3M: Horizon Windheart (16)

Pre-Reaping

When I wake up, the first thing I sense is the sweet smell of breakfast.

Not the kind that we usually have, the soupy, watery oatmeal and stale bread. No, the good stuff. The stuff that we only have on special occasions. It makes my mouth water, and I hear my stomach begging me to go down and eat it. But I manage to wait while I slowly get out of bed and walk to the kitchen. I see the food. It's a feast. And it just looks so delicious.

Rolls are on one of the plates. They're the kind my sister Vera loves. I remember making these one time. You roll the dough out, and then spread jam on one side, the jam made with fresh strawberries. You roll it up, and cook it until it's golden and flaky and perfect. No wonder she loves them, they're amazing.

My favorite sits on a plate next to it. They've lost their name over time, but the baker nextdoor says that they were once called croissants, which is what he calls them in his store. Half moon shaped, rolled in layers, crispy and buttery. My mom saves her money to buy them on my birthday, as she does with the jam rolls for Vera. But it's not my birthday, or Vera's. So why is all the food out?

Then it hits me. It's reaping day, which is (or is meant to be) as big of a celebration as one's birthday. I'm not sure whether it's fair that we're supposed to treat this day of doom as a festivity, but law is law, so there's nothing we can do. We have to celebrate today, no matter what we think of the day. Even if Vera or I, or one of our friends, are reaped, we still have to act like it's a big party.

I grab a croissant, and sit down next to Vera. I tear off large chunks and cram it in my mouth. Vera rolls her eyes at me.

"Careful, you don't want to choke," she says between mouthfuls. "That really would be a disaster."

"Better than being reaped," I respond.

My adoptive sister lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You won't be reaped. You have what, four entries? There are so many names in that bowl. You have nothing to worry about."

I sigh. "I wish."

As I grab another croissant, our mother, Scarlet, comes in to the kitchen. She comes over and greets us. Then, we get hurried along to our rooms, to get all fancy in out reaping clothes. District Three is third to be reaped. Vera likes to watch the other reapings, but I don't. I usually don't get to sleep in that much, because my adoptive dad makes me do technology classes for when I have to take over his coding lab. They're at about 6, and on all weekdays, so I like sleeping in when I can. I watch the reapings after ours, and I 'catch up' on the earlier districts' reapings afterwards.

The outfit that I choose for the reaping is a black button-up shirt and long gray pants. It's about the nicest thing I have. My adoptive parents hate the fact that I always wear black, but I don't like colors. They're too bright and flashy and annoying for me.

I come out of the room, and grab a third croissant before heading out the door. I had promised one of my friends, Thorn, that I would meet him for the reaping. Taking a bite, I said, "Bye, Vera!" and then rushed out the door to greet Thorn.

"Thorn. How are you?" I ask when I finally see him.

"Doing well. Do you want to get something in the market for today?"

I sigh. "I feel like you're doing this on purpose." Thorn knows how much I hate shopping, and although he doesn't like it either, he still tolerates it.

"Yup," Thorn says, popping the p. "But we're going, Mom says I have to get something." I allow him to drag me to the market, more crowded than usual. I take out all my money from my pocket. "Hmm, what am I supposed to get?"

"I don't know." The prices have been raised, not by much but all the merchants take advantage of reaping day and do it. I let Thorn walk around as he gathers useless luxuries such as sugar and a cut of venison, which is absolutely pointless. Then, I'm forced to get some food for my family. "Thorn, why?"

He piles two loaves of bread—white bread, the expensive stuff—into my basket and I force myself to ignore the cost. "If this goes over the amount of money, you're paying for half of it." I say to him.

He laughs. "Alright. I'll agree to that." And then he adds a half-pound of fruit into my basket.

"Anything else you want to force me to buy?"

"How about some goat cheese?"

I consider it for a moment. If I take it, the price will tip over the amount of money I have. But we just don't need it. "Alright," I finally agree. "I'll give you some of this if you give me a bit of the venison." It's been a while since I've had meat, anyways.

"Alright. Let's go over there." We take a wheel if cheese and pay for half of it each. Then, we make our trades before we're forced to go back home.

"Who do you think it'll be?" he asks.

