Funny how quickly a week can go by. In the blink of an eye the Reaping for the 99th Annual Hunger Games has approached. I've been trying to keep it out of my thoughts for most of the week but from late last night to now in the early morning it's all I've thought about it. My siblings are worried too. It explains why almost all of them are jammed into my bed, every few minutes kicking for space. I don't mind though. It's nice to be here with them. To cuddle with Violet and stroke her hair for what could be the last time. To listen to James and Nicnic lightly snoring in an almost comedic unison. Even hearing that bloody rooster cackle is bearable today.
It's all a little comforting but still, I can't help but think of that big what if. What if my name is taken out of that irritatingly pink reaping ball. I'm not sure what I'll do. Run? Not likely as Peacekeepers would be ready to pull me onstage. Running is never an option.
For the sake of my siblings, my father, and Ma, I would have to keep from worrying, even if it was just an act. It wasn't just me who could be cursed into the Hunger Games either. Eli, Kayden, and even Colton were eligible. I wonder if it worried them. Colton is lucky to never have seen a Hunger Games but I'm sure he still has an idea about it. He's too smart not to know. Eli was still acting like his inquisitive, smart aleck self, so I don't think it's bothering him too much. At least if it is, he's not showing any visible signs. Maybe he could teach me how. Kayden on the other hand was pretty quiet yesterday. I can almost guarantee he's worried. It's his first year of eligibility and I remember my first year. Finding sleep the night before was impossible. At least he didn't take tesserae, so his odds of selection are way lower than Eli and mine. His name would be on only one slip of paper.
Violet shifts and I let her go, kissing her lightly on the cheek before. I carefully make my way out of my sibling packed bed, making sure not to wake any of them. Leaving the room without making a sound, I walk to the kitchen and I'm pleasantly surprised to smell food. Ma has taken the liberty to make the household breakfast this morning.
"Good morning Robyn," She says, at the same time pouring more batter into a frying pan. Ma making pancakes was something rare.
"Good morning Ma, how are you?" I ask, stepping closer to her to see exactly how she cooks them. This is how I learned to cook most things I do now.
"Fine dear, although I think I should be asking you."
"I'll be fine, if I treat it like another day it'll be easier to get through."
"That's a nice way to think, share it with your brothers. Maybe they'll rest a little easier."
"Do you need any help?"
"Oh no dear, you make breakfast for this family every day, I think I can handle this one."
"Okay."
"You know before you came around, I used to run this house all by myself."
"Well that couldn't be easy," I say with a smile. Thinking of doing every single chore this farm has, seems impossible for just one person.
"Yes Robyn it wasn't, but nothing in this life is ever easy. We face challenges everyday and it's our job to overcome them. When you do, you're going to come out stronger than you were before."
"I'd prefer to have everything come easy, it works for the Capitol and their people," I disagree.
"It looks that way from our perspective but you never know what it's like from theirs."
"How they're living, I think I can get a very close picture."
"If that's how you see it," Ma says, flipping a pancake out of a pan and onto a plate. "Anyway, go wash up, you have a long day ahead of you."
"I always do."
— —
The bathe water is cold today. I don't spend too long in the shower because the others will be right after me. If I could, I would just spend the entire day in here though. Wallowing in cold water beat going to a reaping for the Hunger Games any day of the week.
When I get back to my room, a dress is already laid out on my now sibling less bed. Ma must've picked it out and I recognize it because it's one of my mothers old ones. Having her hand me downs was always a bother to me but this dress was an exception. Its a light blue dress with white polk-a-dots and small buttons lining the back. Typically not my "style" but strangely I like it. It's different.
I've almost got it on when I hear a light knock at the door.
"Who is it?" I ask.
"It's Grace, can I come in please?"
I ponder it for a second, then open the door letting her in, quickly locking the door back after. Not wanting anymore interruptions.
"What are you doing?" She asks.
"Getting ready."
"Is today the day when everyone stands next to each other?"
"Yes."
"Oh." The look on her face is crushing. I'm sure Grace doesn't know the exact details of the Reaping or the Hunger Games for that matter but she has an idea. She knows when "everyone stands next to each other" it's not good. For a six year old that was enough.
"Do you want to help me get dressed?" I ask trying to cheer her up. She always wants to help me, no matter what I was doing unless it involved animals.
She nods eagerly, a small smile appearing on her face.
"Here," I say picking her up then putting her to stand up on my bed. "Help me with the buttons."
I watch her from the mirror, carefully trying to hook the buttons. She messes up a few times but after a about a minute she clips them all together. I look at myself and feel satisfied. The dress fit almost too perfectly, like it was made for my exact shape.
