Chapter 1: Blonde Beauty Kissed By Death
I hate Reaping Day.
Only one good thing can be said about the district holiday which takes place on the Fourth of July every year, a day that has been sacred for centuries upon centuries going all the way back to the ancient Americans: Reaping Day means a half day of school.
The Reaping isn't scheduled to start until 2:00, but we students get the afternoon off. Mandatory early release is always scheduled for 11 AM in both Upper and Lower School. Tapping my pencil against the side of my desk, I check the wall clock - 10:45. Fifteen minutes to go in my third period literature class.
Scanning the room, my eyes lock with those summer-sky blue ones of Belle Foley, who sends me a pretty smile of encouragement. My gaze weaves down her body once I catch the almost imperceptible sway of her thigh, the motion going all the way down to her feet. She's playing footsie under the desks with Danny Mellark, her boyfriend of two years. The Baker's only son gives me a smirk and a subtle wink. A wry grin of my own tugging at my lips, I fight the urge to scoff. The least the two lovebirds could do is be subtle about it! But then again, my best friend and her lover have never exactly been subtle about their feelings.
Foley's Apothecary and Mellark's, the Bakery in Town, are directly across the street from each other. Belle and Danny have been playmates since we were big enough to crawl. In Lower School, the baker's boy had an annoying habit of tugging on the long and flowing blonde locks of the apothecary's youngest child and only daughter. He eventually grew out of it, but by that time, Belle despised him.
Things changed as we matriculated into Upper School. Danny's weird fetish of tugging Belle's braids had morphed into lingering stares at her from across the play-yard or the library when he thought she wasn't looking. He must have been an idiot to think that Belle wasn't also checking him out, however much she insisted to me and Kaydilyn, my twin sister, that his gaze unnerved her. I think of a passage in Shakespeare, one of the most prominent, olden authors we are still allowed to study in Panem: Methinks she doth protest too much. The whole affair finally came to a head two years ago, towards the end of the first week of term. Danny had been spying on Belle, Kaydilyn and I from behind a bookshelf, until, frustrated, Belle had marched up to the man and said, "Dannel Mellark, if you keep staring at me like that, then I'm gonna keep staring back, which does neither of us any good. So I think we should go out on a date!" This phrase was nearly yelled in front of our entire grade, so loudly that Mrs. Falstaff, the librarian, had rushed over to shush her.
For his part, Danny Mellark was so tongue-tied that he nearly forgot to get out an "OK." He had met his match.
The pair have been kissing and playing footsie and making googly eyes at each other ever since. Eli Cartwright, the postmaster's son, started a betting pool during last year's Games to determine when Danny and Belle are going to have their Toasting. I contributed my monthly allowance - a handsome sum - to the pot. My sister did not. She has more important things to do - namely, plotting a revolution against the Capitol that still only exists in her own mind. Glancing back over my shoulder, I can see her mumbling with Merle Undersee, son of our District's Mayor. Everyone expects the boy to become Mayor in his own right - after all, our Mayors are "elected" by what our History teacher would likely term hereditary monarchy. The mayorship passes down from father to son in District 12, unlike in Districts 1, 2 and 4, who are actually given free enough reign to elect their own representative to the Justice Building. The most of what I can say about the other districts (at least, what the government allows us to know) is that their Mayors are Capitol liaisons, specially appointed by the President. Yes, Merle Undersee will be Mayor sometime in the not-too-distant future, barring something unforeseen.
Like getting Reaped for the Hunger Games.
"I'm telling you, if we could take the district armory..."
"Keep your voice down, Kay!" Merle hisses, glancing furtively about. At the blackboard, our teacher stills in her scraping of the chalk, but doesn't turn her head, quietly resuming scratching out a passage from Thoreau while marking the addresses. I capture Kay with a stern look, before rolling my eyes and turning back to my paper to copy Mrs. Henshaw's notes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Danny steal a quick kiss from Belle's lips, which she holds for a moment before twisting away flirtatiously, clearly fighting to tamp down a giggle. I wrestle back my own snort.
Oh, yes, I hate Reaping Day, but watching Danny and Belle thrash around like a pair of eels usually makes it better, provided I don't allow Kaydilyn's seditious thoughts to make it worse and thus restore a balance to my sour mood.
I make a final sweep of all my classmates - crowns of blond hair and pairs of ice-blue eyes on every one of them.
Except for one.
He is sitting in the corner at the far end of the room, the pulled-back curtain at the window creating a slashed cloak of shadow over his chiseled face. From the half of his face that is kept inside the light, I study the firm ridge of his jawline. The bangs of chestnut curls that fall into his eyes. Eyes as grey as ash. Seam eyes...
Haymitch Abernathy is the only Seam kid to have ever been admitted to the Upper School's advanced courses, which have, until this term, only ever been available to Merchant kids like myself. His father, the coal field's Miner Foreman and part-time tanner, petitioned the school board on behalf of his son, demanding that Haymitch be tested for the advanced subjects. The school board only, finally yielded when Markus Abernathy threatened to take his case to the Mayor, with whom he is a close friend.
