Farro Bremer, 13 ~ District 11 Female
lunarrose123
That morning, I thought, everything'll be okay.
Since I was young, many people told me I was annoyingly optimistic, and that everything didn't have a good side. But why would you want to look on the bad side of things? It never made sense. Who would want to be angry or upset? If you looked on the bright side of things. . .nothing could really hurt you.
My only friends for as long as I could remember were Aster, Amaryllis, and Freesia. The three of them had treated me wonderfully the past few years, and I had this feeling that I could never have done anything without them.
That morning on the day of the reaping, I could have broken down; thrashed and tried to run the second I opened my eyes. Remembered everything I was forced to see every year of the Hunger Games since I was born. It was the only thing I could never find joy in. But I thought, everything'll be okay.
I opened my eyes, sweat slipping down my face as I sat up and looked around frantically. I saw no one there, the only noise being crickets and other insects outside the window. I eventually calmed down, but I was still scared.
"Had a nightmare, Sis?"
The voice that brought me out of my thoughts was so much smaller than mine. So was its owner, right below me. Dark, skinny arms wrapped around my also–skinny waist, and a small brown face looked up at me. His name was Rye. Seeing him made me smile.
"Not anymore." I hugged my brother, and snuggled the top of his head while asking, "What about you?"
"Not anymore," he said, mocking me. Though it only made me laugh. Rye's grip got tighter around my waist before he whispered, "Will you be okay?"
"Of course," I reassured him, knowing what he meant.
It made me happy that he would be so worried over me, that he might have even had a nightmare of me being sent away. It was touching, though I didn't want him to have those kinds of dreams. Not then. Not ever.
"Now sleep," I whispered back.
I woke up about eight hours later. My brother Rye slept soundly on the other side of the bed, arms tucked into his chest. Whereas I lay all over the place, arms over my head, legs wide open, and hair spilling every which way.
I blinked my eyes open, not used to the extra sleep. It had to be at least seven; I usually got up at four–thirty or five. The reaping allowed my family to sleep in.
In a matter of minutes, my hair was in the usual short ponytail, bangs cutting off just above my eyes. It was my usual look, but it wouldn't be like this for long. Later on, Mommy was going to do something special. She said it would be a surprise every year, always something different.
After my hair was done, my pajamas (which were really just a pair of shorts and a short–sleeved shirt) were covered by a white apron with the occasional smudge on it. I started to make breakfast.
Luckily, an old friend my mom used to know ran into me yesterday. He gave me a few things despite the burdens of his own life. I almost felt bad taking it. But it was nice to make something new this morning. I bought four thin pieces of bread, and milk a few days ago (which I didn't think had spoiled over yet), and I made four steaming bowls of porridge with the oats from the man. We'd been saving some bananas for a special day. To some this meal would have been a godsend. Truly, we were just lucky. My family wasn't rich, but we were better off than most of the people in our district. And that was something that I thanked my real dad for, wherever he might have been.
Not long after, everyone was awake, my mom and Daddy Hibiscus being the last. Unlike me and Rye, my mom and dad had had to work late last night. I never heard them come in.
Breakfast was digested in less than an hour, so it was only about nine o'clock.
I turned to my mom, as she was talking to Daddy Hibiscus. "Mommy! Mommy! Can I see the dress now?!"
She laughed, probably knowing I would ask. "After you take your bath. We want you to look your best, don't we?" she said, winking at me.
I nodded, jumping with joy and anticipation. "Of course!"
As I ran to the washroom to take my bath, I thought I heard some mumbling.
After my bath, I ran to my and Rye's room. The cloth around me was too thin, and my shoulders were exposed, chilling me to the bone. But I endured it. Even princesses had to endure something before becoming beautiful.
In a few minutes, my mom was in the room with a brush in one hand, and something else wrapped in plastic in the other.
It must be the dress! I wonder what it looks like! I wonder how Mommy is going to do my hair? I hope it complements the dress. It probably will—Mommy has excellent taste when it comes to fashion. Though her taste buds are dead.
