Hi, everyone! I must admit that I'm pretty excited, because the Reaping part of this story is almost completed; that's why I've decided to update first the Reapings of Twelve and Thirteen, and then upload two chapters of Divine Punishment in a row. To sum up, my next updates will be:
- D13 Reaping (along with the full list of tributes)
- D3 Reaping (Divine Punishment)
- D4 Reaping (Divine Punishment)
For the moment, enjoy the Reaping of District 12 :)
2 years ago
Jonathan Dice (44)- Citizen of District 12
Today, my dive bar is more crowded than it usually is. Nothing surprising, given that there's the finale of the Hunger Games on TV- the boy from Nine vs the boy from Eleven. Male challenge. Quite predictable, I would say. The arena of this year- an unhealthy swamp- is not one of the most original Gamemakers have come up with, yet hard for survival. The tributes who weren't killed by other contenders or those horrible, crocodile-like mutts died of diseases. The last two standing were somehow able not to get ill, and they're about to face each other at the cornucopia. I have to say that it hasn't been a particularly interesting edition so far, at least not as regard the potential bets on tributes. No great fights, just a series of useless deaths. I hope to make even today. Fabian- my… let's call him socio- is already collecting money.
"How about a bet, Wade?" he asks one of the few who's still at the bar.
The others are all huddled around my old television, waiting for the finale to begin.
"I've got no money left," Wade answers in a tone that makes it clear that he's dead drunk.
"Oh, come on! We all know you love bets!" I encourage him from behind the bar.
"You're good at judging tributes. They're all rooting for the Nine male, but I… I don't know… don't you think that Eleven should not be underestimated?" Fabian goes on.
"Ah, rubbish! You don't understand a thing! Nine has killed three tributes with his sickle… three! And Eleven will join them soon," I say.
"Not necessarily," rebuts Fabian in an annoyed tone.
He's not really annoyed, of course. This fake argument between us serves only to stir Wade from his alcoholic numbness and convince him to bet. We know he will, he's a drunkard and a habitual gambler. Nine is taken for favourite, so those who bet on him are at less risk, but this means also that they can win less money. On the contrary, betting on Eleven means being at higher risk, but if you win… where's the profit for me? Well, if you lose, I pocket all the money you bet; if you win, you have to give me a percentage. There's a profit in any case.
Suddenly, a girl approaches the bar. A girl here!? I didn't see her enter. I examine her. Long, curly, red hair, freckled cheeks, blue eyes, incredibly pale… not a typical girl of the Seam and neither of District 12, that's for sure. She must be one of those foreigners sent there with the Repopulation Project. Now, they're exaggerating! The birth rate has risen, so what's the point of going on with this project? District 12 has become a patchwork of people!
The girl addresses Wade. "Are you going to stay in this rat hole all day?"
"Be a little more careful with words, Yolanda," Fabian warns her.
He knows her then, but, despite his words, he doesn't sound offended, he sounds rather amused.
"I'm not talking to you," she rebuts, annoyed.
"You're touchy today, hmm?"
She decides to ignore him. "Come home, father," she tells Wade.
She's Wade's daughter, then… his foster daughter, evidently. She doesn't resemble him at all, and I'm pretty sure his wife was sterile. You know, when you're drunk, you may end up telling your life story- even private details- to the first person you meet… me in this case. A good bartender should also be a good listener, after all. Who knows? Maybe one day you might hear something really useful, something you can profit from.
Wade groans. "No, you go home… and play with dolls. I've got important things to do here."
"What exactly? Getting drunk? Letting these crooks steal all your money?" she replies, defiant.
"Hey!" Fabian complains.
"I will win the bet, this time," he affirms.
"But you haven't bet yet," I point out.
"Oh, yes, you're right… I'll put my money on the Nine boy."
"No, you won't!" says Yolanda.
"Yes, I will, instead!" retorts Wade, and then gives Fabian two or three coins.
He takes note on his notebook.
"Careful choice. If you win, your bet will be doubled," comments Fabian.
At this stage, the anthem of Panem echoes through the place. Instinctively, we all turn to the television. The broadcast has finally started. After the seal of the Capitol fades away, the commentators- a man and a woman dressed up in colourful clothes… actually, I assume the man is a man for real, even if his general appearance is a bit ambiguous- start talking about how excited they are about the finale.
"It has been quite a painful edition, but we've managed to get to our final two tributes, eventually," says the woman.
"Certainly, it has lacked the enthusiasm of previous Games, but our viewers have stayed tuned, and we'll provide them with a spectacle deserving of their loyalty, won't we?" adds the man… he has a deep, male voice, so he's a man for real, I suppose.
