Chapter 1
It is to the sound of my canary, Melody, that I wake up to as the sun makes its ascent in the east. Dragging my legs over the bed, I rush towards the birdcage by the window to quieten her down.
Once she is silent, I turn to the bed directly across the one I had just occupied to see Meredith my sister still sleeping. Breathing a sigh of relief, my attention is then reverted back on the canary.
"Melody, you know you're not supposed to do that today. We hardly ever get any sleep the night before the reaping as it is."
The damn reaping.
My stomach tightens at the thought of it; the thought of what all twelve districts in the country of Panem are forced to do on an annual basis by those who rule this country in a far off city known as the Capitol.
I dismiss the thought and glance out the window. It's still very early in the morning. The reaping doesn't begin until two in the afternoon. The logical thing would be to try and sleep some more. Despite this knowledge, I'm so full of anticipation that simply just trying to sleep would be pointless. Unbidden, my mind circles back to what the twelve districts are forced to do each year.
Every year, one boy and girl from every district are chosen to compete in a tournament known as the Hunger Games. Where they fight to the death until there is one survivor.
The way to determine who competes and become what are known as tributes is through the reaping, in which anyone from the eligible age of twelve to eighteen has a chance of getting their name drawn from a glass bowl. Those unfortunate enough to be picked are then forced to compete.
This year, being the second Quarter Quell, the Hunger Games have been modified.
I can still remember hearing about this year's game alteration through the reading of the card.
My family and I were gathered around the television in our home above the sweetshop which we own. We were informed at school that that night there would be a programme on television which we were all required to watch. After the news the entire school became anxious as we already knew it could only be related to one thing; the Hunger Games.
So there we were; Meredith, our mother and father, and I crowded around our only television. It's a tiny little thing but I'm not complaining. Many people in the poorer part of where we live in District 12 are worse off than us.
The sound of Panem's national anthem being played blasted through the television. I focused on the screen as President Coriolanus Snow walked on stage.
He looked as he usually did year after year with his small, thin build, snakelike eyes, greying hair, and peculiar white rose pinned on his black suit.
Following behind him was a young girl in a white dress. In her hands was a plain wooden box. The anthem ended shortly afterwards and President Snow began to speak about the Dark Days in which the districts started an uprising against the Capitol. Twelve districts were defeated and the thirteenth entirely destroyed. In order to maintain peace, the Treaty of Treason was created along with new laws. As a result, the Hunger Games was born to be a constant reminder that the Dark Days are never to be repeated. When the laws were first made, they stated that every twenty-five years an anniversary would be marked by what would be known as a Quarter Quell. During which the games would acknowledge the anniversary by implementing a onetime change.
"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it," President Snow spoke of the previous Quarter Quell.
We became edgier at the prospect of this year's Games but weren't left in anticipation as the president continued, "And now we honour our second Quarter Quell."
The little girl stepped forward, holding the box higher as she opened it to reveal many envelopes set upright. Snow proceeded to take out the envelope marked by a 50 and opened it.
"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district will be required to send twice as many tributes." Having finished reading the announcement, the president looked directly at the camera and added; "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour." The anthem played once again as President Snow left the stage, tailed behind by the little girl. The last thing shown was the Capitol seal before the screen went blank.
I turned towards my family, completely shell-shocked, and saw the horror reflected on their faces. Meredith had tears forming in her eyes which quickly streamed down her ashen face. Her lips would not cease trembling. Our mother looked alarmingly pale as she stifled a shriek. Her hands shook dramatically. The horror written on our father's face quickly turned to fury. His chest heaved with each carefully composed breath he took as my mother and sister clung to each other tightly. Needless to say not one of us managed to get a decent sleep that night.
Months after that reading of the card and I find myself standing in front of Melody's cage on the morning of the reaping. The canary hops around on her perch, cocking her head to the side and looking at me curiously.
