The sun didn't really care how I felt. It was going to rise and set regardless of whether I noticed it, and if I was going to enjoy it, that was up to me.
-Jeannette Walls
The Griffey Residence, June 16th, 5:30 am
Rowan Griffey (16) POV
District 10 male
My mother always said if you want to feel God's love, watch a sunrise, and that if you wanted to feel God's wrath watch a thunderstorm. The sky the early morning of the Reaping was streaked with vibrant pinks, oranges, and blues, perfectly painted, unlike any other. However, District 10 had seen thunderstorms for the past several days and today was no exception. Along with the colors of the sunrise was gray storm clouds with a hint of a rainbow. It's enough to take my breath away, and I wish that I could stay in the moment forever. If only it wasn't Reaping Day, I might be able to enjoy it. If only.
The morning sky confused me. The bright colors of the sunrise made me think that it would be a good day. As a kid, I always associated a good early morning with a good rest of the day and vice versa. However, the thunderstorm makes me think otherwise. Is God happy? Loving? Angry? Or is a sunrise just a sunrise, and I'm reading too much into it?
I was never one to sleep late because I like to maximize the amount of time where I'm awake and no one else is. It's not really that I'm antisocial- in fact, I love being around my friend Bri- it's just that my family brings me a vague sense of insecurity, and whenever I'm around them, I wish for nothing more than to be away. I love them with all my heart, but sometimes they just don't understand me as well as I'd like them to. I feel like I'm not one of them, and though I've always known why I've never wanted to accept it.
Evelynn Finlarro was 16 years old when she met the man that she would fall aggressively and passionately in love with. I don't know much about him; just that he was in his early twenties and that he was a Peacekeeper. Evelynn was beautiful, with wide green eyes and curly black hair, and when her green eyes met the Peacekeeper's brown ones when his helmet was off, she was instantly smitten. She became obsessed with trying to win him over; her outfits became skimpier, her hair neater and her laugh rang louder. Eventually, it worked, and he noticed her. He led her off somewhere, and they slept together. He told her that no one could know and that they could both get in a lot of trouble for what they did. He would lose his job and she would be executed. So she kept it a secret.
That is until she realized she was pregnant.
Knowing that she couldn't go through a pregnancy alone, Evelynn searched for weeks for the Peacekeeper, but he had been relocated thus she couldn't find him anywhere. She decided to tell her mother, knowing that she couldn't keep it a secret for long. Repulsed by her daughter's pregnancy, Evelynn was thrown onto the streets and told to never return to her family. She spent months on her own; she dropped out of school, got a job and rented a small shack and each day longed for the Peacekeeper who impregnated her to return. He never did, but I was born anyway. Evelynn could barely support herself, so she sought out a couple who would be willing to adopt me.
Enter Carol and Douglas Griffey. They were perfect, other than their own fertility problems. Deeply religious, wealthy and hard-working with a prior history of adopting another children, Evelynn couldn't think of a better family for me to join, so she handed me over in a heartbeat.
It's not the adoption that makes me feel so much different; Olivia and Rachele were adopted as well. What made me feel so ostracized in a family that cared for me deeply was that each of them was completely dedicated to religion while I doubted the existence of any superior being. Each of them seemed to have a passion that drove them while I was just aimlessly floating through life, uncertain about what I wanted to do. Each of them believed that marriage and sex should be between a married man and woman, and I've questioned my sexuality ever since I can remember. I've always been undeniably attracted to guys but haven't told anyone for fear of what they might think. I know my family wouldn't be supportive and I wouldn't want to burden Bri with my own problems when she already has her own to worry about. I'm not all that close with anyone else, so there's no one else to tell.
But that's okay, I guess. I've always thought that people shouldn't define themselves because of just one thing, so I won't let my sexuality define me, especially if no one else knows. I have other characteristics that people can know me by, and that's good enough for me. I'm quite content having a secret. It might prove to be difficult later on in life when I'm expected to get married and have children if I don't have feelings for any girl, but that's a bridge I can cross when I get there. And who knows, maybe I do like girls. Maybe I just haven't found the right girl to like yet, and all of those times I've had crushes on guys in the past have just been a fluke.
I like that idea. There's a lot of stories around the District of people overcoming their homosexuality as they got older, so maybe I'll just become another success story. It's either that or to become another statistic of kids kicked out of their houses for something as arbitrary and uncontrollable as their sexual or romantic attraction.