"You look beautiful," Grace whispers. Her expression from before has returned.
"Not nearly as beautiful as you."
"No!" She frowns. "You're prettier, you look just like mommy."
I bite my lip. She meant it as a compliment but still.
"You really think so?"
"Yes!"
"Well to me you look just like mom."
The little surprised look she has is cute.
"No, you're just saying that," She denies, but based on her new expression I know I've got her.
"No, really" I go on. "Come down and I'll show you."
She steps down off the bed and I lead her in front of me, so that she's facing the mirror. Next I stoop down behind her so we're the same level.
"Now what do you see?" I ask her.
"Myself." She answers, a bit confused.
"Look at your nose, isn't it just like moms?"
"Yes."
"And look at your skin. Isn't it the same colors as moms?"
"Yeah."
"Now look at your eyes. What color are they?"
"Blue."
"Just like mom's right?"
"Yes."
"So, don't you look just like mom does?"
"Yes—," She starts off, "— but my hair is dark and short. Your hair is just like mommy's and long."
"Grace," I say gently, feeling like this is the hundredth time I've said these words to her. "You're only six years old. Your hair is going to grow long when you're a little older. And you know what?"
"What?"
"My hair was shorter than yours when I was your age," I lie. "Then I grew up and now it's long."
"But—"
"But what?"
"Your hair is the same color as mommy's."
"Yet yours is just as beautiful if not more."
She's quiet for awhile, then she turns to me. "Really?"
"Absolutely."
She's quiet again.
"Robyn?"
"Yes Grace."
"When is mommy coming back?"
"I—"
Between the look in her eyes and the feeling I have in my chest, I just can't tell her the truth as much as I hate lying to her. Twice.
"—Soon Grace, soon."
— —
Breakfast is quiet but I let the reason why be because the pancakes Ma made are delicious. The alternative is harder to deal with. In actuality the pancakes really are delicious, especially with the maple syrup and strawberry jam my dad brought in. Soft and sweet, the textures, the flavors, they are all very tasty. It takes a look of worry from Eli to stop me from gorging myself anymore.
When we're all finish, my dad looks at me, then my brothers who are going to the Reaping.
"Are you all ready?" He asks.
The question is interesting in that it could be interpreted in many ways. Yet each way the answer is always no. How is someone ever ready to go to a reaping? No matter who you are, there is nothing that can prepare you for the Hunger Games. Whether you're a Career tribute from District 1 or a child from District 12, you'll never be ready. The reaping always seemed like a warmup for the games, which I guess it is. But even the warmup isn't something you can prepare for. It was completely random. At least the ending was always the same. Twenty-three would die. One would live and be crowned "victor."
—- —-
Walking to the Justice Building, the mood is the same like it was at the breakfast table. Nothing but silence. I make more than awkward eye contact, every few seconds, with other children who are going. Some people I haven't seen since I was in school. I didn't have many friends but it's still nice to see how some of my peers have grown, although I do wish it were under better circumstances.
— —
The Peacekeeper pricks my finger, stamps the paper with my blood, and tells me to stand in the second row. Last year I thought I was close to the podium but this year it's worse. Being that my last name begins with an A, I was always in front on the line in my age group. It was a curse and not just for me either. Colton, Eli, and Kayden are all likely to be standing in the same spot I am, in their respective age groups. I would much rather be in the back or simply out of sight for the camera's. The "extravaganza" that is the reaping for the Hunger Games, has brought out more cameras than I want to count. There are even more Peacekeepers. Over the past few years they've taken the reaping as an opportunity to not only measure the population, but to also find rebels living in the District's and their children. They would have to hide somewhere and in District 10 it had to be someplace other than the Square. The Peacekeepers would check there first. As much as I find him annoying, I hope Korran avoids getting captured. He's a nuisance but he doesn't deserve that. No one does.
— —
Iris Amos, one of my very few friends from school takes her place next to me as the Reaping is about to begin. Sometimes I think the only reason we're friends is because we've always had to stand or sit next to each other in school or now. Not the best way to form a friendship but you can't say it wasn't unique. She brushes the seams of her dress, which is blue like mine except it has stripes. We exchange small smiles as a greeting. Talking was now out of the question and we both understood that. Iris mouths something that I interpret as "you look pretty." I respond similarly mouthing back "I love your dress." This is the first "conversation" we've had for months.
— —
Mayor Suill steps onto the stage. The screens turn on, the lights turn on and the Reaping is underway. Here we go.
"Good morning District 10 and good morning to all the citizens of our great nation of Panem watching at home!" Mayor Suill's voice is booming through the microphone. I've always hated how loud they were. There was no need. You could whisper and everyone would hear you. It's that silent.
