Shout out to my best friend for the awesome title!
Author's Note: Both Aces and Gale are seventeen and Katniss is fifteen, Posy is fourteen. Prim is eleven, and Vick is four. Also, Rooba is merchant for this story, just cause it works better.
I wipe my hands carefully on the towel that hangs off the edge of the counter. It may be reaping day, but the butcher's shop is never closed. We're even open on Christmas.
We're the only ones who are open on Christmas.
Grandma Rooba says it's for the best, so that we can have as much money as we can, so that we never have to starve like the Seam children.
I wish they didn't have to starve.
I quite like them.
No one else does, really. I'm the only merchant, no, scrap that. Peeta Mellark, a small acquaintance of mine, is in love with a Seam girl. I guess that's what makes us almost friends.
Because I'm in love with a Seam boy.
"Aces! Why aren't you dress yet? It's almost one!" Grandma says, coming into the back of the shop where we cut the meat. I look down at my bloody apron before looking back up at her. We look a lot alike, both with green eyes and pale skin littered with freckles. I'm shorter than her, around five three. The biggest difference, however, is our hair.
Hers is golden blonde, like my mother's. Mine is a flaming red, like my father's.
Mother died during childbirth, something I'll always carry with me. Soon after, maybe four-six months, Father went out into the surrounding woods and never came back. I've been here with Grandma Rooba ever since.
My father's family was the only family in all of Twelve who ever had red hair. No one knows where it came from, but people think it could be from District Five, they have lots of red haired people there.
"Sorry, Grandma. I'll go get ready." I say, setting down the carving knife.
She nods as I rush by, "Quickly now!" She yells over her shoulder.
I'm up the stairs in a matter of seconds, grabbing my green reaping dress in another five. A minute later and I'm standing in a freezing cold shower, shivering but washing the grime from my hair nonetheless.
After my shower I quickly slip into my dress and pin back my infuriating red curls with little gold ribbons. I laced up my gold gladiator sandals and brushed my teeth before running down the stairs.
Grandma merely looks at me before wrapping me in her arms, the only place I've ever felt safe.
"Here. You should take this. For… For good luck." She says, handing me something. I open my hand and in my palm lies a small gold and silver ring.
"It was your mother's. And, well. She'd want you to have it. And, in case… you can have a token." She doesn't have to elaborate, we both know she means if I'm reaped.
I don't want to be reaped. I don't want to die.
I don't want to kill.
We walk together towards the square, hand in hand. I watch as all the children from ages twelve to eighteen line up to be checked in before scurrying to their places in roped off areas.
I sigh and hug my grandmother once more, before lining up myself. I barely notice when they prick my finger. Fear courses through my veins, numbing me to everything else in the world. I stumble to the section for seventeen year old girls, and wait for it to begin.
I watch, in slight disgust, as Effie Trinket takes the stage.
She taps the microphone a few times.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! To the 73rd Hunger Games! Now, give your polite attention to your Mayor as he reads the treaty of treason!" She says, motioning to Mayor Undersee. He stands up and reads from a scroll of paper into the microphone as he has for the past umpteen years.
"Wonderful, amazing! Ladies first!" She quips, practically skipping over to a glass bowl. I draw in a deep breath, not daring to let it go until I hear the name. I pray and pray that it won't be my name, that I won't have to die.
"Posy Hawthorne!" The evil purple marshmallow yells out. I feel my face drain slightly, and my fingers and toes go cold.
Oh no. Not her. Please.
I watch slowly as the fourteen year old walks slowly, shaking in her little black flats, towards the stage. She climbs the stairs and stands next to Effie.
"Wonderful! Now, for our boy tribute!" She practically squeal as she slowly allows her fingers to sift through the slips.
I can't even pray for him to not be picked, I still haven't caught my breath from when Posy was reaped.
"Sam Nightingale!" She calls. The name is semi familiar, he's merchant. In my class, actually. But it doesn't matter.
He has to die.
"Any volunteers?" Effie asks.
She counts down.
Five.
Too young.
Four.
What will Gale do?
Three.
I can't just stand here!
Two.
And then I remember the rule.
"O-" she begins but I shoe my way out into the aisle.
"I VOLUNTEER!" The harsh and quivering voice that rips forth sounds nothing like me, and for a second I think it's not me who's said it. But then Peacekeepers are dragging me up the stairs and a frightened Posy down them. As I pass her she looks at me, into my soul.
"Thank you." She says, her bottom lip quivering with un-shed tears. I can't even make myself nod at her in return.
I guess I really will needed that token, after all.
"Awe, how sweet! Your name, deary?" She asks. I swallow thickly, and I wonder if everyone could hear it.
"Aces Smith." I say, and fear I may break into tears.
Maybe it would help me. Johanna Mason did it a few years back, she tricked everyone into thinking that she was weak and no one bothered to even look for her. She won that year.
I decided this will be my strategy as they lead us into rooms where we can say goodbye.
I'm not surprised when Grandma walks in.
She immediately wraps me in another embrace.
"You must come back, Aces. You're all I have. You are strong, you know how to use axes, and cleavers, and knives. You can win." She says, her voice strong. She holds me at arm's length and tucks a stray tendril of hair behind my ear.
"Promise you'll try? For me?" She asks, and I see the fear in her emerald green eyes.
"Of course." I choke out, and then they're back, taking her away, and I'm yelling to her.
"I love you! I'll win! I will! I'll be back!" And then the doors slam shut.
I collapse into the soft couch behind me, and cover my face with my hands.
I am surprised, however, when the door opens again and I'm suddenly being attacked by a small thing. I emit a small 'Eep!' as her arms clasp around me; her stick thin arms.
"Oh thank you!" She sobs uncontrollably, and I know now that there's no way I'm leaving this building without tears on my face.
My eyes well up and I hug her back.
"You're welcome, Posy." I say, smoothing down her sweaty black hair.
That's when I notice him standing in the doorway.
Gale.
"Why did you do it?" He asks as Posy let's go and stands by her older brother. I shrug.
"Because I didn't want to watch a small, innocent girl go in there. I can't do it anymore. It's… it's sick." I mutter, frowning at the floor.
He frowns as well, in confusion.
"Well, thank you." He grunts, clearly uncomfortable.
"Don't mention it."
"You just saved my sister's life. I have to mention it. I can't even repay you." He gripes.
"I don't care. I didn't volunteer for a reward." I say, wishing I was able to be a little more upset or angry with this boy.
It was hard to hate him.
He took Posy's hand and left.
And then I'm alone until they come and walk me towards the car. I force myself to cry, and once the tears start the sobs follow: huge, ugly sobs, wracking my whole body. I am forced into the black limousine, and we drive to the platform. I've never been in a car before, or on a train.
I'm still sobbing pitifully when I get out of the car and stand in the door of the train, waiting as they take more pictures before the doors close.
Sealing my fate.