Arching my back, I try to loosen the knots that are my muscles. I press my palms into my lower back, but it doesn't help much.
"Nell! Your shift is over for today!" My head pops up as my eyes find the scruffy-faced man that is my floor manager.
"Already?" I look at him dubiously before glancing around at all the shipping crates that still have to be organized.
Fingers tapping on the nearest crate, my hands itch to finish moving it to the Capital exports' section.
Dark eyes fix me with a stern look.
"You know what day it is, Nell. All you should focus on right now is hoping to be finishing the job here tomorrow," he points out, his voice husky and worn from age.
"But I can't leave this for tomorrow! It will set us behind a day!" I want to protest.
Yet, my lips seal shut. I nod and he nods back. I'm dismissed, so I'm expected to leave the factory warehouse. Quietly, I make my exit.
On my way out, I take note of the rusty, spiral staircase that leads to the upper levels. Briefly, I wonder how the women can be cramped so densely with those noisy machines buzzing around them all day. I can sew a little-(my mother taught me how to patch a hole in my pants)-but I can't compare to the girls above me who can stitch together several hundred pairs of pants in a week.
Outside, I have no opportunity to take a breath of fresh air. Yep, the air in District 8 is as dusty and dirty on the outside as it is inside the factories and textile mills.
Coughing, my lungs do their best to push out some of the dust that I've inhaled.
Silke Town is void of any hints of green, which is evident as I pass columns upon columns of clothes factories.
Using the back of my hand, I wipe away the sweat sliding down the bridge of my nose.
"It's so hot today," I mentally complain.
Grateful for the shadows cast by the towering buildings on my left and right, I walk on. The darkness brings soothing relief and cools my flushed skin.
My feet come to a halt at the base of short steps. Creamy, brown eyes are mine to use to take in the sight of the humble, gray-oak cabin. None of the windows have glass. Instead, they are screened with a wire mesh to keep out pestering insects.
Speaking of which, my hand whips out to crush the mosquito feeding off my arm. I still have no idea where the blood-thirsty demons keep spawning from…
Hopping up onto the porch, I duck to enter the cabin with its low-hanging ceilings. The screen door swings shut behind me.
A moment later, the aged beauty that is my mother appears. Her sun-kissed, golden hair has begun to fade, yet her creamy-brown eyes remain as bright as ever. In my opinion, the wrinkles spreading out like vines from her eyes make her that much more beautiful-especially, when she smiles.
As a reward, she beams up at me.
"Home early?" she inquires, lugging around a basket of laundry.
I nod, feeling oddly ashamed. It still nags me that those crates weren't moved…
"Well, you're the first: Luca and Ayla are still working and Dorian...I hate to ask, but can you check on him, Nell? You know how he tends to wander off…" asks my mother and I detect the worry she's trying to conceal in her similarly-colored eyes.
"Of course, Mother." I catch young Selene and Klein peeking out from behind the couch at me.
Knowing they've been caught, they giggle and dive for cover.
A smirk plays at my lips as I roll my eyes. I turn to leave and feel a tug on my sleeveless shirt. I turn my head and my mother's round eyes hold me in place.
"Wait! Before you go, let me fix that wild hair of yours, Nell," she pleads, pulling out the infamous brush from her apron.
Again, I want to protest, yet I stand their obediently as she fights my ashen-blonde hair into submission. She never wins this battle, but she gives it her all anyway. For her efforts, she holds a cracked hairbrush in her hand and my hair now wildly flows in the other direction.
"Um...you look...nice?" she offers feebly.
"It's okay, Mother, I'm resigned to the fact my hair has a mind of its own," I reassure her, stepping into the arch of the door.
Flashing her a soft smile, I leave with the door swinging wide.
Bzzzzzz-SMACK!
I swear the vile demons were waiting to ambush me…
Taking a stroll along the edge of Silke Town, I notice the clean, well-kept outfits everyone dawns. It's one of our greatest deceptions: everyone dresses nicely and like we're high-class. The truth is: we don't have money. We're not poor, but we're far from rich. We can afford to dress like this because-do I have to explain it?-we're the district of textiles and clothes are our forte. Heck, we make the Capital's supply of Peacekeeper attire!
