Cordelia Velour (D8F - Age 15)
The bell on the wall rings, and each kid in the room stands up abruptly. I sigh loudly as one of the boys steps on my foot and scuffs my shoe. He looks over, and shrugs apologetically, while I roll my eyes.
School was let out early today, because of the Reapings. Most kids go home and cry to their parents, but not me. I won't be picked, becuase I'm the mayor's daughter. I doubt the Capitol would ever do that to me, or my dad. After all, I haven't been reaped yet, have I?
I skip home, thinking of the dress I have waiting for me. I'm making it myself, because I couldn't find a nice enough one in the store for me. This dress will blow the roof off everyone else's.
I walk absentmindedly through the town, imagining my reaping look in my head. My blonde hair falls in soft waves down my back. Yes... I'll need my mother's curling iron.
The thought of her brings me back to reality. She won't be using the iron. I bet you I'll get home, and she'll be past out drunk on the floor, like usual. We had a talk weeks ago, and she promised to try and get better. She's held up her end of the promise for now, but I'm still come home everyday, expecting to see that she's given up on her goal.
When I was younger, her drinking was way worse. That's why I took up sewing for a hobby. It took my mind off my mother, and gave me and excuse to make myself look beautiful.
When I got back to my house, I saw my mother past out on the couch. Fury built up inside me, but I tried to boil it back down. Maybe she was just sleeping...
"Mother?" I asked, as I shook her awake.
"Yes, darling?" She asked me, her eyes gently opening, with no sign of a slur.
"Oh, um, just came to tell you that I'm home, and I'm leaving for the Reapings in an hour." I said, surprised she was awake.
"Okay. I'll wish you goodbye before you leave." She replies, knowing that she won't be going to the reapings. My father loves her dearly, but can't take her anywhere in public now. When her drinking problem was the worst, her told the district that she had a disease that couldn't be cured, that way no one would expect to see her out in the public.
"Edwin?" I call out, asking for my 18 year old brother.
"Yes Cordelia?" He asks me back.
"Will you go get me my beauty supplies?" I asked him. "I'll pay you back later." I said, knowing that I actually won't. I had definetely inherited my father's manipulative streak.
He arrives back in my room three minutes later, carrying my almost finished dress, my sewing basket, plus my makeup and curling iron. I get to work quickly, finishing the last stich on the dress almost immediately.
"There!" I cry out, holding it up in the air. The sparkles sewn on glimmer in the light.
Now time for my makeup. I quickly curl my hair, and carefully brush on some mascara and eyeliner. I finish off my look with a dab of pink lipstick.
"Perfect. Edwin! Time to go!" I call to him.
"But it's too early!" He replies back.
"The Reapings start earlier this year!" I say to him, lying.
"Oh fine. Let's go." He shouts back, and I hear the door slam as he walks outside to wait.
My look is perfection, my brother is waiting, and my mother is laying inside, not drunk. Could this day get any better?
We walk carefully down to the Reaping square, where my dad waits on the platform, ready to give his annual Hunger Games speech. We get to bypass the other kids waiting in line to check-in, earning us some glares.
My dad waves us ahead, and we get checked in quickly.
"You two!" He barks. "Come here. Now don't be worried about the Reapings. I'm sure President Snow would never allow you to be picked." He reminds us like every year.
"Yes Dad." I say back.
"Now go get ready and sit in your sections." He murmurs tightly. "It's show time."
Wystan Knowles (D8M - Age 15)
Reaping day is the quietest day of the year. All the roaring factories shut down, and the city goes completely into silence. I like it.
"Hey Wystan!" My friend Sayer says as I walk past him on my way home. "I bet one of us will get Reaped!" He says with a smile on his face.
My smile drops and my bottom lip starts to quiver. I don't like when people say comments like this. "Hey man. I was just kidding!" Sayer laughs it off.
I nod as he walks away, but that kind of thing hurts too much coming from him. We've been best friends for years, but soon after we became close, I wanted to become more than friends. I've always been too afraid to tell him that. I'm sure he doesn't feel the same way...
I look down at the ground, staring at the two fingers I lost in the factory accident a year ago. I still haven't gotten used to only having 8 fingers total.