I was watching the sun rise from the deck in the backyard, perched on the railing with my legs dangling down, but when I hear footsteps coming towards the back door, I swing my legs the other way and hop off, standing with my back to the house and staring at the horizon, trying to seem inconspicuous. If it's either of my parents or Olivia, I'd get a lecture about falling off the deck and breaking a leg, and I'm not up for that this early in the morning. Olivia doesn't generally live with us, as she has her own house with her husband, but she's been staying with us for a little while to prepare for the Reaping while her husband does the same with his family. If it's Rachele that saw me, she'd just roll her eyes and sarcastically say that she hoped I fell off. I hear the screen door that leads to the deck creek open and my mother sticks her head out, smiling warmly when she sees me.
"Hi sweetheart," she says. "What are you doing up so early?"
"I was just..." I trail off. Thinking about my birth parents? Having an existential crisis? Vaguely hoping to not be Reaped, but just as vaguely not minding if I was? "Watching the sun rise. I didn't sleep much last night, the Reaping had me a little on edge."
"Don't worry about getting Reaped," she says, walking over to me and ruffling my hair. "There's such a small chance that it'll be you or Rachele, but even if it is, I'm sure it's part of God's plan."
That's my mom, in a nutshell. Willing to justify the exploitation, torture, and slaughter of children as part of God's bigger picture. I guess I understand, though. Mom and Dad spent years of their lives praying for children, and when the first social worker gave them Olivia, they attributed her to their prayer. Religion became their lifelines, and though they raised Rachele and Olivia on Christian ideals, it was never really my thing. I followed along for their sake, so they wouldn't think that I was being rebellious or disrespectful, but I just never had a taste for it.
"Why don't you go get ready for the Reaping?" she asks. "I'll make you some pancakes and you get your sisters up."
"Thanks, Mom," I say, giving her a quick kiss before walking inside and upstairs to my bedroom.
When I get to my room, I rifle around my dresser drawers and procure something that isn't too casual; a red flannel shirt and a pair of dark jeans. I take the clothes into the bathroom and take a quick shower before getting dressed and brushing my teeth. I run my fingers through my hair before deciding to just leave it unkempt and messy. No one actually cares what my hair looks like anyway. When my mediocre attempt at getting ready is done, I exit my room and walk down the hall to the larger room which Rachele and Olivia share. I knock on the door and pause, waiting for a response but there is none. I open the door cautiously and find Olivia curled up on her side and Rachele taking up as much space in her bed as she can, snoring faintly.
"Guys?" I say, hesitantly. Olivia rolls over and continues sleeping, but Rachele remains dead to the world. "Guys!"
Olivia jolts up. "Hm?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.
"Mom's making breakfast," I say, shifting my weight to my other foot. "She wanted me to wake you guys up."
"That's nice of her," Olivia says with a groggy smile. Rachele grunts, managing to swing her legs off of her bed and stand.
"Why do we have to wake up at 6 am?" she asks, grumpily. "Isn't it supposed to be a holiday?"
"Lighten up, Rachele," Olivia says gently. "Mom probably just wants to spend time with is before the Reaping. In case..."
"Yeah, yeah," she says, getting back into bed. "I'll be down in a little bit."
Olivia finger-combs her hair and we walk downstairs together to the kitchen where Mom is making pancakes and Dad is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He looks at Olivia and me from under his glasses.
"No Rachele?" he asks, turning the page.
"She'll be down in a few minutes," Olivia says.
"I don't want to start breakfast without her," Mom says, troubled.
Just then, Rachele thunders down the stairs wearing blue plaid pajama pants and a black tank top, her curly brown hair in a ponytail with strands hanging out. Compared to Olivia in an oversized white shirt and pink shorts with her dirty blonde hair straight and shiny, the two don't even look like sisters. I marvel at how little they look alike before remembering that they share no blood, as we were all adopted.
My story of being the illegitimate child of a Peacekeeper and a teenager was nothing compared to Olivia and Rachele. When Olivia was only 2, her birth mother caught her birth father molesting her and tried to kill him. Both parents were sent to jail, and Olivia was left without a family. After being in foster care for six months, our parents adopted her. She's 20 now and has almost no memories of her life before she was adopted. Rachele was adopted when she was 5, meaning that even though she was a year older than me, our parents adopted me first. Rachele's father died before she was born, and her mom wasn't mentally right ever since. From the day she was born, Rachele's mother abused her physically until a neighbor saw her hit her through a window. Social workers came and took Rachele away, and our parents volunteered to adopt her immediately. She's had the most trouble adjusting to life here even after 12 years because she has memories before this family.
