APOLOGIES, BUT REAPINGS WILL BE SLIGHTLY SHORTER FROM NOW ON, JUST BECAUSE I'D LIKE TO GET TO THE GAMES FASTER AND I CAN POST THESE IN PAIRS.
CORA COOPER, DISTRICT 6 FEMALE
I wake up as a train speeds past my window. For a few moments I lie still, listening to the sound of the train chugging away into the distance, and wonder where it came from. District 8, carrying fabrics and clothes? District 12, carrying coal? Since two or three trains come every hour, it could be either. Tributes take a train to the Capitol although I'm sure I haven't slept in long enough to miss the Reaping. Twisting my head to the right I check out my alarm clock; I've got an hour and a half, so I'm doing just fine. Gala, my best friend (who is the most excitable person you could ever meet) would have come and jumped on me if I'd slept in any longer. Somehow, she always seems to be able to get into my house even when nobody lets her in.
I suspect she might have had a key forged.
With a yawn I kick the covers back and get up, walking over to the small, cracked mirror on my wall and fluff up my short, curly black hair. Even though it only reaches just below my ears, it still manages to look messy- I don't even know how it's possible. Giving myself a slightly despairing look, I grab a comb and do my best to tame it, before grabbing my Reaping clothes and pulling them on. Then, just as I'm pulling on my shirt, my door bangs open and I hear the familiar sound of Gala.
"Hello District 6! Are you ready for the event of the year… THE REAPING?!" With a groan, I roll my eyes and turn round to see my best friend standing framed in the doorway, grinning widely. She has to be the only person in the world who manages to keep up her craziness all year round, even on Reaping Day. I can recall a memorable time when, one bitter cold Winter morning, she turned up to school in her pyjamas with a tie over the top. The memory of that still makes me grin.
"Actually, I'd rather stay in bed." I reply, flopping down onto my mattress and lying there for a few moments. Then with a short laugh, I get up and straighten my slightly rumpled clothes. Her brown hair is immaculate as ever- how can she manage to be so hyperactive and still manage to look as good as she does? It's very irritating. At least she's not popular- she's pretty and funny and if she wasn't my best friend, I think I might just have to hate her. But you just can't hate Gala- she doesn't register hate. When I was younger I was extremely overweight, and I got bullied badly for it. She's been my friend since we first started school and she dumped a pot of water on my head, like any four year old would.
"How can you want to stay in bed? Aren't you SO excited, that you just want to go and get some plastic surgery to enhance your enormous eyes?" she says, in her idea of a Capitol accent. Just because mocking the ridiculous Capitol people makes everything seem a lot less terrifying, we both do it a lot.
"Why, yes." I reply in my own Capitol accent. "The idea of a group of bloodthirsty children massacring each other makes me want to squeal and get a manicure."
She laughs, and we continue our "Capitol" conversation, before walking downstairs and out of the door. However, I can't help but feel a pang of nervousness as we emerge and walk out into the street. Recognising one of the kids who used to bully me, I make a face at her and we speed up, so not to be recognised. I stood up to them in the end and they stopped, sure, but I'm still a little bit nervous.
When we get to the Town Square, we register and get in line with the other sixteen year olds, when our district escort comes onstage and starts talking about the Dark Days, before moving on to picking the names. My heart is thumping hard against my chest, and I only feel slightly reassured as Gala takes my hand and squeezes it. There is no hilarity about this. This is deadly serious.
"Cora Cooper!"
Silence. My heart feels like it's stopped. My eyes open wide, and I just stare up at the stage with a mix of horror and fear. A sick feeling rises in my stomach, and I grip onto Gala's hand hard enough to break her bones. Then I let go and begin the long walk up to the stage. I'm… I'm going to die. For a second I consider screaming and breaking down but it's then I realise… I can't. I'm going to put on a brave face, just to make myself look less weak. I have to.
Because I'm not going to win this. I know it.
ZERO HOBBES, DISTRICT 6 MALE
My baby sister's cries awaken me. Immediately I get up and walk over to her cot, where she is screaming and banging her fists against the metal bars that encage her. For a few seconds I stare at her writhing form, before a pang of sympathy comes to me. She can't even be understood when she calls for help. Reaching a hand down, I clasp one of her small, beating paws in my hand and hold it for a second. Her small, frightened eyes look up into mine, and I stare right back at her.
"Shh now." I whisper to her, before returning to my own bed and checking the clock. Four hours till the Reaping. Most people won't be up, since about three quarters of the population of this District tries to sleep in on Reaping Day. I suppose if you're scared that you're going to die, extra sleep decreases the fear? Oh I don't know. My body is on a strict regime, and that involves going to bed and waking up at a certain time. However, that is mostly my baby sister Vesuvia's fault, since she never sleeps.
Walking downstairs, I grab myself a roll and some dried berries and munch on them. Then, grabbing a bottle of milk, I walk upstairs and pass it to the baby in the cot who begins to suck appreciatively. I then go to take a quick shower, before grabbing my Reaping clothes. People say I'm older than my years, but that's only because I've always had to look after my younger siblings since my parents are always at work. I want to go to work too, so I can be with my mother and father. Personally, I'd like to design new trains and ways of transport; I've already drawn up some ideas for my own combine harvesters that could be used in District 11, that would save time and also do the job a lot better. Inventing things is one of my passions, although I couldn't build them myself. I don't have that sort of knowledge, being from District 6. My friend Harvey, who's 16, says you learn a bit about that when you get older- I'm only twelve. It's my first year of the Reaping.
Rousing my younger brothers Jonah and Gulf, who are nine and six, I go into my parents' room where my mum and dad are both snoozing gently. They both have a relaxed, happy look on their faces, and I watch them for a few moments. A soft expression comes onto my face, and I go and poke them awake.
"I have to go to the Reaping," I say quietly. "Please can you take the kids along later?"
My mother smiles a little sadly, and embraces me. I nuzzle into her shoulder, relishing the attention, and feel tears coming to my eyes. She smells of lilies and milk- the smell of home. Walking away before I can embarrass myself, I go downstairs and open the door to walk outside. Ducking my head, I walk through the streets towards the square. Since I don't have to go to school, as my day is eaten up with looking after my younger siblings, I don't have any friends apart from Harvey. However, he lives on the other side of town so I can't walk with him.
When I eventually get to the square, I register myself, and discover that I'm shivering. Noticeably shivering- one of the older kids smirks at me and calls me a crybaby, as I veer away towards the other twelve year olds. Some are actually crying, although most simply look terrified- I probably am one of the worst. My heart is thunking against my chest hard enough to hurt and I clench my fists, biting my lip. As the district escort comes onto the stage, it doesn't even feel like a reality. It doesn't feel like I could get chosen to die, not at all. It just can't happen.
A girl of about sixteen gets called up first. Although she pauses with a look of fear on her face when her name is first called, she shakes her head and makes her way up without looking too scared. There's an almost defiant look on her tanned face, and I can't help but admire her a bit. Then, it's the boys turn and I shut my eyes, biting my lip. i'm shivering again.
"Zero Hobbes!"
Me. Not me. Please not me. My eyes snap open, as I begin to walk towards the stage. I clench my fists hard and try to put on a brave face, like that other girl did. She was brave… I can be brave… Can't I? Come on, Zero, be brave… be strong… It's about then that I burst into wild tears.