I woke up normally on the morning of the Reaping. Politically stupid event like this. You would think I'd have more of a reaction - bad dreams or sleepless nights, but instead it was as normal as could be. I woke up closer to the left side of the bed than the right, feeling like I could've slept for a little bit longer but well-rested all at the same time, the morning felt a bit more chilly than most mornings, but the smell of scrambled eggs coming from the living room slash kitchen in our small flat beckoned me further. It was as ordinary of a day as it could be.
I got up and headed to the timber wardrobe in my room, brushing aside my brother's clothes to get my own. Out small flat only had one guest bedroom besides the master bedroom so my brother and I had to share unless either of us wanted to sleep in the living room, but there was a multicoloured rainbow of green and black mold from water leaking through the ceiling above that periodically came back despite my mother's arsenal of clothes, wipes and cleaning materials in different fancy looking bottles that promised more than they delivered, so no one wanted to particularly sleep there and it was just easier to remain in our rooms when mother asked if one of us wanted to move out as we got a bit older.
I suppose the mold was not so bad if you scrubbed at it regularly, everyone in the family had to take shifts whenever we saw it but it was mother's eyes that were the most watchful over that patch of wall so she took the most, and by turning with your back to the wall and going to another place in your mind it was possible to ignore i entirely, so I always thought if the worst came to worst between my brother and I, I could always move out and sleep in the living room.
I could manage it. No matter the mold or mother's potential fussing over of the health of anybody that slept in the room (we've all been living with it for decades and we're perfectly alright, even fitter than the average District 5 citizen so I suppose you could even suggest the mold was helping us, for it was something we would've only had and not every other District 5 citizen), if things came to the worst between my brother and I, it was a problem that could be managed over if I were to move out. I'd always clung onto that reprieve should things get too unbearable between my brother and I all throughout the years. That the option was open, escape, it bought me a sense of coolness and relief, to think there was an out always, in the otherwise too-close quarters we were forced to go through our teenage years together by.
I picked out my reaping outfit from the wardrobe. I'm 17 years old and began wearing my father's suits to the Reaping 2 years ago at the age of 15. It makes me a little sad everytime I don them. District 5's industry was power and science, textiles was one of the areas we had no machines in place to turn cotton or thread into fabric even though I was sure our District held the raw materials for them somewhere, and little true processing or manufacturing machines on top of that so we were totally reliant on the Capitol. Even sowing machines or sowing tools were rare, the few households who had a small kit they purchased at a premium when the Capitol finally relented to the District's cries for more goods from their bank of items were famous for having the capability to mend clothes if they were broken, and you would pay a small fortune to get your clothes fixed by them if they broke. Our reliance on the Capitol meant they didn't hesitate twice to extort us for money and were often short in supplies of new items of clothing for us, or told us there were extreme difficulties in development, supply or transportation that we would have to pay a premium to get them, with the threat of not getting them at all, and so new clothes were a novelty in District 5.
Most families only owned one or two outfits they could really wear to the Reaping. Better families owned several. They were often passed down through the family, mother to daughter, father to son, because they were too expensive to even think about throwing away, and there was a certain pride in everybody's eyes to see their children wear the precious clothes of their youth that they had given up ownership of for the next generation; passing down the torch.
That was why clothes were almost sacred and I felt faint shifts of sorrow everytime I wore my father's suits for the Reaping. It was precious because it was made of rare materials, one of the most monetary valuable items my father owned, and because he entrusted it to me. I knew he meant for me to have grown up into a responsible man when I wore them, no longer was I a boy but an adult man, closer to what he was, but yet all I felt when I looked at them, was just a fleeting sense of sorrow and alarm for the quickness of age.
I didn't want to screw up anything. I didn't want to not meet expectations or standards I'd set for myself and watch as everything went tumbling down all around me. I didn't feel quite old or ready enough to be considered as somewhat of an equal to my father, or moreso, but the chronological age had already passed and there was nothing more to do than shrug on those boots and try to fit into them the best I could.
I brushed some dust of the dark brown suit that once belonged to my father's. I'd taken it out the day before and brushed it down but since all the other clothes around this section of the wardrobe was dusty they had gotten some of that easy grey on them again. Still, the remnants of dust left on there were so small I didn't think anyone could easily see them at the reaping, and I had dressed myself up none the better for this day.
