A/N: Thanks to CragmiteBlaster for Lammy and Rooster! Only two more Reapings to go!
(Also, my cat helped me type up this chapter, so if you find any random symbols somewhere in the writing, you can blame that on Fred.)
Enjoy!
Chapter 10 – District 10 Reaping
Lammy Phyronix's POV (A/N: Lammy's last name makes me think of Pokemon for some reason)
The forest is always quiet at this hour; I wouldn't usually be here this early, but with the Reaping this afternoon, it's important for Dad and I to get out and do some trapping. The early bird catches the worm, as my mother used to say. Dad has never said it, and my mother isn't in a position to say much of anything anymore.
When I was eight, my mom spent days following this rare group of beavers. Their fur is highly sought after, but what Mom didn't know was that they were all infected with a highly contagious, highly lethal disease. She successfully trapped them, but as she lugged the fur back home, she caught the disease. Her health had been ailing for a while and… well, she couldn't fight it off, and the Capitol has never bothered finding a cure for it.
I tilt my head to the side, looking at the rope in my hands. There's something off here… oh. I doubled knotted that part. I sigh, standing up. This is not a good day. I can't seem to do anything right.
"Dad!" I call. "I need more rope!"
"Okay! One second, sweetie!" he yells back, lost somewhere in the trees. I frown, looking down at the knotted rope. Maybe I could untie it? That would save us a piece of rope, and I wouldn't have to distract Dad from whatever he's doing.
I mess with the rope for a few seconds, but eventually decide it's futile. The rope is too tangled to still be useful.
"Yes!" Dad yells from somewhere. A few moments later, he comes through the trees, the carcass of a very large beaver in his hands. "Sorry about that, Lammy. I was really close to getting this guy." He lifts the beaver carcass in the air. "But I got him. His fur'll sell well."
"Can you come check out this rope?" I ask, still fiddling with the annoying piece of rope.
Dad comes over, still toting his beaver corpse, and takes the rope. He inspects it for a few moments. "Don't think there's much we can do, Lam. Ah, well, it's not like I don't have other rope we can use."
I sigh, a little put out, but I still nod.
"Anyway, we better get back to town," Dad says, quickly changing the topic. "The Reaping will start soon, and we don't want to be late. If we're late and they detain us, we won't get to go on that trip tomorrow, will we?"
Ah, yes. The trip. Tomorrow, we leave on a trip with some other trappers to get rid of this group of bears that are coming close to a town about twenty miles away. The objective is to kill them and probably sell their fur. I'm really excited for it. Dad doesn't usually take me on his big trips, so it feels like a big honor.
We're silent as we trek back through the woods and toward the town. I can see the medium-sized cluster of buildings up ahead—surprisingly, we live in 10's biggest city. We're not exactly urban here.
As we enter the town, I can already see the preparations for the Reaping being made. The stage is being set up in front of the Justice Building, and I can see our escort, a perky woman by the name of Arabella (A/N: I keep forgetting what I named the escorts. I haven't used this name, right?) Diadem. She themes herself around diamonds, which makes me think she belongs in 1, not 10. Perhaps that is just what she is aiming for.
Dad is just up ahead, still holding his beaver, which will probably be skinned then either sold or cooked up. I've never really been a fan of beaver meat, but we are well off enough so we don't have eat it often. If I were starving, I would be able to eat it no matter what. Well, I think if I were starving, I would eat just about anything. Aside from human, that is.
I shudder at the thought. I may have trapped animals all my life, but trapping animals is a whole world different than trapping humans. I think I could do it, if I had to. As long as I don't have to see them die, I think I could do it. If it were a question of life or death, I would choose myself over someone else in a heartbeat. I mean, in the arena, it's kill or be killed, and I refuse to be killed.
Our house is nothing special, but at least it has plumbing and a stove. There are three rooms: a kitchen/living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom. We have one bed, which I share with Dad, and a small cellar where we do most of our skinning. We do it down there because the smell is so overpowering.
Dad heads down into said cellar, leaving me to go inside and get ready for the Reaping. This year, I have been paying it much attention than I thought I would. At least, with this year's Quell twist, there is a much higher chance that I will be Reaped. It's like there is a sense of foreboding resting on my shoulders. Oh well, it will be lifted in a few hours' time, when someone else is Reaped.
As I get ready for the Reaping, pulling my fiery red hair back into a braid, I think of the other twelve-year-olds, in the other districts, who have likely already been Reaped. It's a sad feeling. I shake away the thought, instead focusing on literally anything else. Anything to distract me from those tributes.
I eventually content myself with thinking of the trapping trip Dad and I will leave for tomorrow morning. As I wait for Dad to finish so we can head to the Reaping, I sit on our bed, thinking of what I need to pack for it. Before I realize what I'm doing, I unconsciously start to actually pack. The excitement coursing through my veins is nearly overpowering my fear of being Reaped. Almost.
