Cedar's POV (D7, 14)
I wake up with a yawn, stretching as I sit up in my uncomfortable bed. My back is killing me, but I soon realize that's the least of my problems. It's Reaping day. A boy and a girl sent off to die in a merciless arena of homicide.
Ahaha, glad I'll probably never have to go through that. But it still feels like shit when you see people you know get slaughtered. I'm not even fifteen yet, imagine me, of all people, being reaped. I shudder at the thought of never seeing my parents or siblings again. My brother is on his last reaping year, so he'll be fine soon, but my sister has just started— she turned thirteen a few months back. Poor Aster was shaking last reaping. She was petrified at the thought of going into the games.
To be fair, so am I. But I've got to stop being a wimp and go downstairs to eat breakfast, so I quickly throw on some clean clothes, adding a neat red tie for good measure. I've almost overgrown my white collared shirt with black overalls, and I'm glad of that, because maybe my mother will stop calling me cute in it. I love her, but she's always so embarrassing.
Whatever, I should probably get ready. I'll probably have to comfort Aster again, at the risk of my own tears falling.
Opening my short bedroom door, I quietly step out into the hallway, peering around. Everyone else is probably downstairs already, so I make my presence known by loudly descending to the bottom floor of our cozy townhouse, my feet thumping on each wooden step.
"Cedar! You're awake!" Aster runs up to me, beaming, hugging me tightly. Her blonde hair sways with the sudden movement, pigtails bouncing against the side of her head.
Rowan, our older brother, comes over to us to pat my head and ruffle my hair, earning an irritated groan from both me and my mother. Rowan ignores us and leans on my head, smirking at me. He does this often to show off how tall he is compared to the rest of us, it's so dumb.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Rowan rumbles. "I saved the last piece of bread for you, like a good older brother."
I let out a huff. "Yeah yeah, whatever, o' mighty tall one." I shake him off and go to the table, which is a bit rickety, but we don't have the skill or money to fix it. We're quite poor, but we manage to get by, even with five family members. Our father isn't here right now, he still has to do some early-morning work, even though it's reaping day. Absolute bullshit.
I frown at the almost-empty bag of bread and hesitantly take the last piece. I sure hope we can buy more and Rowan doesn't have to take out another tesserae. He's had to do it three times so far, I'm really worried about him. I seriously hope he doesn't get Reaped on his last year, no matter how dumb and annoying he is sometimes.
Once I've finished my bread, I put my shoes on and head out the door with the rest of my family, approaching the square and reaping area. I curse under my breath as my finger is pricked, and I can see tears start to form in Aster's eyes as she gets hers poked as well. She doesn't let them fall, however, and I can tell she's trying to put on a brave face for the rest of us.
We all split up, and Rowan puts his arm around my shoulders as we go into the boys section. But, of course, the Peacekeepers decide we can't be a happy family and separate us into our respective age groups.
Suddenly, I hear a blunt slam and it makes me jump. Looking up on instinct, I see a woman with curly Auburn hair slamming a large wooden stump against the stage beyond. Probably the escort. She repeats it one more time to get everyone's attention.
"Hello, District Seven!" She says loudly, flashing a large smile, a glint in her frosty blue eyes. Everyone reluctantly cheers, since that's what is expected of you on reaping day.
She looks up to a screen before continuing, waiting as it plays some of District Seven's greatest accomplishments and victors.
Turning to a camera, she addresses the crowd more formally.
"Hello, Panem! It's the day you've all been waiting for! This will be our 150th Hunger Games; our sixth quarter quell! This year, the twist will be a complete surprise, and will not have anything to do with Reaping."
She waits to let her words sink in before continuing.
"I will now pull the name of District Seven's male tribute! This year's male tribute isss...
I roll my eyes as she fishes around in a bowl for a while. I can't bear to stand here and wait to snag the name of some poor kid and say 'congratulations, you're about to die!' I would literally just leave, but there's one problem— the armed guards behind me.
The escort reads the piece of paper she's pulled out and holds it up to the crowd, even though we very obviously can't read it.
"Cedar Mildberg!"
My blood runs cold. I can barely breathe. This can't be happening, and I refuse to believe it is. The odds are in my favor, this must be some horrible nightmare. I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I open them again, nothing has changed. I'm about to take a shaky step forward before I hear a voice that makes me tremble even harder.
"I volunteer!"
Rowan's POV (D7M, 18)
What was I thinking?! What did I just do? No, Rowan, calm down. You're a big boy and you're gonna act like one. Your little brother was going to get torn to bloody shreds if you didn't speak up.
It was the right thing to do. That's what I have to keep telling myself as I step up to the stage and glance back at Cedar, who's staring up at me, shell shocked and sweating profusely. I'll admit, he isn't very attractive at the moment. He looks like he's about to break into tears. I'm sorry, buddy, but I have to do this. It has to be me, I can't let you die. I was this close to escaping my fate as a tribute but my dumbass mouth had to open. Whatever, I'll have deal with it. For my brother. Rowan, stop shaking! You're not a little kid anymore!
