We now have the District One slots filled, so the reaping may begin!
Don't forget, if you haven't already- submit a tribute! We need some younger ones, especially 12 and 13 year olds!
Translation- y'ins is Western-Pa's version of y'all. Mainly heard in the area between Pittsburgh and Eerie.
. . .
Jason
"Jason, you're never going to be ready in time if you don't wake up!"
The soft voice that roused me from my sleep was that of my older sister, Paris. Snuggled in her arms and sucking on a pacifier was her month old baby, Leocadia. Unfortunately, the baby had picked up the very male nickname Leo because our grandfather cannot for the life of him remember the child's name, or that she's a girl.
"Jason, come on." Paris whispers, lifting my crimson dress shirt with her foot and kicking it towards me, "hurry before Grandfather gets upset."
Paris and I have lived with our grandfather, Indie, since before I can remember. They have always told me how our parents had done something awful and we executed, but I don't think I'll ever find out what that was. Not that I care, anyways. I never knew them.
I sigh, heave myself out of bed, and start to get dressed. I pull on my dress shirt and button up the black buttons. The shirt's color reminds me of fresh blood, which I find ironic and darkly humorous, especially knowing what today is. I slide into a pair of black dress slacks. All that's left are my shoes, which are nowhere to be found. I drop onto the floor, hunting around under my bed for the stupid things. With a shout of victory, I snatch the shoes from behind an old puzzle and shove my feet into them. They're a size too small, but I'm too stubborn to let Paris buy me a new pair.
"Jason, come on!" Paris shrieks.
"God, I'm coming." I yell back, running my fingers through my messy blonde hair one last time before exiting my room.
"What took you so long, Jason? When I was a kid, I was down when I was told to be down!" Grandfather scolds, hitting me on the back of the knee with his cane.
"Sorry. When Paris cleaned my room last she stuck my shoes under the bed." I explain, shooting my sister a look.
"Don't look at me like that! Your room was a pigsty so I was cleaning it up!" Paris shouts, balancing Leocadia on her hip while pointing an accusing finger at me.
I brush her off, "Okay, sis. We got to get going or we'll be late. This is my year, I want to shine."
Grandfather slaps my back, "there's my boy. I knew you'd make the right choice and volunteer."
I smile, but it falters. Volunteering isn't exactly what I meant. When I turned fourteen two weeks ago, my name was in the mandatory three times and an extra six times for the tessera. That's more times than any kid I know, because most of us here in District One don't need to take it. But grandfather is too old to work anymore and Paris's jewelry she makes never sold for much anyways. With Leo joining our family, I had to do something to keep Paris and her eating.
I can work, though. I think as we begin the ten minute walk to the square. I can, and I do. I repair and polish jewelry. Most of my clients are little kids who broke their mother's earrings and want it fixed before she finds out, but on occasion an actual jeweler would come for my assistance. But those occasions are as rare as the extra slips.
"Okay, Jason, we'll see you afterwards. Maybe we can buy a carton of strawberries and bake them in a cake." Paris is talking, but I'm not listening. I'm distracted by the scent of teenaged girl.
A girl not much older than me stands a foot or so away, kissing a small child I can assume to be a sibling or a cousin goodbye. She signs the piece of paper that sits on a folding table and goes to join a group of seventeen year olds. I know her from school. She's three grades ahead of me, but that doesn't keep me from being a fourteen year old boy. Her name is Anna Spiera and she's a goddess.
"Be careful." Paris kisses my cheek.
"Moomoo." That's the closest thing to ' I love you' that Leo can say, so I kiss her forehead and pinch her cheeks.
"Moomoo to you too."
She claps and giggles. Paris carts her away, joining her friends at the back of the crowd. Grandfather gives me an awkward clap on the shoulder before sauntering off. Shaking my head, I sign my name and go to the fourteen year old section. I stand in a clump of boys I don't know and wait.
On the makeshift stage are nine chairs- two for Mayor Clearwater and our escort Marion Frostbite, five for our living victors and two for the tributes. Mayor Clearwater goes through the normal routine- reading the history of Panem, telling of the Dark Days and how from them rose the atrocity of the Hunger Games. For a select few of us it's about the glory. For the rest, it's all about getting home. He reads the long list of victors and finally is able to take his seat.
Taking his place at the podium is Marion, a dangerously excitable woman who escorted District Two until three years ago. Marion is a sort of sexy you wouldn't expect from somebody in the capitol. She has a narrow, pointed face, dark red eyes and long orange hair that she styles so it is curled and flips over her face. Paired with her capitol accent, she's a bit ridiculous.
"Happy Hunger Games, District One! Let's remind people this year that we are Number One!" She shrieks, clapping her hands enthusiastically.