After closing the wardrobe door I headed to the one shared bathroom to brush my teeth and gel my hair. My room flashed by as I walked.
It was small, about 2.1 by 3.3 metres as I remembered from an always existing floor plan of our flat father showed my brother Solar and I once when we were kids. The floor was grey splotchy granite with a grey square cloth underneath our twin beds because mother insisted we have some warmth beneath our feet in the winter. The walls were white with one large vertical crack running a third way up the walls by my bed on my side of the room, our beds were the same grey-barred headboards, white pillows and sheets. There was a timber wardrobe on the side our beds faced, my brother's and I were on opposite sides of the room, lining the longer wall and nestled in each corner. A window was in between our beds, we each had a timber nightstand, as well as a study desk, desk lamp and stool on our side of the wall. The door was on my brother's wall, and a large blue wire had been hung from the top middle of the window to the corner on my bed where a sheet with a green-grey stain hung, old jumpers we outgrew with a brick inside them were stationed at both ends of the sheet to hold it down whenever a wind blew through the windows.
Technically I have less space than my brother, but I so seldom used my room except for the mandatory study and sleep I had to do, I didn't mind when he offered to take the smaller half out of guilt. I had no real function or purpose for my room so there was nothing lost in having the smaller portion of a place I barely spent time in.
That was the bare basics of our room, but of course, there were rows of cupboards on the wall above our study desk, stationery, paperwork, and numerous books scattered all over the desk and on the floor beside it. My backpack was underneath the desk. On top of a fairly large metal trunk that stored items with wheels on one end that would double up as a suitcase if travel was allowed, but it hadn't been allowed for decades so they were more decoration than not. Piles of junk, mostly old metal parts from mechanical devices were strewn around, as well as some half put together items and gadgets.
My brother and I were both pretty messy and all the piles of junk and excess items sometimes made me feel like we lived in richer places than we really did, though I was thankful for all we had. Walking into our room it could sometimes be a tripping hazard, and you'd probably want to be careful for most items here were made of lego which hurt if you accidentally fell on it - trust me I know - and there was an inner map of the room we somehow both made where we knew how to avoid the worst of the mess and get around, though it was hard for anyone to pick up at first glance.
Not that I had friends around much. We lived in an unpopular suburb of District 5 which was hard to get to, and so low in status no one would really be interested in travelling there so it was seldom either of us had anyone over.
In the bathroom I brushed my teeth then gelled my hair. I had always been tall for my age, with a square face, dark brown hair and eyes. I was thickly set and quite muscular beneath my clothes though it was an easy to overlook thing because so few cared about sports in District 5. I had always been strong and athletic for my age, being effortlessly better than all my classmates at the meagre amounts we did growing up. I was selected for the school cycling team and had been on it for four days a week in primary school though now it was only two days a week in highschool. I also liked to jog and found it easier to put on muscle than others. Even just doing nothing I always somehow put on a little more muscle than a lot of other boys my age. Maybe it was genetic. My father was also a tall and thickly-set guy. Likewise with my brother though he was less muscular or enthused about cycling as I was. Our mother was tall but not particularly thickly set.
I didn't know why I was like this. But all I knew was that I didn't have to worry about anything strength related for the most part, so I was all set, and I tried to take comfort in that. It was a bit strange to me why I was so effortlessly good at this, but I supposed everyone was different and I happened to be different in this way. There were no sports in District 5 besides cycling, the jogging was something I found on my own because I liked running and also because I liked exploring the areas around here, but that was the most athletic I could get in District 5. Some days I felt it was an unexplored hobby and quick bursts of anger at that but I tried not to think about it. It would only make me angry, and not at anything I could change, so therefore it was worthless and not something to worry over.
After I was done I left. I didn't particularly like hair gel, it wasn't my style, but I just thought it looked a bit better with the suit and I didn't want to let my father down. I took one of the paper napkins from the grey metal napkin holder by the small round fold-up plastic kitchen table and folded it neatly into my front to prevent any spillage of food before chowing down breakfast. My mum was a good cook with the limited materials we had and I always looked forward to her meals.
In District 5 meat, grains and oils were rationed, but vegetables weren't which meant a lot of vegetable soups, but the days where we had an extra meat or grain token were divine.
