Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F
I wake up suddenly, breath coming quickly. I gasp in air and reach out for Sir Hoot, bringing him to my chest. I have a feeling that my nightmare may have had something to do with what today is, but all I can remember are people laughing at me. I hug Sir Hoot tighter to me.
Soft morning light is peeking through the windows, illuminating my bedroom. There are several plushies strewn all over the floor, probably knocked off the bed while I was thrashing around. I stand and rearrange them into their correct places beside my pillow. The clock next to my bed says the Reaping is in three hours. I should have been up a while ago, but my parents probably let me sleep in. No matter how much I tell them not to spoil me, they never listen.
I start to put on the outfit that the servants had laid out last night. It's a pretty pick dress that looks like something a fairy might wear. I love it, but I can't help but wonder how the other girls will react to it. The mean girls at school often make fun of my childish style. They say it's because I've never experienced any hardship in my whole life, so i've never had to grow up.
But apparently now I'm old enough to fight to the death for the entertainment of adults, so I consider myself to be quite mature.
After I put on the dress, I do my hair myself, something I've only learned how to do recently. I figured I better start doing some things myself so that I could make friends. I'm not very good at it yet, but my raven hair is at least slightly curly by the time I'm finished with it. Then I head downstairs to see if my parents are awake.
The house is eerily quiet; usually the servants are here by now to clean and cook breakfast. But Mama always gives them the day off on Reaping day. I suppose it's in the spirit of the Games.
We're one of the few people in District Eight to own houses instead of living in a crowded apartment. From the large windows that look out into the street, I can see the other houses in this cul-de-sac; including the mayor's,and owners of some other factories. The walls are decorated with banners that are blowing in the morning breeze, "Happy Hunger Games!" and "May the odds be ever in your favor!" hanging over us all. Our families don't have to be worried about their children being Reaped; I've never taken out tesserae and neither have any of the mayor's children. The chance will get larger the older I get, but for now it's not a concern. At least, that's the way my parents look at it.
"Good morning, princess," Daddy says as I enter the room. He's attempting to make breakfast, something I know from experience he's not very good at. His parents own the same factories he now owns, and Mama was also born into a well-to-do family. When I grow up, I'll own the same factories.
"Good morning, Daddy," I answer with a smile. I set down Sir Hoot onto the island counter and discreetly check to see if he's burning the eggs. They seem okay for now, so I sit down at my stool and check to see if Sir Hoot needs any repairs.
It's been a long time since I've worked on him. My parents got him for me the day I was born, but I've been repairing him myself for a few years now to ensure he'll always be here for me. I learned how after going into school, when I realized I didn't have much in common with anyone. The other factory head children are much older than me, and the other kids my age hate me. I decided to try learning how to sew and make clothes in order to relate to them, but so far it hasn't made a difference. Maybe when I tell the girls at the Reaping that I made this dress myself, they will realize I'm more than just a spoiled rich girl.
Mama walks in from outside, her eyes lighting up when she sees me. "How are you, princess? I thought we'd let you sleep for a little while."
"I know," I say sullenly. "Where were you, Mama?"
"I was out buying some fruit!" She lifts up the bag of goods, which I hadn't seen before.
"Oranges?" I ask excitedly. Eight doesn't exactly have a lot of vegetation around, and fresh fruits are especially hard to come by. Mama only buys them for special occasions.
"Of course some oranges," Mama says gently. "Come have breakfast with me, Sock."
Spool Nylon (12)- D8M
The sword whistled as it cut through the air and whacked into my neck. I fell to the ground, hand grasping at my throat.
"Ouch! Don't hit me so hard!"
Tag laughed and threw his wooden sword onto the ground. We had made them a couple of months ago from old branches around the district, using my old book of medieval tales as a reference.
"You were too slow," Tag teases me, giving me a hand to lift me up.
"Yeah right," I huffed. "I saw where your eyes were. You were aiming for my chest and you missed!"
"Whatever. I'm tired, can we go inside?"
I study Tag's face, the one identical to my own down to the freckle. Even though I was the one knocked to the ground, he's breathing heavily, chest heaving. His asthma usually doesn't act up so easily; it must be the stress from the Reaping today. Even though we each have only one slip in the ball, the idea of being picked is terrifying.
"Alright, let's go," I say.
...
Today isn't a fun day. It's one of the rare days my family has off from work at the factory, but it's impossible to enjoy when you know the reason why. Two people will be sent to their deaths today. The thought makes me shiver. The Capitol says they fight for glory, but it doesn't seem to be the same kind of glory that the knights of the Round Table fought for in the medieval ages. In the books, there is always a goal; to find the Fountain of Youth or save the kingdom from invaders. But in the Hunger Games, there is no adventure and the rest of your companions are dead by the end.