I sigh again, wallowing in my own pity for myself. Get over it Wystan. At least you have a loving family. I tell myself.
I walk back to my house, just like I do every day of the year.
"Hello Wystan!" My mother calls, just knowing it's me walk in the door. My sister Oriel, who's 11, has one more year before she finally is eligible for the reapings. Lucky her. I envy the younger kids in our district. Their just so innocent, not knowing what awaits them as they grow older. The lucky ones make it through the reapings, and the unlucky ones... well, that's bad for them.
I cough loudly, and my mom pats me on the back. "Just cough it out sweetie, cough it out." She repeats. All the smog in District 8 has given me bad lungs, even though we live on the edge of the city.
She absintmindedly rubs my shaved bald head, and pulls her hair back into a low bun. I can tell she's stressed out by the look in her eye, but she's trying to be brave for us kids. I know it.
"Oriel, you stay here with your father." My mother instructs her. "Wystan, you come with me and Jevon. Let's go get the Reapings over with." Jevon is my 17 year old brother, who's practically a polar opposite of me. Strong and muscled, he looks just as much like me as a rock does a feather.
I walk with her out the door, patting Oriel on the shoulder as I go.
"See you when I get back." I tell her, mostly to make her feel good. I don't want to take advantage of my previous luck. We scurry down the paved, muddy roads, making it to the reapings just in time.
The sky is cloudy, just like every other day in District 8, and the mood just depresses me even more. Let's just get this done.
Cordelia Velour (D8F - Age 15)
I wave to my dad excitedly as he mounts the stage. Like always, he pretends he doesn't see me. I laugh on the inside, knowing that he cares, but has to act professional for the cameras.
I pat down my hair, wanting to look nice for the cameras. If we're all on live TV, we should at least be presentable, because our district is less than...
My daddy picks up the microphone, and gives the speech, sounding as peppy about the Capitol as he usually does. I wonder if he really likes them as much as it sounds?
Avalinna, our escort, runs up the steps to the stage, adjusting her purple wig as she goes. When I become a Capitol designer when I'm older, I'm going to try and take all those ugly fashion statements out of style, and introduce a natural look, one that will actually look good on everyone.
"Well hello District 8!" Avalinna calls out to us. "Welcome!" It barely crosses my mind, but I wonder why she's welcoming us to our own district. It doesn't make sense at all.
"Let's get this show on the road!" She says, and reaches her hand into the reaping ball. I stay perfectly calm, knowing I'll be fine.
She pulls out the reaping slip, and my dad peers over her shoulder. His eyes widen in surprise and fear, and for a second, I'm sure it's me. But I shake off the thought. I'm sure he looks like that every year, and I just don't notice.
The Capitol won't pick a mayors kid, will they?
"Cordelia Velour!" She screeches, calling my name.
I swear my heart stops in place. Whispers float around. People know that the mayors kid was reaped. I look up at my dad, who's eyes stay dry, but is beckoning me up to the stage in fear. I lose it then.
Tears flow freely down my face, and I'm crying loudly. I'll never get to design another dress again, or achieve my dream of becoming the most famous Capitol designer. It's all gone.
My dad stands behind me on stage, while I face my district, bawling my eyes out. I can't help it. Everything has been taken from me.
Avalinna walks me off stage, while I watch Edwin and my dad frantically call to me. I'm marched into a room, with the bolt locked. I don't deserve to be treated like this.
Edwin and my dad come in together.
"My god Cordelia. I'm so upset right now, but could you have at least held it together in front of the nation?" My dad says incredulously. "I did, and so did Edwin. Everyone's watching you, and you burst into tears!" He reprimands while I continue crying. He's sees my upset face, and says, "I'm sorry sweetie. We do love you, and wish you the best in the arena."
"Cordy, you deserve to win. Now, just trust your luck." Edwin says while I nod unhappily. I had a life ahead of me. A famous, rich, pampered life, one that I could live in style.
For once, I stopped crying. I needed to fight. I needed to fight for what was stolen from me. If I just used my manipulation, maybe I could trick the other tribute into fighting for me, or even get myself into the Career alliance. Then, I would have a chance of winning.