A few girls up front clap, but most of us stay silent. Even here, dying is still dying; murder still murder. I roll my eyes. She's so stupid.
"So, how's about we get to it, then? Ladies!" Marion trots over to the bowl with the girls' names in them, practically bouncing off of her six inch heels. She reaches in, swirls her hand around and pulls out a slip of paper, holding it between her claws as if it could burst into flames at any second, "Barica Martins!"
A twelve year old girl makes her way to the stage slowly. Barica has bright blue eyes and straight blonde hair. Tears are trickling down her face and it doesn't look like she trusts her feet.
"Do we have any volunteers, ladies?"
"Me. I'll do it." A hand rises out of the crowd.
"Well why don't you just come on up here, then?"
In the seventeen year old section, there's a quick shift in the masses. A girl makes her way up the steps slowly, carefully, as if she's afraid they'll hear her coming.
"Well, what's your name, honey?"
"Anna Spiera."
Oh no. I've been punched in the face before, but it felt nothing like this. Samira was too perfect to fight in the games. Too… delicate, like one of Paris's porcelain dolls. She's holding her head high, her chest moving heavily, arms hanging limply at her sides. I know that position. It's the position of somebody who is trying to be strong, trying to keep back the tears. It's the position of somebody who is out of options and out of time.
Idiot. "And now for our boy tribute!" I hate that she says that. Boy. Ladies and boys. Sexist much?
I don't even hear the boy's name. As soon as he's reached the stage I volunteer to take his place.
"Ooh, I love y'ins enthusiasm today!" She giggles as I join them on stage, "now what's your name honey-bunch?"
"Jason. Jason Clarke." I pant.
"Well, Jason Clarke, smile for the cameras!" Marion laughs again and motions for us to sit down.
Mayor Clearwater takes the stage, falling into the ritual reading of the Treaty of Treason. I'm not listening to his words, though. I'm watching Anna. She has focused on a spot far away and is staring at it intensely, as if in a trance. And then he's done and we're standing up.
I shake her hand, give her a nod that hopefully reassures her, and allow myself to be lead away.
We are forced inside the Justice Building, up the old elevator and into separate rooms. The room is plush and draped in red velvet and whitewood. Blood and colorless flesh are what I think of.
My first visitors are my family. Grandfather stands near the door, his head down and his arms crossed. Paris sits in the chair next to me, her eyes puffy, Leo squirming in her arms.
"Jason, this is the stupidest, most idiotic thing you've ever done." Paris sniffles before pulling me down into a hug, "and I'm so proud of you."
Leo holds her arms out to me expectantly and I take her from Paris's arms, "Miss Leocadia, promise to take care of Paris and Grandfather while I'm away?"
Leo grabs my nose and giggles, "Jason."
"She said my name!" I gasp.
"Jason!" The giggle turns into a wail and Leocadia tugs on my hair.
"No, Leo." I hand her back to Paris.
The peacekeepers come and collect them. I spend the rest of my time alone.
. . .
Anna
I left my house early this morning. I felt the need to go to the meadow, to be alone. Father is probably awake by now, infuriated by my absence. When we meet in the square today he might hit me. The though doesn't bother me anymore, though. I've become accustomed to his constant abuse. I just don't need that today, so I came to the meadow. Waiting in the meadow, a speck of black among a sea of white flowers, is the one person that I can consider a friend. No, not a friend, a very close acquaintance. I don't have time for friends.
The black speck's name is Vine and I can see that she brought us breakfast. Toasted bread, a jar of blackberry jam and strips of bacon. In my hand is a pitcher of orange juice and two plastic cups. We've been doing the same routine for two months- on weekends and holidays we meet in the meadow for breakfast. Vine brings the food and I bring the drinks. It's very nice, even though Vine barely speaks. Vine's silence is my real friend, I consider as I sit next to her in the flowers.
"Good morning." Her voice cracks. Vine is eighteen. She has to survive today and she's free from the threat of the Games forever, "eight slips."
I know what she means instantly. She has eight slips in the glass bowl. She's worried.
"Today I have to face six slips of paper with my name on them and the ever-insane Marion Frostbite and her scream of doom. Not just that, but all of Panem. I know that I'm going to be called. And if I'm not, I'm volunteering. According to my father, it's my job to bring respect back to our family." I pour the juice and hand Vine her cup.
For a few minutes we eat and sip in silence. The sun has risen and spills a golden light on our meal. I set down my toast and look at Vine. She's been staring at me. Turning quickly, the girl hands me a hairbrush and a silver clip. I nod and take the objects from her hands. In silence we sit, munching and sipping while I brush the tangles from Vine's hair. When we finish, I put the clip in so that her hair will stand up like a bunch of spikes.
