Hello :) yep its up :) its decided that there will be one train scene and then chariots :) so one more reaping! Yay! hope you enjoy!
Joe Walden POV
I complain as my sister stands over me, yanking at my blankets. I glare up at her and she smiles down at me. She's 24 now, she's had 6 years of peace. I still had 3 years of torture.
"Joe! Get up! Come on, I can't move you!" She groans. I open my blue eyes and smirk at her. I sit up, running my hand through my sandy blond hair.
"I'm up, I'm up!" I raise my hands, palms forward in surrender to her tugging on the covers. She smiles even wider, sticks her tongue out, and then twirls out of the room. I rub my hand over my face, wiping the sleep away and then slowly start to get up. I stumble around my room, my hand knocking over a picture frame. I gingerly pick up the picture of Jorge (my sister) Mom, Dad, and me.
I sigh, putting it gently back on its little perch. Mom and Dad died when I was 6. I was never really told how.
I had come up with theories. Mugging gone wrong. They owed someone money. Natural causes. Something, but I was never told the whole story.
And I don't think I really ever want to know the whole story.
I open one of the drawers and pull out clothes for the reapings. Baggy pants, like normal and a plain brown shirt. I look into the mirror and see my hair is completely disheveled, but I don't feel like fixing it.
I trump down the hall loudly, trying to annoy my sister. I succeeded, making Jorge glare at me with deadly brown eyes. Just like Mom's. I look away, grabbing two apples from the table.
"See you at the reaping, 'k?" I ask taking a bite from one of the apples.
"Yeah, whatever you dork," She rolls her eyes. I smile and walk out of the house. I don't live in a big house, but it's not that small either. One story, 3 bedrooms, 1 bath. I meander around for a little longer near our section of District 11.
People stare at me, my pale skin making me stand out. Not pale, I was tan, but not as dark skinned as most of Eleven. Mom and Dad lived in a merchant part of town, and didn't work in the fields. I think they must have worked in a fruit shop.
I rub the other apple on my shirt, and once it's shining I slip it into my pocket. I smile and wave at a few of my friends, but I look up at the sun, guessing the time. I decide it's close enough to 11 to go and get her.
I jog over to Alayaa's house, and when I get to her door, I knock quietly, opening the door and stepping into the small sterile home.
Alayaa Odair POV
I heard the knock on the door. I don't move from my spot near my mother's bed side. I'm helping her eat. Not feeding her, just making sure that she is eating.
"Come on, Mom, just finish this up and then you can be done," I plead. She looks disgusted as I hand her the bowl again. It was only broth and a small slice of bread. She tries handing it back to me but I force it to her again. She sighs and is slow but eats the remaining soup and bread. I smile as I take the bowl from her. "Now that wasn't bad was it?"
"Well, if it was your cooking, I can understand why she was reluctant to eat it," I turn and glare at Joe. My mother chuckles hoarsely, and I can't help but smile as well.
"Then why do you eat with me every night?" I counter. He shrugs, pulling and apple from his pocket. I get up and take it from him, biting into the bitter, green fruit with a smile. I turn to my mother.
"You need to get up soon, ok? Reapings are today," My smile saddens. She nods, and I turn pushing Joe out of Mom's room, handing him the plates. "Wash these will you? I still need to get ready."
He rolls his eyes, but nods, walking into our small kitchen. I turn back into my room, quickly slipping out of my normal clothing into my knee length, strapless turquoise dress. I look into the mirror, running a brush through my curly blond hair. I pull a white flower from its vase on my dresser, slipping it into my hair.
The flowers were a gift from Joe, for passing exams. Which I'm fairly sure he flunked, though he won't tell me. I slip on the white flats and walk back into the kitchen, where Joe stands, washing the dishes, like I told him. I smirk a little, going to stand next to him and dry the plates. He glances over at me as he washes, question on his face. Whatever it is he's wondering, he doesn't voice though.
"It's such a nice day, let's go outside," I mumble staring out the window.
"Let's go then," He smirks at me. I call to my mother, and when she walks out of her bedroom I help her walk to our neighbor's house. I walk up behind Joe, wrapping my arms around his neck. Not in any way romantically, but he instantly knows his queue, bending back a little, holding onto my knees, and giving me a piggy back ride.