I thought the Captiol would save me, but I guess I'm wrong. They really do have no mercy.
Wystan Knowles (D8M - Age 15)
The mayor's daughter was reaped this year. Is anyone really safe in the Capitol's eyes?
Avalinna walks up to the microphone to draw a boy. The district is so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. We never lived like this. Only on reaping day, for an hour every year, was District 8 truly quiet.
"Okay everyone! And here's your boy tribute..." She plucks a simple strip from the side of the bowl, in the middle.
She carefully unfurls it, making the entire reveal a spectacle to behold. "Wystan Knowles!" She calls out, announcing my name to be the tribute.
I wail loudly, tears streaming down my face, much like the girl reaped minutes ago. Jevon doesn't volunteer. I never expected him to.
I can't move. I'm rooted to the ground. My feet stick where they are like cement, and I wail louldy once again. It can't be me. I won't survive a minute into the Games. I refuse to kill.
The escort looks at me not moving, and gestures to a Peacekeeper. Before they can grab me, the boy to my left gives me a shove, and I topple forward onto the bottom step leading up the stage.
"Well hello there, Wystan," Avalinna murmurs into the microphone. "Glad you came to join us." She says in a feeble attempt at humor. I ignore her remarks, and stare intensly down at my mom, who has her head buried in her hands. I then focus my gaze on Jevon, and I direct anger towards him. Why didn't he volunteer for his little brother? He'd have a better chance at winning than I would!
I wish I lived in District 2, where kids never go into the Arena unless they want to. It's really unfair.
I'm guided off the stage, none too gently, and thrown into a room, amid the Peacekeepers whispering, "Weakling...Bloodbath..." And so on. Not that I cared one bit. I knew I was done for the minute I was reaped. There's no way I'll kill a single human being.
I could never live knowing that I had someone else's blood on my hands. I'd waste away.
I hear a soft knock on my door, and Sayer comes in. "Hey bud. Sorry about earlier." He says, referencing the remark he made about one of us being reaped. It actually came true.
"It's fine." I say. "Sayer. I'm not going to come back. You've been a great friend to me, and I really like you." I say quickly.
He smiles, and looks me in the eye. "I'll never forget you Wystan. Go out the arena, and show them what you've got." He winks, and leaves the room slowly.
Lastly, my mother and Jevon come to visit. She still holds her hands slightly over her face, and has the same frightening look in her eye. Jevon stands awkwardly at the back of the room, not really one to speak a whole lot.
"Mom, I'm not going to kill." I tell her. "I just can't do it."
She nods, slowly accepting what that means. "I'm so proud of you. I've never been more proud of anyone ever before. Wystan, you are choosing to play the Games on nobody's terms but your own, and I love that. I love you." She says, emphasizing the you.
I kiss her cheek, tracing my hand down it. We exchanage a few more words of sorrow before she's pulled out, and I'm left to contemplate how I'll spend the rest of my days.
They are numbered.
~AN~ District 8? Check! Whew, I'm 2/3 of the way done with reapings! I'm so proud! I hope you all enjoyed that chapter, and I'm going to start sharing news with you all in my authors notes. Here we go!
News!:
-I opened up the SYOT to the sequel to this book, info on my profile. To any concerned people, I will not start writing the sequel until I've finished Wisps of Hope. I just wanted to open up the SYOT early in order to get the best submissions possible
-I'm closing the poll for now. The data that I've gotten so far is deleted, and I'm not using it. I will start the poll once again with ALL the tributes once the reapings are done.
-Please PM me with any questions about your characters, alliances, weapons, training scores, etc.
-Lastly, I'm getting busy with end of the year school stuff. Lacrosse tryout are actually in an hour for my school, and I also play on my state's team for lacrosse. This means updates only once a week. :(. Sorry! But I still expect to get the reapings done within the next month! Yay for that!
Review Questions:
-Update your opinion chart.
-Do you think Cordelia should manipulate herself into the Career alliance like she hopes?
-Lastly, say your favorite tribute from this chapter.
Bye, and have a good day!
~Madi.