Reaping I

Cilla Redding, District 9

x.x

"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones, enough to make my systems grow. Welcome to the new age, to the new age."

Radioactive — Imagine Dragons

x.x

I'm sometimes asked why do I like wearing my hair in a ponytail. Well, I suppose it's more of an habit than anything else. It keeps my lousy black hair out of my face, and I sort of feel like I can solve things more easily when I have my hair tied up. Stupid, I know – but I suppose almost every habit is just a wee bit stupid anyway.

Today I'm not wearing my hair in a ponytail. My mother has just pinned a navy blue ribbon to keep the messy black locks away from my face. I'm standing in front of my bedroom mirror – wavy black hair, dark brown eyes, skinny . . . too skinny, I'd say. Gosh, I'm so dull. At least that's the way I see myself.

I glance down at my clothes. I'm wearing my best today — a cream blouse and a light brown skirt, along with black ballet flats scuffed on the toes. Nothing special, I remind myself. I'm average . . . just average, Cilla. Remember that. The Capitol won't be queasy about killing you if you're reaped.

God, it's so comforting to have such a sweet subconscious.

"Cilla, c'mon! We're gonna be late!" my little brother Jamie won't stop yelling, so I just go downstairs and find mum sitting beside the fireside with my little sister Lila on her lap. She looks at me quietly, almost gingerly, and then smiles kindly.

"You look beautiful, Cilla," she whispers.

I nod quietly, walking over to the two of them and taking little Lila in my arms. She's the sweetest thing, my little sister — until she starts poking you with a crayon and comes home chirping happily about the Games they had shown her class today. I run my fingers down her brown locks, which look identical to my father's. He and my two older brothers died during the Rebellion, and mum went only slightly berserk. It was horrible at first — I can remember being like nine and watching her hold her knees and rock herself back and forth all day long. She started . . . sort of bringing men home every day. Like, different men. I can't remember any of their faces, but I do remember listening to mum crying herself to sleep after they left. We somehow got on with life, and I managed to start earning some money by teaching Math to the little kids at my school. Jamie has never really been aware of this, but the first two or three years after dad and my brothers died were a real struggle.

I kiss my sister's forehead and then glance at Jamie. He walks over to mum and tugs on her hand gently. A few seconds later, she seems to come back to her senses, stands up and whispers, "I'll take Lila. You two go over as soon as you can." With that, she takes my sister away from me and walks away quietly. I frown and glance at Jamie, who shrugs. We cannot complain, but the truth is that I really hate what my mother has turned into.

"Let's get moving, Jay." I whisper finally.

We both leave the house quietly and dubiously, wondering whether we will get reaped or not. It is Jamie's first Reaping, and surprisingly enough he doesn't seem to be all that scared. I cross my arms as we start walking down the street, still engulfed in a silence we're both accustomed to.

"Cilla, can I ask you something?"

I look at him and shrug my shoulders lightly. "What's it?"

Jamie seems to hesitate for a moment. Then, he lowers his voice and whispers, "Is mother a whore?"

Oh, all right. I had forgotten he's already twelve, and that our District is fairly small and so rumours tend to get around quite quickly. I look at him for a moment, before sighing and glancing down at my black ballet flats.

"That's a very rude word," I point out.

Jamie snorts. "You haven't answered yet."

"I haven't answered because that's nothing you should call mother."

"So it's true, right?" He glares at me, his hands deep into his trousers' pockets. "Those men. They come to our house and . . . do that sort of stuff to her, right? And then they pay her a shitload of money and that's why we haven't freaking starved yet." He catches a breath, as though he had been planning to say that from ages ago. I had never known my brother even knew how to use swear words, but apparently he had learned a few at home.

For the first time ever, I have no idea what to answer. My brother was right about that — but despite how much I despised my mother, I could not come to the point of calling her that.

"Where've you heard that, Jay?" I ask quietly.

He shrugs. "Some kids were talking about her at school. They teased me about going to our house and . . . you know." He glares down to his hands and I notice his knuckles are so tight they've gone white. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill them, sure as hell."

I gulp quietly, not sure of what to say. I had somehow grown used to those men roaming up and down our house every night, but very evidently Jamie didn't take it that way. I place a hand on his shoulder right before we arrive to District 9's town square, and make him look at me.

"Listen, Jamie. I know – I know it's hard to understand, okay?" I whisper. "But we don't have a choice. Mum . . . well, she's really sick, you know. They won't hire her anywhere. I can't earn enough money to sustain all four of us, and I'd rather see her upset than Lila starving to death."

My brother looks down, as though he wants to burn holes on the soles of his shoes. When he looks up again, I find tears filling his blue eyes. They're my dad's.

"But this is not fair," he chokes. "Why does it have to be us? Why not the bloody mayor, or the bloody Ralf Keine? Why us?" A tear rolls down his cheek and he furiously tries to rub it off with the back of his hand.

Instead of letting him cry, I hug him tightly and kiss his cheek. I usually hate physical contact, but Jamie and I have always been terribly close and it kills me to see him this way. I ruffle his hair and tell him everything is going to be all right. When it looks as though he's calmed down a little, he hugs me tighter.

"I'm sorry. I had to ask you, in case either of us gets reaped." He presses his eyes closed and then quietly backs away from the hug. "You're such a great big sister, Cilla."

"You're not a bad little brother, either." I smile quietly, ruffling his hair. A moment later, the town hall clock strikes twelve and I look at him sadly, "I think we're meant to leave now."

He nods quietly, and so we walk to the town square shoulder-to-shoulder, in a comfortable silence. Once we're split into our age groups, I wave him goodbye and walk over to my friends, Stef and Cayla. I used to have a whole load of friends before the rebellion, but most of them kind of dumped me after learning my father had been the instigator of our District's rebellion. These two stuck still stuck by me, though, and I was really grateful for that.

"Hey, Cills," says Stef, greeting me with a slight pat on my shoulder. "Doing fine? I saw you and Jamie before."

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. I'm never fine, but I can't tell my friends what's wrong with my mother. It's not because they won't understand, but simply because I feel too embarrassed about it. "Geez, my name is in like sixteen times this year."

"Gosh, really?" asks Cayla. She's a rather wealthy girl, and although I love her dearly it sometimes annoys me that she doesn't seem to understand we don't all have things she takes for granted. "Mine's in, like, three or four times. Like, I'm almost sure I won't get picked." Oh, and I have I mentioned she says like a lot? Like, a lot?

Stef chuckles quietly and pats my back again. I know he understands what I'm going through, as his father and brother were killed back in the Rebellion as well. He now lives with his mother, who's an average District 9 worker.

Our Capitol, Bvata Nora, escort walks onstage and starts rambling about the Hunger Games as every other year. I close my eyes and try to zone out, wondering about Jamie and what he has told me before. What if he gets reaped? Or what if I get reaped? Will mum care for the slightest? I'm not even all that sure about that.

"Ladies first!" chirps Bvata gleefully, her hand swimming through the ocean of paper slips containing the names of every girl between twelve and eighteen in District 9. Cayla bites her nails anxiously, and Stef squeezes my hand reassuringly. I hope everything will be all right.

"Cilla Redding!"

Yeah. Well done, Cilla.


So that was the first reaping! Hope you guys enjoyed it. This came out as slightly longer than I'd planned it to be — pre-Games chapters will be around 1.000 words long each.

So yeah – any thoughts, comments, ideas? Feel free to review.

Coming next – Iris Crimson, District 5.

~vandenburgs.