Author's Note: Hey guys! So we're on to our first reaping chapter! I've decided to do each character separately so you can get a feel for their personalities and decide who you want to win. I'd like to thank Katnissfire87654 for this wonderful tribute!
Ramira Fortez, Age 18, District 1 Female
Quentin is running through the forest. Extremely fast, as if running for his very life. He is. He keeps sprinting, looking over his shoulder every few seconds, checking how close his predators are. Suddenly, his foot gets entangled in the underbrush and he falls. The vines slowly wind around his limbs, and they threaten to choke him. As he struggles against the leathery plants, they only seem to grow tighter. The pounding of loud footsteps arise, not too far off, and then they are obscured by nothing. They have reached him. Quentin thrashes even harder, more desperately in his bindings when he sees first the shadow, then a face loom over him, grinning maniacally.
What happens from there is a blur. The monstrous male brandishes his wickedly sharp sword, holding it out in front of Quentin to taunt him. Then, the real sport of the Games, the real entertainment for the Capitol citizens, begins. The blade starts carving pictures in Quentin's stomach, crude stick figures of death and pain. He screeches in pain, but the torturer's grin is still plastered on his face. Slowly, Quentin's extremities are amputated one by one, next his arms, his legs. By now, he is virtually dead and unconscious, but his heart is still thumping. When the Career finally wants to end his pain, or has a lack of other things to cut off (most likely the latter), his head is decapitated, and the cannon fires.
I jolt awake, covered in a cold sweat, murmuring my brother's name although I hadn't realized it. This was probably the billionth time I've relived his last moments in the 219th Hunger Games. This is why today is the day. The day when I, Ramira Fortez, am going to volunteer for my last reaping day. To avenge him. To make sure that no one can forget him and reassure myself that his death wasn't for nothing. If I can come home and be victor, I will have won for the both of us. And I think I have a chance. I'm a far cry from one of those tributes who volunteer blindly. I'm good with a bow and arrow, and exceptional with a spear. I definitely can pull through. I'm not one to doubt my abilities.
"Ramira!" My mom's voice calls from the kitchen. "Get ready for the reaping!" Her voice sounds pained, and I am positive that she, too, is having flashbacks of that awful day exactly a year ago. I know she couldn't bear losing another child to the Games. She already lost a husband, too, to pneumonia a few years back. I still long for his sturdy hands to caress my face, singing me songs and laughing. She doesn't know about my plans yet. I feel a pang of guilt. Wait, no, it feels as if guilt is slowly eating me up from the inside out. But I grit my teeth and remind myself that if I want Quentin to have died with honor, then this is what I have to do.
I ruffle through my drawers to find my favorite dress, made with a beautiful aqua fabric that brings out my deep blue eyes. I pull it on, and comb out my long blonde hair. It's usually up in a braid to draw more attention to my chiseled features, but it looks more formal flowing. I remember my shimmery rhinestone leaf hairclip; an heirloom passed down to me by my grandmother, and put it in my hair. I just can't help it; I stare into my mirror for five minutes. I just look so perfect. Well, I always do, but today more so. I have to admit it: I'm perfect inside out. Cool, popular, pretty, smart, fast, witty, charming, you name it. Some people act as if I'm mean to them, but they're just jealous. I mean, who wouldn't be? I run down the stairs of our two story house, which is a special thing in any of the districts, and go to meet my mother.
"You look beautiful", my mother sighs, tears in her eyes. "If only it just wasn't today…" I allow myself to indulge in her compliment, and then remind myself to not let her get to me. I wouldn't want to back away from what I'm about to do. My two little sisters bound in from the living room, faces alight with excitement for their first reaping. They still haven't gotten the message that The Hunger Games are bad, and that they killed their older brother. They weren't that close with him anyway, but still. I would do anything to protect them, and make sure that their unrelenting bubbly attitudes are never changed.