I shrug. "Probably two kids of the factory workers. The girl will probably be a twelve year old, and the boy will be thirteen. I'm guessing that the only way we'll win is with a sixteen-year-old."

He nods. "Yeah, you're probably right. Well, bye. See you at the reaping."

3F: Vera Windheart (16)

Pre-Reaping, Reaping

I hear the door swing shut behind Verizon, and think, once again, about the Games. They're terrible. I know that I shouldn't be worried, that Horizon or I won't get reaped. Those spots will most likely go to the poorer kids of our district, the ones who have to take out tesserae. But I feel like it's going to be a bad year. Well, of course it is. It's the Quarter Quell.

I put my reaping dress on. It's light blue, and it used to be my mother's. After slipping my feet into the pair of shoes my mother laid out, I walk out of my room and just sit there, playing with a few parts from circuits. It's part of our homework for school; we're working on a project where we have to make a game involving circuitry.

I review my designs, and start to decorate the wooden box that my game will be held in. The game, if successful, will be shipped off to a Capitol child. The game is a remake of a game they had pre-Panem, where you have to press buttons in the order that they light up in. It gets harder as you go along.

I unscrew the lid of a paint bottle that our art teacher let me borrow, and paint the box in all black. Once that dries, I use the other colors to paint dots on the box that represent the flashing lights of the game.

I'm just letting the paint on the lid dry when Horizon walks through the door. He's carrying a basket full of food, and it'll be good for celebrations post Reaping. I greet him and he dumps the bag onto the table, which creaks slightly. "Is it time to go?" he asks.

I nod. "Just about." At that moment, our parents come to the room, thanking Horizon for the food. Then, they told us that we should leave for the reaping.

I watched the district One and Two reapings already. One reaped a twelve year old girl that nobody volunteered for, which should be relieving to outliers—one less Career to deal with. Their boy looks deadly, and so does Two's tributes, both volunteers as usual.

My parents, Horizon, and I walk to the town square for the reaping. They tell us where to meet after the reaping, then disappear into the crowd. I check in: the Peacekeepers draw a bit of blood, and then I'm ushered into a line. And then the reaping starts.

Our escort, Geranium Frillsworth, comes onstage with her bright red hair and silly voice. It's the same every year. She reads the Treaty of the Treason, the document that tells us about the rebellion that happened three hundred years ago, and how these games were created to squash all rebellion in the future. She then reminds us of this year's Quarter Quell: "In reminder that the rebels caused punishment for future generations, the tributes will be of age 12 to 16." If only Horizon and I were a year older. Then I wouldn't have to worry, at least not for another year. We're lucky. We don't have to take out tesserae. It will be one of those poor kids who has to go into the games, not one of the richest families.

Geranium's voice interrupts. "Let's start with a very lucky lady to join us onstage!" I barely manage to conceal a snort. Lucky. Right. Geranium's hand lingers in the bowl for a second before pulling out a name. She unfolds the paper, and gives a dramatic pause. "Vera Windheart!"

No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. How? We had so little entries, just... how could this happen? How was something like this even possible?

I walk up the stage, each step feeling like a lifetime. Thud, thud. I try to ignore the sickening feeling in my stomach, but I can't. As I walk up the stairs, I try to keep myself still, try to keep from toppling over. But my life is now ruined. In a month's time, I'll probably be dead.

Geranium smiles as she shakes my head. "Vera, is it? I'm glad to see you! Are you exited for the Games?" she asks.

No. "Yes..." I force myself to say, still wearing my fake smile.

"Well, I'm glad! And now, let's pick a boy to join you!"

3M: Horizon Windheart (16)

Reaping, Goodbyes

No, no, no. Why did they have to do this? Why is my sister the one to compete? Why? I'm still contemplating this as Geranium pulls a slip out for the boys, and reads out the name.

Why my sister?

A boy next to me nudges my shoulder. "You're Horizon, aren't you?"

"Yeah, so what if I am?" I retort back.

"Geranium just called your name."