We pray before we eat, and when we start eating our pancakes and eggs, we do so silently. I can tell my parents are praying, Olivia is quiet and thoughtful, Rachele is quiet and sullen and I'm quiet because I have nothing to say. We all finish around the same time, putting our dishes in the sink and retreating back to where we came from. I go to my room and read for a bit, and after about 30 minutes, there's a knock at my door.
"Yeah?" I call. Olivia pokes her head through my doorway.
"Can I use your bathroom?" she asks. "Rachele has been in ours for a really long time."
"Sure," I say, returning to my book.
"Thanks," she says, walking through my room. "You know, you really should clean up in here. What if you ever have a girl over?"
"Unlikely," I mutter.
"I'm sure you'll find someone, Rowan," she says, walking into my bathroom. After a moment, I hear the showerhead turn on. I keep reading and after some time, she comes out wearing a dressy white shirt and fitted jeans, towel drying her hair.
"Thanks again," she says, disappearing into the hall.
I do my best to keep myself entertained after she leaves, knowing that I have to keep my mind off of the Reaping, and it works. I manage to keep myself occupied and go downstairs to the living room around noon to spend time with my family. Mom and Dad are sitting together on a couch, Olivia is in an armchair and Rachele is nowhere to be seen, so I sit in a chair and join in their conversation. After a while of Olivia telling us some stories about her and her husband, Rachele joins us from upstairs and Mom looks at her disapprovingly.
"That's what you're wearing to the Reaping?" she asks, looking her up and down. She's wearing a short dark red dress with a deep neckline, knee socks the same color, black knee high boots and a black leather jacket with her hair straightened and put in a high ponytail. She managed to find a lipstick the same color as her dress and her eye makeup is black and smudgy.
"Planning on it," she says, sitting down in a chair next to mine.
"Sweetie, what if people get the wrong idea?" Mom asks, concerned.
"What do you mean?" Rachele asks, flatly. I can tell she knows exactly what she means, but is in the mood to challenge her.
"I've seen prostitutes dressed more conservatively than that," Dad says, half joking. "Being a Peacekeeper when I was younger, there were a lot of girls that would-"
Silently, I stand from my chair and walk into the kitchen, taking deep breaths. I know he didn't mean to call my mother a whore, but it was hard to not take it that way. Dad realizes his mistake and comes to the kitchen to apologize. I tell him it's okay and we go back into the living room. After we run out of things to talk about, we watch the Capitol preparing for the Games until it's time to go to the Reaping.
The Black Market, June 16th, 9:00 am
Terry Kartcher (18) POV
District 10 female
District 10's black market was dingy, slightly damp and always smelled like mildew, but over time, I became accustomed to it. Up until a few years ago, I would never willingly set foot here, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and it turns out that once you get over the general atmosphere of the place, it's not that bad at all.
It all starts with my parents, really. Their age difference is greater than that of most couples that I know; 17 years apart, to be exact. My father has always had a comfortable amount of money from being a relatively popular horse breeder, and my mother has always been beautiful, so a lot of people thought that when they got married days after my mother's last Reaping, my mother only married for money. District 10 isn't full of the most accepting people, and since they couldn't fathom why such a beautiful young woman married someone so much older than her, people started spreading rumors about my father being abusive to both my mother and the animals they bred. He wasn't and still isn't, but some rumors are hard to shake, so it stuck. My parents became social outcasts, more or less, and when my older brother and I were born, we joined them immediately.
When they rumors started being spread, our family's business lost customers and money, and my brother and I wanted to do what we could to bring in some extra money. Willie started working more with our parents, trying hard to get more people interested in our business. I didn't seem to have the hand for breaking or breeding horses like the rest of my family did (though I was pretty good at riding), so I ventured out into the District to find somewhere that would hire me. Unfortunately, most shop owners had their prejudices against my family and stores wouldn't hire me. As a last resort, I went somewhere where I knew they wouldn't refuse help from anywhere; the black market.
There were no especially organized jobs within the black market since it was generally just people with stands selling their extra things, but I managed. A lot of people were willing to give me loose change to wash their counters, put things in bags and sweep. It didn't make much, but it was better than nothing. At the end of the day, I'd go home and give whatever money I made to my brother and he'd tell our parents that it was tip money. The black market was technically illegal, and we both knew that Mom and Dad would freak out if they knew I was there almost daily, running the risk of getting caught by Peacekeepers but Willie was an essential part of the plan. Otherwise, I wouldn't have an explanation as to where the money was coming from.
