Thanks to the two people who reviewed. For the rest of you – I don't like to beg, but feedback would be greatly appreciated.
Just out of curiosity, who's been lucky enough to get hold of a copy of Catching Fire? I haven't – it's not coming out here for another week or so, which sucks. But please, can we keep the site free of spoilers from those of you who have read it? Put spoiler warnings in the summary, and please try not to have any in the summary itself. Thank you very much, and enjoy the fic.
The Square is relatively empty when Ren and I arrive. Her parents and brother are coming later – they have to carry her father over in the special chair he uses whenever he leaves the house. Have I mentioned yet how lucky that guy makes me feel whenever I'm around him?
The two of us duck the rope barrier that separates the fifteen year olds from the rest of the district. We're the only ones in our age group there yet, although there are a few people in some of the other ages, mostly the older ones. And a few twelve and thirteen year olds staying close to their mothers until they have to let go.
I never had that luxury. Lucky them. They should enjoy it while it lasts.
The two of us are dressed in our best Reaping gear as I left mine at her house this morning so that I wouldn't have to double back home. I'm also carrying my stick I use as a crutch when we're busking. I don't know why, but I bring it every year. Some sort of subconscious safety mechanism, maybe.
"What would you do if you won the Hunger Games?" Ren asks me, totally out of the blue.
I mentally snort, but go along anyway. It's some kind of yearly tradition which we know would surely never happen. But it lightens the mood. And you have to keep cheerful about this. There's no other way to cope.
"I don't know," I answer.
"Yes you do," she tells me. "You always know. So, what's your answer?"
I pretend to think. "Hmm… Maybe I'd give all of my money to Major Lardbutt and go back to my normal life."
She laughs, because I was obviously sarcastic. Like I'd ever give Loser Lardbutt anything.
Making fun of Lardbutt is one of our favourite pastimes. Loser Lardbutt isn't his real name, of course. He's called (Mayor) Lucian Bluebottle, and just because he's under the pay of the Capitol he forgets that he was born one of us. He looks down on the rest of the district, and we all despise him for that. Quietly, of course. There are spies everywhere.
"No, really." Ren's speaking again. "What would you do?"
"I'd move all of my family up. We'd never have to work again."
This is the normal type of stuff. But before I can stop myself, more spills out.
"And I'd move you guys up as well. I'd give you half the winnings, same as we do anything else. But I'd buy your Dad one of those things they have in the Capitol… wheelchairs, I think they're called. So he could move around."
Ren, for once in her life, is speechless.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she whispers. "Even if it was only theoretical." That's probably true. Ren isn't really used to kindness from others outside her family. Even our regulars don't offer what I just did, even if it's impossible.
What she does next catches me completely by surprise. She hugs me. Ren, Ren who hates physical contact, who avoids it whenever she can, is hugging me. She's hugging me! And for a few seconds, I forget about the Reaping and my crippled foot, and only focus on this. Ren is hugging me!
Unfortunately, the moment ends far too soon. The square is getting fuller by the minute so we have to break apart. Typical.
I spot Nan weaving her way through the crowd to the thirteen year old area. Unlike some of the others, she doesn't stay with Mum but walks straight into the centre of the empty area. That takes guts. She's stronger than she looks, my sister. Good for her.
More and more people crowd into our part of the Square. I spot some people that I recognise from school, but none of them come over. Most people prefer to be alone or with one or two close friends during the Reaping. I know I do.
We are pushed to the side of the side of the cordoned off area. You can almost feel the tension growing. Ren and I stick close together.
And then Mayor Lardbutt steps on stage. And the crowd goes silent.
We wait. And we wait. And we wait.
Traditionally, the Reaping starts the second the clock on the main tower chimes one. Unfortunately, something happens to be wrong with our clock today. Not that I mind. If we can put the Capitol behind schedule and stuff up their televised order… standing here for another half hour seems a small price to pay.
Finally, after hurried discussion between Loser Lardbutt, our representative from the Capitol Theodora Glitter, and District Ten's two surviving winners, the Reaping begins.
I tune out most of Mayor Lardbutt's speech about the history of the Capitol. It's the exact same one he's read out for the past fifteen years. I could probably recite it off by heart if you asked me to.