The escort looks pleased as I approach. "Oh, goodie! And what's your name, dear?" She asks me with a polite smile. All I can think of is the sinister thoughts that must be going through her head. She chose this career, she chose to send children to their deaths in a bloody arena full of massacre.
"Rowan Mildberg," I reply, showing no emotion in my gaze. I keep my voice just low enough that everyone can hear me, since I don't want them to hear how badly my voice is shaking.
"Ah, was he your brother, then?" The escort gestured to the piece of paper, large golden earrings swaying. Wow, insensitive bitch. She doesn't even know who my brother is, so she has to refer to a tiny piece of paper in that forsaken death bowl full of names.
"Yes." I can't let my frustration show. Sure, the Peacekeepers can't hurt me now that I'm officially a tribute— oh god I'm a tribute, this can't be happening— but I don't want to let my family, and ultimately my district, down by lashing out.
She nods in satisfaction. "Wonderful! Our first volunteer from Seven in a long time." She shoos me away, forcing me to take a step back and survey the crowd. I can't bear to look at Cedar or Aster, so I just look straight ahead, over top of everyone. The perks of being tall— and on a stage, I guess.
"Now, the female tribute this year will be..." she rummages around in a separate glass bowl full of slips of paper, finally grasping one and pulling it out after what seemed like endless waiting.
She clears her throat.
"Aster Mildberg!"
The name she calls out has me feeling bile rise in my throat.. This can't be happening, this can't be happening. It's rigged. It's biased. It has to be. There are shocked and devastated gasps from the crowd and Aster shuffles out, sobbing quietly. She's unable to wipe her tears.
Peering over the stage the woman says, "come up, dear, don't keep us waiting," she ushers as two Peacekeepers come up and shove Aster closer to the stage, which makes me even madder. They seem to respect the fact that she's young, though, and shove her gently towards the auburn-haired woman.
The escort clasped her hands together, pleased when Aster arrives.
"Well, now that that's over and done with, you two, shake hands." Her smile never breaks, and I really want to punch her in the face.
Aster doesn't move, and I move my hand to grasp hers, shaking it gently. I want to pull her in for a comforting hug, but I know this isn't a good moment, and she seems to acknowledge that too.
Before I know it, me and my sister are whisked away to a large building.
The Justice Building is almost unbearable as my parents and Cedar come rushing in in tears. Me and Cedar give each other a long hug, and me and my parents talk briefly.
With a shaky hand, my father takes a tree pendant out of his pocket and puts it into mine. He holds onto my clasped hands for a few moments, before being taken away by the Peacekeepers. I sit there in silence, staring blankly at the pendant, before hooking it onto the collar of my shirt. This is horrible.
I guess there's nothing I can do now except get ready. I'll stay with Aster until the very end, that's for sure. I wonder whose hands I'll die by. It doesn't matter, I tell myself, just as long as I die protecting Aster.
Asher's POV (D8M, 17)
two years earlier
I watch the television intently, hands clasped together, held in front of my lips. My younger brother has just made it to the final eight, so our family will be interviewed soon.
My father grips my shoulder tightly, and I try to ignore the minor pain as I see Carlen springing across an open prairie, away from the girl from Four, who is holding a trident and running hot on his heels.
"Come on, Len, you have to kill her!" My mother urges. Carlen is only 14, and we've put so much hope in him because he's made it so far. He can't die now.
All of a sudden, I see the girl raise her trident. No, no, no! I scream internally, muscles tensing. Get out of the way, Carlen! Get out of the—
All of a sudden, the girl falls to the ground, blood bubbling out of her mouth, but not before she throws the trident. It skims Carlen's side and I let out a horrified screech.
He falls to the ground, gasping in pain, and the camera zooms in on him as the girl's canon shot booms.
A boy from off-camera walks into the scene, taking a knife out of the girl's back and grimacing at it in disgust as he wipes the blood off on his shirt.
The boy slows down when he reaches Carlen, looking down at the seemingly helpless fourteen-year-old. Carlen is trembling in fear, slowly backing away while holding his side with one arm.
To everyone's visible surprise, the boy reaches a hand out to Carlen after taking a small backpack off. It wavers in the air as nobody makes a move, but Carlen seems to realize what's happening and grasps it, pulling himself up.
My parents sigh in relief, and I look over to see tears running down my mother's face before I look back at the screen.
"Thank you," Carlen breathes, and the cameras can barely pick up his voice. He embraces the boy in a hug, and the boy looks confused for a moment before his eyes go wide.
"I'm so sorry," Carlen chokes out, stepping aside and letting the boy fall to the ground, lifeless. He holds a bloody knife in his hand and I gasp.
