Chapter 4- Cass Oceansong
Three. The word Three echoes in my head as I struggle out of sleep. Why three? Then I'm jolted awake. I'm fourteen. My name is in the reaping bowl three times. I have three chances to be in the Hunger Games. Calypso gets up with stiff movements. I can read the fear on her face; she too could be sent to the Capitol today. And Wave too. My mother walks in to the room; she's wearing her good dress, her only good dress. "I'll pin your hair up today, Cass, if you like." I manage a nod. What if it will be the last time my mother does my hair? I take a deep breath and get up.
I sit in front of my mother as she weaves two braids through my hair, twisting them together at the bottom. My red hair ends at my waist, and on the water it glows like a fire. Water. What if I never see my beloved water again? Cressida comes over and lays her head on my knee. "You'll be okay, Cass. Don't worry." I smile at her. "I know I will. I only have my name in three times. That's not a lot." "And we didn't take any tesserae out," Calypso says. "We're pretty safe. I know other people who have their name in six times at twelve." I look at Wave. "You're the safest of us all, Wave. You only have your name in once." My father says, "Don't count on it, Cass. Don't count on it." Grief already lines his face, as though he expects one of us to be chosen already. I get up, leaving my mother to braid Wave's hair, and walk over to my father. He looks up at me from his seat in his chair. I grasp his hand. "I'll be okay. Don't worry, Papa. No matter what happens."
Less than twenty minutes later we are walking towards the City Circle, along with the rest of District 4. "Twelve year olds here! Sign in here!" a Peacekeeper with a raspy voice calls, waving towards the crowd. Wave looks terrified, but walks towards her age group. I find the fourteen year old sign in table, and neatly write my name, write it just as neatly as on those three slips of paper in the bowl on the stage. Three. Tempest finds me soon after I go into the fourteen year old area and takes my hand. We don't need any words to communicate what we are feeling. I look around in the muddle and find Wave, terror crossing her face with every breath, and Calypso, her calm demeanor a façade for what she truly feels. And my parents, holding Cressida, their grief marring their faces as they look at the sea of children. Two will be chosen. Only one might return.
"Welcome, welcome!" cries a bubbly lady as she skips onstage wearing heels that look impossible to walk in. Her face is covered in green and blue tattoos, swirling like the waves of the sea. "Happy Hunger Games! Isn't this exciting?" she warbles as she bounces into the middle of the stage. The crowd is silent, barely daring to breathe. "I'm Plinia Colias, and I am your Capitol representative! Now, let's get started so we can get our busy day rolling! Let's start with the boys! Remember, I will ask for volunteers after the person has ascended the stage."
She beams at us, then reaches into the bowl holding all the boys' names. A hush falls over the already silent crowd. She chooses one from the bottom of the bowl, then taps her way back over to the microphone, heels clicking. She opens the paper and reads in a clear voice, "Rigg Watershire." The crowd in the fifteen year old section clears around one boy, shorter, but sturdy. His face is turned away from mine as he walks through the crowd and up the stone staircase to the stage. Plinia guides him over to one side of the microphone. "Do we have any volunteers for Rigg Watershire?" she asks, smiling. The crowd is silent, save for the sound of weeping. I turn around to see a woman, presumably Rigg's mother, weeping into her hands.
Plinia leaves Rigg standing behind the boys' bowl and says, "And now, let's choose our female tribute!" Tempest grips my hand so tightly that it hurts. I'm praying that it isn't me, it isn't me, it isn't my sisters. Calypso has her eyes closed. Plinia chooses a paper from the bowl and clicks back to the microphone, still beaming broadly. "Wave Oceansong," she says in her upbeat voice. I take a step backwards, the wind knocked out of me. Not Wave! Not Wave! Calypso looks how I feel, like everything in the world has tipped over, like the deck of a boat in stormy weather. Wave takes small steps, her red hair plaited like mine, the two braids into one, the sun shining off of it. It glints like fire. Emotionless, my twelve year old sister mounts the stage beside Rigg. Plinia shoos her to one side and asks, "Do we have a volunteer for Wave Oceansong?" I take a deep breath. I loosen my hand from Tempest and step forward. "I volunteer," I say.