"Look at my dress!" Ruby exclaims, twirling around. "Isn't it just, so… so pretty?" I suppress a smile at my sister's carefree disposition, and agree because it is quite attractive. It was a soft pink with lace around the collar, and ruffles at the hem. Sapphire's was identical in style, but lavender instead. "Let's go, Mom," Sapphire whined. "We don't want to be late for our first reaping."
While we walk to the square, we get stopped many times by friends. Being one of the richest families in District 1, we're guaranteed socialites. I chat with my numerous friends and acquaintances, while my mother gossips with hers. She may be depressed and grieving in the privacy of our household, but in public she's the biggest gossip in the district. Everybody croons over my dress, and I smile politely. I expected nothing less.
However, some give me dirty looks, which I'm more than happy to return. Is it my fault if their fashions were so awful that I couldn't help but give them some advice? It was to their benefit, if you ask me. Some people are just so ungrateful. When we, as in my family and the ever-growing group of people around us, reach the square, the camera crews and Peacekeepers have just finished setting up. I go sign in and have the Capitol people draw a blood sample. I do not wince, but I see twelve year olds hysterical about the needle and the prospect of being shipped away. Thank goodness that wasn't me, for I was much stronger. I wave good-bye to my "friends" as we each disappear into the huge population of our district.
Something catches on my arms. I turn around and see Ruby and Sapphire each clinging to one of them. "We… we won't get picked, right?" asks Sapphire. "If you've managed to not get picked all these years, then… since it's our first year…and we didn't take any tesserae…" Huh. Maybe underneath all of that excitement, they were terrified after all. I guess that without all of the joy of dressing up and being "grown-up" enough to go to the reaping, the presence of the moment crushed them. Well, little sis', I thought, Even if you are reaped, you won't have to worry about going. I'll be volunteering.
"Of course not," I said with a reassuring smile. Ruby and Sapphire returned it and skipped back to the twelve year old section, their loose blond hair flowing in the wind. Suddenly, my ears screamed in protest as microphone feedback pierced the chatter. This meant that the reaping was about to begin.
District 1's escort, Hartania Bauble, walked, or rather, bounced, onto the stage. She was attired in Capitol fashions at its worst, which in other words, is painful to the eyes. Her pink and yellow wig looked like the fluffy cotton candy that only the rich could afford, and fluffy and curly. Her starched dress was an utterly atrocious combination of leopard print, twinkling lights, and ruffles. The Capitol's clothes were just as awful as their outlook on life. "Welcome, District 1!" She trilled in that irritating Capitol accent. "The day has come yet again for 2 lucky tributes to be chosen. Let's bring home a victor for District 1 this year, shall we?" Her comment was greeted with a silence, so hard that it was tangible.
Unfazed by the crowd's refusal to be excited, Hartania continued with a clear of her throat. "Now, the mayor would like to read the Treaty of Treason." She stepped back, and our mayor, a man with a confident demeanor and fine salt and pepper hair, took her place at the podium. He began to drone on in a monotone voice about the events that lead to us standing her today, the events that ultimately lead to two children's untimely deaths. As I listened, my agitation with the Capitol grew until I was about ready to combust, as I always am at this point in the reapings. To hear the Treaty of Treason say that the Capitol was being fair and kind to us by bestowing a child killing game was so outrageous it was almost laughable. Of course, only almost because I will be one of the tributes in this massacre this year.
When he finishes, Hartania walks to the reaping ball holding the girl's names and says the traditional, "Ladies first!" No one but me dares breathe as her gloved hand reaches in to pull out a name. The naïve girls do not know that I will save them. She unfurls the small slip, and barely has time to read out the name, "Topaz Cortiea," before I smoothly say, "I volunteer." I hear my family gasp, but I tell myself to ignore them. "My name is Ramira Fortez, and I am proud to be a tribute in this year's Hunger Games."
I walk up to the stage calmly, not wanting to come across as a cold-blooded killer or a sniveling wimp. As I climbed up the steps to the stage, Hartania gasped, a gasp that said she realized something. I had a feeling I knew what it was. "You're Quentin Fortez's little sister, aren't you?" She smiled. "He was a strong chap, and made it so far. I thought that he was going to win! You wanted to follow up his legacy, I assume. Well now I'm sure we'll have a victor this year." I keep my face smoothed and clear of emotion, and when she realizes I won't respond, she moves on.
