-i-
Tessera isn't in high demand in District 5. Most of the children work in the factories that make batteries and lightbulbs, or in the ones that power the devices made in District 3, and earn their own food money. They start at age 8. By age 12, they can rewire any device to do whatever they want, a skill usually only found in District 3. Because barely any children need Tessera, our grain comes from the crops of wheat that are the worst quality. It has to go somewhere, and District 11 doesn't get to eat what they harvest.
When I was outcast at age 15, I had to sign up for tessera. I soon found that it gives me horrible stomach aches every night, but I don't have a choice. It's eat tessera or go hungry. I don't tell my brothers that I wake up every night in agony. I just have to stick it out until I turn 19. Then I go up to full pay as a keeper, and I can afford cheap oat grain. Not that I'll make it to 19. My fate was sealed this week. I'll die in the Games as punishment for being a harlot.
I pound up some of the monthly grain in my kitchen and lean against my very short counter, not even paying attention to the consistency of the grain in my mortar. Pound. Pound. Pound. Doom. Doom. Doom. The pounding of the pestle makes me not notice someone knocking on my door until it becomes loud enough to interrupt my thoughts.
"Elena! Open the damn door!" I put the mortar down, knocking it over and spilling the grain onto the floor in my haste.
"Oh by the gods of Panem," I swear under my breath as I ignore the mess and open the door.
"You should watch your tongue, Lena," Gin chides sarcastically before pushing past me to get inside. Spark kisses me on the cheek and hands me another bag full of who knows what.
I hand it back. "Don't give me anything, Spark. You know I'm going to be in the Games. In fact, you should take most of my things with you." I bend down and start to grab the bag they gave me three nights ago, but they stop me and sandwich me in a twin brother hug. I give in and relax against them.
"How did the voting go," Spark asks while stroking my hair.
I picture the atmosphere in front of the Hall of Justice that I had to be in the midst of yesterday. Parents who brought their female children kept whispering my name over and over. Elena Flint. Vote for Elena Flint. Older girls gave me hard looks. Their parents didn't need to tell them to vote for me. When it was my turn to vote, I did what everyone else was doing and wrote my own name. Might as well.
"I think they all voted for that one girl who picks her nose all the time," I answer, trying to sound funny, and failing miserably.
Spark reaches into his pocket and puts something in my hand. "We made this when we saw the announcement, just in case. It's your token." I open my hand and see a tiny carved turbine on a leather necklace.
"We thought you might want to see a bit of home again, if you…." Gin cuts off.
"Die?" I finish.
He sighs impatiently. "It could just be paranoia. We don't know that you'll be chosen."
"They could find the votes invalid, since you'll be 19 the next day," Spark adds, trying to be cheerful as usual.
"Mmhmm, and sometimes they let two tributes win instead of one," I quip back. Gin lets go of me and strokes my hair, something he would never do normally. Spark is the gentle one. Gin is the one who used to punch me to toughen me up.
"We can stay here tonight, Lena, if you want," Gin offers quietly.
I shake my head, my fingers cradling the precious necklace. "What…..what did they…"
Spark squeezes my upper arm, somehow using his twin telepathy on me as he always does. "Mom and Dad said it served you right. And when your body comes back, they're not paying for a funeral, since you ceased to become their daughter when you became worthless."
Gin hits him. "Geez, Spark. I'm usually the harsh one." I squeeze my eyes shut. I won't cry. I feel Gin hug me again, crushing me to his broad chest. "We love you, Lena. We've never thought you were worthless. And I hope you never have either."
I shake my head against him. "I never thought I was. I did nothing wrong."
He smiles down at me, putting me at arm's length and brushing a few escaped tears away. "That's my good sister. Now, try not to cry like a wimp when you get hit. It's live tv, you know."
I grin, trying not to, and hit him with my hardest punch. He pretends it doesn't hurt. "Screw you, Gin. I'm going to win, and I'll come back here and make everyone kiss my toes."
They both grin at me. "That's right. Win for your honor, Lena," Spark says, giving me a manly tap to my shoulder. "Show them you don't need it."