Instead, I focus on what has become a major scientific issue. How on earth does Lardbutt manage to stay upright? A short description of our mayor: Fat. He has tiny legs, tiny arms and a rather small head on top of a huge ball of blubber. His neck is invisible, and last reaping Ren and I played count the chin. I lost count at around five. Ren counted seven.
What's even more disgusting about that is where we are. This is District Ten, the third poorest (arguably second poorest) district in all of Panem. People die of starvation on a weekly basis. And yet, while people like Ren's family and mine try to make ends meet, this gigantic ball of blubber is eating happily away. In fact, some of his food has been stolen from the food that should be rightfully ours.
Do you know what that means? The less food there is, the more it costs, according to one of the rules of North America's ancient economic system. In other words, Lardbutt steals food from the district. There is now less food, therefore the price of food goes up. This means that the poorer citizens cannot afford food, and then they die of starvation. Or they need more tesserae, thus increasing their chances of dying by being chosen in the Hunger Games.
Is this fair? No it isn't.
And I bet that fool Lardbutt doesn't even realise how much he's helping the Capitol. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn't care. But he doesn't strike me as the kind of man who's smart enough to realise what he's doing. He's just an ignorant pig, and maybe that's even worse.
Finally! The end of his speech is arriving. Now Loser Lardbutt is introducing our two surving Hunger Games champions, Morgan Spike and Ando Torentsky.
We've had five winners in total. Of course, two of them were in the early stages of the Hunger Games. Before District Four invented the Career Tribute (yes, it was them and not District One or the Capitol, contrary to popular belief), we had one winner. During the early years of the Careers, before the idea had caught on in Districts One and Two, and before there was a Career every year from Four, we managed another win. I have no idea how our third, dead, winner won. Or Morgan, for that matter. She was before my time.
The two champions file in – they had made their escape during the Mayor's speech – and sit down.
Here comes the part I hate.
Theodora Glitter takes the stage. It hurts just to look at her. Her skin is pinstriped green and purple. She has fluorescent pink hair and is wearing a lime green suit. Ouch.
"Happy Hunger Games everybody," she trills in her supper annoying Capitol accent, which is particularly strong in her. "And may the odds be ever in your favour."
Theodora walks over to the first glass bowl. Her hand hovers over the entrance.
"Good luck," I whisper to Ren.
She smiles weakly in return.
I have a chant going through my head:
Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren
Theodora's hand drops into the bowl.
Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren
"And the female tribute for District Ten is…"
The tension builds. She's doing it on purpose, but I wish she'd just get it over with.
Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren Not Ren
"Kyra Walker!"
I sigh in relief. And then immediately feel guilty for being happy about a tribute. And because I didn't hope for Nan. What does that say about me?
A girl I dimly recognise walks onto the stage. She's fourteen, I know that from school, but she could easily pass for a thirteen year old or maybe even a twelve year old.
"Any volunteers?"
We all know the answer. None. Surprisingly enough, Kyra manages to keep from crying. Barely.
Theodora walks over to the other side of the stage. As happily as ever, she pulls out the male tribute.
Not me Not me Not me Not me Not me
"Lucas Haron!"
It's me.
Oh no.
It's me.
I take a few seconds to process the thought. But then my mind whirls back into gear and I do what I've been doing my whole life. I act.
Leaning heavily on my stick for support, I limp all of the way to the foot of the stage. Slowly of course. Very slowly. Lucky for me, a lifetime of making my foot look worse than it is has paid off. If I didn't have the experience…
I shudder. I'd have no chance in the arena. None whatsoever. Not that I have much of one now, but still. A tiny chance is better than no chance at all.
I pause at the foot of the stage.
"Sorry," I tell the people up on stage in a small voice. "Sorry, but it might take me a while to get up these stairs."
"We don't mind, lad," says Theodora Glitter, still in her chipper voice. "Take your time. There's no hurry."
And there isn't. In the five minutes it takes me to get up those stairs, I am suddenly glad about my disability. For one thing, it gives me time to school my expression into the ideal one for me and the role I am trying to play. I must show no weakness, not until I can meet with Ren and talk to her about what I want to do. For another thing, it throws the Capitol's viewing order even further off schedule. It seems that their live broadcasting isn't going to work out today I think, as I hear the clock strike half past one. Good.