"You look lovely today," smiled my mother at me.
My brother Solar was 20 years to my 17 so he was out of the Reaping and wore something that was a mix between formal and casual. It wasn't mandatory to attend the Reaping if you weren't in the age range for District 5 didn't want to waste anybody's time with it, but you could if you wanted to. Most people did because they had friends and family. Solar didn't have to go, though he went last year, and I could see the guilt written all over his face. I told him not to waste anymore time than necessary with this horrible event last year and that I was the last person to burn him at the stake for not turning up for 'mutual support' as they called it, for I doubted him being there could change anything, and he even had the clear from mother and father to miss it this year, but I could still see the uneasiness settle over his face.
He could have worn something very casual for the day and just got on with work but he seemed to land on something in the middle. Not quite dressing for it but not wanting to rule out the option of attending.
"I can't wait to see the two of you dressed up side by side for a wedding or something," said my father.
The standard protocol for the past few Reapings had been to put on a light-hearted air because if you truly began to talk about all the things wrong with the Reaping, the Capitol, Panem, District 5, you would never stop. So it was just easier this way.
"Thanks. You don't have to go," I said to Solar.
"Who said I was going anywhere?" Solar held both hands up at me. We look alike except he's an inch taller and less muscular. People say he's more conventionally handsome but I don't see it. I think we look too much alike, except I'm clearly in better physical shape, and since he stopped growing ages ago I have to remind myself he's older in my head because there isn't that height difference anymore.
"No one said anything. But I just wanted to say that," I shot back.
"I'll see you at work," said my father, nodding at Solar. He looked like us but he was an inch shorter than us both. I don't know how we grew so tall given the lack of food in District 5 but apparently we did. We stand out a little in the crowd of District 5 given our height, but it's clearly a bit of an advantage than a negative so I don't complain.
My father and Solar don't work at the same place but sometimes he does errands for him or drops by. I overheard them discussing it several days prior in the kitchen slash living room. Solar didn't need to come but father said there was something he could do and that if he wanted to drop by on the day of the Reaping, my father had a free slot there somewhere and Solar would be welcome. Except that slot was too early for him to arrive there for it if he attended the Reaping so there was an unspoken question in the air.
I didn't want Solar to waste his time on the Reaping. Stupid political event it was. I cared for it little and it was only rebukes from the peacekeepers if I didn't go that kept me going. Solar doesn't care, not really, but he's always been the star, the head of the family in terms of siblings, the one everyone in his grade looked up to, popular with the boys and the girls, smart and successful. It's the way people have viewed him for years and years, and people in District 5 say you turned up to support your loved ones at the Reaping so he feels pressure probably. If it weren't for other people subtly telling him to he wouldn't want to waste a single minute more of his time at the stupid place anyway. The Reaping. Who wants to go to that?
"I know...but I just..." a nerve throbbed in Solar's temple. He paused for a few moments but didn't finish that sentence, before it seemed he pushed it out of his mind and stabbed at the last bit of breakfast with his fork. Silence settled.
Once we had finished Solar insisted on helping mother wash up. Father left for work and I greeted goodbye to my family, adding that I'll see them this afternoon, before heading out to the Reaping. I took a train even though I usually jogged to the city centre where most things were in District 5.
When I arrived there I slipped in quietly near the back of the 17 year old male section so I wasn't blocking anyone's view and watched as they called the girl. Then it became the male tribute...
"Tesla Boreas!" said the escort after a few seconds.
Shock pulsed through me like lightning for a split millisecond before I came to my senses, said a quick 'oh' that was somewhat between surprise and non-chalance, as I found my feet leading to the stage where my doom was and that I really didn't want to go. I felt like I was in shell shock as the escort shook my hand, the light glinting of her pearly white teeth.
My name is Tesla Boreas. I'm 17 year old, District 5 citizen. And I've just been reaped for the Hunger Games. I don't want to die.
AN: I've always wanted to write my own OC-does-a-HG story and also try writing from the POV of a male character as most of the main characters to my stories are female. So this story is a 2 in one, as well as a fair amount of gimmicks and things I think are cool for this type of story I hope to explore, namely with the worldbuilding and backstory. I hope to flesh it out well. Please review if you want to read more, it's encouraging!