Unfortunately, the rest of the District also understood that money had to come from somewhere, and when they saw our business and family doing better again, they jumped to their own conclusions.
I thought cleaning up around the black market was about as bad as it could get before the same people who thought that my mother was a gold digger started thinking that I was a prostitute. It made sense to them; the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, so if my mother was supposedly a whore, it would make sense if I was as well. I fell into a deep depression when I caught wind of these rumors, and it made it hard for me to leave the house, go to school or the market, or do anything, really.
One day, my brother managed to get me out of the house to go for a walk and we ran into the Mayor's son and three of his friends. When we walked past them, the Mayor's son whispered something to his friends and the entire group erupted into laughter. I looked down, knowing that they were talking about me and choosing to leave the situation alone, but Willie walked right up to them despite my protests and asked them what they were doing. I wasn't within earshot to hear what the boys said to him, but I was definitely close enough to see my brother punch the Mayor's kid directly in the jaw. I stood in awe as I saw the boy fall to the ground. Two of them ran away while the other stayed, trying to see if his friend was okay.
Willie and I both thought that the kids ran away out of fear, but they returned mere moments later flanked by two Peacekeepers. They helped the Mayor's son up then brought my brother and I to the Square. My brother got 15 lashes for disturbing the peace, and since I wasn't directly involved, I just had to watch and eventually help him home. The worst part of the situation was that the Mayor's kid got off with little more than a slap on the wrist since he couldn't very well be punished.
We got home and Willie immediately went to take a cold bath while I explained the whole situation to my parents. To this day, I've never seen my father angrier or my mother so heartbroken in my entire life.
Somewhere along the lines, I made friends with the boy who lives next door to me. We started talking from opposite sides of the fence since both of our families owned too much land to talk from our bedrooms. I'm still not sure if he had never heard the rumors, didn't believe them or didn't care even if they were true (which they weren't), but he was my friend and that's all that really mattered. I developed a crush on him from our first conversation, but I didn't want to make it weird with one of the only friends I had, so I never brought it up, but we eventually started dating when I found out from his sister that he had feelings for me as well. Circumstances being what they were, he had to move, and I miss the talks we would have through the fence. We still see each other constantly, though.
"Terry!" a voice calls. I snap out of my thoughts and make eye contact with my close friend Ike. He makes a living auctioning off less than perfect livestock, and I guess I got lost in thought while brushing a horse's mane.
"Yeah?" I ask, going back to brushing.
"You alright?" he asks. "You seem out of it."
I pause. "A little spacey, I guess," I say. "Last Reaping jitters, you know."
"I understand," he says.
I go back to brushing, feeding, and generally preparing the animals for the auction for another few hours while making quiet conversation with Ike. He's not my best friend in the world, but he has good intentions and doesn't care what people think of either of us, making him a good friend of mine. The clock chimes, letting us know that it's noon and that we have 2 hours until the Reaping begins.
"Why don't you go home?" he suggests, offering a crooked smile to showcase his equally crooked teeth. "You've got the Reaping later, I'm sure you want to spend time with your family."
"Thanks, Ike," I say, grabbing my backpack. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out $20, handing it to me.
"Thanks for your help," he says.
"Not a problem," I say, accepting the money and putting it in my bag.
I go outside carefully, making sure no one sees me do so and climb up onto one of our family's horses, Ajax. Dad says we shouldn't name the horses because it makes it harder for us to give them away, but I named Ajax anyway. He's been my favorite for years, so I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon.
The ride home takes about a half hour, and immediately when I get back, I look for my brother. I find him quickly and pass him the money I got from Ike. I don't know where my parents think I go every day, but they've never asked so I never told them. I go to the upstairs bathroom to take a bath and get the grime from riding and being in the market off of me. When I'm done, I go to my room and get dressed for the Reaping, pulling on a jean blouse and an off-white skirt. I tuck in the shirt and grab a tan belt, as well as riding boots of the same color.
I go downstairs and meet my family in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of milk.
"Are you nervous?" Mom asks.
"A little," I admit. "I know it's irrational because I probably won't get picked, but…"
"I get it," Will says. "There's always that fear."
"You can say that again," I mumble.