I giggled at the thought of her cooking this morning. The toast would probably have been burnt, and the porridge might have even evaporated in the pan. I covered my mouth, trying to stifle giggles. She already knew I was laughing, but if she ever found out what I was laughing about. . .I'm sure Mommy would have messed with my outfit in some kind of way. I wanted to look forward to something, at least.
Thinking about the Capitol sent a chill down my spine. My hand shot for the gold necklace around my neck. Somehow, I know that Daddy will save me. I breathed slowly as I held onto the circular thing.
"Farro?" my mom called, worry showing on her face.
"I'm fine," I said, smiling brightly at her, while removing my hand from the necklace. She sighed out of relief. "But mommy," I started, looking thoroughly confused.
"What is it?"
"When did I move to the bed?"
Somehow in my daze, I moved from the middle of the room to the bed, and my hair was no longer in its neat ponytail with bangs—it was out and messy. Sort of like this morning.
"Maybe you should pay more attention," she said, humored by my absent–mindedness.
I opened my mouth, about to come up with some excuse, but closed it soon after, not knowing what to retaliate with. I would admit—I did space out sometimes.
Now it was my mom's turn to laugh, as she began to brush my hair. Fortunately I brushed my hair daily, so it went in easily. After a few yelps, my hair was combed nicely, then done in some hairstyle that I couldn't identify by weight.
Afterwards, Mommy had me close my eyes as she dressed me. What she had me wear was definitely not a dress. I wasn't able to see anything until Mommy said it was okay to open my eyes. When I did, I immediately ran out of the room (our only mirror was in the living room). Gasping, I saw my hair in a topknot, and the cutest outfit I had ever worn: a frilly green and black shirt with a black sash, held up by a black strap behind my neck, and a hot pink, heart–shaped button on the sash. The bottom of the shirt was dotted with black frills, and black hearts on the top.
I also had on black leggings that stopped just below my knees, and hot pink gloves (the fact that my fingertips were showing meant that they were solely for fashion).
On my feet were amazingly cute green and black boots to complement the shirt. The boots covered about half the distance between my knee and ankle, although my mom obviously knew about the distance and covered the rest with long black socks.
As I was continuously gawking at my appearance, giggling and twirling like an idiot in the mirror, Daddy Hibiscus came out in his own black tux—probably the only color our district could afford. I smiled brightly when I saw his tie; it was a nice bright purple. Mom was probably the one who wrestled the thing onto him. Despite his calm and caring nature, Daddy Hibiscus hated dressing formally. Each year, he shouted about how uncomfortable he was. But he looked happy this morning.
I ran to him, smothering myself in his loving embrace.
"You look amazing," he said. His smiles were so gentle and beautiful. I sometimes wondered if he knew it.
My face stretched as I tried to copy his smile. Though it didn't seem to have the same effect, as Daddy Hibiscus laughed.
"Sis! Sis!"
Rye ran down our small hallway toward me. I let go of Daddy Hibiscus to get a better look.
Rye was in the same style tux that his dad was sporting. Of course, his was much smaller, though still too big for him. Wherever Mommy bought them didn't have one in his size. Besides that, the only other noticeable difference was the hot pink tie near his neck. It was messy and looked completely wrong.
"You tried to tie it yourself, didn't you?"
He averted his gaze guiltily. "It was too tight," he mumbled.
I shook my head, though a smile was still pasted on my face as I tied it for him properly.
"You'll make a great wife someday," my mom teased as she walked into the room in her stunning purple dress.
It was probably something Daddy bought when she was young, a long time ago. It didn't seem to fit too well; it looked almost suffocating. But as my mom liked to say at times, 'Beauty is pain.'
"Whoa, whoa. We seem to be getting a little ahead of ourselves, don't we? Marriage will be a very long time from now," said Daddy Hibiscus.
Mommy rolled her eyes, as I giggled.
The next few minutes were full of lively conversation, as we talked about anything besides the reaping. The television was never touched, though we probably should have watched it.
