"Johnathon Edward Mason, get back here!"
My brother laughs that annoying laugh of his and flings himself to the other side of our small kitchen, nearly spilling strawberry jelly on his Reaping pants. I growl and reach to pull him back by his collar and fling him into a chair at the kitchen table. My grandfather sits on the other side of the table, eyes raised but not saying anything.
"Do you have any idea what it took for me to this medicine?" I asked. I shove two pink pills into his palm, and he frowns at them. "And now you're not going to take them? Not on my watch."
My brother hesitates a moment more and then he sends me a glower and swallows them dry. I take an inward sigh of relief. It had taken me six months of doing our whole block's laundry to afford a single month's worth of pills. My brother always told me not to worry about it, that he did not need it, but I knew better. I could see the pain on his face when migraines when descend on him for weeks at a time. The sweat that would line his brow, the way his spine curved, unable to completely stand because of the pain. If this medicine could prevent them, so be it. I would pay whatever it took.
I put the bottle on the top shelf of the cabinet, hidden behind a small jar of flour.
Jonathon swiped at the brunet bangs that were in his face. I would have to cut it soon. I sneak a glance at the sun in the sky and wonder if there is enough time to cut it before the Reaping. I decide against it. The bus to take us would be here any minute, and they were not inclined to wait.
Most of the other districts did not have buses to take them to their Reaping, but with how large District Seven was they really had no choice. I think they might do it in District 11 too. There Reaping crowd was almost as large as ours; I see it every year on the recap the Capitol makes us watch. Never as large as ours though. Many forgot that we were technically the largest district.
I grimace. Not that it makes us any richer. We are above District 12 and District 11, but we are not far beyond.
"The bus will be here soon Johanna,"" Jonathon says. He plays with the collar of his shirt and does not quite look at me. "We better shake a leg." Paw Paw says something, too quiet for either us to hear, but seems to agree. He stands, rising shakily with the help of his cane.
I shift uncomfortably in my green dress. Reaping Day was the only day I wore one and I could not wait to be out of it. I could not wait for this whole thing to be over. I would much rather that this was a normal day, where me and Jonathon would wake early to help with loading lumber and then go to school.
But it was Reaping Day, and that meant it was no normal day. Officially it was some kind of sick holiday. Two kids from each of the twelve districts were chosen to fight to the death, and the winner would return a champion and a reminder of their "mercy". This was called The Hunger Games and it happened every summer. I did not understand why they did not just round some of us and shoot us. It would be kinder than this. It was punishment for the Dark Days, the war nearly seventy-five years ago that resulted in the Districts firm defeat and the Captiol's reign.
Jonathon held open the door for me and Paw Paw, and we slowly walked down the dirt path to the bus stop at the edge of the road. A few neighbors are walking too, but no one dares speak. What is there to say, really? I see little Minnie Edwards, just past twelve and on her way to her first Reaping. I hope she does not get picked. She would never survive.
My brother walks in step with me, our grandfather ahead of us. He turns his head to look at me and takes my hand. I give it a squeeze, and it is all the comfort either of us need. My parents used to say when me and my brother were born, we would stare at each other for hours, apparently able to talk with twin telepathy. I called that hogwash, but there was something to it. He was the closest to me, and I could tell everything he knew or felt with just a twinge of his eyebrow or a squeeze of his hand.
We arrive at the stop just as the smelly, dank bus rears to a stop. It is already teeming with people. I hear a few babies cry and mothers and fathers assuring children they will not be picked. I try not to roll my eyes. The only way to truly be free of that terror is to turn nineteen and get your name taken out of consideration completely
My family boards, and my grandfathers sits down in the nearest seat he can find. Sweat is pouring off him in buckets and he is breathing very heavy. The only day Paw Paw left the house was Reaping Day. He was far too old and sick to go any other day. But he always trudged himself out, just in case he had to say goodbye to me and Jonathon.
Me and Jonathon slip into the leather bench behind him. I claim the window seat and lean my shoulder against the side of the bus. I loved the way the bus rattled and rumbled. It felt like a beast that was pulled back just enough that it was not quite dangerous.