"Welcome to the 99th annual Hunger Games! I know you all, as am I, are all excited for the spectacular event that is only a few days away! One lucky girl and boy from here in our very own District 10 will be chosen to represent us in the Hunger Games and hopefully be crowned victor! But first, before we select that lucky boy and lucky girl, it's time for the honorary reciting of the Treaty of Treason and the Mockingjay Manifest."
On the screens the video plays, showing dark and graphic images of the Dark Days, then the first rebellion, then the Mockingjay Uprising. An audio recording of the Treaty of Treason being read by President Snow plays too. When that's over Mayor Suill reads the Mockingjay Manifest and an image of Katniss Everdeen is shown on the monitors, followed promptly by a video of her public execution in the Presidents mansion in the Capitol. This part has always made me sick. The way her neck abruptly snaps in the final moment is what really makes me shudder. It's something you can never get use to seeing. No matter how many times it plays. Why would they even have something like that televised?
"Now with the reciting completed, I would like to turn the microphone over to the District 10 escort Mary Heartgold!"
Mayor Suill steps back. From behind him comes the short mess of a woman, covered in yellow feathers, a pink tail, and bright pink lip stick, that is Mary Heartgold.
"Hello District 10," She hollers into the mic. "How are we all feeling today?"
In unison all the children, as we were trained to in school everyday to, say, "Honored that we may have the opportunity to participate in the Hunger Games for the Capitol and President Snow!"
"Very well then," Mary continues, smiling eagerly. I notice the whiskers on her face now. "You all will be surprised to know the selection process has changed. The Capitol has decided to unveil a new system for choosing a tribute this year, as a sort of trial run for next years Quarter Quell that I'm sure we are all looking forward to as much, if not more, than this years Hunger Games!"
I haven't been paying very close attention or I would've noticed that the pink and blue reaping balls that usually stood next to each other weren't on the podium. Instead there is one pink lever and one blue lever on the podium. This was really new. When Mary explains the "new system," I make sure I'm all ears because it might not be the last time I'm seeing it.
"How it'll work is, I will pull on the levers you see here. The pink for girls and the blue, obviously, for boys. All of your beautiful names are already registered into a computer program, as many times as they should be, and the computer will randomly select one. Very high-tech and innovative don't you think?"
Murmurs and whispers erupt in the crowd. Even Iris and I exchange confused glances at each other.
"Well I can tell you all are very excited to see the new amazing reaping system in action, so why don't we begin then hmmm? Ladies first as always! Oh and may the odds now and forever be in your glorious favor!"
Mary steps over to the pink lever and the lights dim for dramatic effect. She grabs ahold of the pink lever.
"How about a little count down, to make things a little sexier? Here goes! One … Two … Three!"
She pulls the level then instantly on the screens, before I can even realize that Mary doesn't know what a count down is, hundreds of names begin to flutter by that are unreadable because of the speed. A ticking nose, like a clock, comes out of the speakers as the names go by.
It begins to slow down . . . a little more readable … tick tick tick tick . . . a little more … tick tick tick . . . even slower . . . tick tick . . . it's almost stopped . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . . stopped.
I read the name of the next unlucky soul that would be in the Hunger Games at the same time Mary Heartgold says it into the microphone.
"Robyn Albourne."
That's funny, isn't that my name? I look at Iris again but she isn't laughing. She looks worried.
No one is laughing.
It's quiet like before.
Silent.
— —
Two Peacekeepers grab me by each arm and pull me onto the podium.
They aren't laughing.
I'm standing next to Mary Heartgold now, the escort of District 10. She's smiling at me. At least she thinks it's funny. I think I'm smiling too. I don't know for sure though. I can't feel anything right now. Or hear anything.
Mary turns back to the crowd and talks into the microphone again. She pulls the blue lever. Everyone is looking at the screens. I do too.
The name appears. Everyone reads it. I do too.
"Flynn Garrison."
A boy is pulled onto the stage by Peacekeepers just like I was.
He looks nervous and young.
We shake hands. His hands are sweaty or are mine? At least I think I'm feeling something.
The Peacekeepers pull me into the Justice Building. I've been in here once, when I was twelve and I signed up for tesserae to help feed my siblings. I wish I hadn't.
They separate me and the boy.
I'm pushed into a big room and the doors close shut. I think I can hear again. If I can then I hear the doors lock.
— —
I wait for the doors to open again.
Theres water on my face. I feel it now.
No.
It's not water.
Are they tears?
Yes.
Tears?
Yes definitely tears.
Tears aren't funny. These tears aren't funny.
Neither is dying. People die in the Hunger Games.
I'm going to die.