We headed out at about 12:45. There was no reason to go separately, and it gave us enough time to get to the square.
My house was located somewhere between the square and the fence, so our walk wasn't too long. But it did take a while to get there. I didn't see any of my friends; that was normal. We decided last year that we didn't have to meet up, 'cause there was no reason to worry.
Oh! Please forgive me.
I should probably tell you that Aster, Amaryllis, Freesia, and I decided to volunteer for one another. It was a sort of reassurance so we wouldn't be all that frightened. Freesia was the one who decided that it would be a friendship test.
Last year, none of us were called, so nothing happened. I hoped it was that way again.
"Farro, you have to go and sign in," my mom said.
I blinked a few seconds, realizing that I was panting while holding my necklace again. I did that a lot.
"O–okay," I said, my voice starting to crack as I let go of the circular thing.
She looked worried. I didn't want to leave her like that, so I smiled. Hopefully she wouldn't hear me crying inside.
I hugged Rye, then Daddy Hibiscus, and got in line to sign in. As I gradually got closer, I felt the blood drain from my face. I hated the prick. It was like a wake–up call that it was really happening.
As I gave the woman my hand, which was shaking violently, she looked at my face. She said nothing and continued with the process.
By the time it was over, I was in the thirteen–year–olds' section, looking around worriedly for one of my friends' faces. Yesterday all four of us were picked to participate in the official reaping. I was able to put on a strong front for them, but I made the mistake of crying in front of Rye before bedtime, which was when he slipped into my bed to comfort me. I didn't want him to be like me when he went through this. He was strong, but. . .
"Farro!" I heard my name from afar, and followed it to the edge of the thirteen–year–olds' section, noticing Freesia calling me from the Fifteens with a goofy grin. "Just checkin'," she said.
Next to her, Aster and Amaryllis turned to smile at me too.
"Good luck!" That was Aster.
"And don't forget the promise." Then Amaryllis. The other two looked at her sourly. Not that she cared; she shrugged, then disappeared back into the crowd, before they followed.
A lot of girls were shaking. Some were even hyperventilating. This only made me more nervous, but I promised myself not to freak out, at least not yet.
Then, in only a few seconds, our escort—um. . .P. . .Pallas Lenore—stumbled onto the stage. Happy as ever, in that same infuriating outfit. Bubblegum–colored hair, and an odd–looking, cream–colored suit. Maybe that looked good once, a hundred years ago.
Actually, I'm sorry. I should calm down and continue the story.
I ignored the entire introduction only because she was so distracting; I'm normally not that snappy about someone, but I get very critical when it comes to clothes.
After my small blackout, I came to just in time to hear Pallas say, "As always! Ladies first!" Her accent rang through the mike.
As she crossed to the clear ball, I felt my heart pound against my chest.
All of a sudden, it stopped altogether.
Daddy, save me.
How should I explain what happened when Pallas called my name? I suppose you could say. . .nothing made sense anymore. I could barely breathe. Still, I somehow made it to the stage, trying to steady my breathing only to fail miserably when I looked at the crowd beneath my feet. They were so lucky.
But then I remembered: the promise!
Aster looked completely horrified. Freesia wept silently. Amaryllis averted her gaze completely. I remember wondering, what type of reactions are those? I hoped for some type of reassurance, and prayed that when Pallas called for volunteers. . .Amaryllis shook her head. I prayed that was a joke. Only it wasn't.
I knew it deep down from the beginning. But I had hoped I wasn't lying to myself. So when the realization hit, I broke down.
Weeping on national television wasn't necessarily a good thing. In fact, it was a terrible thing. I knew I should stop. I should be strong. For Rye, for Mommy, for Daddy Hibiscus, and for myself. But this was the one time I couldn't pull myself together. I was on my knees, crying my eyes out. I felt all eyes on me, before Peacekeepers took me away.
I don't know what happened after that, but obviously the other tribute was picked. I was taken to some room. If I were in better spirits, I would probably have gone crazy, touching everything I could get my hands on. But I wasn't, so I sat there until my family came in.
