Thank you to everyone who takes the time to check this out. I'm realizing that this might end up being a pretty long fic. Hopefully I'll post steadily on it until it's finished. This is my first fanfic, so I'm not sure if I'm actually supposed to say that The Hunger Games and its characters belong to Suzanne Collins, but obviously they do. I'm just appreciative of the chance to play around w/ the characters and universe she created. It's kind of like the easy-bake oven of fiction, right? OK, anyways, thanks again for reading. Comments are very welcome.
A couple of hours later, after they had all eaten together and gathered many of the children from their outpost into her father's truck, they finally rumbled off towards town. Johanna sat up front in the cab with her parents, away from all the children who huddled together where her father normally loaded freshly cut timber.
She was glad her father had suggested it and that Harris had offered to stay in the back with them all. It was too large a group, too much of a chance that one of them would be chosen, and that made Johanna feel like she might vomit. It was making her think of Tara.
They had hardly spoken the whole way into town, her father's usually jovial nature uncharacteristically grim. It almost scared her when her mother broke the silence.
"I was hoping you'd help me with the stew when we got home, Johanna?"
"Sure." Johanna almost shot out her answer too quickly. Normally her mother wouldn't ask help with supper, but Johanna knew that she'd be making more than usual. She did every year during the games, starting right after the Reaping. She'd make enough to send a meal over to the tributes' homes. It was her sign of solidarity.
Of course, she hadn't asked Johanna to help her the past couple of years. No one had known quite how to handle her before, and she and her mother already struggled to work together as it was. They were too alike - it was asking for trouble to keep them in the same room for too long.
But now she was making an effort, something to try to keep Johanna close to home for a while before she could bolt into the pines and off to the smell of salt air. Johanna reached beside her and awkwardly patted her mother's hand. They might be too alike to be peaceable at times, but she knew her mother would understand what she wasn't saying. She wasn't sure how, but she was going to be better this year. She wasn't going to lose it.
They were early. Naturally. Johanna wished their father could shed his need to be overly punctual for this one day. But no - they were always early for the Reaping. Even the younger children were beginning to look grim as they all unloaded from the truck.
It looked like they had only just finished setting up the screens. She caught herself staring blankly at one of them when Benjamin squeezed her hand. He grinned at her, that same lopsided grin that Harris was always wearing, and she made herself smile back.
Kara was already walking off with a group of her friends to stand with the few other girls their age that had already gathered in the square. As if she remembered she had forgotten to say anything, she turned to wave at them quickly before continuing on.
"Do you want to wait here for while?" Benjamin sounded concerned.
"Oh no, I'm fine. Go ahead. I'll see you in a bit."
Her brother squeezed her hand once more before walking away to join his friends. She would have waited longer by the truck - she wanted to wait longer by the truck. But Harris was walking up behind her, and she just didn't think she could talk about anything right now. So she tossed a quick goodbye over her shoulder and walked away from her parents.
Johanna wasn't sure if she wanted the time to move quickly or stand still, and the next half hour ended up passing both too quickly and too slowly for her satisfaction. As the square began to fill, she felt her muscles tense.
So this was it. The next two tributes would probably have arrived by now. Everything would change for them. Since losing Tara, she couldn't keep from thinking about it that way. She ended up clenching her hands at her side and trying to drown out the buzz of new arrivals as the moments ticked by.
Finally, it was time. Minda strutted onto the stage and gave her customary speech. Johanna heard none of it. She only noted that the woman's hair was green this year. The idiot probably thought it was some honor to their district, as if wearing leaves or painting her skin the color of tree bark or dyeing her over-processed hair green would mean some kind of kinship with the people she came to speak to.
She and Tara had mocked the leaves two years ago, finding humor even on that foreboding day. They had been ridiculous leaves, painted a hundred different colors. Somehow, Minda's attempts to bond always ended up making her look like she fit in even less among the pines and hardworking people of her district. Now, her green hair only reminded Johanna of brightly-colored candy that her father had once brought home as a treat. Johanna had hated that candy.