We spend a little while talking about happy things, trying to keep our minds off of the Reaping, but when the bells go off, we're forced to face reality and get to the Square. I walk alongside my brother, and just on the way to the Reaping, we get a lot of weird looks, snickers, and whispers, reminding me of why I don't like to leave the house unless I'm leaving to go to the market.
Going to school especially became unbearable, because I only had three friends that I went to school with. One was a year older than me, and more my boyfriend's (who eventually dropped out) friend than mine, so he finished before I did. With neither of them in school with me anymore, I was left with just Kendra Hopkins, who I met in middle school. We hit it off immediately, but after a while, we realized that we were cousins, as our mothers were sisters. When they found out, Kendra's mom said that we weren't allowed to be friends anymore because she, like the rest of the District, believed that my mom and I were whores. We didn't listen to our mothers, though, and we continued to be friends.
It feels like an eternity to get to the Square because so many people keep looking at me, but when we do get there, I'm thrilled to see Kendra near the back of the line waiting to have her finger pricked. My parents and brother go to the section with everyone else who's ineligible for the Reaping and I go to the back of the line where Kendra meets me.
"Our last Reaping," I say. "Are you ready?"
"Not really," she says, forlornly.
"Me neither," I say. "Good luck."
"May the odds be ever in your favor."
Victor's Village, House #6 (The Henderson Residence), June 16th, 12:30 pm
Fenton Henderson (18) Mentor POV
Victor of the 226th Hunger Games
"Can I have orange juice?"
"I want chocolate chips!"
"Is there bacon left?"
"Fenton, do you want sausage?"
"I can't, Mom, it's meat."
"Scrambled eggs?" she asks.
"Still came from an animal," I say.
"Have I mentioned recently that I hate this vegan thing?" she asks. "What do you eat?"
I open my mouth to respond, but my little sister Maddy cuts me off.
"Mommy, I want to be vegan," she states.
"Tough luck," Mom says to Maddy. "You're already a vegetarian, that's difficult enough. Besides, you're a growing girl, you need your milk."
"Actually-" I start.
"Can it, Fenton," Mom says.
I share a look with Maddy who smiles sweetly. In a family of butchers, she and I were the only ones who really cared for animals and had a desire to protect them. I'd heard the words "vegan" and "vegetarian" before, but I always felt like I needed to eat meat because it was incredibly discounted due to my father's profession. However, upon winning the Games, I found myself with quite a bit more money; more than I know what to do with, even now. I started buying my own food and over time I discovered myself getting less and less meat. Maddy followed suit.
"Seriously Fenton, what do you want for breakfast?" she asks. "You have to eat, it's an important day."
"Mom it's fine," I say. "There'll be food on the train."
"Toast and fruit it is," she says.
Mom goes back to the island in the middle of the large kitchen, grabbing orange juice for Maddy, bacon for Channon and chocolate chips for Chance's pancakes. Channon and Chance are the 13-year-old twins and do everything together being best friends. The oldest of us is Devin, who's 20 and pretty much does his own thing. Mom starts to walk back to the kitchen to get breakfast for me, but I motion for her to sit down at the table, which she does without hesitation. I go to the kitchen and cut up some apples, pineapple, and watermelon and put it on a plate with some grapes and two pieces of toast. I pour myself some juice and sit down at the table with the rest of my family, hold Dad and Devin who are both putting in some extra hours at work.
While most families tend to eat in uncomfortable silence on the day of the Reaping, my family never has. Don't get me wrong, we're just as terrified of it as anyone else would be; for God's sake, I got Reaped a year ago. Our family just has too many children for any affair to be a quiet one. Despite my ineligibility, I think I'm the most scared out of everyone sitting at the table. My siblings and mother seem to think that the twins are exempt from the Reaping because I won last year, but I know better than to think that. There's been plenty of cases of people being sent to the Games a year or two after their sibling won if said sibling did something that the President didn't like.
The 17th Hunger Games were won by Jarvis Stoz from District 6 who made several suicide attempts in the arena. In his post-Games interview, he said that he wished he had died in the arena. The next year, his brother was Reaped and was killed by the girl from District 1 in the bloodbath. The 74th Hunger Games was won by Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark from 12, as they were in love and threatened a double suicide if they couldn't both win. On top of that, Katniss volunteered for her sister, making her a target. The next year's Quarter Quell sent them both back in, where the woman from 2- Enobaria- won. The year following that, Katniss's younger sister was Reaped for the second time and died somewhere in the middle. However, most notably, Alexis Marshall from District 2 volunteered for the 203rd Games with the facade of a Career tribute aiming to win. However, she assembled a team of six others and spent their entire time in the arena looking for a way out. Their time was short, as, on the third day, a volcano explosion killed them all. The next year, Alexis's brother and cousin were Reaped, and both volunteers were restrained by Peacekeepers. The two of them allied, but a volcano eruption killed them as well.