"It won't disappoint them, that's for sure. Every citizen of Panem is now glued to their screen… this competition is a real element of unity."
"I totally agree with you, Mircalla."
Then, they frame the arena. The golden cornucopia stands out in a field of brownish grass- probably the only part of the arena free of mud and stagnant water. All supplies have been removed. Gamemakers want a naked-and-raw fight, evidently… here they are! The two boys are approaching the cornucopia from opposite directions. If I didn't know it is happening for real, I would think of a frame. Everything seems so staged! The cameras do some close-ups to their faces, stopping on Nine's sickle, which is blood-stained. The last tribute who died was killed by him, after all.
"What a duel-like scene!" says one of the commentators.
"The Nine boy looks particularly threatening with that bloodied sickle in hand. I wouldn't want to be in the place of his opponent," replies the other, flaunting a wide, white smile.
"He's the audience's favourite, but I wouldn't give up on Eleven… not yet, at least."
Yeah, if Eleven won, it would be better for me, since everyone has bet on Nine.
Suddenly, a gasping sound distracts me from the screen. I turn around and see that the girl is breathing badly. She has one hand pushed against her chest, while she's rummaging in her pockets with the other. Wade and Fabian have approached her, worried. They're both speaking loudly, but the roaring voices of the other customers overpower theirs. No one but us has noticed that she's not well.
"Yolanda! What's up?" says Fabian in a desperate tone.
Oh, man, you don't need to be so melodramatic!
"That's an asthma attack!" explains Wade.
He doesn't look drunk any longer.
"Asthma!? I didn't know she… what should we do?"
Eventually, Yolanda pulls out a white thing from her pocket and starts breathing in it. Soon afterwards, she calms down. Wade sighs in relief.
"You scared me to death, Yolanda," says Fabian with a relieved smile.
A chorus of disappointed NOs fills then the place.
"The finale is over, ladies and gentlemen! Panem has finally a new victor: Rod Mooncrate * from District 11, who, against all odds, won the 97th annual Hunger Games! Amazing!"
Ah, I missed the finale! Eleven has won, at least. Since the broadcast is over, many customers start leaving. I nod at Fabian to make him approach.
"Careful to them, someone could try to steal our money, because they lost their bets," I whisper to him.
"What!? Yolanda has just recovered, and you think about money!?" he retorts under his breath.
"She's fine now, so what's the problem?"
…...
4 years ago
Yolanda Underwood (11)- Citizen of District 12
I sneak off to my parents' room as silently as a cat would. I don't enter, though; my parents are in, and I just want to eavesdrop their conversation. I know I'm not supposed to listen to it, but I've got the feeling that it's about me. It won't be pleasant though, since my mother is on her deathbed.
"Wade…" she says under her breath.
"I'm still here," replies my father in a gentle tone.
"Promise me that you'll look after our daughter," she goes on.
"Of course, I promise."
"I'm serious, Wade. I know you have money problems, even if you tried to hide this from me…"
"T-that's not the moment… you don't need to worry…" he stammers.
"Listen to me. After my death, they'll give you some money as a compensation. Use it to solve your problems, but then… then, you'll have to find a stable job. Yolanda will need all your help to get through this difficult moment, and not only because she's sick. Can you understand me?"
"Yes," he answers with a sigh.
"What's up, Wade? Is there anything else I need to know?" she enquires.
"Nothing. I'll do my best to take care of… yeah, of our daughter."
"It's not her fault, Wade."
"I know it."
"They were unfair not to tell us about her asthma, but we love her anyway, okay?" she insists.
"I just wish I had known it before adopting her."
What? I… I've been adopted… it can't be true! They would have told me before, wouldn't they? They should…
But, deeper down, I know that they're not lying. I've always felt different from the others, out of place like an outsider. For a while now, I've started suspecting that I might come from another district like many others in Twelve, and my suspicion is now confirmed. In any case, my world falls apart before my eyes. I feel betrayed. They should have told me the truth! I'd like to break into the room and cry like a madwoman, but this would only make my mother's predicament worse. She has been recommended to avoid any strong emotion. Therefore, I limit myself to run away. I get out of the house while tears start blurring my vision. I feel a mixture of rage and sadness rise up to my chest. At some point, I trip- don't know on what- and fall. Someone helps me to get up. It's my father… or, rather, the man I thought was my father.
"Yolanda!" he says.
"You should have told me!" I shout.
"Please, come back home, we'll discuss it later... the streets are not the best place…"
I look around. There aren't many people on the streets now, but someone has turned to look at us. Dirty washing should be laundered at home, I suppose.
"Okay," I say, wiping away my tears.
