Chapter 1 ~ Reaping Day
Today is one of the seven most important days of my life. My life and the lives of millions of other children across the country. Today is Reaping Day.
And on this day, the people are granted a break. Because today very well may be the last day they see their children, the children who are eligible for the Reaping. Still, I make my weekly rounds.
I am returning home from dropping off a few fish to one of my father's friends across town when I bump into Annie.
Annie Cresta, my best friend and neighbor, brings me in for a hug. When she squeezes, I squeeze back. "I told my mom we were going to Finnick's place," she starts with a grin. "A message she will no doubt pass on to your parents."
"Are you saying we have the day free?"
"Free of parents, content to do anything we want," Annie says, waving her hands dramatically.
"Well, I think that is a great idea. Where to, Ms. Cresta?"
"I don't know, Ms. Raines. How about the ocean?"
"It always ends up being the ocean, doesn't it?" I laugh.
"Of course it does. After all, this is District 4 we are living in." We ran down to the nearest beach, which is half a mile away.
"Oh, it's so hot today!" I exclaim, jumping up and down to keep my bare feet from burning on the scorching sand. My flip-flops lay several feet away, where the road ends and the beach begins.
"Then come in!" Annie beckons, already wading out into the water. I waste no more time and jump in immediately, feeling the cool rush of water flow past me.
"Are you nervous?" Annie asks me.
"For the Reaping?" She gives me a nod of confirmation. "Well, of course."
Every child — who's not a Career — fears Reaping Day, the day when one girl and one boy between the ages of 12 and 18 are chosen to participate in the Hunger Games, a fight to the death. The number of times your name is in the bowl increases by one each year, starting with one entry at the age of 12. Now that I'm 15, I've survived three reapings with my name in the bowl 4 times this year. Luckily, I never had to get any tesserae, one serving of grain and oil that lasts a year, because my dad owns a small fishing company that makes enough to get us by. Other districts, such as 12, are forced to take out tesserae to keep from starving and put more slips in the bowl in exchange for each person's portion.
"Are you? You have five slips this year." Annie, who's sixteen, has one more slip than me this year, but soon she'll be too old to qualify for the Reaping.
"Naturally," she answers quickly. "But let's not think about that right now."
"Yes, let's play a game."
"How about tag?" I don't give her an answer and instead, tap her on the arm before swimming away quickly to the shallower end. Annie comes to her senses and shoots after me.
"Can't catch me!" I laugh as she chases me around, wading in the warm sea. Since I was born, I have been swimming everywhere: in the ocean, in our little pool. At least that's what Mom says.
I was a summer baby, one fit for those cool nights and hot days, swimming in the sea all day long. Of course, that's what I loved to do, and what I did best.
We don't notice our newcomer through the giggling and splashing of water until he calls out to us. "Cory! Annie!" The two of us looked up rapidly, expecting to see our parents. After all, they believed we had gone down to Finnick's house to have a little fun before the Reaping started. But here we are, swimming on the beach less than a mile from where I currently reside.
"Ah, Finnick! It's just you." I said this in such a manner that one might have thought I was indifferent to this discovery — disappointed even.
Annie and I were already friends from a very young age, and Finnick joined our friendship a few years after, when I was 7, while we were fishing. I still remember Finnick's amused smile from afar as my pile of fish continued to grow rapidly. I still remember how he came over asking, "How are you going to bring all that fish home?" and my response, "Is this a trick for you to get free fish? Why can't you catch your own?" He had laughed and said he was merely curious how a tiny girl like me would manage to get 20 heavy fish home. I was surprised I had caught that many fish, my mind had drifted away, and I realized that it would quickly go bad before we could consume it all.
My father had a rule: the fish I caught would be eaten by the family; the fish he caught would go to the company and the Capitol. In the end, Finn ran home and grabbed the biggest bucket he could find and the three of us dragged it home, filled with fish, chatting the whole time. Finnick told us where he lived and said that we could visit whenever we wanted. As thanks, I gave him 5 of my many fish, since I couldn't finish it myself anyway. Afterward, as all good stories go, we had a friendship circle, spending time together and everything.
"What, my presence isn't good enough for you now, Cordelia?" Finnick asked in fake shock. Even though he was the youngest victor at 14 years old and had consistent fame, he commonly visited the two of us whenever he had the chance. "I've been gone for a week and you've already replaced me?" Finn had come back from a visit to the Capitol by order of President Snow. Annie and I keep asking what happens there, why he has to keep leaving, but he doesn't say anything.
"You know I only hang out with the cool kids, unlike you!" I say, putting my hands on my hips playfully. Annie covers her mouth, laughing and watching us intently to see what will happen next. He narrowed his eyes at me, and I couldn't help feeling a little nervous about the inevitable.
"You're going to pay for that, Cory!" He splashed water on me, flicking droplets at my face. I gave him my scariest glare, but he just smirked, unfazed. "You're going to have to do better than that."
I roll my eyes, but can't help it when the corners of my mouth twitch up. "Real mature. What are you doing here anyway?"