The image of a teen boy slinking into the shadows catches my attention. Shaking my head, I close in on him.
"Dorian, you sure like to scamper off and shirk your duties the first chance you get, don't you?" I think, annoyed.
I hate slackers. I love my brother. I hate my brother. It's like his whole purpose in life is to get on my nerves and set fire to everything that ticks me off.
Turning the corner, I stop. I'm surprised to find my curly-haired brother-(yes, good luck taming that hair)-inside a throng of teenagers.
Girls in denim shorts and shirtless guys all seem to be in orbit of one figure in particular.
I narrow my eyes.
The girls are fanning themselves with their hands as I move in. I carefully merge into their group and pretend I'm just a leaf on the wind: letting them carry me to where I want to go.
I try not to flinch as some guy's sweaty back presses against me. He's too busy flirting with some girl in braids to notice. Quickly, I wipe his sweat off on my slacks. Finally, there's a break in the sea of bodies and I surg through it.
A girl a hair younger than me sits in a lounge chair outside the quiet cafe. Her cheeky girlfriends are gathered around the entire table. They exchange secret messages with their eyes and pucker their glossy lips.
My brother looks painfully out-of-place hovering over the lead girl.
She tossels her shiny, magenta hair over her shoulder. It's obvious it's been dyed.
"So, Sweetheart~ What did you bring me today?" she asks, her voice a teasing purr.
Dorian, looking flustered, fumbles for something in his pocket. Finding it, he pulls it out and lets it dangle for her to inspect.
Her light green eyes widen, so I can see the blue flecks. Lips curling up into a joyful smile, she plucks the silver necklace from his hands and holds it to her chest-(which is showing through her tan jacket just enough to be mocking.)
"Look, girls, at what this cutie bought me~" she mused and like dogs, her friends obeyed.
Each girl's eyes sparkled at the necklace while my hands clench roughly.
"So that's why my paycheck this week felt suspiciously light…" I think, irked.
"Dorian," she lets his name roll off her tongue tantalizingly slowly, "Come here, so I can give you my thanks."
I've never seen Dorian act so shyly around anybody before, so his behavior is a first. He moves closer, his dark eyes flittering about. She grabs his shirt collar and guides him in for a peck on the cheek. It's a light show of affection-it doesn't mean anything-yet Dorian blushes furiously at the sensation of her lips on his skin.
That's it: I'm done with this scam. Breaking through her shield of boy toys and girlfriends, I march up to her and Dorian. The latter jumps back like I had caught them in bed or something.
It takes all of my willpower to not go all rage psycho on her a**. It takes a h*** of a lot to make me feel compelled to be that way and her name is-
"Lilac Normindy," I growl, unable to stop some hatred from leaking into my tone.
Dorian backs away and she crosses her finely-sculpted legs.
"I'm sorry, Nell, but is there a problem?" she asks innocently.
How dare she bat her eyelashes at me?! Inhaling deeply, my nostrils flare as I try to control my rising anger at her.
Everyone sees her as this perfect girl, loved by everybody. Am I the only one who can see through her petty act to be the Queen Bee? Then again, how can anyone else if she's manipulating them like a puppeteer pulling the strings?
"Let's go, Dorian," I order and fortunately, my younger brother obeys.
As soon as he's at my side, I grab his arm and lead him through the mob.
Momentarily, Lilac frowns at our departure like she had been expecting more. Then she perks up as her girls swamp her with comforting words to help her forget about 'that jerk, Nell.'
My face tightens.
"Women."
"Why'd you do that, Nell?! You could have ruined everything!" frets Dorian, shrugging off my grasp.
I shoot him a look. He has no idea what I've saved him from.
We stalk the dirt road to the more lively hub of Silke Town.
