Chapter 11: District 10 Reaping: Flannel and Silk

District 10

"Bandit Lee!" The girl's mother, Chanelle Highland called from the porch. "Finish your work and get in here, we're having lunch early!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Bandit called, rolling her eyes.

Finish your work. Like it was that easy.

The Highland's were one of the few families left in the district that owned their own private ranch. Over the years, as their money began to run out, most of the other families in the district had been forced to sell out to the large companies. They were still allowed to live in the large, expensive homes that graced the large plots of land, but they didn't own them, and could be expelled at any time. That was a situation that Mark Highland, Bandit's father, had been very proud to avoid. Working alongside his four children, the man had built a financial foundation for his estate that would benefit generations to come. Bandit Lee had to work twice as much as the other girls her age, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Pride in a hard days work had been passed down from her father.

Bandit unfastened the many buckles attached to the saddle of her horse, Bitterburn, muscling it off of the horse's back and heaving it up onto its rack, the satisfying thud of leather against wood jarring her aching arms. Walking out of the barn, the girl pushed her pin straight blonde hair out of her eyes and swung the large door closed, shoving the cool metal latch into place as she turned and walked toward the house. Dropping her work gloves in the pile accumulating next to the stairs leading up to the wraparound porch, Bandit ran up the stairs and stepped out of her boots, leaving them at the end of the line of the rest of her family's footwear.

Mother did not let the workers wear their boots in the house.

Bandit swung open the door, walking into the substantially cooler house and breathing in the familiar scent of the cleaned and polished interior. Following the straight lines in the wood floor that had been last summer's project, Bandit quickly entered the dining room and sat in her place, smiling an apology at her mother.

"You," Bandit's oldest brother, Louis, said dramatically. "Stink." Bandit's younger sister, Dale snorted out a laugh.

"And you have dirt on your face too." Dale giggled, giving her wet, and newly washed hair a small shake.

"That's enough," Mrs. Highland said, stopping the teasing before it got out of hand. "At least wait until Papa's said grace." Chanelle looked at her husband and grabbed his tan, calloused hand, prompting them all to bow their heads over the plates of steaming food.

"Dear Lord," Mr. Highland began. "We thank you for the energy you've given us to complete our work today. Thank you for blessing us with such a wonderful, hardworking woman to take care of the house and make such delicious food for us when we come back home," Bandit opened her eyes briefly to see the small smile that had spread across her mother's lips. Hopefully, I'll find a love like this some day, she thought, glancing over to meet her brother's critical gaze before closing her eyes again. "Thank you for watching over us continually, and keeping us safe." There was a moment as Mr. Highland paused, and the rest of the family held their breath. "You know what today is, Lord, and You already know its outcome. We ask that you stay with Flynt, Bandit, and Dale, no matter what happens during the reaping this afternoon. Amen."

"Amen." The family repeated. Picking up her fork, Bandit looked up at her mother once again, this time seeing a very different picture. Her knuckles white from squeezing her husband's hand, Mrs. Highland was staring at nothing in particular, oblivious to the tears beginning to stream unchecked down her pale face.

Andelin Brown looked into the mirror, frowning as his mother continually smoothed his hair with her heavy hand, pushing his head this way and that to accomplish the task.

"You are not a handsome boy, Andelin," his mother said, giving up on her initial idea for his hair and immediately smoothing the brown strands in the opposite direction. "You need to take care of yourself, or you will never get married."

"Thanks, mom," Andelin said in an emotionless voice. "Your encouraging comments always help to bolster my spirits."

"Oh, stop," she laughed, giving his brown suit jacket one last swipe before pronouncing the boy ready for the reaping. "Now remember, son," she said, giving her annual speech. "Stand as close to the group of girls as you can, and shake your head in sadness when the girl gets picked. Then, when Mr. Magenta goes to pick the boy, hold your head up and look strong."

"Mom," Andelin sighed, turning to face his mother. "They're not going to be looking, and even if they were, I'm only fourteen. It doesn't matter what they think of me yet."

"You don't know if they will or will not be looking," she scolded, pushing him out the bathroom door and up the stairs. "And what they think of you now will affect what they think of you later, I promise. I kissed your father in," Andelin interrupted before she could continue.

"In third grade, and next thing you know, you're married and have three kids. I know, mom, you've told me a million times."

Mrs. Brown huffed. "Don't interrupt your mama."

"I'm going to the reaping early," Andelin said quickly, stepping through the Brown family front door before his mother could answer him. "I want to see them set up!"

When he got to the square he stood outside and watched as the crew set up the large screens and dealt with various issues that came up. It was fascinating.

Then Mr. Magenta came through the front door accompanied by the mayor.