"Now onto the boys." She crosses to the opposite reaping ball and plucks out a name. "Crasseus Drane." A young boy of about 12 walks up to the stage, blood drained from his face and hands clenched at his sides. It doesn't look like he'll be skilled. What was I expecting? Not all tributes can be Career material. I wait for someone to volunteer, but surprisingly, no one does. He will not be accepted into the District 1, 2, and 4 alliance, of that I am certain. He is close to collapsing upon climbing the steps, and is taking his breaths in loud gulps. Why, oh, why did it have to be him? I will make sure he is killed in the bloodbath.
"Congratulations, tributes! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" After Hartania Bauble trills the Hunger games trademark line, we are whisked off into the grand Justice Building. We will have an hour to say our good-byes. I am put into a room so luxurious that I am in awe. My room, that is amazing by District 1 standards, looks like a shack compared to this. Plum colored, silk covered chaises and chairs are in each corner of the room. They are so soft, that I literally sink into it. Rich purple velvet drapes are pulled back to allow the sun to shine through, and gilded gold tables are next to every chair.
I sit and remember the good-byes to Quentin last year. The room wasn't nearly as grand. There was lots of crying, and hugging, and "I love you". It was painful, but I have an instinct that since this is the second child from the Fortez family to enter the Games, these will be a lot worse.
Before I know it, Peacekeepers barge in, with my family in tow. All three of them are shaking with sobs, especially my poor mother. The guilt that I had managed to withhold slams down on me full force. Tears threaten but I force them back. Ruby and Sapphire run into my outstretched arms, and bury their faces in my chest. "Wh-Why couldn't you tell us?" sobbed Sapphire. "Then, m-maybe we could've had time to p-prepare ourselves!" Ruby could only cry. She had always been the more emotional one.
But there was nothing to prepare me for my mother's actions once I diverted my attention from my sisters. She had curled up in a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was convulsing with intense silent sobs. The fact that they were silent made it all the more haunting. I got up and walked to her sofa, my sisters following me. I lightly tapped her shoulder. "Mom?" I said softly. "It's alright. I'm going to come home." Her next words were barely audible. "That's what Quentin said last year," she whispered. "But he never made it back."
That was true. "But I'm prepared," I insisted. "You've seen me with a spear, and I'll get sponsors, and - just trust me. I can do it. If I don't doubt myself, you shouldn't either." Then came the question that I had been dreading ever since I had made my decision. "Why?" I gulped and felt a wave of nausea. "Because I had to avenge him." It was I who was whispering this time. "I couldn't just let them… get away with it. I had to do something." I didn't want to hear my mother's response. It came anyways.
"No, no." She had lifted up her head and was shaking it frantically now. "No. You could have just stayed home, we could have healed together, learned to accept it, move on, lived a normal-"Her brief pause from crying ended, and her tears returned. Now I could hear them, and I questioned if the silent sobs were better after all. I decided to leave her be, because there was nothing I could do to change the situation. As I sat back down and let my sisters clamber onto my lap, I wished my father were here. He would have understood about vengeance, and the need to honor Quentin's death. He was the stronger of my parents, and would be handling it better.
Soon, the Peacekeepers entered and took hold of my family. My mother started to scream, and when she tired, joined the chorus of "I love you" that my sisters started. The last thing I saw was Ruby's retreating hand, reaching out to me. My friends from school followed suit, asking how they could carry on without me to instruct them on clothes and boys. I was touched, and assured them that I would come back to give them that advice. They all offered my tokens, such as friendship bracelets and rings, but I turned them down in favor of my hairclip. After a time, my supply of friends was exhausted, and there was nothing left to do but sit in silence. I began to do something I had never had any intention of letting myself do: regret my choice. But there was no turning back, so all I could do was fight and hope to come out of that arena alive.