"That'll be my victory speech," I say with a smile, grabbing my broom and holding it above my head. "Fuck you, District 5, and fuck your sex related complex!" We all laugh and I feel the tension in my shoulders loosening.
"Lena," Gin says while taking the broom from me, his face serious again. "You'll have to kill people. Do you think you can?"
I look into their grey eyes and turn away to look out of my window, my gaze finding the sea that runs beside my charge. "I might be able to …" I picture all the fantasies I've had about killing Robert. Maybe if I picture his face, I can kill the other tributes. Does that make me evil?
Gin puts his hand on my shoulder. "Killing doesn't make you evil, Lena. If you kill for survival. Killing Robert would be evil." I scowl at the window, hating that my brothers use their freaky twin powers on me. "His fate will be much more satisfying when you win. You can tell all of Panem how bad a lover he was," he says with a laugh.
Spark kisses my hair. "We have to go, Lena. We'll be there tomorrow. Mom and Dad said we can't see you off, so that's why we came to say…." He cuts off, trying not to choke up.
"Good bye?" I offer.
"Good luck," he says back, sniffing indignantly.
I smile and kiss them both on the cheek. "Root for me, okay?"
Gin gives me another light punch. "You bet your cute ass we will." Spark makes a choked noise and Gin rolls his eyes. "We'll see ya, Lena." He takes Spark's arm and leads him out.
I turn to the sea as the door closes, taking my precious brothers away.
-i-
The next day, I wake up tired as usual because most my sleep was interrupted with horrible cramps. It feels like a regular day because of that, but it isn't. I get up grumbling, and using choice swear words to describe my hatred for tessera. I dress in my nicest dress, which is very low in front because I sewed it to look nice for Robert, and cover it with a jacket. My new necklace is the finishing touch. Skinner is waiting for me at his jeep, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze looking at sea. He puffs his cigarette and brings it away from his mouth to tap the cinders off.
"Guess this is the last time I drive you," he says quietly.
I don't even bother trying to be positive. "Now you won't have extra money to buy cigarettes."
He smiles and takes another drag. "Don't be silly. I use it to buy women. Now I'll have to use my charm to get some kitty."
I jump into my seat. "Guess you'll become celibate, then," I say with a sarcastic smile.
He hits my arm playfully, breaking the business barrier we have always had. "None of your cheek, girl." His hand stays on my arm and he gives it a squeeze. "Sorry it had to be you, darlin'. Wish to god it wasn't. And don't go tellin' anyone I said that." I shake my head like it doesn't matter. I'm not fooling him.
We don't speak the whole way to town. I drink in the view of all the turbines, and the rolling sea. It could be my last time to see them. When we get to town, Skinner drives me all the way to the sign-in tables. Everyone moves out of the way so they don't get run over, and the line is broken.
"There, now you're first in line," Skinner says with a smile. "Now get your hussy ass out of the jeep." I flip him off and jump down. He speeds away, effectively messing up everyone's day by splashing the children and teenagers with mud. The sign-in lady rolls her eyes and grabs my finger to take my blood.
"Uh…I have a question," I say timidly. The lady looks at me like I just said her hair is on fire. No one asks the sign-in people questions. Ever.
She's so shocked, she decides to be polite. "Ask."
"I wasn't sure if I'm eligible this year. I turn nineteen tomorrow." I try to look at the table instead of her face.
She loses the surprised look. "The Reaping is today, young lady. Not tomorrow. Ages twelve to eighteen are eligible for the Reaping. You are still eighteen. Now go." I can't say I'm surprised. I nod to her, and walk towards the Hall of Justice.
It takes about twenty minutes for everyone to sign-in and take their place behind the ropes. I find a spot near the front, since I can't show my limp to my opponents by walking far to the stage. Standing on the stage is Fresca, the District 5 escort. He's very flamboyant, and always has some crazy outfit on. This year his outfit is decorated with strings of light bulbs. After a few minutes of him turning the power pack on, they start flashing on and off in random patterns. I hear some of the twelve-year-olds giggling at him. No doubt they could make something way more extravagant.