I go back home with him. We stay in the kitchen, so that my mother cannot hear us from upstairs.
"You should have told me. I had to eavesdrop… to eavesdrop!... to find it out!" I insist.
"We didn't… we didn't know how… how to tell you," he stammers, without looking at me.
Looks like our roles switched… I'm the parent now, and he is the child I must scold.
"You could have found the way… everything would have been better than…" I start saying, but I cannot finish my utterance, since I burst into tears.
My father hugs me. "Hey… this is not the end of the world… you're still our daughter, okay? No matter the blood tie…"
"But you don't love me, because I'm sick, and you didn't want a sick daughter!"
He sighs. "We do love you, Yolanda. Just… if they had told us…"
"… you wouldn't have adopted me, then," I conclude.
"Not necessarily, dearie. It was just a bad surprise, that's all. But it's not your fault, and we know it," he replies, stroking my hair.
"Where do I come from?" I ask him.
"District 4," he answers.
District 4? The fishing district? It's a paradox. I've always been told that sea air is good for asthma. Why did they send me away, then? Why did they send me to this dusty district?
"What about my family of origin?"
"Well, they didn't tell us much…"
"But what do you know?"
He sighs again. "Your parents in Four are dead, that's what they told us… but I don't know who they were, not even their names."
I don't feel sad. Actually, I feel nothing. Why do I feel nothing? They were my real parents, after all! But I don't know them, not even their names.
"She said you have money problems," I go on, changing the subject.
"You don't need to worry about that," he replies.
"Really?" I say, shooting him a suspicious gaze.
"There will be some changes in our lives, but we'll face them together. Your mother… well, you're old enough to understand what's happening… so, please don't tell her about this, we don't want her last days to be unhappy, do we?"
…...
Present day
Fabian Swift (15)- Citizen of District 12
Everything's ready for the Reaping. I get dressed and have a quick breakfast- just a piece of bread, because I usually eat more at lunch… on Reaping days, at least. It's the only day of the year in which Jonathan is willing to spend money to spoil ourselves a bit. In fact, we go to a restaurant for lunch. Townies shoot us such dirty looks on these occasions, but we don't care. Even if many people from different districts moved to Twelve, the rigid distinction between the town and the Seam is still evident.
I leave my apartment. Actually, Jonathan and I live right above our dive bar. No one should work today, but we will, nonetheless. After all, peacekeepers leave us in peace, since their chief receives a bribe out of the bets, so why not take advantage of it? Immediately after lunch, I'm going to watch all the Reapings on TV. Jonathan will want my opinion on the tributes of this year, so that we can launch the bets tonight. He says I have good eyes for this.
While heading to the main square, I meet Yolanda. She's alone, her father is not with her, but I'm not surprised. They don't seem to have a good relationship.
"How are you, redhead?" I greet her with a smirk.
"Don't call me like that!" she rebuts, annoyed.
"Touchy girl," I comment, amused.
"How can you be so merry today?"
"Just look at the bright side."
"There's no bright side. Two kids will be sent to the Capitol for their insane Games, and it could be me, because I've signed up for tesserae many times since my moving."
Yolanda used to live in town, but she was forced to move to the Seam- where rents are lower- due to her father's debts. They had also to sell the house they owned in town. Since she's fifteen like me, we're in the same class at school. That's where I met her for the first time. Since then, our relation has always been of the love-hate kind. I like teasing her (also because she gets angry quite easily), but, deeper down, I consider her a good friend.
She's right. I had to sign up for tesserae myself, because the dive bar doesn't assure a great income all in all, except for the Games season. There are also many costs to consider. Actually, I usually go to the Justice Building once a month, but this year I haven't so far. So, let's do some math…
15 years old= 4 entries
4+12 (=months in a year)x 3 (=the years I've taken out tesserae)= 40
Forty slips with my name in the Reaping ball. I'm a gambler, I know when I'm seriously risking. Luckily, I had to take out tesserae only for myself, and not for Jonathan. He always says that if I want to live with him, I have to make sacrifices, as he did when he decided to take care of the little orphan he found on the streets years ago. I'm grateful to him, he saved my life, but sometimes I wonder if he's just using me.
"We'll see what happens," I say with a smile.
We get to the main square together. We present ourselves to the peacekeepers and then join the other fifteen-year-olds. Boys are girls are separated, even if they're of the same age. Boys on the right, girls on the left. We all look like toy soldiers, standing rigidly, waiting for our fates to be decided. The mayor mounts the stage for his habitual intro speech. He's a Capitolite, even if he doesn't look as such.
