"Members of District 12," the voice emanated from the TV. I didn't bother looking at the screen, I just kept my hands folded behind my head. I kept my eyes locked on the ceiling above, as though that would keep me from knowing what was going to happen, but I was listening closely to every word that came out of the speakers.
"A year has passed as of today since the glorious victory of the capitol over rebel troops, and so we enter the third great era of the capitol," the voice continued, despite my wishes that it would stop. "In remembrance of the first era, from when thirteen districts existed..." peaceful music took over, and I could only assume that video clips/pictures occupied the screen. "And the second era, after the first rebellion was crushed. The era of the Hunger games..." dramatic music took over this time, and I figured there were more pictures. "And now, the third era. The era of the Graveyard Games.
"After a month of grieving for our fallen soldiers has passed, President Pura has decided we need something light-hearted to begin growing again as a nation, and come back together as a people. So the Graveyard Games are to begin.
"As it is the first annual Graveyard Games, I'm sure you are all wondering how this is to be different from the Hunger Games. The answer is: they aren't all that different. The rules are simple. From each of the thirteen districts, two boys and two girls ages twelve through eighteen will be called forth as tribute. They will be placed into an arena to fight to the death, and the victor will bring honor and glory to their district. The district to win will only have to submit three tributes the following year, with each district having a potential minimum of two candidates in the future. For example, if a boy from district two wins this year, next year district two will only send one boy and two girls. If the following year a boy from district two wins again, then one boy and one girl will go forwards the following year.
"As some of the older members in the audience may remember, the Hunger games allowed for an individual to place their name into the balls extra times for more food later in the year. This will not be permitted. The number of times each name goes in will be directly proportional to their age in most cases, as was last year.
"The third and final change is this: those who are within age and are immediately related to someone involved in the rebellion will have their name put in additional times. The numbers are as follows: the children of the Mockingjay will have their names put in one hundred times the original number. Children of those in second command will be in twenty times for every one, and then the children of anyone else who took part will have it in five times."
I bolted upright in my seat then, my eyes training in on the television. The man who was talking had a ridiculous white mustache and kept talking as though he had said nothing of consequence.
"The victors still get immunity from the games. Happy Graveyard Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
The screen winked and turned black. I stared at it numbly, just like everyone else in the room just then.
500 times. My name would be in there 500 times. Ash would be in there 100 times. Baby Blue wouldn't be in there at all because she was only three. She sat in Mom's lap, looking at the screen with her lips trembling.
"Mommy," she said, tugging Mom's sleeve insistently. "People go to sleep in the Hunger Games." When Mom didn't answer promptly, Blue added earnestly, "For good." Mom nodded weakly. "How many people don't go to sleep?"
Mom hesitated. "One," she breathed, not making eye contact with anyone but glancing at Ash's and my feet.
Blue looked thoughtful for a minute. "How many are there?"
"This year... there will be fifty-two," Mom said, hugging Blue closer to her. Blue's lips trembled harder, and she looked so young and innocent then – her eyes were wide and Dad's shade of blue, with mousy brown curls.
"Mom," I said slowly, "I want you to teach me to better use a bow." She looked at me with sad grey eyes that matched a tired grey streak going through her hair, making her seem older than her forty eight years. She knew as well as I that it was nearly certain I was going. There would be maybe 1000 names in that ball, perhaps less... District 12 wasn't that big yet. And I was half of those names. And they were drawing names twice. So if they didn't draw me at first, they were certainly going to draw my name second.
"You know how to use it very well," she said, giving me a sad smile. "You're almost as good as I was at your age... almost. But I can show you how to throw knives. I don't know how much time we have until the reaping, but..." she got to her feet and beckoned me up from the couch, and after a moments pause she looked back at Ash. His chances weren't as high, but there was a decent chance he'd be going too. About one in three I'd say... maybe closer to three tenths. She beckoned for him to come too, and then paused once more to pick up Baby Blue. I noticed how big she was getting, and wondered if I would be around long enough to start calling her Blue Bell or if I would be dead by the time her fourth birthday rolled around. It was pretty probable that both Ash and I were going to the games...
And the thing about the games is that only one comes back.
Haymitch pushed through the door then, a bottle in one hand and a wild look in his eyes. He dropped the bottle, and it exploded when it hit the floor, sending little shards of glass flying across the entryway. He staggered to me and gripped my shoulders.
"Katniss," he said, his breath foul with liquor. "The Quarter Quell. They're redoing it." I started... did he just call me by my mother's name?
"No," I said. "Rosa."
He squinted at me, and his eyes began to clear slightly. "Rosa..."
"Haymitch, are you alright?" I asked, removing his hands finger by finger from my shoulders.
"The Hunger Games," he said, hugging me. He was old now, starting into his 70s. "You and your brother. Stay alive," he said. "Don't let them turn you on each other." He pulled back, and with a lopsided grin at Katniss, sadness in his eyes, he directed a question at her. "You do realize what this means?"
"That my kids are in danger? The precise danger that I swore I would never put kids into?" she asked, anger lighting her face.
"No, sweetheart," he said, grinning with yellowed teeth. "They'll be needing mentors." My mom's mouth opened slightly, and she stared at him, slowly going through what he had said.
"Ah," she said slowly. "Now, I am going to teach my kids how to fight."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, squinting. "They've been shootin' anyone with a weapon right on sight."
Mom's breath hissed between her teeth with irritation. Mom looked out the windows, watching the men in blue posting signs around the whole district. "Peacekeepers," she muttered. "Never thought I'd see them again."
One of them stapled a sign on the door. I opened the door and examined the sign. In huge, happy letters, it said:
"REAPING, TOMORROW!
COME ENJOY THE FESTIVITIES!
FOUR LUCKY CHILDREN FROM OUR DISTRICT WILL HAVE THE HONOUR OF PARTICIPATING
IN THE FIRST GRAVEYARD GAMES."
In smaller font below, it continued:
"(anyone who is not present will be publicly executed)"
I grimaced in disgust. It was such a peppy, colorful sign. I ripped it off the door, balled it up, and tossed it into the primrose bushes.
I clenched my fists. "Would they really execute two of the people they want to send to the games?" I asked, turning to Haymitch. He grinned at me, showing off his uneven teeth.
"Course they would, sweetie. All they really want is for you two to be dead." I grimaced openly, and made my way back into the house, slamming the door behind me.
"Well, they can't stop us from making dinner," Mom said, winking at me. "Let me show you how to get a knife deep into a big chunk of meat." I smirked, and we went into the kitchen.
After an hour of throwing knives at a leg of deer, I began hitting it ridiculously well. I didn't miss once, and I only accidentally hit it with the hilt twice. Of course it wasn't the first time I'd thrown knives, Mom would never have allowed that... You always have to know how to protect yourself, she said. And she was right, naturally. But this was the first time my life depended on it.
By the end, I was getting really good. The meat was a bloody pulp by that point, though, so we cut it up and put it on sticks and cooked it over the fire in the fireplace. We dipped it into a sauce we found, called Teriaki (the capitol used to make it) and ate it. It was amazing.
Dad sat, as ever, painting. He wouldn't show any of us what he was painting until he was done. After dinner was over, Mom ushered us into our rooms, saying tomorrow was going to be a "big, big, big day."
I lay in my bed, but I didn't sleep.