I brush crumbs from my dress, adjust the green ribbon around my waist, and look around. It's nearing midmorning already, so we gather up our scraps and walk back to the group home where Vine lives. After today, she knows she'll be free.
I wait outside the large brick building, knowing that if I go inside the Head, a very fat woman with the shortest fuse in the universe, will chase me out with a bat. Vine is in and out, and we take a silent walk to the square. Normally I love visiting the square; it's so quaint and lively at times, with the lesser merchants selling jewelry they make, sometimes trading when people don't have money. But I think reaping day spoils it for everyone.
I see Jason Clarke, a fourteen year old who stares at me a lot in school, saying goodbye to his family. He says he's going to volunteer, too. Oh joy. I sign my name and turn as one of the little girls from the home, a five year old named Yuri, comes running up to me.
"Anna!" She throws her arms around my leg.
I bend down and kiss her on the forehead, "hey Yuri. You need to go with the others." I whisper, scooting her away.
I don't like people. Vine is really the only exception.
Shaking my head, I go and join the seventeen year olds near the front of the square. The beginning is excruciatingly long. Mayor Clearwater reads the history of Panem, rattles off a long list of victors, and finally turns the mike over to Marion Frostbite, District One's insane escort.
"Happy Hunger Games, District One! Let's remind people this year that we're Number One!" She screams. As if we can't already hear her as it is.
A few girls around me clap, but most of us are silent. It's still dying, no matter where you're from.
"So, how's about we get to it, then? Ladies!" Marion trots over to the bowl with the girls' names in them, practically bouncing off of her six inch heels. She reaches in, swirls her hand around and pulls out a slip of paper, holding it between her claws pink claws dangerously, "Barica Martins!"
A twelve year old girl makes her way to the stage slowly. Barica has bright blue eyes and straight blonde hair. Tears are trickling down her face and I can tell she's about to faint. Barica… she's a friend of my cousins. I take a deep breath, preparing myself.
"Do we have any volunteers, ladies?"
"Me. I'll do it." I raise my hand. All or nothing.
"Well why don't you just come on up here, then?"
There's a quick shift in the masses. I make my way towards the stage slowly and silently. All eyes are on me.
"Well, what's your name, honey?" Marion asks, putting a hand on my shoulder. We're right at each other's eye level. I hope she knows I don't want her hand on me. I don't want anybody's hands on me. I don't want to be touched. I just want to come home.
"Anna Spiera." I say, trying not to hiss while I'm at it.
"Well, Anna, congrat-u-lations!" Marion claps stupidly and I watch as Barica stumbles off of the stage, rejoining her friends at the back, clinging to them desperately.
"And now for our boy tribute!" I snicker. Boys and ladies. Must be a Capitol thing, "Jared Seer!"
A boy from the thirteen year old section begins to move, but somebody else has already volunteered.
"Ooh, I love y'ins enthusiasm today!" She giggles as the volunteer joins us on stage, "now what's your name honey-bunch?"
It's Jason. Far in the back, I can see his sister Paris choke up and escape with her baby. I swallow hard. Keeping a convincing façade is becoming irregularly difficult.
"Jason. Jason Clarke." He says, his voice stressed.
"Well, Jason Clarke, smile for the cameras!" Marion laughs again and motions for us to sit down.
I sit and focus on a point far away from here- the tree in my back yard. I can see it from my seat on the stage if I look hard enough. The one I carved up so much it's a miracle it's still standing. The one I fell out of when I was little, breaking my ankle. It never healed properly because father wouldn't take me to the doctor.
And just like that I'm up and shaking Jason's hand. He nods at me, curtly almost. Jerk. Peacekeepers herd us inside the Justice Buildings. We are shown to separate rooms where we will say our final goodbyes.
"One hour." The Peacekeeper tells me.
Its ten minutes before my father comes in. "Anna, I have to say, I'm proud of you for wishing to redeem our family's name."
He holds a hand out to me. I stare at it, half expecting him to hit me, but he doesn't. He waits. So I extend my own and shake his. A handshake. This is the closest thing to affection I've ever seen my father display.
We sit in silence for ten minutes before the Peacekeeper takes him away. The man almost seems shocked to see no tears. I turn my head down and play with the charm bracelet around my wrist. It was my mothers. I'm wearing it in the arena. If I die, I want to be buried with it.
Vine comes in, but she's not talkative either. We sit in silence, the quite probably saying more than we could. When it comes time for her to leave, too, she gives me a hug and runs out. A hug. A handshake. People sure do love me.
I sit in silence and am almost glad when we have to go to the train. The sooner I come home, the better.