The other three people on the stage are the only previous winners from District 5, a man and a slightly greying woman, who are sitting next to the mayor, all three of whom their names escape me. I have never had an interest in watching the Games, so my brothers always tell me what district the latest winner is from. I don't remember them ever saying District 5, so I assume the man and woman won within the first ten years of the Games. The woman looks like she's in her early forties, the man in his early thirties. I catch him looking at me as a breeze catches my jacket, revealing my dress for two seconds. I find a spot on the stage and stare at it as the screen starts playing the promo video like it does every year. You all rebelled, and now we make your kids kill each other, blah blah.
"Hello, District 5!" Fresca shouts into the mic after the video is over. "Well isn't this a fabulous Reaping day!" No one agrees. "Now, in case you were too busy looking at my outfit, you might not have noticed that there are no glass bowls on the stage today." I notice this as he says it, now seeing that he has two little envelopes sticking out of his pockets. "Everyone within the ages of twelve and eighteen voted for who they think should be in the Games this year, in celebration of the Quarter Quell. I hope they picked a winner!" He laughs energetically, his outfit flashing like crazy. He slips the envelope out of his right pocket. "For the Quarter Quell Hunger Games, District 5 has chosen for their female tribute…" He fumbles with the seal, either trying to be dramatic, or genuinely having difficulties. The envelope gets ripped in half, along with the paper in it, but he puts the two halves together and smiles for the cameras. "The tribute is, by unanimous vote…Elena Flint!" He claps and cheers, looking around the group for the person he just called. You'd think this was a contest, and that winning was an honor. I step out of the group, hold my head up high, and walk up to the stage. Fresca continues clapping while I walk up the steps and get closer to him. "Well don't you look fabulous, Elena Flint!" He gestures to my outfit. "District 5 must love you, little lady! They chose you for the Games! You must be the most popular girl in town!"
My eyes threaten to tear up, so I smile at him, and rip my jacket off, exposing every inch of my semi-ample cleavage to the whole of Panem. My chest is all over the television screens. I cross my arms under my breasts, making them show even more, and thank myself for wearing the dress.
"I most certainly am," I say into the mike.
Fresca laughs in his high pitch chuckle, and pulls out the other envelope. "Now let's see what yummy young man you all voted for! The male tribute for District 5 is…." This time he doesn't fumble, and gets the paper out in one piece. I silently hope it's not Robert. "Vilhem Matren."
My throat catches in a gasp. To my horror, I know exactly who that is, and I cannot believe the depravity of District 5. I scowl at the crowd as Vilhem comes up to the stage. Vilhem is an orphan, the only one in our District. His parents were killed in one of the factories when he was six. There's no group home here, since it wasn't needed until he lost his parents. No one cared to reopen it either. So Vilhem went to the streets. He became a pickpocket, and stole from people's homes when they were out. Everyone was enraged at his stealing, but no one cared to do anything about it, or take him in. When he turned eight, he applied for a job at the factory that powers District 3 electronics, but he didn't get it until he was ten. It obviously didn't pay well, because he kept stealing and stayed stick thin. Six months ago, he turned twelve and signed up for tessera. I bet his twelfth birthday didn't come fast enough for him. His body is small, smaller than the other twelve year olds in the crowd. His thick red locks make his head look too big for his body.
"Come on up, young man!" Fresca claps again, throwing an arm around Vilhem and dragging him up to the mike. "Well, you must be a little firecracker under all that hair!" He ruffles Vilhem's curls. "I bet District 5 thinks you can win because you're so tiny and quick!" Vilhem gives me a small look. We both know why we were chosen, his face says. I barely see Vilhem's arm reach out and pull a wire from Fresca's outfit. His flashing lights go out. While Fresca frets over his outfit turning off, Vilhem smiles at me and I stifle a laugh. "Come on, you two," Fresca says, giving up on his power pack. He leads us into the Hall of Justice and puts us in individual rooms for our last goodbyes. I sit down and look out the window. No one will be coming to see either of us.
After twenty minutes, the door opens and I turn in shock and see Robert and his virginal girlfriend standing there.
-i-