A couple of older women, chat on their break in the gloom of the Bloomingale Factory.
Calmy, I approach them and ask about my sisters. They smile because they know me and tell me they should be out soon.
"That's the one good thing about Reaping Day: work gets off early," points out the short-haired, Ms. Hanson.
"Pfft, did you hear that Districts 1 and 2 get to party the entire week away?" snorts the plump, Mrs. Joy.
"Do they now?" replies Ms. Hanson in disbelief.
I tune out the rest of their conversation as I scan the main doors for the thin frames of my sisters, Luca and Ayla. I wish they didn't have to work-for Luca is fifteen and Ayla is barely eleven-but our family is too large to not need the extra cash.
Ayla's bobbing curls are the first I see. Strange, considering she's so small in the sea of taller women.
I wave her over and she grabs Luca and brings her to me.
"Are we still going to get cake afterwards?" she asks sweetly.
Playfully, I pat her head. I know she means 'after the Reaping' and I can't stand to see her face if I say no, so I nod. Remembering today's earnings are in my shirt pocket, I grin. It's just enough to buy that rich, dark chocolate cake the girls have been eying in the old bakery down the street.
"The chocolate one?" Her pale eyes seem to grow in size.
In answer, my smile stretches wide.
"What else?" I'm rewarded with small arms struggling to wrap around my waist and a deafening squeal of delight.
Luca is more reserved like me and stands back with an admiring smile.
Dorian kicks a stone with his shoe and shoves his hands in his pockets.
I could chew Dorian out for stealing my paycheck to suck-up to ...but I won't. Today is not a day to fight or have ill feelings towards one another. Especially not when some poor soul will be getting reaped today.
Taking Ayla's smooth hand in mine, we start our trek to center of District 8. The long, winding path through smog makes me envious of District 6. It must be nice to be able to ride trains wherever you go.
Luca walks quietly beside me while Dorian lags behind.
We're past the halfway point, when Ayla's short legs lose steam. She has difficulty keeping up with me, even at my leisurely pace. Looking down at her, I can tell she's exhausted already. I wonder if the thought of cake is the only thing keeping her moving.
When I stop, she looks at me confused. I kneel down and gesture to her. She gets the idea and plops onto my back, wrapping her arms around my neck. I stand up and carry her the rest of the way into the square.
No surprise that Lilac is chatting up a trio of guys as we pass.
"I heard she dated the guy who died in the Games last year," mumbles Luca quietly.
I raise an eyebrow.
"She didn't even shed a tear...probably because she had already moved on to someone else," she adds.
I don't think everything my sister says is true. Even with Lilac, it's hard to imagine she's completely heartless. Stuck-up? Yes. Spoiled? She's exceeded her limit. Heartless? Oddly, not likely.
Our parents come into view at the edge of the ropes. They're as close as they're allowed to be to the potential tributes. Beside my mother is my strong, if quiet, father. His dark blonde hair is as unruly as mine and Dorian's. Between them are Selene and Klein. They wave at me.
I wave back and give Ayla a light push to get her moving towards them. I try not to think about how she'll be eligible for the Games next year.
Looking from side-to-side, I give Luca a nod and then Dorian. Luca gives me a forced smile while Dorian shifts his shoulders, unsure how to respond.
"Here we go." I walk beside my siblings until they break off to merge with their respective crowds: Luca with the fifteen-year-old girls and Dorian with the fourteen-year-old boys.
Me? I join the testosterone-fueled 'party' that is the seventeen-year-old boys' section. Nothing like being squished between a bunch of sweaty guys who are having way too much fun seeing who can punch the other's arm the hardest. Ugh, sometimes I wish I could be ignorant to the details like these absent-minded guys are.
As if it was waiting for me, the anthem blasts from the speakers on stage and tries to pull my ears off. Well, at least people are settling down…
Clip. Clip. Clop.
Heels shining a glossy red, our District 8 representative struts onto the stage.
You can almost hear people's jaws drop.
