Rippel Clark

I can't see. And it's annoying. My arm extends from my warm haven under the covers, and I grope around on my creaky bedside table. They're not there. The roughly hewn surface is bare.

Already disgruntled, I tumble out of bed, landing painfully on my elbow. I search the floor. Not there either, though I encounter something that I'm definitely glad I can't see. It squishes.

"Eddie! You are so dead!" I cry, scrambling from my hands and knees, knocking into my little sister Corent's vacant bed.

Laughter from the adjacent room confirms my suspicions. Eddie. Now if I could only find the doorknob. Instead, I trip over the tiny bed Corent has set up for her seagrass dollies. It's made out of an old turtle shell lined with grass mats, but it still hurts like anything colliding with my shin.

Barely, I can make out the blurry shape and color of the door. I barrel towards it, though I misjudge the distance and smack my forehead. The pain doesn't stop me, and I feel around until I open the door, dashing down the hall to the boys' room.

At their door, I repeat the process, searching for the handle and wrenching it open.

I must look an awful sight, because the movement I can see through the haze that is my vision stops, along with the laughing.

"I am giving you," I growl, "Three seconds to return my glasses. And then I kill you!"

Slowly, I extend my hand, and with a flurry of movement, I feel their weight in my hand as Eddie speeds past me, running for the kitchen. He knows dad won't let me murder him in front of Corent and Tied.

For a few seconds, I just breathe, feeling the pain I have been ignoring rush back to me. I clean off the lenses to my glasses, and slip them on.

My vision goes clear, and I sigh in relief. Better. I am in the room that Tied and Eddie share, just one thin wall away from my own. There's no clock, but I can guess by the sun in the window that it's before ten.

There is a somewhat foggy, flawed mirror hanging on the wall. I take in the blood leaking from my nose, and the bruise forming on my arm. My wire-rimmed, rectangular glasses

Perfect. Just perfect. The most important day of my life is off to a brilliant start.

I mop up my nose with the sleeve of my nightgown and traipse out to the kitchen, where Tied and Corent are gnawing on fried shrimp, and Eddie is, typically, whining at dad.

"But daaaaad..." he moans, barely noticing my entrance.

"No buts!" dad barks. "You will be eligible for the reaping next year, and you will eat your shrimp raw!"

He notices me, and turns around. The lines on his forehead have deepened, but he still smiles.

"Rippel. You've decided to join us?" he asks, trying to be stern, but not succeeding. "Talk to your brother. He won't eat his shrimp."

I shoot an icy glare at Eddie, who pokes at his shrimp with a fork and doesn't look at me. Corent pokes Tied with a piece of shrimp, and dad moves to chide her. I lean towards Eddie, mouthing 'd-e-a-d', and he makes a face at me.

"Oh, come on Eddie. Don't you want to grow up big and strong like me?" I say, grabbing a raw shrimp from the plate in the center of the table and downing it. "You know, fried shrimp lose a lot of important proteins when you cook 'em."

He sticks out his tongue, and pushes the plate away. I heave a sigh, and turn to dad.

"So, dad, did you hear what was going on this morning?" I ask, abandoning Eddie's little shrimp-defiance issues.

"I think they may have heard it in District Eleven," he replies, distracted by Tied's decision to throw his shrimp at Corent in retaliation.

I snort derisively, but Eddie grabs the opportunity to annoy me further.

"You wouldn't think one person would be able to be so loud. Especially 'cause she's got such a tiny chest."

He probably doesn't realize just how sensitive a nerve he's pushing, but I kick him anyway. Hard.

"Maybe if you weren't such a little jerk, you could find some friends and leave me alone," I mutter.

"Daaad..." he whines, "Rippel kicked me! You said she's not supposed to do that, remember?"

Before dad can reply, I cut in.

"Oh, come on! It's not like I hurt you or anything! I've been training since I was younger than you, I think I could hurt you if I wanted to!"

Dad looks annoyed at the distraction from feeding my twin siblings.

"Both of you, calm down. Rippel, you'll need to do your exercises after breakfast, and if you have enough time to argue with your brother, I'd call you done. I won't have you volunteering unprepared."

Eddie smirks at me, and I consider kicking him again.

"Yes, dad," I say quietly, taking my dishes to the sink and walking over to the small living room, where my list is taped to the wall.

From the kitchen, I can hear dad chiding Eddie, as well. But we all know that I'm the one who's supposed to volunteer and win and get us out of here, not him. It's my job to make sure Eddie and Tied and Corent don't ever have to be in the games, and I really don't mind. I'm firstborn. It's just the way it is.

I'm already lost in thought as I begin my two hundred pushups, as always. I don't have to focus on them any more, after all the years I've done them. Idly, I consider how little I ate this morning, and how it will affect my performance.

There's no real way to tell, since all I'm paying attention to is the rhythmic palpitation of my heart, and whatever wisp of thought happens to occupy my mind.

Right now, I'm thinking about the quell. Just sort of wondering how many tributes District Four is going to have. Surely, at least three. We're among the bigger districts, but we're also both poor enough and well-trained enough to take out loads of tessarae.

Yeah, three. At least. The Career districts always enter as many times as possible, because, if you're picked and you're not ready, you can be certain that someone will volunteer for you. Except for this year, because anybody with half of a brain is going to volunteer just for the strongest. Who wants to fight those people?

I feel a bit sore, and I realize that I've totally lost count of my exercises. Life catches up, and my slim arms collapse under my weight. I curse. No matter how hard I try, I never seem to bulk up, just get smaller all over. It's irritating.

Dad enters the room, seeing me collapsed on the floor.

"I think you're done, honey," he says, helping me up. "Do you feel ready?"

There is genuine concern in his eyes, but I already know the answer. I've been thinking about it for a long time.

"Ready as I'll ever be, dad," I reply, carefully meeting his eyes.

He nods, squeezing my lower arm and giving me a little smile.

"Then go get ready, Rippel. You'll knock 'em dead."

Yeah, I think to myself, I will. And you won't have to worry any more. I grin back and walk back to my room, not really thinking about anything. Well, of course I am. I'm just wondering how life would be different if my mom had stayed, and whether I would have trained at all. She had never much liked the idea.

I wonder where she is. Whether she is still alive. If she is, then she'll be watching the reapings today. And she'll recognize me, and she'll know me when I win. And I will win. For Eddie, Corent, Tied, and my dad. Not for her. For my family.

My entire frame feels tense, and I wonder if I'm ready. Of course I'm ready. I'm at the top of my class, the tope of my game. I may not look like much, but that's not for lack of trying.

The green dress I select hangs off my wiry frame, obviously. Because the universe simply doesn't want me to look like anything other than a scared little Career in training at the reaping. I cinch the waistband tighter, which doesn't help very much, and try feebly to coax my hair into something resembling a style.

It doesn't work. Of course it doesn't work. I brush it a few more times, just to see if the brown strands will be anything but limp (they won't), and I try to bend my glasses back into a reasonable shape, which is much more successful.

"Rippel!" dad calls from the front door. "Are you ready?"

"Here I come!" I yell back, dashing out the door. No matter what, I am ready. I am Rippel Clark, Career.

I am going to knock them dead.

-x

Apologies for just how long this took to write. I've been in and out of the hospital for the last two months, a cycle which I hope to break.

This update's question: Who is your favorite character for The Hunger Games trilogy?