The bus gears up again as everyone boards. Behind us sits Minnie and her mother. Minnie's head pops up over the back of the bench despite the no standing sign. The Peacekeeper driving does not say anything.
"Is it scary?" Minnie asks. Neither me nor Jonathon need to ask what 'it' is.
"Yes," I say. Jonathon looks at me strangely and I realize I probably should have lied. "Well, I mean, it's not nearly as scary as you think it is." Jonathon nods beside me.
"It's over before you know it," Jonathon says, snapping his fingers for effect. "It's like roll call at school. Boring and over before you know it."
Minnie does not look sure, and she bites her lip. Her mother looks down at her feet and I recognize the guilt in her eyes. Legally, your name is entered once when you turn twelve and then you get one more every year your eligible. But they also give you a deal, more entries for a years' worth of grain and oil. For the starving – which is most of us – it is a Godsend. But they also add on as well, so the starving outweighs the non by such a wide margin the merchants and political leader's kids almost never get picked.
Minnie's mother made her take out terrasse. I do not begrudge her for it. There was no other way. Jonathon smiles reassuringly and takes Minnie's small hand in his larger, calloused one.
"It'll be fine, Minnie," he says. "A cute little girl like you? They'll change the rules if you get picked, declare your just too adorable to be entered." Minnie manages a small laugh.
Jonathon is a much more personable person. He can talk to people and never be too blunt or loud or scary, or any of the other words they use to describe me. Regardless, I still give Minnie as small smile.
The rest of the ride passes in relative silence. The bus is overcrowded and we don't stop to pick up anyone else on our way to the town square; we must have been the last stop. A few kids are whispering, but I do not really care enough to listen, just looking out the window and thinking about what I am going to do after the Reaping. I think I might be able to pick up a shift at the lumber mill if I race there. I do not consider if I get Reaped. It is too scary to really consider, so I do not let myself go there.
We pull in behind a procession of other buses, some shiner and others more dented. The Peacekeeper at the front stands after he turns off the bus. I do not know his name, but it is apparent he is from the Capitol. He does not have the tan skin and brunet hair that marks the children on District Seven; this man is pale and blond, a hard look in his eye that falls just short of scary and just above intimidating.
"Will all eligible Reaping children please exit the bus," he says, but it is not a question. Me and Jonathon stand, as do about half of the bus's occupants. I think in other Districts they all arrive together, but here they shuffle all of us into the square by age before letting the parents and others fill out the square. They say it is for crowd control, but we all know it is because about five years ago a mom tried to run off with her kid after the Reaping started, and now they want to make sure we are as separated as possible.
The kid in question was reaped the next year. He died within a minute of the gong sounding.
Paw Paw shoots a severe look, that despite being harsh communicated pride and hope and love. I gave one back and Paw Paw nodded. We were a quiet family. Words were not necessary.
Me and Jonathon followed the others to the square, Minnie glued to our side. She looked around fearfully, eyes wide and seemingly overwhelmed by all the people. I put a hand on her shoulder to guide her. It is the best comfort I can offer now that we are here.
After we sign-in, Minnie finally must separate from us, and I try to ignore the shaking in her legs as she takes her place amongst the other twelve-year-old girls. Me and Jonathon share a long look before we separate into the sections for seventeen-year-old boys and girls.
It feels like a lifetime before everyone is filed in, made only worse by the heat. It is just past ten in the morning, but the heat baring down no matter what time of day is no friend of mine. I wipe the sweat off my neck as the stage at the front fills with the mayor and other Capitol officials.
"District Seven," the mayor begins at the podium, "thank you for taking time out of your day to be here." Like we had a choice.
The mayor dives into a boring speech on how the Districts should be grateful for the Hunger Games, and how it is a blessing we were not destroyed like District Thirteen and other stuff that all of us already know by heart.
Finally, the mayor steps back and introduces the Capitol escort, Flynnigan. Flynnigan has been our escort for nearly forty years, and has only brought back three Victors, but never seems to be bothered by it, arriving back every year with a smile and ridiculous outfit.