Andelin had always been fascinated by the only piece of the Capitol that had ever set foot in district ten. The high, arching eyebrows that looked perpetually surprised, the tight, beautifully fitted dark pink suit, the white stained lips, and the many and varied rings on his long, graceful fingers, all added up to a very striking and compelling image. Andelin had always wondered what it was like to be surrounded by people who spent so much time on their personal appearance. It would probably make him feel even worse about himself than talking to his mother. Andelin walked toward the peacekeeper station as soon as it was set up and checked in, walking into the square and sitting down on the portion of cement saved for his peers, though none of them had shown up yet. As the square began to fill up, Andelin stood up and began to search the crowd for his sisters, eventually catching the eye of Annamaria, who was standing with the other thirteen year olds. She was scared, he could tell. Smiling at her from his place, he winked, finally getting her to relax and form a smile of her own. The mayor stood up and began her opening speech, the familiar, formal words settling the crowd into their cold silence. At the end of her annual speech, however, she continued on a new line of thought.

"Today is the day that we remember one of the most costly decisions in the history of our world." She said, her thin lips frowning at the crowd. "The decision to rebel. Rebellion against higher powers has never had a positive affect, and it never will. Please, I urge you, the people of district ten, to continue to live a life void of even the smallest of rebellions. Unlike this man, who was found taking money from his employers at Bellman Brothers Inc." She gestured to the left, signaling for two burly peacekeepers to drag a man up onto the stage. The bruises on his face and arms showed very clearly what the man had been through before this public punishment.

"I'm sorry!" The tortured scream rang through the crowd, without an answer.

"Because of your rebellion against your employers, you will be executed publicly and buried in an unmarked grave." The mayor said this, her eyes staring unmoving at the crowd. "You will die nameless, as is fitting for the seriousness of your crimes." One of the peacekeepers drew his gun from its holster and set it against the man's skull, pulling the trigger. The corpse fell to the ground soaked in blood, the screeches from the crow quickly quieting as the people began to notice the large amount of peacekeepers surrounding the square. Andelin looked up at the cameras, noting the absence of the blinking red light that indicated that it was recording.

Of course they had been turned off. No one in the Capitol would want to see this.

Bandit watched the flurry of motion as a crew came and took away the body, cleaning up the mess in a quick, efficient, emotionless way. As soon as the crew was off of the stage, the lights, cameras, and sound system came back on, Mr. Magenta waltzing to the microphone and smiling at the people.

"Hello, hello!" His easy, comfortable exterior was sickening when Bandit thought of what had just taken place on the stage, right where he was standing. "Once again we find ourselves here, ready to give two more souls the chance to win all the riches and glory of the Capitol. Let's pick the girl first, shall we?" Walking over to a crudely crafted trough, an object that mocked the district's main purpose with its poor craftsmanship, Magenta pulled a card out and read the name in a clear, but anticlimactic tone. "Bandit Lee Highland."

Bandit had never felt so cold. Every child in the districts had tried to imagine what it would be like to hear their name called out across the square. Would they cry? Would they scream? Would they curse? Bandit walked slowly toward the stage, perhaps too slowly, as peacekeepers came and hurried her along. Looking over her shoulder Bandit saw her mother clinging to her father, hiding her sobs in his flannel shirt. Bandit loved that shirt. She remembered how it felt, even how it smelled, with perfect clarity.

She had been eight years old. It was the first time she'd met Bitterburn, a horse her father had purchased from their next-door neighbor. Louis had said she would never be able to ride the horse, but she wanted to prove him wrong. Tiptoeing out to the barn, Bandit had opened the door, walked quietly to Bitterburn's stall, and climbed onto his back. Of course, the horse bolted. After miraculously holding on for a few minutes, the horse bucked her off, kicking her in the head in the frenzy. Thankfully, the family had heard her screaming, and they were able to take her to the hospital where she recovered. Bandit could still remember the moment she had woken up, safe, warm, and in her father's arms. He had traced the long scar on her head with his fingers, the soft flannel of his shirt rubbing against her skin as he whispered, "Everything is going to be okay."

Even though she was staring at the strange man in front of her, Bandit barely heard him call out the second name. "Andelin Brown!" She was joined on the stage by a small, skinny, nervous-looking boy. The only one alive who knew how she felt at this moment.

Andelin stared at Magenta. He was so close to him that if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch the luxurious fabric that the suit was shaped out of. The man looked down and smiled, letting out a small sigh. From this close up, Andelin could see blonde stubble growing on the face that was nearly as white as the clouds. It added a touch of reality to the almost extra-terrestrial appearance of the escort.

"Ladies and gentleman," the man's rich voice rang out. "Your tributes!"

A/N

This one took me a while, but I like how it turned out. Tell me what you think!

I will be posting polls on here, and on my blog (the URL is on my profile), and I would love to see people participating in those.

Also, I have some very exciting news. A good friend of mine has agreed to help out with the tribute portraits! This way the drawings will be posted faster, and they will be much better. (She's far more talented than I am)The first series will be each of them in their chariot outfits, which I'm really excited about.

AND I have decided to reply to as many reviews as possible. So be warned. ;)

-IVV