Indica Ozdet. D6. 13.
I wake up on my own. No sound, no alarm, no family coming to tell me to wake up. This isn't a typical start for me, but then again there is nothing typical on the day of the reaping. The reason my family was all so quiet was that my big brother, Ryffe, was reaped last year. He was fifteen. He died a bloodbath. The girl from District One stabbed him repeatedly in the heart for the bag he had slung over his shoulder. Because, you know, the careers are always so short on supplies they need to kill a fellow tribute for a bag that only contained some food, a rope, and matches. But that is the past, and this is now.
I make my way to the exact scene I was expecting, my parents crying. After all, they already lost one of their children, and now they're afraid of losing their other one. I walked over and gave them a huge hug. We stayed in this position for a few more minutes before I went upstairs to change into my reaping outfit. It was just a simple black dress. I got it after last year's reaping. It was my way of mourning his loss. He had promised me that I wouldn't be reaped, if only I'd known that would come at the cost of his life. Once I'm changed, my family and I make our way to the District Square
When we arrive at the District Square I try to drink in the view. A stone plaza surrounded by the factories where our districts assemble trains. In the plaza there is a stage with the mayor, our living victors, our escort Fawna, and a handful of Peacekeepers. Hundreds of families gather at the center of the plaza; each of them knowing there is a chance they will be losing a child, for some, even two. But no matter how angry we are, we submit. The Hunger Games are a special form of torture for our district especially because the trains used to transport the tributes were made only a few blocks away.
Eventually our escort, Fawna, decides it's time to stop. Her silver outfit looked like one gigantic pillow, considering how many fluffs and ruffles there were on it. "Welcome District Six to the Reaping of the 73rd Annual Hunger Games. I shall have the pleasure of choosing which male and female will compete in this year's Games. Ladies first." Her shoes clicked and clacked on the pristine stage as she walked to one of the glass bowls on stage. My name is in that bowl. It's only in their twice though. The only logical reason my name would be drawn is if the Capitol willed it to be so. And why would they? They've already taken my brother, what more do they want? I refocus my attention in time to see that Fawna has drawn a name and is about to read it to the audience. "Indica Ozdet," She reads. I know at that moment that my parents are crying, but my attempts to look back at them is cut short by the arrival of two Peacekeepers, each taking an arm and guide/force me to stage.
Jehan Olliander. D6. 15.
I wake to the sound of a train whistle. I get really annoyed by it so I reach up and hit the snooze button. It was a gag gift from my father. A train shaped alarm clock with a train whistle for an alarm. My parents work with a team of Capitol workers on designing the interiors to the trains. So all those luxury trains the Capitol has can start thanking my father. Of course their version of saying "Thank you" is to host a televised fight to the death that two members of our district must participate. But what's the point about being hostile towards the Capitol. Because of my parent's jobs we are so rich it doesn't really matter. My name is only in that bowl five times, the likelihood of my name being drawn is slim to none.
So after laying out my reaping outfit, a green shirt and dress pants, I head downstairs to say hello to my parents. As I arrive I see my dad hanging another one of my paintings. Because my family is so loaded I get to pick up odd hobbies, for example, painting. The odd part is that I'm actually a pretty good painter. After a quick meal with my parents, I head upstairs to change into my reaping outfit before leaving for the actual reaping.
When we arrive at the District square we have to separate. While I'm in my section I attempt striking up a conversation with the guy next to me, but he doesn't seem too interested in talking. Luckily for me, before anything gets awkward, our escort Fawna arrives on stage. She welcomes us, which is odd considering this is our home and she is the guest, then she goes to draw the female tribute's name. I don't know this girl but she's very young. The odds definitely aren't in her favor.
"And now, the boys," Fawna said to no one in particular. She then stuck her hand in the bowl and, after a few moments, selected a name. She then returned to the mic and read, "Jehan Olliander." No, no this can't be happening. Before I know it I'm running away from the reaping. If I get out of the district they'll have to do a redraw. I can't go to the games. I just can't. My thoughts are interrupted as I'm tackled by a Peacekeeper and dragged back to the reaping. The odds are in no one's favor today.