Finally, after what seems like a million years, I make it up the stairs. I stand there, breathing heavily and leaning on my stick.
Theodora asks for volunteers, but of course there are none. Eoin probably isn't the only one who is perversely glad that a cripple was chosen. All of the other district's tributes will be for certain.
I can already imagine the pity people are feeling from me, and just that thought makes me want to throw away my stick and show people that I can walk. But I don't. I might hate it, but I know that the only way I'm going to have a chance is if I don't show people what I'm really capable of. And I need to start now. Which means I'm going to have to put aside my feelings, at least until I get to the arena.
"Let's have around of applause for our two tributes from District Ten."
And they clap. Ren doesn't and Nan doesn't, and surprisingly Eoin and Mum don't either. Neither does Ren's family or the butcher, who's probably just realised he's going to have to find a new accountant. Some other people who are probably Kyra's family don't clap, but the rest of the district does. Half heartedly, of course. No one likes the Reaping. But they clap, and that's the saddest thing of all.
The second the Reaping is over we are escorted to the City Hall. Also known as no man's land. No one ever enters there unless they're in serious trouble, or they're the mayor or a peacekeeper, or they're a spy. Or if they're a tribute or a family member after the Reaping.
That's what we are. I take a moment to admire the fancy surroundings before Kyra and I are split up and taken into several rooms. Luckily, mine's on the ground floor. I really don't feel like climbing up any more stairs.
The room they throw me in is small but it's amazing. The seats are really soft and padded with some kind of material which feels amazing. I have no idea what they call it though.
I don't have long to wait before my first visitors arrive. As per usual, my family is the first to come in. Nan's in the lead, followed by my mother and surprisingly enough, Eoin.
Nan runs straight to me and hugs me before standing aside, but the other two come in and stand awkwardly just inside the room. Eoin has the sense to pull the door shut.
We stand there in awkward silence for a few moments, before I start talking.
"So. This is it. Your life insurance has finally run out. I know it's going to be easier for you without me here, so don't even start giving me lies about missing me."
Nan interrupts me. "But we will miss you, Lucas. You know we will."
"Yeah," Eoin breaks in. Wow. I never expected Eoin to say something like that. It's almost worth having a death sentence, just to hear him say it.
"Look," I continue. "Maybe you will, maybe you won't. Doesn't matter. Eoin, you're safe now. Get that pay rise you're entitled for now that you're not eligible to be a tribute. Mum, this is for you too. Make sure Nan doesn't need to take tesserae. We've already lost two members of our family – three, actually. I don't want us to lose another. Nan. Don't play the hero. Please. You have five more years left, and I want to make sure you survive all of them. Stay in school. Keep on looking after the other two. But keep safe. Please. All of you."
"Wow, little bro." Eoin tells me. "I never knew you had it in you to make such a speech."
"Neither did I, actually," I say.
We stand there a bit more in silence, none of us knowing what to say, until a Peacekeeper raps on the door.
"Five minutes left!"
Mum enfolds me in a hug. This is rare. Mum isn't generally a huggable person. But I hug here back.
"I love you Lucas, despite how it may appear. I'm just looking out for all of our best interests. Never forget that."
I'm shocked. Mum rarely hugs, and even rarely tells anyone what she's feeling. Obviously, it takes me a while to respond. "I love you too, Mum."
Next I hug Nan, and repeat the same sentiments. They two of them leave the room. Now it's just Eoin and I left.
"Look, little brother." For once he's saying the words nicely. "I know we've never treated each other the best. And now that I know I'm never seeing you again… I'm sorry. What I did was wrong. Can you forgive me?"
He sounds sincere enough, but I know Eoin. He didn't do this of his own free will. I find it hard to believe that the guy who encouraged me to volunteer for him, to take more tesserae, the guy who probably landed me in this mess, is suddenly having second thoughts.
"Nan put you up to this, didn't she?"
He looks sheepish. "Actually, Mum did," he tells me.
Wow. Mum put him up to this. That's a shocker.
There are too many years of pain and conflict between the two of us for it to be resolved this quickly. But I can at least start to patch things up.
'You're forgiven," I tell him, holding out my hand. And we shake on it.
"Times up," calls the Peacekeeper, and Eoin leaves. I am alone.