What? I'm competing, too? This is either some sort of joke, or the worst form of torture possible. My mind hopes for the former, but my brain tells me it's the latter. But, no matter if it's a trick or not, in two weeks' time either both of us, me, or Vera will be dead. I will never be able to see my sister as anything but competition anymore. We will never be able to be normal sibling anymore.

"Horizon Windheart? Where are you?" Geranium asks. "Come on up!"

What can I do but what she says? Heavily, I plod up the stairs. Geranium smiles and shakes my hand. "Well, everyone, I believe we have sibling tributes! Wow, such a surprise!" She says that, but the games get sibling tributes about every five years or so. So really, not a big deal. The last pair were from District 9, when Vera and I were 11. They both died in the Bloodbath.

I really hope we aren't the same.

"Shake hands, you two," Geranium mumbles. We do so. "I present to you, your tributes, Vera and Horizon Windheart!" As she says that, we're meant to clap. But nobody does. Silence is all. And then, we're rushed backstage and guided to the Justice Building, where we say our goodbyes.

I enter the building. The door is outlined in gold leaf. A luxury we can't afford anywhere else. And there's an elevator inside. I've never been on an elevator before. It's rickety and shaky and makes me nervous. When I get to a small room, I sit on the plush, velvet couch and wait for my parents and friends to come.

My mom comes in first, which makes me think that my dad is saying goodbye to Vera. She rushes over to me, and we hug. She pulls away, tears in her eyes. "Try to make it home, okay? Just, please, try hard. I have to lose one, but I might not have to lose both. Try. Please." She's begging now. "I love you so, so much."

The Peacekeepers come in and tell her that her time's up. She squeezes my hand once more, then leaves.

"I love you," I say as she leaves. She responds with the same thing. Then, she's gone. Possibly forever.

My dad comes in. He says a few things, advice on how to win. Then, his time is up as well. He leaves. And in comes my final guest. Thorn. My best and only friend.

"Wow, Horizon. The Hunger Games. Just don't die, okay? Please? Life here would be pretty boring without a friend."

I laugh. "Don't worry. I'll try my best."

And I mean it. But I'm not sure if my best is enough.

3F: Vera Windheart

Goodbyes

As soon as the crowd dissipates, the Peacekeepers march me to the Justice Building. My first visitor is my dad. "I'm so sorry, but you can do this, Vera. Work hard, and you can maybe win."

"Yeah. I'll try, Dad. Any tips?" I ask.

My dad pauses a second. "Use your smarts. Try to get a decent score, and learn everything you can in the training center. And allies—"

I scoff. "Dad, you really think Horizon and I won't ally?"

"Yes, I know you will. But another tribute might be useful as well. A three or four person alliance could maybe help your chances against the Careers."

I nod. "Alright. Goodbye, I love you."

My mom is next. "Take care. I know that one of you two can come home, so please, please try, won't you? I can't lose both of you..."

I nod. "Alright. I promise that one of us will come home." She pulls me into a hug, and a few seconds later it's time for her to go. Reporters swarm us as we get out. I'm thankful that neither Horizon or I were crying, I don't want to be marked as a weakling.

Horizon can tell that I'm scared, although his eyes betray him, too. I'm hoping that the Capitol citizens and other tributes can't tell, because a scared tribute is the same as a crying one. It's amazing; Horizon and I aren't siblings by blood, but we're really close. And now we're being dragged into the arena together. I think of Horizon's advanced computing lessons, my inventing hobby, which might be useful in real life.

Only one of us will come out. And I have honestly no idea which one of us I want it to be.

Really sorry for the short (2.7k words only) chapter guys. It's kinda hard to write pre-reapings with siblings, as they live in the same house, and I don't have a whole new cast of family members to introduce and write about. I hope I did well, though!

I always appreciate feedback *cough cough* reviews *cough cough*, so...yeah. The D4 chapter should be out in 1.5 to 2 weeks. See you then!

MINI QUIZ:

(Nobody got points last time, the standings are still the same.)

1. Who was adopted; Horizon or Vera?

2. How many people will the siblings invite into their alliance?

3. What is the game that Vera's invention is based off of?

4. What is the color of Geranium's hair?

Bye, and don't forget your reviews! There are also four open slots to submit to, too—I'd like a full SYOT by next chapter if possible.

~Dragon