Haymitch was allowed to sit for the exam. He tested in. The rumors are he's brilliant. Brilliant.
When the school board admitted a Seam kid into the advanced courses, the parents of every Merchant in Upper School let loose a vicious uproar of protest. A town hall was even held in the Justice Building, citizens of the Merchant sector demanding that the school board reverse its decision and send that "Seam brat back where he belongs." My father was one of those who objected to Haymitch's placement. Markus Abernathy was there, too, loudly bellowing that the school board honor their decision. "A District Twelve man's word is his bond!" he had shouted to the rafters.
Nearly a year later, I still don't know what made me do it. But I actually stood up and sided with Markus Abernathy (and thus going against my daddy), to say, "If Haymitch tested into the advanced courses, he should be permitted to take them." Kaydilyn thought I was crazy. Belle and Danny were more sympathetic, the latter especially - apparently, he and the Abernathy boy are actually friends.
All of this goes through my mind as I continue to hold Haymitch in my sights. Gaze into those Seam-gray eyes. I've never seen such eyes...
"Miss Donner: is there something particularly interesting about Mr. Abernathy that you wish to share with the class, or shall I have to remove the boy from your sightline hereafter?"
I blink, jolted from my stupor, as all of my friends erupt in giggles around me. I take one last glance at a glowering Haymitch, who has now noticed my staring, before stammering, "N...no, ma'am."
The piercing shrill of the bell mercifully rings and there is a flurry of activity as we Merchant kids dive for the door.
"Head straight home to change into your holiday best; the Reaping is in only three hours!" Mrs. Henshaw calls above the din and to our retreating backs. "And I expect that four-page essay on Keats by Monday! Final exams are, of course, the end of next week!"
Streaming out into the crowded hallways, a kaleidoscope of blonde hair and blue eyes assaults me. Any one of these faces could be Reaped in three hours time for the Hunger Games.
Though this year, it is known as a Quarter Quell.
For the past half a century, as punishment for rebelling against the Capitol, the twelve districts of Panem have been forced to offer up one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen as tribute to represent our homeland in the Hunger Games. The 24 selected tributes are then thrown into an outdoor arena to fight to the death until a lone Victor remains.
In the past 49 iterations, District 12 has only claimed Victory once, by the woman whose statue I am now shaded under out in the schoolyard - Lucy Gray Baird, a Seam girl who was known for a beautiful singing voice. She disappeared into the woods beyond the fence not long after, never to be seen or heard from again. Legend has it she is still living in those woods somewhere.
If she is still alive, I wonder why she hasn't bothered to help save other children like her in the forty years since she came home alive from the 10th Hunger Games.
There! My eyes settle on the moptop of brown hair bobbing like a buoy in the crowd beyond. A few people part enough for me to glimpse Haymitch Abernathy striding out of the schoolyard, an arm lazily slung over a stick-figure girl with equally olive skin, gray eyes and darker features. He is also hand-in-hand with a boy about three years younger: Lacklen Abernathy, his little brother.
"Come on, Maysie! Whatcha standing under here for?" Danny Mellark appears from nowhere to sling a friendly arm across my shoulders. Tucked in the crook of his other side is a blushing Belle. I smile at my two best friends weakly.
"Just getting out of the heat."
"Gotta brave the sun sometime," the baker's boy shrugs. "Let's head to your parents' shop! They're still open, right?"
I cock a ruffled eyebrow at him. "Yeah, but what about the bakery? Or the apothecary?"
"Reduced hours, remember? Ma and Dad will be locking up to get ready by the time I get back." Danny glances to Belle and she turns pink.
"Daddy always closes on Reaping Day."
I let out something between a chuckle and a sigh, shaking my head in amusement as Kaydilyn joins us at last, stomping and sporting a scowl. "Come on, then. You two loveingjays can take a downstairs table while we change." I jerk my head in my twin's direction.
"I'm telling you - wearing your Reaping clothes to Early Release is easier!" Danny chides as we traipse out of the schoolyard.
High noon strikes an hour later, and finds me manning the counter of my family's chocolatier and sweet shop. Behind me, Kaydilyn is supposed to be doing inventory, but she keeps pausing to chat with Danny and Belle, in between glances at the clock. Daddy always customarily closes up at half past noon on Reaping Day, giving him and Mother plenty of time to change before we have to go down to the Square.
"So," Danny chuckles. "Have either of the entrancing Donner girls stolen a Reaping Kiss?"
"I've already gotten mine!" Belle bubbles, before yanking her boyfriend into a deep kiss.
I make a show of rolling my eyes at them both again. The Reaping Kiss is one of the most famous superstitions in District 12. Supposedly, if two people who are age-eligible for the Games share a kiss on Reaping Day, they are both guaranteed not to be picked. I don't believe in such things, and have gotten through the last four Reapings just fine without one. Though I have no reason to believe that it doesn't work.
"I got a Reaping Kiss from Merle after third period!" Kay announces to the room at large. "Pushed him up against the lockers. He really enjoyed himself too, the prat!"
Danny hoots, swiveling his cobalt eyes to mine. "What about you, May?"
