Faction before blood
Chapter One
History
"...and after the war of the factions against the glorious Capitol, we named the tragic event, the Dark Days..."
I sit at my desk, my palm pressed against my cheek as I register a dull ache coming from my elbow. It's been propped up on the polished wooden desk too long, and the constant droning of my teacher on a boring topic that I've heard too many times is not helping my slowly increasing depression.
BRRRRING!
My head jerks up as the bell rings for the end of school. Mrs Johnson looks up, startled that she has no more time to kill her students with boredom, and frowns. I swear, if looks could kill, there would be not a living teenager in the classroom as the Year Tens race out of the classroom, squeezing through the door and joining the throng of students all rushing to their classrooms. I hesitate for a second, deciding that I shouldn't bother to go for registration. But I hesitate for too long, and get knocked down by a boy wearing red and yellow.
"Oh Grace I'm so sorry! Are you ok?" I look up to see a familiar face, wide smile and brown haired boy in a deep red shirt and golden trousers extending a hand towards me. I smile and clutch at his hand, pulling myself up until I unbend my knees and brush the dust off of my red T-shirt.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's ok Jared." I am smiling at him as I turn to walk down the hallway with Jared next to me.
"How was Faction History?" he asks.
"Well...it's not my favourite subject." I admit, and he laughs. A kind laugh, a sort of secure, lucky laugh. It always makes me feel so peaceful, like everything is right. Something feels warm and fuzzy inside of me as we stroll down the hallway together. I stretch my arm around his back and rest it on his shoulder, before he flicks it of and turns to me, his bright green eyes filled with shock and confusion.
"Grace," he smiles. He steps a little way away from me and shakes his head. "I have to go to my classroom and get my coat. Maybe I'll see you at Head Quarters?" he adds. I nod sadly. He smiles again, and turns around to weave his way back through the crowd, pushing against them.
I watch him go sadly. He is right. I don't know, I just wanted to be...close to him. He has no idea how many times I have dreamed of telling him how much I like him, how much I love him. And him loving me back. But he has no idea. I sigh, and run towards the door, my bag still slung over my shoulder as I brush my ginger hair out of my face, and follow it with my fingers down to the very tips, right down to the start of my red denim skirt.
I hate wearing skirts. But all of my friends wear skirts, and in Amity, trousers are really for men and boys. It's a look that radiates happy and peaceful, and I must admit, the girls like Eve and Lucy do look pretty. Beautiful, even.
Walking down the street it's just a big laughing group of Amity, as we make our way down to the bus stop.
There's always a couple of laughing kids in a group of Amity, but I can tell that it's subdued. There are less laughing kids, and usually beaming faces have been switched with worried and even petrified looks, all for tonight. Two men in white garments and helmets escort us down the road to the buses. The Peacekeepers always keep tabs on us one way or another on the reaping day. Wether it's tracking a family car, or posting Peacekeepers on buses. They're worried we'll escape. After all, they talk to us during the reaping video somehow, and when you've been spoken to by a Peacekeeper, you know you're a tribute. But you can't tell anyone. I don't know what happens if you do, because no one ever has. But then that night, you're told to sneak away whilst everyone is asleep, and if you don't then they come and get you. I know that much.
I show my Amity card to the Peacekeeper who is driving the bus, and once everyone is on, I sit down on the red fabric chairs with the yellow patterns on, and I lift the armrest up so that I can lean my elbow on it like I did ten minutes ago.
Another boy that I recognise comes and sits next to me, and I lift my head up off of my elbow and smile nervously at him.
"Max."
"Hey Grace," he ruffles his ginger hair and looks at me with the same anxious gaze that I'd imagine was on my eyes as I stared out of the window. "You look scared. The reaping getting you down?" Max asks me gently. I nod absentmindedly. He puts his hand on my shoulder.
"You know they won't choose you," he starts. "There are millions of Amity in this country, and only fifty get picked, twenty-six this first time. It's very unlikely." he soothes.
"You don't have to worry, you're past your prime age." I grumble. Most kids who go in are fifteen years old or younger, and I am fifteen years and twelve days old, whereas Max is seventeen, and today is the fabled day. The fourth of October is here.
"Sure, it's your prime age, but just think, there are around three million Amity, all attending different schools across the country, but all living in three huge buildings. Twenty-six go in tonight," Max jerks me back to the present. "You aren't gonna be with them."
I sit back in my seat and nod, before I turn to stare out of the window, brushing my long hair away from my eyes again.
The bus takes about ten minutes before everyone gets off at the middle giant wooden structure before us, lined with millions of windows. Everyone has their own separate room, but parents with children under twelve all live in the left building, twelve to eighteen year olds in the middle building, and fifty-five to...well, however long they live I suppose in the right building. It's a beautiful society, no fighting or arguing at all, just a huge beautiful community. But it's annoying. The rules don't make sense to me. Everyone is just too smiley sometimes, and I can't bear it. I get so angry inside about the Capitol, the Games and the Peacekeepers, but I'm not allowed to scream or punch my pillow, so I have to keep it inside, and that doesn't make sense to me. But still, when my problems are gone, I look around and feel so grateful that I live in this beautiful world.
As we arrive, we walk past the giant dining room, the lounge and the gallery, and we all separate to go straight up to our rooms, until it's just me and Max, since our rooms are right next door. He gives me a little nod before he opens the door and disappears from view.
I press my hand against a round black scanner, and some red and yellow lines go up and down my hand for about two seconds, before it gives a sort of satisfied ping! and there's a sucking sound as the door opens to the sight of my messy room.
There's a tall bin strewn with clothes that I haven't bothered to properly push in, a single bed against the left hand wall in the corner, an unpolished wooden bedside table on it with a couple of books and my clock. Then the drawers on the right hand side, my mirror on top of that, and finally the back wall is made of glass. I love that. Me and Max have the back view, overlooking the orchards, and at this time of year there are apples on the ground, the trees just losing the last of their leaves, and people in yellow and red scurrying on the ground to collect all the apples before they rot. It's nice, but in summer, when the apples are all hanging on the trees, and the sunlight falls on the ground in dappled patterns through the leaves, and I could sit on the hard wood floor in front of the window for hours on end.
But today I sit in front of the window, cross-legged, feeling sad. Max is right. It's only 13 boys and 13 girls out of three million today, and even less over the next month and a half or so. But I can't shake the feeling that it's me this time. Of course, I have this every year, and I haven't been reaped yet. So maybe it's just my nerves.
I sigh and pul open my drawers and sift through the jumpers and T-shirts, until I find a beautiful red dress. It has a matching cardigan with sleeves that come down to my elbow, and it is long and flowing, almost touching the ground. The Peacekeepers and the Capitol want us to treat the Hunger Games as an exciting holiday, something to be proud of, and something honourable. The factions see the truth, that it is just a horrible, inhuman reality TV show, designed to keep the Capitol sitting pretty and entertained, and the factions depressed and completely helpless.