But not for long. My next guest is Ren.
The second the door closes behind her she flies to me. And for the second time that day, for the third time ever, Ren hugs me. We just cling together for a bit, unwilling to let each other go. But we do. We have to.
"Ren. Will you be able to do the show without me?"
She nods hesitantly. "Probably. And there are always other ways of getting money."
Now I'm scared. "Please promise me you won't do anything illegal. Please."
"I promise, Lucas." This is sincere. She won't break this promise. I know Ren.
I haven't finished yet. "And don't beg. It's beneath you." Ironically, I'm almost begging her. "And please, please don't take anymore tesserae unless you really have to. I don't want you to die."
"I don't want you to die either," she whispers.
I give her the ghost of a smile. "Neither do I. I'll do my best to come back."
Silence. Comfortable yet sad silence, which I have to break.
"I hate to bring this up with you, but which persona do you think would be best for me to wear?"
Ren brightens up a bit. She's in familiar territory now.
"You want to play the part of the poor cripple," she tells me. Ren's already managed to pick out what I'm doing, but that's only because she knows me. I hope.
"But you probably want to put in a bit of yourself behind it. To show that you might have a significant setback but you're still fighting. Take your stick with you but don't have it as your district token – the gamekeepers will take it off you."
That's true. Last year a boy from Four got his token – a bone fishhook - confiscated on the grounds that it could be used to catch food. My stick can easily double as a weapon.
"When you're in the arena," Ren continues, "the first thing you want to do it to look for a good solid piece of wood to use as a stick."
I can see her logic. After a few days – if I make it that far - my foot will start to play up and a stick will be really handy. Also it's the only weapon I have any clue about how to use.
"What if they don't have wood?" I ask her, just to keep to conversation going. They will. Ever since that year that all the tributes froze to death some type of wood is always available. My real worry is whether the wood will be the type I need.
"Don't be stupid!" Ren says. "Of course they'll have wood."
She pulls something out of her pocket. "Here. I wanted you to have this."
I take it from her open palm and look at it. The object is a tiny wooden carving, small enough to easily stand on the palm of my hand but immensely detailed. There are two figures standing next to each other – a boy and a girl. The boy has a wooden stick with a flag on the end in one hand and his left arm wrapped around the girl's shoulders. His right foot only has the toes on the ground and I realise that it's me. The face is the exact replica of mine. This is amazing!
The girl is Ren. Everything about her is identical to the real one that stand's in front of me – the same reddish-brown hair stuck into two pigtails on each side of her head, the same freckled face, the same mouth that's nearly always curved up in a smile and those warm light brown eyes. Of course, the colours don't really exist on the carving but otherwise the carving is a splitting image of Ren. Her right arm is wrapped around my shoulders. The two bodies are touching everywhere other than where there's a small hole between them that looks natural, just like there would be one in real life.
This sculpture must have taken weeks, maybe months to make. I can't accept it.
"This is amazing, Ren." I breathe. "Did your Dad make it?"
She nods. "Yeah. He gave it to me but I thought you needed it more. It's something to remember me by."
Ren holds out a piece of string. "Use this to tie it round your neck so it won't get lost. This can be your district token."
"Ren, I can't take this. It's too precious. Anyway, how will you remember me?"
"Take it, Lucas." She refuses my offer to return it. "You need it more than I do. Anyway, I have another one."
There's another sculpture of me. This time it's just me. I look maybe a year younger in this one. I'm grinning up at whoever is holding it. I don't have my stick, but my right ankle still isn't on the ground. My hands are tucked into my pockets.
"You just need to remember what I look like," she says. "And this one'll help me remember you, so I think it's fair."
I'm speechless. "Wow Ren… Thanks. I don't know what to say."
She smiles. "You're welcome."
And we hug again. Three times in one day!
Too soon, the Peacekeepers are knocking on the door. Just before Ren's hand touches the doorknob, my mind loses control of my mouth entirely.
"Ren! Wait!"
She turns around.
"What is it, Lucas?"
Suddenly my brain takes over again and I forget what I was going to say.
"It's nothing Ren. Sorry."
The door is thrown open and the Peacekeepers arrive to pull Ren out.
"I'll miss you," she yells, just before the door slams shut.
"I'll miss you too, Ren," I whisper at the closed door.