"She wants to give Haymitch Abernathy a Reaping Kiss!" Belle teases in a singsong voice.
"Belle!" Kay hisses, pupils wide and scandalized. "What a thing to suggest! Merchants kissing Seam on Reaping Day is bad luck!"
I duck my head to hide the pink blush staining my cheeks. "N-no, I don't," I quiver. "And no, I haven't, I've never needed one before..."
My voice trails off as I raise my eyes to see that Danny has now stretched himself across the counter, taking my face in his hands to pull me into a soft and sweet Reaping Kiss. My eyes pop wide with shock and I let out something between a whimper and squeak at his nerve. I feel my toes curl so that I am now balanced on the balls of my feet. After only a moment or two, Danny and I break apart noisily. I gape at him.
"Bastard," I whisper in disbelief at his temerity, even whilst my face blooms aflame. "And with your girlfriend watching! Dannel Mellark, you're a cad! I... I oughta slap you good!"
Danny just chortles and winks cheekily. "But you won't."
My gaze swivels to Belle, expecting her to be pursing her lips in that way she does when she's displeased. Instead, she's smirking, shaking her head at me. Danny, for his part, just shrugs.
"You should be safe as you can be now, Maysie, what with double the kids getting Reaped this year and all."
Belle dips her head into her lap, wiping at her eyes. "Wasn't the Reading of the Card this spring so awful? Twice as many tributes!"
"No worse than the First Quell," Danny shakes his head. "Grandaddy always used to say letting the districts choose their own tributes was torture. One of Ma's closest friends went that year. They voted her in because her mother slept with the Head Peacekeeper, and all the Seamers hated her."
"Didn't Cora Shutter kill her at the Cornucopia?" Kay asks.
"I think so? I'd have to ask Ma."
At that moment, my parents, Thomas and Lucille Donner, enter from upstairs, all decked out in their Reaping best.
"Afternoon, Dannel, Belle," my father nods to my friends. "Girls, flip the sign to CLOSED and wash your faces one more time. We'll have to leave soon!"
Danny stands and holds out his arm to Belle. "May I escort you back, miss?" She giggles and loops her arm through his. "Ya know, you're one of the purtiest gals I ever acquainted!"
I laugh at his Capitol accent and tosh a dishrag at the couple. "Oi! Get a room, you two!"
Danny's eyes are dancing with mirth. "See you lovely ladies in there!"
Ninety minutes after getting my first Reaping Kiss, I am standing with the other sixteen-year-old girls in the hot summer sun, my sister immediately to my left. Further down the row, about three others separate me from Belle Foley, who gives me a soft smile when we meet gazes.
As the clock strikes two, Mayor Undersee begins by reading the Treaty of Treason. Then he recites the names of past District 12 Victors: "The Victor of the 10th Hunger Games: Lucy Gray Baird!" We all bow our heads in reverence.
Then, a lady with tangerine-orange hair, green skin and nails as long as talons bounces up to take the microphone. Dolly Evana has been the District 12 escort ever since just before Kay and I were born.
"Welcome, welcome! The time has come to select two young men and two young women for the honor of representing District 12 in the 50th anniversary - the Second Quarter Quell - of the Hunger Games!" She lets out a little twitter at the joy of getting to select double the numbers this year, and an awkward pause hovers as if she expects us to join in the revelry. We don't.
Dolly clears her throat. "Ladies first!" Approaching the leftmost of two bowls, she plucks one slip of paper from amidst the thousands before unfurling it.
"Gilla Callan!"
Three groups ahead of us and across the aisle, the crowd shifts and rustles, roiling like one entity, one wounded animal. Finally, a wisp of a Seam girl of no more than thirteen tremblingly steps out of line and begins a slow death march to the stage. She is already weeping, eyes darting about and simpering, silently pleading for someone, anyone, to come forward and replace her. Her beseeching is little better than a howl into the wind, like the wail that now goes up from somewhere behind us. The girl's mother, no doubt - no one has ever volunteered for the Games from Twelve, nor would they ever, lest they wanted to look like a Career.
Dolly beckons Gilla up the last few steps, laying those taloned hands on her shoulders once the little thing is within reach and guiding her to her place on the stage.
"And one more girl! Isn't this exciting?" Dolly trills. No one answers, even if Dolly might still be half-expecting it. Peacekeepers would probably beat us even if we did answer; the Reaping carries a strict no-talking policy.
Dolly whips out a second paper from the girls' bowl with a flourish. I see her unfurling it, her lips moving. And the world slams to a grinding halt as she chirps out:
"Maysilee Donner!"
A/N: Here we go... I was inspired to write this because when I tried searching for a good AU in which Maysilee Donner wins the Hunger Games, I could only find one. The rather self-evidently titled What if Maysilee Donner Won? is a 9-chapter, 16,000-word hot mess in which Maysilee ultimately marries Haymitch's younger brother, for some reason? I decided I could do better on a topic no one has tried to explore. This will be my sole fanfic focus for 2021. Since it is a New Year, I have decided to take a different approach. I will be publishing in installments - updates will be every three days, by hook or by crook. Please let me know what you think about this so far!