This year, he is wearing a magenta suit and a hat with a shameful number of feathers that threaten to spill over into his face. The Victors sit behind Flynnigan, all three of them staring at him with varying looks of confusion to admonishment. Blight – the most recent and winning ten years ago – just shakes his head with a laugh. Dorian and Fern look less pleased, frowning thin lined smiles.
"Hello," Flynnigan says in that ridiculous Capitol accent of his, "I'm so honored to be back to District Seven, for the Seventy-First Annual Hunger Games!" At this he expects a thunderous ovation, but the best we give him is a slow clap. He seems to take this in stride. "There's that District Seven hospitality I'm so accustomed to!"
I cannot tell if he is being sincere. The high-pitched tone of his voice makes it hard to tell.
"Now, as always, let's start with our wonderful ladies," Flynnigan says, smiling a pearly smile over our side of the crowd. Flynnigan glides over to the clear bowl right in front of the girls, filled to the brim with slips of our children's names. On twenty-four of them is my name.
Flynnigan grabs one, his hand in and out much quicker than it should for such a life-changing decision. He returns to the podium and I hold my breath. He opens the folded slip. He smiles.
"Johanna Mason!"
My stomach drops and I scream.
I feel a warm pounding in my head, and I fear I might throw up. Around me the other girls are whispering, staring, and seemingly relieved it's not them. They start to part for me and somehow my legs carry me to the stage.
I know this is being broadcast to the entire nation, that people are watching and seeing how I react. Seeing if I have the courage of potential victor. Despite all of that, I just remain in my state of shock, my face red and the pinpricks of tears starting in my eyes.
As I take my place, I make eye contact with Blight. He tilts his head curiously and whispers something to Dorian. I don't really have the time to process that before I'm turned around to face a sea of people. All of them stare at me, and I search for two faces.
I eventually find one of them and he's just as I thought he would be. Jonathon is flushed red as well, eyes wide. A boy beside him seems to be holding his left arm. He must have tried to start towards the stage himself.
"Let's give it up for our lovely female tribute," Flynnigan says. "Johanna Mason!"
District Seven gives a cold, slow clap. I do not blame them. Do you clap for the girl being dragged to her death?
Because make no mistake. I know I am to die.
Flynnigan seems satisfied with this and he grins, straightening his suit coat.
"Now, for the courageous young boys," Flynnigan says. He reaches into the bowl for the boys, and all I can do is hope that it is not Jonathon's name that is not pulled. I can see the fear in his eyes. I do not turn away even as Flynnigan returns to the podium.
"Trapper Counselman!"
Relief floods my system. If there is any solace, it is that Jonathon will not go with me.
From the throngs of fourteen-year-old boys comes a skinny boy with limbs seemingly too big for his body, with tan skin and brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He, like me, seems completely terrified.
Trapper soon finds his place next to me. We do not look at each other.
"Now!" Flynnigan says. "Have we any brave volunteers for this magnificent pageant?"
It's a rhetorical question. No one outside of District 1,2, or 4 volunteers, unless they have a death wish. That happened once before. I remember a young girl from 5 who basically said everything except that she wanted to die, and just stood at her pedestal and let a tribute snap her neck. I sometimes wonder what was so bad she wanted to go to the Hunger Games. Surely there were other ways to die.
Jonathon makes a movement and I shake my head.
Don't.
I am unsure I could survive if I went into the arena with Jonathon. Luckily, he stays silent and then the moment for volunteers passes.
Me and Trapper shake hands and then are ushered inside the Justice Building. I have never been inside the building before; it seems cold and harsh, walls painted a stark white and slick floors that click when you walk on it.
We are separated and put in two separate rooms, and I am ceremonially pushed into what appears to be a conference room by two masked Peacekeepers. There is a long wooden table with chairs all around, shelves lined with books along two of the walls. A small window sits on the opposite wall.
By law, I am allowed one hour to make my goodbyes. I doubt I will need a whole hour.