Deciding to take a walk, I open the wardrobe, which my sister and I share, and change into something presentable. I silently walk out the door and into the dark, narrow corridor. Making my way outside I breathe in the fresh morning air, feeling significantly less trapped.
All around the streets are empty. Stores would slowly be preparing to open at this early hour had this been a regular day. But it isn't. It is the day of the reaping where most businesses are closed until after it is over as attendance is mandatory.
Peacekeepers will go around to every house this evening, making sure no one tries to miss the reaping. Anyone caught attempting to do so would be imprisoned, with the exception of the dying.
The only place that might be opened is the Hob; an illegal market located in an old abandoned warehouse which used to hold coal.
Subconsciously I walk from the square and merchant sector of District 12 and find myself going closer to the other side. That section of Twelve is nicknamed the Seam and I'm suddenly feeling nervous because my parents would not approve of their daughter going there. Meredith doesn't like the Seam and gladly obeys. I, on the other hand, have always been fascinated by it and those who live there. It's fascinating how those living in the Seam can differ so drastically from those of us from merchant families. Just based on appearance, those from the Seam are easily recognisable by their olive skin, dark hair, and grey eyes. Merchant families, in contrast, have the same fair skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. I become so distracted and actually don't notice someone until bumping into them.
"I'm sorry," I stutter lamely.
"Why don't you watch where you're going?" demands an angry male voice. I take a step back and recognise Seth Hawthorne. He's in my arithmetic class.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't see you," I try again. His grey eyes flash dangerously and I know immediately that that was the wrong thing to say.
"I suppose us measly Seam brats are below your notice then?" he snarls, acid dripping from every word. I open my mouth, about to deny his accusation but am cut off by another, calmer, voice saying, "Let it go, Seth. It was an accident. She already apologised." It is then I notice Tobey Everdeen; another boy from the Seam, Seth's mate, and a regular trader.
He assists us in finding the flavours and ingredients we need to produce our sweets in exchange for money. It's no secret Tobey goes beyond the high, chain-link fence separating Twelve from the woods, which is illegal to do. The reason he and his father haven't been arrested by Peacekeepers is they also hunt meat and, well, Peacekeepers need to eat too. Being from the poorest of the twelve districts, even those well off can often find food hard to come by. My family, for instance, resorts to eating stale food when there's a shortage of anything adequate to eat. Being the law enforcers of District Twelve does not mean you're exempted either. Peacekeepers therefore generally turn a blind eye on hunting so long as they get fresh meat.
"Stay out of this, Tobey," Seth growls menacingly. He turns back towards me and is about to continue yelling - judging from the glare he sent - when the sound of someone calling my surname interrupts him.
We turn towards the unexpected sound to see someone with curly, dark hair and bright grey eyes. Haymitch Abernathy. He's in several of my classes and occasionally trades around town.
"Yes?" I ask warily, bracing myself for another unjustified verbal assault. Instead he surprises me by saying, "I've got the thing your father wanted and was just about to deliver it to him." Indicating to the tattered handmade satchel strapped at his side, Haymitch looks at me expectantly. I have no idea what he's talking about. Sure, like Tobey, he sometimes assists us by supplying the shop with ingredients. But right now we're not running low on anything. Tobey is just as perplexed as I am, if his one raised eyebrow is any indication.
Seeing my confused look, Haymitch rolls his eyes. "It wouldn't be very ladylike to just let me walk alone now, is it, sweetheart?"
That's when I finally understand. For reasons that are incomprehensible, Haymitch Abernathy is helping me; saving me from this uncomfortable situation I've unwittingly gotten myself into.
Feeling slightly irritated at the name he addressed me, I find my voice again. "I can accompany you if you'd like," I reply evenly.
"There it is. Finally caught on, have you?" Without waiting for an answer, Haymitch walks forward and takes hold of my arm, dragging me along as we briskly make our escape. As we are leaving, however, he stops and turns back to the confused boys we're about to leave behind. "We'll see you two at the reaping," he says. Before they can answer, he begins walking again, taking me along with him, but not before a quiet "hurry up, and don't look back," is whispered in my ear. I flinch at his unexpectedly warm breath on my skin.
