Long-ass hiatus. I am so freaking sorry. 50 hours a week plus 10 hours of school over the summer before delving into 4th year university. I am sorry. I make no promises about future updates, as I am unable to keep them.
I avoid everyone. Even Mary and Clare. I talk to no one, and no one tries to talk to me. I'm not sure what parents have told their children by now but all I know is that I held my parents extra hard that night as we read Asher a story. Overall I'm okay.
Wednesday starts out like Monday. The teacher brings out the projector and plays a video again, this time it is about the 60th Hunger Games promo. Students whisper to each other "do you know anyone who? He was in the games? Really? I think you're lying". It's a hush that quiets quickly when the teacher calls everyone's attention. It's eerily quiet.
"I'll start from where we left off last class, and I want to repeat a few things. These games ended about twenty-seven years ago thanks to the bravery of many young men and women," she looks over me at that comment, but doesn't linger as to draw attention to me. I appreciate that.
"The first games was the result of wars between districts that the Capitol wanted to end. They wanted to end the revolt of power, because they wanted to have complete control. So as a result, they did something to make the districts fear them; fear for their children. As they saw it, people will do anything to protect their own kin over anything else."
"I want to make one thing very clear," the teacher says quite abruptly, "the Capitol is no longer like this. You do not have to fear the people who live there, or have to fear ever going there." I think we all know that despite her words no one would be visiting any time soon.
A hand slowly rises. It's Scott. I hadn't noticed him sitting on my right side before. I look at him now, but don't bother to give him my full attention. It's not like he'll have anything of consequence to say.
"So twenty-four children were selected every year?" He asks. I want to roll my eyes and say of course, but I know that would be rude.
"Every year except for one." This startles me for a moment, had I forgotten something?
"Every twenty-five years they would have something called a Quarter Quell, where there would be an extra set of rules." I feel my stomach turn, of course, how could I have forgotten for a moment.
"At the 50th Hunger Games the extra rule was that twice as many children were reaped. So that year there was forty-eight children instead."
Scott raises his hand again. "What did they do for the other Quarter Quells?" How can he keep asking questions? My stomach lurches roughly. The teacher is hesitant to answer.
"There were a total of seventy-five years of Hunger Games. So at the 25th anniversary they had the districts vote on who had to compete," the gets the class stirring, "and at the 75th only previous victors could be reaped." You can hear a pin drop. My eyes sting with tears.
It's a girl with a strawberry blond ponytail that raises her hand next.
"So previous winners of the games were chosen to compete again?" She asks timidly. The teacher sighs heavily, "Yes."
"But they had already won. That isn't right!" Her voice gets louder and I only lets some of the tears fall. I see Scott looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and I hate that he's noticed but Mary on my left hasn't.
"The Capitol did many things that were not right. I know last class we mainly talked about the inequality between district rights and food availability, but there were deeper cruelties yet to come. We don't feel as a district school that it's completely appropriate to delve into every aspect, but we'll try to cover what we can. We'll be start talking about the war on Friday, but for now I have some more videos."
I know what is coming. My teacher had called my home Tuesday and my parents had talked to me. It's still shocking though when they show a video of a reaping, the 29th one. The next one they show is for the 74th.
The crowd looks ambiguous enough, the students don't know who is being reaped. Almost no one knew who the 29th children were. There are gasps when Primrose Everdeen is called and starts walking towards the podium. It must be because of her age since no one looks towards me.
My heart throbs as I hear desperate no's coming from the speakers. A voice frantic and scared like I hear sometimes at night when my parents think I'm asleep and my mother wakes from a dream. "I volunteer!"
It's all I can do as a bite back a sob as I see my own mother, so young, hugging the aunt I never knew. A few students obviously recognize the face and look to me but I pay them no mind. It's horrifying to see the love so obviously apparent between them, knowing what I already know.
Her face is so young as she makes her way up the podium and looks out the audience, believing like most children that she'll soon die. I can feel students looking at me still, until of course the next name is called.
People may not recognize my mother but their heads all whip around to the screen as Effie calls "Peeta Mellark", the town's friendly baker with the prosthetic leg. He walks without a limp. I see my parents look at each other; despite the circumstance there is still some light in their eyes.
Almost all students are staring at me by this point, confusion apparent. Before anyone can ask question the teacher pops in one final video.
Only three people are in the reaping pool, as my teacher explains it's the 75th reaping. If seeing them before was painful, this is far worse. My mother is called, and it's my father who is the one to volunteer and walks slowly with a slight limp. There is no light in their eyes this time.
My nausea becomes worse and I run to the bathroom before the video even ends.