Rye was the first to burst through the doors. He ran to me and jumped in my lap, hugging as tightly as he possibly could. I said nothing. I did nothing.
Slowly, Daddy Hibiscus came through, holding my mom in his arms. His eyes were dried up, and she was still sniffling.
"Hi," she said in–between them.
As you can probably guess, I said nothing.
In fact, the entire time I stared into space.
Usually in a time like this, I would have grabbed the necklace Daddy sent me so many years ago. I couldn't lift a finger. I couldn't stop thinking about my friends' faces. About how they had always treated me.
I constantly ran all over the place to get them things, and they left me places. I thought it was a joke, so I came back. I guess it was my fault, though. For trying to prove that I could make at least those friends. I didn't know why no one liked me.
I guess there's nothing I can do about it now.
I was going into the Games. I was going to die there.
I did not get to the train on my own either.
My family was weeded one after the other from the room, in as much turmoil as I was. Rye actually had to be pried from my lap; he was kicking and screaming while going out the door.
I woke up. Someone—whoever they were—was banging on my bedroom door, yelling.
I looked out the window to see daylight already half–gone.
I said nothing to the person behind the door. If they truly wanted me, they should come in and get me. It wasn't like I knew how to lock it; I doubted it could be locked, who knew what the tributes would do to themselves before the Games? The thought of suicide had crossed my mind, but I knew that leaving my family that way would only make them feel worse.
All of a sudden, the door opened.
"Farro! It's dinner time, come and eat now," Pallas said.
But I just laid there. There was no way she would—no, she couldn't move me by force, even if she wanted to. And that was the only way she was going to get me to come.
She sighed. It seemed she had finally given up hope.
"Fine. Do what you like!" Pallas stormed out of the room.
I rolled over and watched her leave. I think I'm still tired.
...
Trevon Rindez, 15 ~ District 11 Male
kb5000
I swing myself off my bed, feeling more tired than when I went to sleep. My mother is toasting bread in the kitchen, while my father is making something else for breakfast.
My brother Matt is at the table, looking nervous and excited at the same time. The nervousness I understand. What I don't, however. . .
"Good morning, Dad. Mom. Hey, Matty, what are you so excited about?"
"Dad had enough money to buy eggs! That's why it smells so good, Trevon!" He has enough energy to fly to the Capitol and back twice.
"Buddy, if you don't stop bouncing, you're gonna' be a human cannonball!"
Matt giggles.
Then Mom tells me to sit, so we can eat. Dad scoops a pile of eggs onto my plate, and after thanking him, my hand snatches a piece of toast and I'm smearing strawberry jam on it before I notice. I take a bite of the eggs and enjoy the flavour as I chew. No one seems to make an attempt to talk.
Soon enough, my breakfast is gone, and I'm in the bedroom, pawing through drawers for something that fits and is not covered in dirt. Eventually, I spot a green dress shirt and black trousers that are suitable.
I pull out a blue dress shirt that's too small for me, but will fit Matt perfectly. I smile and sneak up behind him. Tossing the fabric at his head, I tell him to get dressed. He looks at me with fear in his eyes.
Then I remember it's his first reaping. God, how'd I forget that?
I crouch beside him. "Hey, your name's only in there once. You'll be fine."
I refused to let him take any tesserae, because I couldn't bear to see him go in. Be slaughtered like twenty–three others. I'd feel like the worst big brother on the planet.
"But. . .but. . ." He begins to argue with my logic.
"Even if you're picked, I'll. . ." I take a deep breath. "I'll volunteer for you."
He smiles, though he's still scared. I've just added his slip to my twenty.
He walks away to get dressed, and once he's done, we walk to the square. The Capitol has spruced it up with ribbons, speakers, and cameras, and made it look presentable.
I spot Quinn, and run over to her. Her dark red hair sparkles in the sunlight, and her emerald green eyes are consumed with fear. I lower to her height and kiss her on the cheek. "Hey, it's gonna' be okay. It won't be you."
