Rina~16~ District 4
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
"Mrm…"
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
"Hmm…"
BEEP! BEE-! "SHUT UP!"
I throw a clenched fist down on the beeping clock, stopping its obnoxious clamor. I lay back in bed, my eyelids closed, listening to the waves wash across the seashore. Somehow, I never get tired of that sound. I toss the covers off me and run out of my room. I hop into the elevator and click a button. Being the mayor's daughter, I do have an elevator in my house. It's not high-tech or anything, but it gets the job done.
I pull my shoulder-length dirty blonde hair into a ponytail. The elevator gives a loud ding and its doors open. I hear the soft nicker of my white Arabian, Pearl.
"Hey", I say.
She nickers again, affectionately. I feed her a sugar cube, "Wanna go for a ride?"
As you're probably wondering, I'm still wearing my pajamas, but that makes no difference to me. I'd ride Pearl anytime, anywhere, wearing anything. I'm still wearing my slippers, and that's not exactly safe, though I could care less. I pull on my riding boots and begin to saddle her up.
When I finish, I shoulder a brown satchel and jump on her back. She starts out of the stable. Before I know it, we're on the beach. Wind is whipping across my face and my short ponytail is hitting the back of my neck. The smell of the ocean is intoxicating. I pull back on the reigns slightly and Pearl slows down. I hop off her and grab an apple out of the satchel.
While Pearl is munching happily on the snack, I plop down on the grass and heave a sigh.
The Reaping's today and I can't help but fear being chosen. I would probably have a chance of winning, but for what? I already have a really nice house and money and Pearl is the perfect friend. I have no reason to win, except that if I die, my parents would most likely sell Pearl. They're not exactly her biggest fans.
"What are you doing, miss?"
I look up to see a Peacekeeper staring down at me.
"Oh, I was just out on a ride."
"I see. Well, today is the Reaping and you should be at home", her hand moves closer to her gun, in case she has difficulties.
"I'll leave now then."
I was always taught to never mess with Peacekeepers. You never know if they're gonna shoot you or not. They're really unpredictable.
The Peacekeeper escorts me home ("Pesky teenagers. You never know if they're going to do what you tell them to.") She grips Pearl reigns as we start on our long trip back to my house.
When we finally arrive, the Peacekeeper's eyes widen as she realizes that I'm the mayor's daughter, but her trained face immediately hardens into an unreadable mask.
"I'll take it from here."
I lead Pearl back to her stable and, after removing her riding equipment, close the stable and board the elevator. When I reach the main floor, the doors open. As soon as I get out, my mom, the mayor of District 4, is yelling at me that she has to leave for the Reaping, so I'd better hurry up and get ready. I steal a glance at the clock. There are only about 15 minutes until the Reaping.
Soon, I'm racing up the stairs and into my room. I fling open my dresser and grab the first dress I see. All I know is that it's blue. I slip it on. I don't care for make-up (never really did), so after I brush my hair, I run out of the room. I slide down the banister and go into the kitchen, where my mom is sitting, drumming her fingers against our dinner table.
"Good morning, Mom."
She looks me over. She gives me a look of displeasure.
"What?"
She shakes her head and walks out the front door. I follow her.
We reach the village square. Mom gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves for the stage. I go join the roped off area for the 16 year-olds. I look toward the stage where District 4's numerous victors are gathering.
Suddenly, I feel someone elbow me in the side. I turn to find Sabryna Wavsten giving me a sinister smirk, "Nice shoes, Avalon."
I glance down and discover that I'm still wearing my riding boots. I must've put them back on after I got dressed. I swallow my embarrassment. I won't give Sabryna the satisfaction. But, to make matters worse, soiled stable bedding and sand is glued to the soles of the boots. I can feel myself blush, but I can easily retaliate, "Shut up, Sabryna Seaweed Brain."
Now it's Sabryna's turn to blush. I've known Sabryna forever. When we were little, everyone in our first grade class began to call her "Sabryna Seaweed Brain". Whenever someone would taunt her with this nickname, she would begin to cry. She still gets embarrassed by the pet name.
We started to bicker, but stopped abruptly when the District 4 escort, Lefonda Riget, told the crowd of 12 to 18 year-olds to "SHUT UP!" Lefonda walks over to the abnormally large fish tank that holds the girls' names. She reaches in and pulls out a name. She calls the name into the microphone.
I stand stalk still, unable to move. Sabryna pushes me forward, "Get moving, Avalon!" I walk towards the stage. I stand next to Lefonda and she mutters, "Took you long enough." She asks for volunteers. No one answers.
"Fine, onto the boys", Ms. Riget says in her snobby Capitol accent. She walks over to the boys' bubble of names. She unfolds a slip of paper, "Hydro Tyson?" I see a boy from the 18s make his way to the stage. He's tall, burly, and tan. I realize he's THAT boy. Hydro's the boy who never talks and spears fish by the dozen. Sometimes, at the docks, I see him watch the fishes' gory ends. The animals flop around, blood spilling from their puncture wounds. He's perfect for the Hunger Games.
This skin tone and muscular build make him handsome and I've heard some girls (Sabryna) whisper about him. I find him creepy and considerably weird. Hydro mounts the stage and I can feel his intense eyes scan my body, which makes me uncomfortable. He may be strong and silent, but that doesn't stop him from being hormonally-driven.
His rough hand makes contact with my soft one. Hydro's grip tightens and my fingers crack. I wince. I'm going to die. I'm actually glad I wore my riding boots, because I'm pretty sure I would never feel their supple leather again.
I hope you like this chapter. Hydro's scary. I know he seems kinda like Cato, but he's more of a wannabe-ladies-man, homicidally inclined, rude, sees-women-as-objects jerk. Does that make sense?
~Cherry