My involvement with Alicia Schripe is definitely seen as less than acceptable. It's not that I'm directly involved with the rebellion by any means; in fact, I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. It's just that Alicia is one of the main minds behind it, and my pretending to be in a relationship with her, as well as father her child for the sake of publicity will make it look like I'm involved with the rebellion from the perspective anyone who knows about it. In actuality, I value Alicia a lot as a friend, but upon returning from the Games, I mustered the courage to ask out my childhood crush, who I've now been with for almost a year. As scared as I am for Channon and Chance, I know that the entire country knows that I'm much more attached to Maddy, so she has a greater chance of being Reaped than they do if the President wants to see me broken. She's 8 now, so she only has a few more safe Reaping days left.
In other words, I'm not as scared for Chance, Channon and Maddy as Alicia should be for her younger sister Ashley. However, Alicia is so convinced that the rebellion would be successful that she thinks that Ashley will never have to face a Reaping in her life.
"Are you gonna see your girlfriend today?" Channon asks, teasingly.
"No," I say, sadly. "She had to work. But we're gonna spend time together as soon as I get back from mentoring."
I finish my breakfast and look into the kitchen to see if there's more food only to see that it's already 1:30 pm.
"Guys, the Reaping starts in a half hour," I say, picking up my dishes and taking them to the kitchen.
"So?" Chance asks. "It takes like 10 minutes to drive to the Square."
"15," I correct him. "And I have to get there early to take my place and stuff."
"I still can't believe you won," Channon says.
"You and me both," I mutter.
"How are Daddy and Devin getting there?" Maddy asks.
"They're walking," Mom responds. "Everyone put your dishes in the kitchen and get in the car."
"I call the front!" Chance calls.
"Absolutely not," I say.
Once everyone's shoes are on, we file into the car; I drive since I'm the only one who learned how Mom sits next to me and Maddy sits between the twins in the back. We reach the Square relatively quickly and find Dad and Devin already in the spectators' section. After giving Maddy a kiss on the top of her head and promising to see her right when I get back from mentoring, she and Mom walk to the spectators' section, and the twins get in line to get their blood drawn. I wave goodbye to them and walk up to the stage, taking my seat beside my mentor Angus from last year.
"Any predictions on who'll be Reaped?" he asks, gruffly.
"I'd prefer not to bet," I say, looking down. He raises an eyebrow at me, and I sigh. "One of my brothers."
"Some attitude to have," he says.
"It's not like I'm counting on it!" I exclaim. "It's just... It's just that I think that's what'll happen."
"I get it," he says.
Before we can continue our conversation, District 10's escort, Piper Winsheart takes the stage, running her fingers through her short turquoise hair. As far as Capitolites go, she doesn't seem to be too altered; some hair dye and makeup are the only abnormalities on her. No obvious plastic surgery, piercings or tattoos.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Reaping for the 227th Hunger Games! As I'm sure you all know, District 10 pulled a victor last year, so let's give a big round of applause to Fenton Henderson!"
I feel my face heat up and turn bright red as the crowd manages a half-hearted clap, and when the crowd once again becomes silent, Piper continues.
"In honor of our Victor, why don't we start with the boys this year?" She struts to the male Reaping bowl and plucks out the first slip she touches. She unfolds it while walking back to the microphone and clears her throat before reading "Rowan Griffey!"
She didn't pick one of my brothers! I have to physically keep myself from smiling, as that would be seen as inappropriate, but I'm ecstatic that all of my siblings will live to see another year. A boy, assumedly Rowan, steps forward from the 16-year-olds' section looking more angry than scared, and Angus leans over to me and whispers "Dibbs." I can see why Angus would choose to mentor Rowan; he's got some fight in him, and Angus appreciates a fighter. If the Capitol wasn't so against the same District winning twice in a row, I could see Rowan winning.
