Reaping Day Part 2
Esme's POV
Elia and I had left the house quickly after we had changed into dresses. I hate the dresses. They aren't me. I'm not the girl who wears dresses at any opportunity; I'm the girl who wants to be able to run into the woods in an old hunting jacket. The girl whose pants are so worn they have holes in the knees. I don't care. They're me.
Elia didn't object to the dress. She's been too lost in thought. She still is. I can tell by the look on her face, by the way she drags her feet along the cobblestone road. I know she's scared. I won't try to comfort her, because I know my attempts will only make her feel worse. So instead, I look at my feet, watching as the ground beneath me changes from cobblestone, to dirt, to the concrete ground of the square. That's when the Peacekeepers separate us. Elia starts crying, holding tight to my hand, not letting me go.
''Don't worry Elia, half an hour. I promise. Half an hour, and we'll be walking home. I promise. Stop crying, honey, stop crying, everything will be okay.'' I reassure her. She looks into my eyes for a moment and I know what she's looking for. The lie. The fear. The look in my eyes that says ''One of us is going in.'' , but I keep my expression blank. Eventually, she lets me go, and I watch as she gets her blood taken. A way of accounting for every person. I keep my eyes on her as the peacekeeper pricks my finger quickly, and then I follow her with my eyes until she disappears into a crowd of other kids.
I find my way into my row, nodding at a couple of girls I know from school. No one is in the mood for ''hello'' today. I manage to keep my cool until the Mayor stands up, and tells us that old ''timeless story of hope'' . It's pathetic. The Capitol destroyed any ''hope'' we had 28 years ago. That's when all this started. The Hunger Games. 24 boys and girls from each district fighting to the death. One victor. One. We've never had a winner, here in District 9. We can't survive long enough. We weren't trained for survival. We weren't even told about the Hunger Games until it was far too late.
I'm so lost in thought, I don't hear the Mayor welcome up Salia Cortez. She's so happy. The Capitol have her so...trained. She's supposed to be happy, so that maybe that happiness will make the crowds happy to. It never works. Not unless you're in District 1 or 2. She rambles on, welcoming everyone, telling them how it's going to be a ''big,big, big year!''.
Then, she has my attention. She's picking the names, ladies first, of course. She dips her hand into that huge fish bowl, makes her way back to the microphone and reads out the name.
I was right all along. It isn't Elia.
It's me.
