Ranking Day

Rows of ten chairs seemed to stretch endlessly from where Brea sat. The eligibles were organized by their previous year's ranking. Those that fell below the top hundred and all of the first-year eligibles were in the back, sorted alphabetically. The Council would begin with them, then work up to the first ranked. The Council would evaluate each eligible child on the skills they exhibited, then announce the results that night, along with the announcement of the Quarter Quell. It was a day of celebration for Panem, but especially for District 2. Even more so, a day of anticipation for the eligible candidates.

Brea hadn't slept the night before, like most of the eligibles. However, instead of being kept awake by excitement, it was dread that refused to let her escape into sleep. Dread not for the results of her ranking, but for Brannock's.

These last few months, he had, all the more, separated himself from the rest of the group as the clear choice to be District 2's male tribute. He excelled even more so in the last few weeks and people were taking notice. She had overheard several conversations discussing his skill and even heard others referring to him as this year's male tribute.

Now, Brannock sat in the second slot, Brea the tenth, and Tip the nineteenth. A several hour stretch laid in front of them as they awaited their turn to go before the Council.

She spent the time watching the eligibles as they nervously tread or eagerly marched up to the door at the front of the room when their names were called.

Seeing the small statures and shaking legs of the first-years brought her back to her first Ranking Day. She had been so nervous, she had vomited onto her shoes right in front of the Council. Then, when she tried to throw her first dagger, she slipped and fell onto her back. As the Peacekeeper escorted her out of the room, she had seen the fury in her father's face and had tried, and failed, to hide from him that night. He hadn't let her eat for days after that.

Feeling sick from the dark memory, Brea switched her thoughts over to Brannock. Brea was seated at the end of the first row, having to lean forward to see him at the other end.

The last few days he had reverted from his usual friendly personality into a concentrated silence. He emanated excitement, anticipation, anxiety, and thoughtfulness. Though he didn't say a word, Brea understood there was a cacophony of thoughts rushing through his head.

Now, he stared intently at the floor, his hands clasped, and a knee bouncing. Brea knew that Brannock could feel his destiny of being District 2's male tribute lying before him. Brea knew it was as good as fact that he would be. He eagerly awaited to meet it head on and Brea apprehensively awaited its impending arrival.

Her body must have shown her thoughts because when Tip snuck out of her chair to come squat in front of Brea, her brows were knit in concern. "Nervous?"

"Brannock."

Tip grabbed her friend's hands and rubbed her thumbs over them consolingly. "Brannock is the most prepared eligible I have ever seen, Brea. If anyone could win the Games based on look and skill alone, he'd be on the Victory Tour as we speak."

Brea cracked a half-smile. "You haven't seen any of the other tributes, Tip. They might be bigger and better."

She squeezed Brea's hands, adamantly replying, "Then Brannock will fight harder. You are the most important thing in his life, Brea. He won't give up coming back to you easily."

Brea slyly looked to her friend. "You know, I've noticed I'm not the only one Brannock might want to come back to. You two have been eyeing each other for months now, acting like no one sees you. Have something you want to share?"

Tip's smile fell instantly and her cheeks flushed. Her hands flew out of Brea's like they were on fire. "Brea...I was going to tell you..."

"Has he proposed marriage yet?" Brea winked.

Tip's laugh was a release of worry, rushing out in a wind of relief. "Now you're just being mean."

Brea continued jokingly, "I need details. Well, not every detail. Actually, just give me a very general summary."

Tip looked around her and whispered, "You really want to hear this now? Don't you need to be focused? This is your last Ranking Day."

"Anything that can get my mind off of today is the best place my mind can be."

Tip evaluated her friend for a moment, then sighed happily. "Well, there really isn't much to tell. You know you and I have always gotten along well and oftentimes, when we would play, Brannock was around too. Back then, he was just a playmate, another player for our games. It wasn't until our first year of eligibility that I realized if one of us was chosen to go to the Games, we'd be separated. Back then, probably for forever. That knowledge broke my heart and I knew then that I wanted the rest of my life spent with him. Of course, it took until this year for me to suspect that he felt the same way. Ever since, we've just slowly gravitated towards each other."

Brea laughed, but there was a hollowness to it. She had thought for several years that she would like to see Tip and Brannock, her two favorite people in Panem, together. Now that their relationship was in the early stages of blossoming, Brannock was unofficially District 2's tribute and would, in all likelihood, be leaving for the Games. It was unfair.

She reached out and retook Tip's hands, grasping them tightly. She mustered every ounce of energy she had to say the words she knew Tip needed to hear from her, the ones she wished she believed to be true. "You're right. He will win and he will come back to us."

Tip's mouth broke out into a quivering smile. Her forehead rested on their clasped hands and her shoulders relaxed, as if Brea's words were a balm on her soul. Tears wet the backs of Brea's hands. Then, Tip's name was called.

Brea squeezed her hands silently before letting them go. Tip whispered, as she stood, "See you on the other side."

Brea watched her friend walk towards the door at front of the room. She paused to look back at Brannock. Brea watched him smile at her friend, who returned it. Brannock mouthed, "Good luck". Tip's shoulders straightened with new strength and she walked through the door.

As it closed behind her, the warmth Brea had exuded for her friend left with her exit, leaving an empty chill. She mulled over the news of Tip and Brannock's relationship. It made Brannock's inevitable nomination all the more painful. Brea imagined sitting next to her friend, gripping hands as they stared up at a screen, watching Brannock fight the other tributes. The sound of a cannon firing and the image of Brannock's bloodied face flashed in her mind.

"Brea Lockhart."

Brea's head jerked up. A Peacekeeper stood in the doorway and, though she couldn't see them through the helmet, knew their eyes were fixed on her.

Brea felt the weight of Brannock's eyes on her as well, but she refused to meet them. They hadn't talked to each other for weeks, so Brea stubbornly decided the talking wouldn't start now.

She stood. It was her turn.