Don't own Hunger Games, yes? Just Lillianne, Demetrius, and Cornelia.
REVIEWS ARE WELCOME! :D
You know that feeling of awkwardness and sudden fear when you walk into the room and you feel like you're under or overdressed? Or when you have that dream where you find yourself in a full classroom, wearing only your underwear?
Well that's how it felt right now.
"Lillianne Snow?" Cornelia repeats, shielding her eyes from the sun to search for her new tribute to come to the stage. I look up at her stupidly, staring, then look back around at everyone who's eyes are glued to me. Nobody moves. Nobody blinks. And nobody makes a sound.
My heart is racing as I recap everything that has happened to the last second. Once I realize once again what has happened, I make a strange sound in my throat and my teeth clench. I feel a push from behind, not as harsh as the one from earlier, and I know Demetrius has made me make a move, because once I fall forward, every 16 year old makes way for me, moving away. I look up at one of the hug plasma screens and see myself with deer-in-headlight eyes. I shakily began to move forward.
My silver flats clicking on the concrete below me are the only sound in the square. I look down, averting everyone's gaze, and walk as hurriedly as I can. It is when I near the stage that I see my family, and my heart tugs. Juniper is standing, her hand over her open mouth, making strange noises, unable to breathe correctly. Mother is standing as well, watching me with the same look as Juniper, only tears are beginning to form. My father is beside both of them, and his chair has fallen back. His hands are balled into fists, and he is red with anger. His eyes show the true disbelief only I can see.
Two Peacekeepers help me up the stairs, and I raise me head as I watch Cornelia take me in. Her face changes beck to horror as she comes to terms that she, indeed, had thought of the right girl. Anyone in this district could be named Lillianne Snow. But this was the one Lillianne Snow she did not want to pick. Her smile is fake and frozen, and she blinks multiple times as if she were trying to wake from a dream. She pulls me close to her and the mic, and clears her voice. She recovers her warmth and looks around, doing standard procedure.
"Before I congratulate Miss Snow, are there any volunteers?"
Every year until recently, literally hundreds of hands would raise at that question. Today was not the case, as when she finished, not a single person raised their hand. No one even flinched.
Cornelia was starting to lose her rigidity, so she moved right along. "Alrighty, then," She sighed, pulling me even closer. "Would you like to say anything, Miss Snow?"
I stared out at the audience, watching them watch me with cold eyes. It was my nightmare, their dream. How was this happening? I have not a single entry, I should not be up here! I was President Snow's granddaughter! Surely, this privilege must apply! There was to be a rule against this!
Nothing could prepare me for the actions ahead. Like a lit fire, District One's silence erupted into applause, and I looked into each and every one of these people's faces, noticing that not one seemed the slightest sympathetic. They were smiling. They were laughing. They were happy. Then it hit me. They weren't clapping to be polite. They weren't clapping because they were sorry. They weren't even clapping because they were excited for the games this year.
They were clapping because I finally got what they thought I deserved.
My breathing hitched, and with nothing to really say or do, I shook my head, and walked back to the traditional girls side. I felt like a criminal that everyone wanted dead. Like a pig people had chosen for slaughter. I felt the tears coming on.
I could not give them the satisfaction. I stared straight ahead, ignoring the now tremendous clapping and Cornelia's futile attempts to lighten the mood with her sarcasm. After the noise died down, she repeated her actions, picking from the boys side this time. Her build up time was unnecessary, really, and her comments while she opened the piece of parchment were not enough to lighten the tense mood. After my name was drawn, I doubt anything could get bigger and better. Or worse.
But it did.
"Demetrius Florence!"
Demetrius and I met eyes slowly, me from the stage and him in the exact spot I was standing in. The recognition in our faces said it all. If no one volunteered for Demetrius- and I doubt anyone will, knowing my history with him- it could only mean one thing. Demetrius and I will have to fight to the death. The two kids who hate themselves more than anything in this world were going to duke it out in the arena. Demetrius, who was stronger, faster, bigger, was going up against Lillianne, the President's granddaughter and girl with no fitness experience whatsoever. Demitrius and Lillianne will finally see who was superior in this hate/hate relationship. Knowingly, Demetrius gave a sly smirk as he walked through the center pathway and met up with us onstage. I stared in horror, sure I could pass out any minute.
Of course, no one volunteers for him. They all know what he can do. They all know what he will do. Cornelia wraps her arms around us happily, squealing in delight.
"I present to you your District One tributes for the 76th Annual Hunger Games, Demetrius Florence and Lillianne Snow! May the odds be ever in your favor!"
The applause is deafening. The smiles of these justified people reverberate around the square, their exuberance making me sick. Demetrius and I lock eyes once more when we shake hands, and he knows what I'm anticipating. He winks at me, a smug smile drawn upon his face. I glare back at him, squeezing his hand. District One and any other district who will surely watch this rerun will know what has happened. Every citizen in Panem will either see the injustice of my reaping, or justice itself being made. I knew what rebels were. They weren't on my grandfather's side. I clenched my teeth.
The odds were not, in any way, in my favor.