, understand? You'll have to be big grown-ups and look after Sadie and help Brooke and Tessa and Ma and Papa with everything you can," I said fiercely. They nodded.
"Rue...Rue, you have to come back! You'll win everything, because you're the best! You're strong and brave and you know how to make the mockingjays listen, and...and..." Fletcher rambled on while Aero punctuated every sentence with a nod. I smiled and ruffled their hair. "Sillies...there're much stronger-" I stopped and restarted. "Of course I'll win! I'm your big sister after all!" They smiled for the first time then, and the Peacekeeper burst into the room. "Time's up!" he growled. The twins were nudged from the room and I desperately cried after them, "Remember! Be big boys and don't forget I'll come back!"
The next course was served-roasted ducks with orange sauce lightly drizzled over the crispy skin, pink flower petals framing the edges of the porcelain plate. Goldie clapped her hands in delight and dug right in. I stared blankly at the mahogany table-top while an Avox filled my plate.
Ma and Papa came in last, holding hands and attempted to enfold me into a hug. I drew back and willed my tear ducts to seal shut. "Rue...oh my baby...Rue," Ma was crying and Papa looked close to tears himself, but he managed to hold it in. "I'm proud of you, Rue Goldwood," he whispered as he knelt down before me and took my hands in his. "You were so brave up on that stage." He turned his head to the side and clasped my hands tighter. Ma slumped down in the chair next to the window. I looked over at her and my eyes automatically started leaking again.
I forced my voice not to crack and insisted, "I'm going to come back, Ma, Papa. I'm not going to give up. I'll show that Eleven is just as capable of winning the Games." Papa looked back at me and smiled fiercely even as tears slid out of his eyes but Ma just sobbed harder.
Papa pulled something from inside his shirt and dropped it into my outstretched hands. "Will you take this into the arena with you, as your token?" It was a necklace, braided out of woven grass, with a painstakingly intricate, carved wooden star fixed in the middle as the pendant. "Of course Papa," I whispered. "I was saving this for your thirteenth birthday, but seeing as how there's only a few more months 'til then, I thought I may as well give it to you now," Papa said. "It's a good luck charm. Keep it close to your heart. Just remember, we're with you always and we love you no matter what."
"Oh! Oh, we've pulled up at the Capitol! We're four minutes ahead of schedule!" Goldie is practically wriggling with delight as she plasters herself to the floor-to-ceiling-window that is the east side of the dining car. She looks out to the city beyond like a district person would look at a ten-course meal.
The others' reactions are not so dramatic. Seeder and Chaff glance out the window and then resume talking. I clench my hands tighter and my fingernails make little half-moons on my palms. Thresh's only sign that he's heard Goldie is the fact that he's now stabbing his food as if he had a personal grudge against roast duck.
When we've finished up our meal, we are hustled directly out of the train, across a small glass bridge that overlooks one of the Capitol plazas where dozens of people are shrieking our names, and into a building.
I'm trembling. I'm trying so hard to stop my shaking but nothing's working. In the end, I grab on to the star necklace and think of Ma sewing my Reaping dress. Papa lifting Aero and Fletcher as easily as he lifts buckets of fruit. Brooke chasing Tessa around the trees in back of our house. Sadie grinning that innocent baby smile whenever she sees me.
I take a deep breath.
I'm ready.