Jo Heming : District 7
"What is it?" I begged, trying to get around Mark's muscular body to see what he was working on.
"It's a gift," He says, laughing as I tickle his sides, "You'll get it after the Reaping."
The Reaping. I'd almost forgotten about the day that I'd either be pronounced free from the clutch of the Games forever or handed a non-returnable death sentence.
I ruffle Mark's dark curls. We've been friend for since I got my job at the lumber mill a few years back, but we really got close after the accident. His mother had also worked at the lumber mill. One day when she was running the ban saw she worked late, long past the time the last worker left. We were told by the investigators that she had dozed off while operating the machine and her temple was sliced by the serrated edge and she slowly bled to death after the slice left her lying on the floor unconscious.
Mark was ruined. For days he sat around with an expression that made him look like someone had asked him a question and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't find the answer. He came to me for help. I comforted him and he confided in me his every thought. We grew closer everyday and eventually he began to smile again, then laugh, and get back to being as much of his old self as he could salvage.
I tell him everything. Except for one tiny secret: I think that I might, hypothetically, be madly, undyingly, and irreversibly, in love with him.
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Back at home I get dressed in a green sweater and brown slacks. I borrow some of my mother's gold jewelry and have her curl my hair for the final Reaping of my life.
As I turn around I see that my mother, Marrianne, is crying as she irons my sister's hair.
Kai, my younger sister, is one of the most unlucky girls in District 7 right now. After my mother's surgeries, Kai was forced to purchase terresae for her, my mother, by brother: Joey, and my father: Joseph.
She's only 13 and already has seven Reaping entries. I'm 18 and I've only accumulated five.
After everyone is ready, the whole family heads to town square for the 5th Annual Hunger Games Reaping. My parents and Joey stay at the edge of the square after wishing me and Kai luck. I drop Kai off with a few of her friends and give her a hug.
As I walk away I think about how childish I've been towards her the past few years, We fight, we argue, we pull cruel practical jokes on one-another. I love her, but she constantly antagonizes me and Joey.
Eventually I meet up with Mark and Justice. Justice flashes me a smile and Mark pulls me into a hug. It takes all my will power not to melt into a puddle at his feet.
After he pulls away I run over to Justice and hug her. We are almost exact opposites. Next to my tan skin and flat dark hair she looks like a ghost with long curly golden locks, pale skin, and light baby blue eyes. All the boys at school swoon at her and a few dive for me after she rejects them.
The three of us walk towards the center of town near the area where all the 18 year old possible-tributes stand. As Mark and I reach the roped off area Justice gives us one last hug and waves us off.
Lucky bastard, I think to myself, wish I was nineteen.
Mark and I plunged into the crowd of anxious 18 year olds, all hoping that they are finally free from the clutch of the fucking Capitol. Everyone's talking. My mind and vision blur as too many voices and bodies surround me.
"Jo"
At first I think I'm just imagining things, but I look up and see that Mark is trying to scream over the noisy crowd to talk to me. I walk closer to him and he leans into my ear so I can hear him better.
"Jo, look," he pauses. He sounds serious; scared; it worries me. "I, I really need to tell you something."
I arch my eyebrow at him then lean to his ear.
"Shoot," I say in a melon-collie voice.
"Look, Jo, I've been feeling this way for a long time, and," for a second I think hes going to tell me that he likes me, but before he can finish the mayor of District 7 steps onto the stage and announces the arrival of the Capitol escorts.
Mark slaps his hand over his face and frowns. Whatever it was that he wanted to tell me, he knows he missed his chance.
I give Mark a longing look then turn my attention to the mayor. He gestures to the left of the large wooden stage set up in the center of the square a few days ago. A tall woman walks onto the stage. She probably would've been six feet tall if she hadn't been wearing five inch heels and three feet of red extensions piled on top of her head. She wears steel breastplates tied together in the front with thin transparent thread. Under the metal she wears a black unitard that covers her from neck to toe. She is covered in silver jewelry; rings, necklaces, belts, earrings, and facial piercings. It's Moira Civil. The Amazon Warrior. Winner of the first ever Hunger Games.
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Moira's expression is cold and stoic. She finally introduced herself and plunges her arm into the glass bowl containing the boys names. I squeeze Mark's hand and hold my breath.
"Jasper Daulding!" Moira bellows.
It's hard to believe she's only twenty. She's been ruined by the Capitol and their Games.
Jasper walks onto the stage. He's young, 14, maybe 15 at the oldest. Despite his youth, he's very tall, reaching about six foot two inches; his dark spiky hair is about level with Moira's chin. He's lanky, but cute.
I look up to Mark. He's safe. Thank God. Something about his expression worries me. He looks relieved and terrified at the same time.
"I'm not safe until you're safe," he says, choking on his words.
Warmth floods my chest. I feel like he just pushed his way through hell and back just to make me feel special.
I open my mouth to reply, but I'm interrupted by Moira's grunt.
"Kai Heming," she grumbles.
"No," I whisper at first, shaking my head, "No, no, no, no! No!" tears streaming down my face I push my way through the crowd and up onto the stage. I realize that the entire District is watching me. Kai is halted at the bottom of the stage steps watching me with hollowed eyes, but her expression pales in comparison to Mark's. He looks at me with pure terror.
"Can I help you young lady?" Moira scoffs.
"I volunteer as tribute," I say wiping my tears.
"Fine by me. If you want a death wish, you've got it," Moira replies, seemingly careless.
I force my eyes to meet Mark's.
I love you, he mouths.
A tear streams down my cheek.
I love you too.
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*** This chapter of "Not Your Average Back Yard" is dedicated to the most amazing girl on Earth, Emily Whitcomb. She inspires me to write and doesn't let me give up on my dreams. If it weren't for her this fan fiction wouldn't even exist. Thank you, Emily. Happy Birthday.***