Piper smiles at Rowan, who stares at her blankly, before walking to the females' bowl. She digs around a bit more, this time, pulling out a name closer to the bottom. I'm more attentive this time with the knowledge that this is the girl I'll be mentoring. My first year mentoring and the tribute I'm in charge of is-
"Terry Kartcher!"
My lips part and I gasp. I feel my heart drop to my stomach, and my hands and feet turn to ice. I watch as the girl I love walks shakily to the stage, blinking profusely. Her brother takes a few steps forward but is held back by their father, who sheds a few silent tears. Terry makes it to the stage and looks at me helplessly, but I have to act like she's just another tribute. Our close friends and family in the District know that we're together, but we can't tell many people because everyone is supposed to think that I'm with Alicia.
"Dibbs," I whisper to Angus.
While I know that it would get Terry an insane amount of sponsors if people knew that she was my girlfriend, I can't risk my and Alicia's life in saying so. If the President found out that I wasn't really dating Alicia...
"Do we have any volunteers?" Piper asks, scanning the crowd. "Well, in that case, I present to you, District 10, your tributes for the 227th annual Hunger Games: Terry Kartcher and Rowan Griffey! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
I watch as the two are taken into the Justice Building and then turn to Angus.
"Can I visit either of them?" I ask, unsure of the etiquette, what with this being my first year mentoring.
"No," he says. "But you'll see them both on the train."
Well, I was right. If they weren't going to pick one of my siblings, having me mentor my girlfriend was a good way to get a reaction out of me.
The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm
Rowan Griffey (16) POV
District 10 male
Once I got over my initial anger for being Reaped, I let my mind quiet itself as I sat neatly on the couch in the Justice Building. Getting Reaped for the Hunger Games is a pretty shitty thing to happen, but what's done is done and there's no changing it. I'm not going to waste my energy being upset about it because all that will do is make me more tired and stressed before the Games actually start. I think having a clear state of mind is something that a lot of tributes don't have, and it's often their downfall. Being able to think will help me in and of itself.
The door to my room opens up and my family files in one by one; first my father, then my mother, then Olivia and finally Rachele. Mom and Olivia are crying hysterically and Dad and Rachele have their mouths set in a line, mimicking my anger.
"This shouldn't have happened to you!" Mom wails. "You only had two more after this."
"You're the youngest one," Dad whispers. "Why did it have to be you?"
Even though it's the last thing I want to say, I grit my teeth and say it for my family's sake.
"Remember, it's part of God's plan, guys," I say. "It'll be okay."
"I'm gonna miss you, Rowan," Olivia says, wrapping me in a hug.
"Me too," Rachele says half-heartedly, looking down. "Hey, if you die, can I have your room? I'm sick of sharing with Olivia."
"Rachele!" Dad scolds, looking surprised.
"Kidding!" she says, smiling. "It was a joke!"
I laugh and say "Sure," causing everyone to laugh a little. We do what we can to make conversation for the next several minutes until a Peacekeeper comes in to escort them out. I give each of them a hug before they leave, and when the door closes behind them, I sit back down on the couch.
It's not surprising when the door opens again and my only really close friend, Bri, walks in. I stand to greet her and she hugs me immediately. We stay hugging for a while, unsure of who's comforting who, but she eventually breaks it.
"Did your family give you a token to take into the arena?" she asks.
I furrow my brow. I guess they didn't. I'm sure they meant to, but they were probably distracted.
"No," I say. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tan leather bracelet with the word "Courage" etched on it. I look at Bri and smile.
"So you remember while you're in there," she says, trailing off.
"Thank you," I say, hugging her again.
We break the hug when the Peacekeeper comes back to take Bri away, and she does so quietly, not wanting any trouble.
I sit down on the couch again and wait for my District partner to be done with her visitors so we can board the train.
The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm
Terry Kartcher (18) POV
District 10 female
As scared as I was to be Reaped, I can't say that I thought I actually would be. It was my last Reaping, so I had more of a chance this year than any other year, but I haven't ever taken out any tessera, so it came as a shock when I was picked over someone with far more entries.
Unless I was chosen on purpose?
I don't entertain the thought for long. It must have just been a coincidence that I was chosen the year after Fenton won during my last year of eligibility. An unlikely coincidence, sure, but the Capitol has no reason to have it out for Fenton, to my knowledge, so they wouldn't need to arbitrarily pick me. Besides, everyone in the Capitol thinks that Fenton is dating Alicia Schripe, so if anything, they just think that we're close friends.