"How do you know that, Trev'? I'm in there five times!" Quinn exclaims, and I'm slightly jealous. Being a merchant's daughter, Quinn has always had more to eat than my family.
I take her hand in mine, my dark skin clashing with her tanned. "Listen, there are lots of other kids there with more slips than you. Understood?"
She nods, and with a kiss, we head our separate ways. Even though she's a week and three days older, I'm always the more mature one in our relationship. I file into my spot, wanting this to be over.
Our escort, Pallas Lenore, teeters onto the stage in a pair of ridiculous shoes and gives us the biggest smile I've ever seen.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Pallas squeals in her stupid accent. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
She struts to the glass ball on her right. "Ladies first!" Her perfect–looking hand dives into the ball. I pray Quinn's name isn't called; the guilt that I wasn't there to protect her would plague me for the rest of my life.
"Farro Bremer!"
Not until I see the thirteen–year–old walking to the stage do I feel relief. It's not Quinn. Thank God. Now all that's left to worry about is me and Matt. I still feel bad for the girl, though; probably won't win, as horrible as that sounds.
When I hear the boy's name, I'm overjoyed, but frightened to my core—it's not Matt, I don't have to volunteer. Because it's me going up there anyway.
I raise my head and walk to the stage on shaky legs. I stand, tensed, beside Pallas in her ridiculous cream–coloured suit and bubblegum–blue hair, waiting to get out of the spotlight.
I look at Quinn, who has tears in her eyes. My family's the same, with Matt clutching our mother. As I shake hands with Farro, one thought is bouncing around my head: I may never see any of them again. As we are whisked off–stage, I tell myself that is a lie.
...
I stare at the fields, zooming by at lightning speed.
Goodbyes were horrible. Matt and Mom couldn't even speak, just sob while clinging to me for dear life. After a few minutes, Dad grasped my hand, and with tears in his eyes he spoke only five words: "You have to win, son."
I stared right into his eyes and replied with a determined look, "I promise I will."
The Peacekeepers stormed in to take them away, and Matt and Mom got hysterical. As they were dragged out, Matt screamed my name over and over again. "TREVON! TREVON!"
"I'll see you soon, okay?" I yelled back, with a sad smile.
I sat back down, and was looking out the window when Quinn raced into my arms. Her tears were soaking my shirt, and she looked like a mess.
"Hey, it's okay. I'll be back," I said, pushing her hair off her face. She looks like an average merchant's daughter, but she's more beautiful than anything I've ever seen.
"You don't know that, Trev'! You may not make it a day!" she screamed between sobs. I didn't like thinking of that possibility.
"No. Matt's only twelve, and. . .I can't leave him with my parents alone, because there's no telling how they'd react to my death. And I can't leave you. I love you too much. You're a huge part of my life, and I want to come back and continue on with our lives, together."
My eyes started to tear up as Quinn reached down and handed me an old silver chain. "Since you won't be here for our first anniversary, I'll give you your gift now. It was my grandfather's, then my father's, and now it's yours. Could it be your token?"
"Of course." I took it and placed it on my neck. It felt perfect.
I kissed Quinn until the Peacekeepers took her away.
Now I'm here, on the amazing train, watching everything blur together. As I try to make out trees, my hand shoots to my head and I clench my jaw, trying to fight off the pain of a headache; it's one of the worse ones. As I'm about to give in, it's gone in a cloud of smoke.
I know why this happens. When I was nine, I fell from a tree while picking oranges, and received a concussion that was so bad I'll never fully recover. I have to resist the urge to fall unconscious. I also have a tendency to forget things easily. My family and Quinn are understanding, but I still feel like a liability. I'm worried it will happen in the Games, and I'll be picked off. Gone because of a stupid child's mistake.
Pallas walks in and tells me dinner is ready, and we best not be late because that would be rude.
Stupid Capitolites, I think as we walk to the dining room. They should learn to not be so shallow.