"Welcome, District 12, welcome to the Reaping of the 99th Hunger Games! Now, let's read our sacred Treaty of Treason. I hope it will be an instructive reading for all of you," he says cheerfully.
Oh, man! Twelve is not a Career district, no one believes in what you're saying!
When he's done, the escort draws our attention by poking the mic. She's a rather flamboyant woman, dressed in a short, bell-shaped, green dress with orange and yellow dots. She has also long, fake eyelashes, and her bronze hair are short and styled like the crest of a rooster. She wears a pair of spiky, black earrings.
"Hello, everyone! My name is Alice Coeurdepique, and I'll be your escort for this year. I don't need to add anything to what your excellent mayor said, so why don't we move to the actual reaping of tributes?"
She doesn't wait for an answer though, she immediately starts rummaging in the girls' ball. Eventually, she picks up a slip of paper. "Yolanda Underwood!"
What? Yolanda? No, it can't be… it shouldn't be! I watch her, as she's mounting the stage. She's red with anger, which she's hardly able to repress. Her fists are clenched, indeed. If she could, she would get the escort off the stage with one single punch… and I would approve.
"Any volunteers?" asks the escort, but no one answers.
Cowards! If I was a girl, I would!
"Let's move to the boys, then… Fabian Swift!"
What? Me? Are you serious? The heavens have decided to make fun of me, apparently. I mount the stage, trying to appear as serene as possible. I look at Yolanda again, but she avoids my gaze. The escort asks for volunteers, but the crowd remains silent. Typical!
"So, the tributes of District 12 are Yolanda Underwood and Fabian Swift! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"
We're immediately let inside the Justice Building. The place is obviously familiar to me, but I've never been in a waiting room before. Not that there's something special to see, it's just a room like many others. Time passes, but I receive no visits. Jonathan has better things to do, I assume… like thinking of possible bets… bets that might be on me, on my life. For the first time since I've met him, I truly realize what I am to him: just a resource to be exploited. But now that I might lose my life, I've become useless out of a sudden, right? So useless that he doesn't even deign to come here and say goodbye.
…...
Yolanda Underwood (15)- District 12 female tribute
I've been reaped for the Hunger Games! I've been reaped for the Hunger Games! I've been reaped for the Hunger Games! What could be worse? Well, Fabian is my district partner, I can't imagine anything worse! I want to see if he still thinks of looking at the bright side! Idiot!
My father's arrival interrupts my hectic thoughts.
"Yolanda!" he says in a desperate tone.
He would like to hug me, but I oppose. "Sorry, I'm too angry for that!" I apologize, while walking back and forth in a really agitated state of mind.
"Please, Yolanda, I don't want our last moments together to be like that," he begs me.
I stop to watch him right in the eye. "You're already giving up on me, aren't you?"
"No, I would never. Just listen to me, Yolanda. I'm your father… yeah, definitely not the father you deserve… but I love you, I will be rooting for you," he replies in a voice both firm and moved.
"Also betting on me?" I ask, defiant.
Despite himself, he slightly smiles. "No. I promise you that I won't waste money on bets and alcohol… any longer," he rebuts, self-confident.
"It's a difficult promise to keep," I comment, surprised by his confidence.
"But I'll keep it and you, on the other hand, you'll promise me that you'll do your best to come back, okay?"
"I promise."
"Yolanda, District 12 is your home, the place you belong to. If you don't want to win for me, then do it for yourself. Give yourself this opportunity. When you come back, you'll do what you want with your life, you can even decide not to see me again, it doesn't matter, but fight, Yolanda, fight for your life!"
He hands me my inhaler. "You may need it."
Suddenly, a peacekeeper enters the room. "Time's up!" he thunders.
"No! Wait!" I cry.
My father is already heading to the exit, when I reach him and hug him tight. "Thank you… dad."
He's about to say something, but the peacekeeper yanks us apart and slams the door. I'm alone, now. In a burst of anger and despair, I kick one of the couches of the waiting room. Then, when I've finally calmed down a bit, when I eventually feel the burden of my fate on my shoulders… then, I break down.
Ok, quite predictably (I know), Yolanda was reaped along with her twin brother in Four (see chapter 6). How do you think she will react, when she finds out all the truth about her past? Oliver will certainly try to interact with his sister. We'll see how their relationship will be like, but you can make some predictions, if you want.
Thank you for reading :)
* In this chapter, I introduced three supporting characters: the announcer for the Games (Mircalla, the woman), the Master of Ceremonies (the man), and a victor form District 11. They will be all further developed later on. As for the two commentators, I won't use Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, just because, in my AU, President Smith has decided to renew everything, therefore there won't be any canon character in my stories, but I could make some references to them