"What's wrong with being with my friends? Besides, your parents want you to get ready for the Reaping this afternoon. Ironically, they were rather surprised that you were not with me since you two were supposed to be at my place relaxing before the Reaping. Care to tell me about that?" He knows he's got me trapped in a corner. Instead, I pretended I hadn't heard his last statement and pouted, pulling Annie along to the shore.
"Let's go, Annie, Finnick's no fun," I teased playfully. We dried off and got dressed in our t-shirts again. Without even a look back, we ran home, leaving Finnick surrounded by the calm, blue ocean.
"Mom, I'm back!"
"Well finally! When Finnick told us that he wasn't with you, I was worried sick!" she reprimanded, brandishing a spatula that she was using to make lunch.
"Ok, Mom. First, calm down." I take the spatula from her hand and place it near the pan. "And second, I was with Annie."
"Yes, you were with Annie. Who was also supposed to be with Finnick! Where were you two?"
"The beach. You know, the small one down the road?" She sighed and leaned against the counter.
"Don't just disappear like that again. On normal days, I might let it slide, but today-"
"Because it's Reaping Day," I finished. She nods, looking worried.
"Your chances are even greater this year, Cory. What if we lose you? What will we do, how will we ever cope?"
"Mom, it'll be okay. I promise."
She gives me a sad smile. "I wish I could believe you."
She jumped up suddenly, flipping the sizzling fish frantically. "It's time to get ready. I set out a dress for you, it's in your room. We'll have lunch and then I'll fix your hair. And please, take a shower. You smell like the ocean."
One hour later, I was ready to present myself. My mom had helped me curl my hair gently, letting it flow in waves. She had set out a beautiful, simple blue dress decorated with soft white flowers. I recognized it as the one she had worn to her first date with Dad all those years ago. Even now, it still looks brand new and untouched. "It won't be me," I told my mother. She gave me an unconvinced nod, keeping her worried look.
"It's one," my father announces, entering from the back door. My mother and I exchange a look, hers anxious and mine comforting. There's no way to escape the Reaping, everyone must be there. The only exception is if you are on the verge of death, and even then that isn't a better fate than being chosen.
The square is relatively empty as people slowly trickle in. I watch the young twelve-year-olds, still naive, beginning their first out of seven years in which they have a chance to be selected. I meet up with Finn at the back of the square, something that we've been doing since he became a victor.
"Annie's not here yet?" I ask.
"No," he responds, looking in the distance to see if he can spot her.
"How do I look?" I ask Finnick, weaving a sky blue ribbon in my chocolate brown hair, a similar shade compared to my eyes.
"Gorgeous," he responded with a smile, a true one, unlike those smirks I had become so accustomed to. He brushed back a stray lock of hair from my eyes, tucking it gently behind my ear. "How many times is your name in there today?" He didn't look very worried, but I knew inside he feared the chance of having to mentor one of his best friends.
"4, the least I could enter. And even if I got chosen, no one would let me go: they all love me too much," I gave a cheeky smile, "so don't worry yourself for no reason."
"There's still a chance, Cory." I sighed, persistent and concerned as always.
"Finn, it's out of my hands now. I've got to check in, see you in a bit. I promise, one hour later we'll all be at the beach having fun. Promise." I gave him one last hug and hurried over to the check-in line. Before I left, I heard a dark mutter,
"You and Annie will be, but I'll be mentoring the next poor tributes who get reaped."
The Peacekeeper ushered me over, and I presented my finger willingly. They pricked it slightly, not enough to feel pain but enough to draw blood. My identity was verified, so I headed to the 15-year-old section, one girl in the middle of a big crowd. I spotted my friends from school, Brianna and Ashlyn. We gave each other silent looks of hope, praying that each of us was safe for another year as well. We had a pact, if one of us gets chosen, we don't volunteer. Doing so would be signing your death wish.
When the clock strikes two, the Reaping officially begins.
First, the mayor repeats the history of Panem, a country of thirteen Districts surrounding the omnipotent Capitol. I've heard it so many times that I can almost recite it from memory. We are reminded of the Treaty of Treason, which created the Games after the rebellion that happened 68 years ago. Next, he lists our past victors, five in total, then invites Moxie on the stage.
Our escort, Moxie, steps enthusiastically once she is introduced. She was wearing a ridiculously poofy blue wig and an abundant amount of makeup, strongly reminding me of a clown that I had seen when I was 5.
"Welcome! Welcome! Welcome to the reaping of the 68th annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!" There is no reaction from the crowd, but she continues.
"Right then, as always, ladies first!" The crowd is silent as everyone holds their breath. I felt Finnick's gaze darting between me, Annie, and that little slip of paper Moxie was drawing out that might change our future. When his eyes locked on me, I gave him a reassuring smile that he tried to return. Still, I couldn't help but wait apprehensively, staring at the clear plastic bowl that contained my name four times in my gentle loopy handwriting. Not me, not me. Please don't be me. I find my friends' hands and squeeze tightly, feeling them squeeze back.
She started to peel open the slip. Is she doing everything in slow motion this year? No, she wasn't, but the waiting is almost worse than being chosen. Why was I so nervous this year, notably more than my previous years? There was a nagging feeling inside me, something that said my name was on the paper. One extra slip could be the difference between being safe for a year and being chosen. Not me, not me.
"Cordelia Opal Raines!