Our father holds both of our hands as we walk to the Reaping, one on each side. "My boys," he says, eyes glinting with maybe nostalgia or worry, I'm not sure. "You won't try anything at the ceremony, will you?"
I roll my eyes. He must have overheard us talking with the other Sock Knights yesterday about possible ways to disrupt the Reaping. The escort sure deserves it, and so do all the Peacekeepers at the square. The rest of the Sock Knights and I like to mess with them sometimes, hiding their batons and helmets when they aren't looking. Some of them have started to suspect us, but they won't ever be able to prove it. We're small and train in stealth the same way the knights of old did so long ago. I bet if we wanted to, Tag and I could sneak away from the Reaping and no one would find us.
The rest of the Sock Knights are waiting for us at the square. As we approach, they greet us with the secret wave and handshake.
"Hey Spool!" Baize chirps. "What do we have planned for tonight?"
"Let's get together right after the ceremony and look through the trash at Vender's Avenue, then go around and resell it."
One of the reasons that the Sock Knights was formed was to help provide for our families, and we have various "business ventures", as we like to call them, throughout the district. We've opened hair-dying services using fabric dye, stands selling drinks, and even sock puppet shows. But one of our most lucrative ideas is to sell luxury foods that the stores on Vender's Avenue throw out. The poorer families like ours are willing to pay for the burnt pastries and stale bread.
Our profit isn't enough to sustain our families on its own, but combined with our work at the factories, its enough to keep us away from tesserae. None of us had to take out any for our first year, an accomplishment that not many people in the district other than the wealthy can say. Most people have their children take out tesserae while they're younger, when they don't have many slips to begin with, then only realize later what a mistake they've made.
But the Sock Knights are not fools; we're always thinking ahead.
The Reaping begins the same way it always does, but it seems different this time around. I'm in danger of being picked. I know the odds are in my favor, but the thought still persists.
In no time, the girl's name is picked. Everyone holds their breath in anticipation.
"Sock Northsilk!"
A murmur ripples through the crowd. Everyone knows the Northsilk name, and many know Sock herself. She climbs up the stairs to the stage with her fists at her sides, her face stricken when she turns toward us. She's shaking slightly, but manages not to cry.
Tension is palpable in the air. No one likes it when a twelve-year old is chosen, much less the child of a wealthy family. It just reminds us that no one is safe.
"How amazing!" the escort chirps, apparently delighted that a child is being sent to die. "Now for the boys!"
I close my eyes and try to breathe. If I'm chosen, I won't want to appear afraid.
"Tag Nylon!"
The breath is knocked out of me, and I'm unable to do anything as Tag moves away from my side and towards the stage. This is impossible. There's no way that two kids with only one slip could be chosen in the same year! There has to have been a mistake. There's a strange ringing in my ears, and I can't hear a word the escort is saying, my vision glazed over. Before I know it, the ceremony is over, and Tag is being dragged back to the Justice Building along with the Northsilk girl.
The mayor dismisses everyone, and I still feel like I can't breathe. The other Sock Knights are staring at me in horror. I realize what I have to do and rush to my parents at the outskirts of the square. They're both crying already, pulling me to the Justice Building. I realize what I have to do.
…
"Switch clothes with me," I say firmly.
"What?" Tag has teartracks all down his face, wiping at his nose. "Why?"
"Just do it. You trust me, don't you?"
Our parents are already outside, letting me have a moment with my twin. I can tell his asthma is starting to act up again, probably for the entire time he would be in the Capitol.
"Just change your clothes," I insist. "I'll see you in two weeks, tops."
Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F
My parents are the only ones who come to visit me. They hug me close to their chests and cry, distraught that their only child is going to die. I'm sure they think, like everyone else, that I will die as soon as that gong goes off in the arena. It's what the entire district will expect.
"Here, little princess," Daddy gives me Sir Hoot, my precious stuffed owl. I wasn't allowed to bring in with me into the square, so he had kept him for me.
"Thank you," I say softly, but the words cut deep. I know I won't die. I'm not going to be a princess anymore; I have to be a warrior. I have to come home.
Hey everyone! Sorry this took so long to post; this week has been crazy. I have three exams on Monday, can you believe it?! I'm going to try to get the rest of the Reaping out as quickly as possible, hopefully with one a day.
The tributes we've seen so far are pretty old, but now we have some younger ones in the arena. I hope you guys liked the chapter!