My first visitors, unsurprisingly, are my parents and Will. They all hug me at once, and I wish that the moment could be frozen like that, away from the thoughts of my probably imminent death.
"How are you holding up?" Will asks.
"I've been better," I say, adjusting my weight.
"Terry, I'm sure you can make it out of that arena alive," Dad says. "Kids from 10 have more abilities than people usually give them credit for."
"Really?" I ask.
"I have faith in you," Mom says. "We would try to give you a token, but there's someone out there who's insistent that he wants to give you one."
"Fenton?" I ask, hopefully.
"Not quite," Dad says. "He's not allowed to visit you because he's mentoring. I asked."
"Do you know which of us he's mentoring?" I ask.
"I'm not sure," he says.
I sit down on a chair and sigh, and the rest of my family sits as well. I'm at a loss for what to say, so I don't say anything and neither do they. We just sit in comfortable silence until a Peacekeeper takes them away and Kendra walks in.
"There was a guy out there who told me he was sorry that he couldn't see you," she says immediately. "He had to go work. Said his name was Ike."
"Okay," I say, slightly confused. If not Ike or Fenton, who is it that has a token for me? Kendra?
"What's your token?" she asks as if reading my mind.
"I don't have one yet," I say. "My dad said someone else was going to give me one. I thought it would be you or Ike."
"Oh," she says. "It's not me. I mean I'm sure I have something you could have. I have my necklace-"
"Don't worry about it," I say.
"I'm sorry this happened to you," Kendra says. "Your family really can't catch a break."
"You're telling me," I say, laughing. We both laugh for a moment and then the room goes silent.
"I don't know what to say," she says, apologetically. "I'm just really sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," I say. "It's not your fault."
"I guess," she says. We spend the rest of our time together in silence, for lack of knowing what else to do. She eventually leaves, and I wait patiently for whoever it is that's bringing my token.
The Peacekeeper reopens the door and in walks Maxwell and Maddy Henderson; Fenton's father and sister. I burst into tears as soon as I see them because it becomes real that this could very well be the last time I see anyone that I know. Maddy runs to hug me and I eventually control myself enough to stop.
"I'm really sorry, Terry," Maxwell says. "We wanted to bring you something that you could bring into the arena. If you want it, anyway."
"It was my idea," Maddy brags, grinning widely.
Maxwell reaches into his pocket and pulls out three pieces of leather braided together into one piece; two are tan and one is chocolate brown. I take it, mildly confused and look up at him, questioning.
"The lighter ones are from your horse's reins," he says, adjusting his weight. "The dark one is from Fenton's."
"I braided it," Maddy says. "Mom helped me."
"Thank you so much," I say, taking it. "Thank you both."
"Not a problem," he says. Maxwell has never been good in sentimental moments like these, so the two of us stand in awkward silence for a moment until Maddy breaks it.
"Can I braid your hair?" she asks, looking up to meet my eye.
"Sure," I say, giving her a hair tie from my wrist. She sits down on the floor, motioning for me to join her and I do. We spend the rest of the time with her braiding my hair and her father sitting uncomfortably in a wooden chair.
Eventually, the Peacekeeper returns, telling them that they have to leave and soon after, Piper comes to the door with Rowan in tow.
Massive thank you to Fifidear for Terry (and Fenton) and Jamez S for Rowan!
Congratulations to Mykindleisawesome for being my 200th reviewer!
Everybody loves reviews, and it's no secret that I love your feedback. However, small amounts of reviews make me sad, especially coming from a background of having a lot more because I went away for a little while for my own mental health, told y'all that I'd be gone a while and when I come back, my average review per chapter goes from 21 to like 5. It's just disheartening, I guess. But thanks very much to Mykindleisawesome, LiaRegie, Lya200, and Jms2 for consistently reviewing. Your support means the world. And for the people who don't review, I've already started thinking about who's going to kill your character in the bloodbath. Not because I'm petty, but because if you don't review or otherwise communicate with me, I will assume that you're no longer reading, and if you're not reading I have no reason to keep your character around. Further, I like to feel like people enjoy and appreciate what I do, and a lack of reviews makes it seem like people don't.
People are 70% water and I am 100% salt.
Anyway, this was a crazy long chapter. I really don't think they'll be like this anymore. Don't get used to it.
Questions!
1) Who do you like better, Terry or Rowan?
2) What did you like about them?
3) What didn't you like about them?
4) Any predictions?
-No one says no to Gaston!