Everyone grew still, and then Johanna realized that Minda was already walking over to the reaping ball. It was already time to draw a name. Johanna had one quick thought for Kara, but as soon as the notion jumped into her head, she pushed it away. Kara would be safe. It would be someone else.
Minda drew a name and walked back to her microphone.
Johanna's ears started to ring.
The microphone had been raised to accommodate Minda's unnatural height. That was the only thing about Minda that made Johanna think of trees - her height. The spindly woman leaned forward and spoke in her nasally tone, just as she did every year to announce the tribute.
Whose name had she called? She hadn't caught it. And then Johanna realized that everyone was looking towards her section. She turned her head, and the ringing grew in her ears. She heard someone yelling - her father? Who had Minda called?
A girl standing beside her, someone Johanna faintly recognized from visits into town, grasped her wrist. "Johanna, she called your name."
Johanna barely made out the words through the ringing. The girl looked - sad, maybe? Johanna could not tell. There had to be some kind of mistake or-
She cut off her own train of thought. They had called her name. Everyone was watching her. The ringing continued in her ears, but Johanna quietly slipped out of her row and walked towards the stage. Minda watched her impatiently as she finally made her way up the steps to stand beside her.
Johanna stared out at the hordes of people waiting in lines. They'd come into town from all the outposts. They'd come with the smallest chance of being called. Now half of them were safe.
She heard nothing else while Minda called another name. The ringing in her ears was too much. She had to look over as a boy climbed the stairs in order to know who else had been called. She knew him - he was from another outpost. She couldn't remember his name, but he seemed to be about Benjamin's age. Maybe her mother would have stew sent to his family. Or maybe someone would send stew over to her own cabin tonight. Maybe-.
And then they were being ushered inside a building, but still Johanna heard nothing besides the ringing in her own ears. It didn't start to subside until they left her alone in a room.
—
Johanna wasn't sure how long she waited before the doors opened and her family filed in. Her father wasn't with them.
"Where's-"
Harris didn't let her finish. "It's OK. He's fine. They won't let him come back though. He got a little… it's fine. He just can't come back."
And then she was being hugged, nearly tackled by Kara and held too tightly by Benjamin. Harris looked at her fiercely. "You can wield an ax as well as anyone, Jo. Just get to an ax. Get to an ax and-"
The guard at the door cut him off. "Two minutes."
Johanna shrunk. They had only just come in.
"Say goodbye and go meet your father."
Johanna head snapped to her mother. She had forgotten she was even in the room. No one argued, not even Harris. No one ever argued when their mother looked like that.
Harris kissed the top of her head, she was embraced again, and then they were gone. Johanna might have found the nerve to be angry that her mother sent them away had she not been wearing that expression.
The older woman walked over and gripped both of her shoulders, but she did not pull her in for an embrace.
"Harris is right. You'll use an ax. But you forget what he said about getting one right away."
Johanna's eyes narrowed, but her mother didn't give her the chance to cut in.
"You cannot win if you charge in with an ax right away, Johanna. When you hear the signal to go, you will run. You will run, and then you will hide. Do you understand me?"
"But what-"
"You'll hide until the end. Until the last moment, you won't let them see that you can be strong. You need them to see you as weak."
"But the judges-"
Her mother shook her slightly. "No. Not even the judges can see. Otherwise the others will want to take you out right away. Not even Heinrich needs to know."
Heinrich… that was the boy whose name had been drawn with hers. And then it hit her. Her mother was saying to lay low until the end so that she could kill them. To kill Heinrich. To kill whoever was left.
She felt her knees start to buckle, but her mother shook her again.
"Johanna. Listen to me. You will do what you need to do. You will hide. And then, when the moment is right, you will save yourself. And then you will come home."
"Come home?" Her voice sounded hollow.
"Yes." Her mother's voice grew soothing. "You will come home. And it will be over."
Her mother's hold was strong and steady as she embraced her, and then she was gone.
The rest of the day was a rush of people and explanations as they began their journey to the Capital, but Johanna only let herself think of one thing, even as she slipped into a drug-induced sleep that night. All she thought of was what her mother had said. "And then you will come home."