Maybe Carlen really does have a chance.
present day
Faint laughter and talking is all that fills my ears as everyone around the house mingles. I feel myself sink down even further in my plush bed, flipping through the pages of the book I'm reading. I've decided to take some time to rest instead of socialize for once, saving myself the stress of pleasing others before the Reaping later today.
There's a gently rapping at my door and I look up, putting my book down beside me.
"Come in!" I call, sitting up. Two figures appear in the doorway.
"Hey, Asher. Someone wanted to come see you," Carlen says with a smile, stepping aside to reveal the rest of a small girl looking up at me with a shy smile.
I smile back, greeting her politely. "Hi, Silk! How are you?" I pat the bed beside me, and she comes to sit down.
Carlen nods at me and waves, backing out of the doorway and closing the door. I wave back.
"I'm doing good," Silk says quietly. "What book are you reading?"
She points at the book beside me, and I pick it up gently.
"It's a book about a boy who loves going on adventures," I chuckle. "Would you like me to read you some?"
Silk is like a younger sister to me, and I always read her stories. She nods eagerly.
I flip back to page one, starting from the very beginning. I get a few chapters in, Silk listening intently, before my door opens again.
"Everybody has left except for Silk and her parents, Asher. It's time to go to the Reaping."
I frown as I look up at my mother, giving a short nod. "Okay. Come on, Silk, we can walk over to the town center together."
Silk doesn't reply, leaping off of my bed. I follow her, walking out of my room. I notice her trembling beside me, and rightly so— it's her first eligible year to be Reaped, and I can't help but feel fear that she'll be chosen. I didn't think Carlen would get chosen, but he did, and more than that— he won. If Silk gets chosen, she'll be bloodbath fodder and I'll never see her again. I shudder at the thought.
My father and Carlen join me, Silk, my mother and her parents at the door as we all get our shoes on and leave the house. We make our way out of Victors' Village and I take Silk's hand, not letting go until we reach the steps up to the city center and have to get our fingers pricked.
I hug her quickly. "I'll see you after the Reaping," I say, and silently pray it's true.
"Yeah," she mumbles. "We'll have a super big party afterwards, right?"
"Of course," I chuckle, before walking over to my own section. I glance over at Silk hurriedly. She can't get Reaped, she just can't. Everyone would be heartbroken. I can't lose her, not after I almost lost Carlen.
Once the mayor finishes his speech, the escort starts to speak in a high, thick accent. He isn't standing on a stage, merely a roped off area— nobody thought to install a stage because the Reapings are held inside.
"Hello, Panem! Hello, District Seven! It's lovely to meet you all! Today marks Seven's one and only... 150th Reaping!"
He struts over to the boys' bowl, plucking out a name and barely taking any time to read it before calling out the name with his arms outstretched for dramatic effect.
"Mister Asher Havenrock!" He calls out.
What..? I space out for a second, confused. Then it hits me. I was so focused on worrying about Silk that I forgot to realize my name is in the bowl six times. Well, five now, technically.
But this is no time for technicality. The Peacekeepers urge me to the front of the crowd with a harsh push when I don't budge, and I walk forward before stopping in front of the escort, trying not to let my hands tremble.
I think to myself, this day can not get any worse.
But then I'm proved wrong. Oh, so wrong. It just got a whole lot worse.
Because that's when the girl's name is chosen.
That's when they call out her name. How did this happen, Asher? How? Is this rigged?"Silk Brightblossom!"
I hadn't even realized that a look of horror had dawned across my features as the other twelve-year-old girls parted to show Silk, who walks up to the stage, head held surprisingly high. I can see her shaking, but she doesn't show it.
I desperately will someone to volunteer. To take Silk's place. But of course, nobody speaks up.
"Wonderful! Shake hands, please," the escort says, delighted. Instead, I pull Silk in for a hug, and she hugs me back tightly.
The escort stands there awkwardly during our exchange, and we do pull away before everyone is dismissed and we're escorted to the Justice Building.
All of a sudden, I see the Peacekeepers swerve to the left with Silk, and I start to panic.
"Silk!" I yell, craning my neck to try and see her. The Peacekeepers shove me forwards roughly.
"Asher!" Silk cries back, before a door slams and she's completely out of view.
I feel numb as my parents enter my room, hugging me fiercely. Carlen walks up to us, grimacing, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Why did this have to happen?" He asks hollowly, voice cracking. "You can't go into the Games, too. It's not fair."
I shake my head. "I would run away if I could. Hide where nobody could find me to take me to the Capitol.But I can't, Carlen. I have to protect Silk at all costs, now."
Carlen lets out a shaky sigh, taking a necklace off his neck. I raise my eyebrows in surprise— I've never seen him without it.
"This was my district token, I want you to have it. Mom gave it to me," he says, glancing over at our mother, who nods.
I take it in my hands and clip it around my neck.
"Thank you so much," I whisper.
We all hug for as long as we can before my family is taken away by the Peacekeepers.