"Lammy, honey, we need to leave!" Dad calls, coming into the house to wash his hands.
"Okay," I reply, setting the boot I was holding down on the bed.
We live on the outskirts of town, meaning we have a longer way to walk than some, but it still only takes us barely five minutes to walk to the square.
"Hello, hello, hello, District 10!" Arabella Diadem practically yells into the microphone, overly perky and annoying even by my standards. She smiles so wide I imagine it must hurt, her teeth so white that when the sun shines on them I have to avert my eyes.
When the sun gets blotted out by a passing cloud and I can see properly again, the video has finished before I even realized it started.
Arabella waltzes over to the girls' bowl, dipping her actually diamond-encrusted hand into the slips and ceremoniously picking one out.
I wait with bated breath as Arabella takes her sweet time going back to the microphone.
"And the female tribute, for District 10 is… Lammy Phyronix!"
A cold feeling steals over my body. I hear whispers.
"The fat upper class girl is gonna be turned to bacon."
"Finally, that stupid fat girl is going away."
"Better the fat girl than me."
"Ooh, fat trapper is gonna be trapped."
In that moment, I make a decision. If everyone is immediately going to write me off as a weak, sniveling little girl, why not play along?
So I collapse to the ground, wailing, and wait for the Peacekeepers to drag me to the stage. I don't bother to stand up as they plonk me beside Arabella, who fixes me with a look of disdain, and just continue by sobs. I sink sideways on the stage, my arms flopping hopelessly on the wood, drowning out Arabella's attempts to go on with my screams.
As I look out over the crowd, my classmates sneer. They snicker. They laugh at the fat, upper class, trapper's daughter, sniveling, crying, weak, cowardly, idiot.
Oh, they'll be sorry they ever messed with Lammy Phyronix.
They'll be sorry indeed.
Rooster McCoy's POV
Upon spotting the obviously rich, upper-class man with the fat, bulging wallet sticking out of his back pocket, I think, we're eating good tonight. That money will sustain Rind, Sawyer and I for weeks. And it's not like this upstanding rich man is going to miss it.
I slink ever closer, sliding effortlessly through the crowds on their way to the Reaping. Why do they leave so early? It doesn't start for another two hours. I'll have plenty of time to get this guy's money and get back home.
As I pass the rich man, I 'accidentally' bump my shoulder against his, my hand going to his back pocket and silently pulling the wallet out.
"Oh!" I exclaim, feigning surprise, embarrassment and sincerity. "I'm sorry! I really should look where I'm going."
The man doesn't say anything. He doesn't acknowledge my apology. He just scrutinizes my face as if he's seen it before but can't remember where from. "I've seen you before, young man."
"Of course you have!" I reply amicably. "We do live in the same town, after all! Small world, right?"
He glares at me. "I saw you last week! Right before I lost my wallet!"
I blink in surprise, pretending to be outraged at what he is insinuating. In my head, however, I'm kicking myself. The first rule I ever made for myself when it comes to stealing is you never steal from someone twice. The second rule is you don't take what you don't need. "Are you accusing me of stealing from you?" I cross my arms, hiding the wallet in the palm of my hand and putting it in the pocket on the inside of my jacket. I put the pocket there years ago—it's my spot made specially for situations like this.
"My wallet went missing the last time I saw you!" the man cries. "That's all I'm saying!" His hands goes to his back pocket, his face becoming stricken when he realizes his wallet is no longer there. "Give me my wallet back, you little thief!"
Certainly not the worst thing I've ever been called when I get found out. 'Asshole' and 'Worthless crook' are probably high up on the list.
"I will call the Peacekeepers!" the man yells. "You know the punishment for stealing in Panem!" He narrows his eyes and takes a step closer to me, jabbing his finger at my chest. "Death."
There are two ways I get out these sort of situations: one, I talk my way out. Two, I run. Option two is looking pretty good right now. I can get out of most of these situations, but angering rich, probably-friends-with-the-head-peacekeeper-and-mayor, men on Reaping Day is not a good combination.
And so I turn tail and run.
The coward's way out, some might say, but I've been stealing for seven years. I've had my fair shares of close calls, but hey, I'm not dead yet, and that is certainly saying something.
The man chases after me for a few minutes, but appears to give up. I steal off down an alleyway, heading out of town, avoiding as many Peacekeepers as I can. Easier said than done, on Reaping Day, but I'm not exactly new at this.
Once I get out into the fields, I take the wallet from my pocket and start going through the things inside. I discard the man's identification card and all the coupons. I veer far off course, carelessly throwing the coupons and card on the ground, leaving a false trail. Once I run out of useless items, I turn sharply and start heading in the right direction.
The derailed train car my friends and I call home looms up ahead, the train car door wide open to combat the summer heat. I can see Rind and Sawyer seated inside, talking, probably waiting for me to get home so we can go to the Reaping.
I step up into the train car, waving the wallet excitedly.