What is everyone staring at? Not the curves. Not the piercing gaze of her pale, yellow-green eyes. No, it's her hair.
"And I thought MY hair was bad…" I think, trying not to laugh.
Her raven-black hair has been shaped into...er...a raven. Its 'hairy' wings are outstretched like it's about to fly away and take her hair with it. I'm not sure how she managed that updo, but I know it takes some serious hair gel and sticky spray to put that monster-I mean-artwork on display.
Some guys behind me snicker.
Tapping the mic, she nods in satisfaction. To us, it looks like her raven dived and swooped.
"Welcome to the 92nd Annual Reaping boys and girls!" she announces into the mic.
We groan as we brace ourselves for the mandatory reading of the consequences of rebelling.
A minute ticks by. Then another.
We stand there bewildered.
A man in a deep blue suit rushes onto stage and murmurs in the woman's ear. She shakes her head as if to clear it and smiles broadly.
"Let's pick this year's lucky tributes!" She looks around for the reaping balls.
The tips of my ears burn. I'm humiliated for her.
Everyone else is fist-pumping to the way she skipped the reminder altogether.
The man dashes out again to speak into her ear. She frowns at him and shoos him away.
"Be gone, Juniper! I don't need your help!" she insists, forgetting she is speaking right next to the mic.
Turning to us, she waves like we're her adoring crowd of fans. Simultaneously, she grabs a slip of paper from both the girls' and the boys' reaping balls.
The guys behind me are chuckling amongst themselves.
She looks at the slips of paper like it's a puzzle she's exerting herself to solve.
"What kind of boy has a name like 'Lilac'?" she mutters into the mic.
"Great, she got the names mixed up. Someone please help her out," I think, sighing.
"Um, for the boys we have Lilac Normindy?" she calls out.
"I'm a GIRL!" screeches Lilac as she storms up to the stage, seemingly forgetting she's a tribute either way.
Meanwhile, her girls are crying profusely like she's already dead.
"Oh? OH! That makes more sense. I was wondering why someone would name a girl Nell McArthur…" her voice trails off as my heart plummets to my feet.
The guys around me fall silent and turn to stare at me. Dang it, there's no hiding here; they know me.
When I emerge to go to the stage, small arms around my waist stop me.
"NO! You can't go to the stupid games, Nell! What about our cake?" she demands, her eyes pleading with mine.
I bend down to hug her tiny frame and Selene and Klein run over to cling to me too. Quietly, Luca hugs my side and even Dorian creeps in to give me a speedy hug.
"Save a slice for me," I answer, giving her a guarded smile.
I don't want her or any of them to see how much it pains me to leave them. Somehow I free myself from their hold and I ruffle Dorian's already messy hair.
"Stay out of trouble," I encourage him and he has trouble meeting my gaze.
"As long as you do," he mumbles as I walk away.
Ayla begins wailing while our parents come over and hold onto her. Selene and Klein follow her lead and break out bawling.
I focus my gaze on the stage like I have tunnel vision. It hurts too much to look at them, yet I can't drown out Ayla's pleas.
Standing on the stage, I feel like I don't belong there. Looking at the crowd of gathered teenagers and families, I realize, "I belong with them."
A tap on my shoulder brings me face-to-face with the Capitol lady.
"You're Nell, right?" she asks and dazed, I nod.
I'm too numb to do much else.
"Here are your District 8 tributes: Lilac Normindy, 16, and Nell McArthur, 17! I'm Cordelia Sanchez, signing off!" she announces, throwing her arms wide and smacking us both in the face.
"Watch it!" snaps Lilac, holding her nose.
I grimace as my own nose stings.
I seriously hope we get a replacement representative. Then again, maybe this is the Capitol's way of toying with us.
Oh, joy.
(A/N: I finally got a chance to finish writing this chapter and get it posted. Graduation wasn't quite what I expected it to be. *shrugs* Time to move on to the next stage of my life. Let me know what you think of the story so far and your impressions of the tributes in the reviews. I appreciate all and any feedback. Bis dann~)