When we're far enough, Haymitch lets go my arm and we continue on in silence. I'm about to thank him for helping when he speaks first. "It's Maysilee Donner, isn't it?"
Haymitch can't be blamed for asking. My sister and I are identical twins. Same shade of long, straight blonde hair, blue eyes, even our nose structure is exactly the same. How he managed to correctly guess my name is beyond me. Eventually just putting it down to luck, I find myself nodding mutely. "Thanks for helping me back there," I hastily add. He gives a nod but otherwise remains silent. "Why'd you do it?" I press on.
"You're going to have to be more specific, sweetheart. I do a lot of things."
"Why'd you help me? You had absolutely no reason to."
"True enough. But I couldn't let our reputation here in the Seam be further damaged, now, could I? You merchant lot already have a low opinion of us."
His presumption that those from town think very little of those from the Seam makes me feel sad and frown simultaneously.
"Is that what you believe? We're not that shallow and simple-minded, are we?"
Haymitch stops so abruptly I almost collide into him. "Simple minded? Of course that's what I believe. I bet you've never had to worry about a thing in your life. Not even the reaping. You've never had to put your name up for tesserae, have you? I'd wager you don't even know what that is."
"I know what tesserae are," I huff out indignantly.
Haymitch continues to walk again. "I'm waiting, sweetheart."
"Fine, I wish you'd stop calling me that already," I grumble, struggling slightly to keep up with his long strides. He just chuckles, causing me to sigh dramatically as I resolve to be a specific as possible, determined to prove this irritating person wrong. "Tesserae is actually the plural term for tessera and is part of an exchanged should you decide to put your name more times in the reaping bowl than is actually necessary. The reason anyone would willingly put in their name extra times for the reaping is because of the aforementioned exchange. Each tessera is a token worthy of an exchange for a meagre year's supply of grain and oil for a single person. Once tesserae have been taken, you are able to collect oil and grain rations once every month for an entire year. You are permitted to put your name for tesserae once for each member of your family. These tessera entries are cumulative, meaning that the number of reaping entries from the current year gets carried over to the next." I turn towards Haymitch, satisfied by that detailed explanation.
"Very good, Donner, it appears you have proven me wrong."
"Well, we did learn this back in the fourth grade or so, Abernathy." Haymitch just gives yet another low chuckle and we walk the rest of the way in companionable silence. Before long the sweetshop looms into view. "We're here." I announce unnecessarily.
"Yes, I can see that, Donner." Haymitch replies as we stand in front of the shop. I clear my throat and thank him again before hastily going inside.
"Get up, Maysilee. Time for breakfast."
Not even remembering how I ended up here to begin with, I open my eyes and sit up in bed. Meredith has her eyes on me. "What?" I ask, a bit uncomfortable by the intensity of her gaze.
"What time did you leave the house this morning?"
I try to contain a yawn. "I've been sleeping."
"Oh, have you? Then I suppose you changed clothes in your sleep. And besides, I saw you through the window, walking with that Abernathy kid."
"And you were supposed to be sleeping, Mrs. Undersee," I counter in an attempt to distract her, armed with the knowledge that she fancies the mayor's son. It seems to work.
"He doesn't like me and you know it," she replies almost wistfully. I shake my head, grinning.
"Whatever you say," I answer in a sceptical tone. "In any case, let's eat breakfast."
After a breakfast of three day old bread, dried fruit, and plenty of water with our parents, Meredith and I take turns washing ourselves up before changing into our reaping clothes.
We wear dresses; hers bright yellow, mine light grey. I add one more thing; a family heirloom. I received it on my tenth birthday from my grandfather. Ever since I was twelve, I've taken to wearing the small golden pin to every reaping; for luck.
We head to the centre of town at a little past one to what could potentially be either Meredith's or my death sentence.