"Rooster, man, we thought you got caught," Sawyer says. "You were gone for so long."
"I kept telling Sawyer that you knew what you were doing," Rind counters. "You're the most experienced of any of us."
Sawyer sighs. "I was even more scared that someone from another gang got you."
I roll my eyes. "Please. They've got nothing on us. Us so-called 'Akomish Tigers'."
All three of us laugh at that. The name our rivals gave us is rather ridiculous. When they first popped out with that, I voted that we call them something like that, too, but Rind and Sawyer vetoed it.
Rind pokes his head out of the boxcar and looks at the sun. "We should leave. The Reaping will start soon. We don't want to be late."
As we head into town, I tell my friends why I was late.
"Man, you broke rule number one!" Sawyer exclaims.
"I didn't realize!" I say defensively. "I just saw a wallet, lots of money, and knew that it would tide us over for ages."
We fall into silence. Eventually, we arrive at the Reaping, barely making it in before it starts.
Arabella Diadem, 10's escort, shining bright in the afternoon sun, waltzes onto the stage and jumps right in. I stand with Rind and Sawyer, wondering if there are any kids in this crowd I could steal from when the Reaping is over, when something sends a jolt through my body.
"Rooster McCoy!" Arabella calls into the microphone, looking expectantly at the crowd.
I sigh, glaring a little bit. I stalk toward the stage, standing next to the girl tribute who I didn't catch the name of and is currently bawling on her side. I roll my eyes and shake my head. At least she'll die soon. She'll probably fall off her plate before the countdown ends and blow herself up.
Arabella tells us to shake hands, but the girl—Lamb? Was that it?—stays on the ground, crying her fat heart out. A Peacekeeper hauls her to her feet and puts her hand in mine.
They drag us off into the Justice Building for goodbyes.
The goodbye room is colorful, the exact opposite of how I imagine most of the tributes who have sat in here feel. Me, on the other hand? Meh. It feels more like an inconvenience than anything else.
Rind and Sawyer enter the room, and for a moment we don't say anything.
"I think it was rigged," Rind randomly says.
"What?" I exclaim. "Why?"
"That guy you robbed could have gotten the Peacekeepers to rig it," Rind says with a shrug. "He probably thought that would be a better punishment than simple execution."
"But he didn't even know my name," I point out.
"Recognized you once, didn't he?" Rind replies. "Could recognize you twice."
I shake my head. "They would have only had a half an hour turn around time! They would have never done it in time."
"I think Rind is right," Sawyer says. "Which is the exact reason you've got to win." He puts his hands on my shoulders. "You don't have a noble reason to come home. No pretty girl waiting for you, or even a pretty guy. No sick family members. No real family at all. Cappies ain't gonna like that."
"Look, guys," I say. "I've got this. When I'm through, the Cappies will come crawling back to me. You'll see."
Lammy Phyronix's POV
I don't hold back the waterworks when Dad comes in to say goodbye. But these tears aren't necessarily fake: however, I play up the sobbing, so on the way to the trains the Capitolites will see my tear-stained cheeks. They do love surprises. I'll be the best surprise of all.
"It'll be alright, Lammy," Dad assures. He seems a little taken aback by my tears, my open crying, but he seems to be taking it in stride. I just wish he could know that I'm not nearly as terrified as I pretend to be. "You know how to make traps. Just put up as many as you can, surround yourself with them. When the other tributes come to call, lead them onto your traps. You can win this, Lammy. I have faith in you. You can win. Just repeat that until you believe it."
"I can win," I say between sniffles. "I can win."
"That's it," Dad says comfortingly. "Over and over. Until you believe it like I do."
I nod and wrap my arms around him. I hug him until he pulls away.
"Here," he says, putting a small plush cow into my hands. "Whenever you are in doubt, just hold this. Remember your mother. Remember how she fought until her very last breath." He closes his eyes for a moment and inhales. "You can win this, Lammy. I believe in you."
"Time's up," a Peacekeeper says, yanking open the door and beckoning for Dad to leave.
"I love you, Lammy!" he calls. "Don't you forget it."
"I won't," I say, but I'm not sure he hear me. Ah well. I'll be back soon enough. When I come home, I'll tell Dad I love him every single day. I'll never let him forget how much I love him for a change.
My other two visitors are my friends, Chick and Bernadette. Both are the daughters of trappers, too, meaning they will go on the trapping trip tomorrow. Without me. Maybe Dad will postpone it until I get back? But those bears could injure or kill someone before I ever get back. If I get back, that.
Because now I am embarking on the hardest trapping trip of all. I will no longer be hunting animals. I will hunting and trapping the hardest prey of all: tributes.
A/N: What do you think of these guys? Lammy is a lot of fun to write, even if it doesn't seem like it. Rooster will definitely be interesting in the Games. Hopefully I will have District 11 out soon, but I'm not sure when. The district 11 male is open! I repeat, the district 11 male is open!
-Amanda