Jonathon bursts through the doors like a wild deer and grips me in a tight embrace. I return it, digging my face into his neck. I can hear the sound of Paw Paw's cane, and I know he is here too. Me and Jonathon remain for a long moment, and I don't want it to end. I want to be here, with my brother, where nothing can hurt me.
Eventually, we have to let go. I give Paw Paw a similar hug, but this one is much shorter. Paw Paw takes a seat and I do not say anything. He can not stand for very long.
"Johanna, you can win," Jonathon says. I do not contain my laugh.
"In what universe?" I ask. I wipe at a lone tear that escaped. "There are Districts that- that train for this kind of thing. And I-I'm just cannon fodder."
Jonathon shakes his head. "You can do this. You're strong, and I've seen you hunt before."
I do not hunt often. But we live in forest terrain, we are the lumber district after all, and they sometimes let us loose to hunt when there are too many animals.
"You just need an ax," Jonathon says. "You have an ax, and you can do it."
Their being an ax is unlikely. They hardly ever include have them at the Cornucopia where all the tributes start. Mostly maces and swords and bows. I suppose a mace or a sword would do the same, but I am not trained for them.
I shake my head.
"Listen to me," I say. "To keep your medicine, you're going to need to keep doing the laundry. I'm sure under the circumstances, they'll be a little more lenient at first, but that won't last long."
"My medicine?" Jonathon asks. "Johanna, is now really –"
"Yes," I say. "Promise me you won't stop taking it because I'm gone. You'll have one less mouth to feed, so it should be easier on the household." I put a hand on his shoulder. "You and Paw Paw are my whole world. After I'm gone, don't stop because of me."
Jonathon finally cries, pulling me into another hug.
"I love Johanna," he whispers. I hug him back, a shudder escaping me.
"I love you too," I say. I let go of him and turn to my grandfather. I sink to my knees in front of him.
"Thank you," I say. "For taking care of us all these years." Paw Paw had been our only parent for ten years. He could have just as easily let us go to the Community Home, but he didn't.
Paw Paw shifts in the seat, smiling.
"You're a good girl, Johanna," he says softly. "Fight. Win." He caresses my face softly. "I'm so proud of you."
The doors thrust open again, and a Peacekeeper takes one step in.
"Time's up," he says. Jonathon looks like he wants to fight, but he just nods and help my grandfather to his feet. And then, just like that, they're gone.
I do not expect anyone else to visit me, so I ready myself to wait the remainder of the time. To my surprise, however, the door bursts open and then there is Minnie running towards me.
She hugs me around my torso and buries her face in the skirt of my dress. Tears are in her eyes once she finally pulls away.
"Maybe they'll change the rules," she says, "because you're so pretty and they don't want you to die." I laugh softly and pull her back into a hug.
"Maybe," I say, "maybe." She sniffles and lets go.
"I'll make sure Jonathon is okay," she says. Minnie sounds older than twelve very suddenly. "I know he gets sick sometimes."
"Thank you, Minnie," I say. I had never been particularly close to Minnie. It was always Jonathon who talked to our young next-door neighbor. I cannot deny, however, my affection for the girl. And now, my gratitude.
I place a kiss to her head, and then the Peacekeeper is back and taking away Minnie.
And just like that, I am alone. I hug myself, feeling very small in this large, lifeless building.
I am not the owner of The Hunger Games, and I make no claim to the ownership of characters and plots previously introduced by both the book and film productions. I only claims any original characters or plot lines.
Merry Christmas! Today we celebrate the birth of the Son of God, who was sent to die for our sins so that me have everlasting peace and life.
I was partially inspired to finally write my version of Johanna Mason after reading Oisin55's series of fics about the Victors, specifically The Victor's Project, which is a fantastic read and I recommend you go read it.
I've always had ideas about Johanna and what her life was like, and I am so excited to finally to write it down. Johanna is one of the more fascinating characters to come out of the series, as we know so little about her. I know everyone probably has their own versions, and I ask you to indulge me as I toss my hat in the ring.
I hope you all have a blessed day! Questions, comments, and prayer requests are always open.
-PrincessChess