He's always done this, like when we were younger, he would. It started right after his parents' accident. When we were playing house, I refused to be the mother again, and wanted to be the daughter. He found it odd, but played along, and as we played we saw a daughter sitting on her father's shoulders. I started complaining how my father never did that, and Joe gave me a strange look.
"I'll give you a ride," He said.
"Why?" I asked, my tongue rubbing against the gap in my teeth.
"Isn't that what Dad's do with their Daughters?" He asked, referring to our stupid game.
He hasn't stopped, and it never failed to make me smile. We get to the town square, laughing like idiots. He sits me down lightly and we walk over to the table. I clutch the Joe's arm, like every year.
They prick both of our fingers, and send us in.
"Good luck, Alayaa," Joe smiles.
"Good luck, Joe," I can't bring the smile to my face.
Joe Walden
I split with Alayaa, who like normal, hates today. She's always hated today. Reapings. Where 2 children from each district are forced into the Games and most of them die. And for what? The Capitols entertainment. Sick, sick people.
Our escort comes forward, face pink. And I mean, hot pink. Her hair is a soft red, pulled back from her face. She smiles gently at us, showing us her sharp silver teeth. I shudder a little, and hear her high pitched voice.
"Welcome, District 11, to the 20th annual reapings! So like every other year, ladies first!" Her voice isn't really joyful as she speaks. Her hand falls into the bowl, and runs along the edge until her fingers clasp around one name.
"Alayaa Odair!" I whip around to look at her. Her mouth is open in a small 'o,' eyes wide with fear and shock. She starts walking up to the stage, her frame shaking. When she gets there, her shaking has become so violent I think she'll black out.
"Oh, dear," The escort, Stella I think her name is, says her eyes sympathetic. "And for the boy's…" She dips her hand in, pulling out the first name her hand touches. "Joe Walden!" Her fake excitement is pitiful. Wait. Joe Walden…that's me. I move robotically, and then start running. Alayaa still shook, tears brimming onto her cheeks.
"Don't cry, please Alayaa," I whisper, cupping her face in my hands. She nods, trying to hold back the tears. Her blue eyes are like the ocean, and I sigh removing my hands from her face. We had been seen as a 'couple,' though we never had been. I saw her almost like a sister. Right?
"And I give you the District 11 tributes," Our escort says, without any enthusiasm.
Alayaa Odair
We're lead into the Justice Building. I won't release Joe's hand, so they let us have our goodbyes in the same room. His sister comes in first.
"Joey," She whispers, shaking her head. "Why? What did our family do? First Mom and Dad, now you're forced to leave me? What the heck did we do wrong?" She says, seating herself next to him. Jorge never cried anymore, so I wasn't surprised when she didn't even look near tears. Just an annoyed look that she wore often.
"Oh, and I thought you'd want this. It's the same one that's on your dresser, I just always have this one on me," She pulls out a small picture, of Joe when he was younger, with Jorge, and his mom and dad. He was smiling so brightly. I hadn't seen him smile like that in months. "Oh and Joey? Be good to her," She smirked, hugging him again. Then she turns to me, hugging me tightly. I smiled up at her, more tears about to fall.
My mother comes in next, after Jorge leaves. She was hobbling, tears in her eyes, and she wrapped me in a tight hug.
"I'm sorry, Momma, I'm sorry," I apologize into her ear. I'm not sure for what, but I do.
"Don't, please don't apologize. I love you, you must come home, ok? Or Joe, you must. One of you, 11 hasn't had a Victor in a while. Please," She pleads with us.
"Momma, you gotta keep fighting. I know the cancer is getting hard on you, but just because I'm gone doesn't mean you can just quick on me. You need to keep fighting," I say, using my turn to plead.
"Go to my house, Jorge won't mind," Joe says with a smile. My mother nods. She slips a paper into my hand, kisses both of our cheeks, and walks out, tears brimming over.
I look down at the paper, seeing the old photo. It was one of Mom, me, and Dad. She was in a white gown, so it must have been her wedding day. I had been born after they had been dating for 3 years, and a wedding was last on their minds. So on my 1st birthday, it became their anniversary. But something happened, and Daddy left us. I don't know where he is. I really don't care to know.
"Well, it's just us against the world now, A," Joe slings his arm over my shoulders.
"Let's hope the world is a kind battle," I mumble. Joe gives me a strange look, but then nods with a sad shrug. But a question bounces in my mind.
'If death is so bad, why does it let use escape this horrible place?'