As soon as I wake up I step out of bed. The ceremony doesn't start until two in the afternoon, and there is no need to be up this early, so I let Pepper and Willow sleep. Just in case Willow wakes up early, I pick out the smallest reaping dress I have (although I don't have many) and lay it on the bottom of my bed. It's light yellow and has white lace around the sleeves; it will look pretty with her long brown hair.
Before changing out of yesterday's clothes, I go downstairs into the kitchen and begin boiling a pot of water for my bath. I haven't washed in a couple days, and the reaping is a perfect excuse to do so. Once the pot is properly set and starting to heat, I step outside onto our front porch. The weather has significantly changed. There isn't a cloud in the sky, and the air is warm enough for short sleeves, but not warm enough to sweat in the heat, what many people would call a perfect day, which makes it all the more perfect for the reaping. I locate the wooden tub that sits next to the front door and drag it inside the house. It leaves a small trail of mud behind it that I decide can wait until after the reaping.
I place the tub in the small study next to the living room. In a house with two brothers, I am thankful for this study, just because it gives me privacy. Pepper and Roan could care less about their privacy though. I'm not sure but I think it's a trait all boys carry.
I grab the warm pot out of our kitchen and carry it into the study. Goose bumps fill my arms when a small bit of the water splashes my wrists on its way into the tub. I quickly undress myself and slip into the hot liquid. There isn't much water in it, but enough to warm my entire body. I keep still for a few minutes so that I can get used to the water. It's soothing. Probably the most relaxing thing that could come of a day like today. Finally I begin to scrub the dirt off of my body and rinse my hair until I am almost perfectly clean.
When I'm done washing, I sit in the water for a moment and shut my eyes. I wonder if people in the capital do this for relaxation. Sit in a warm tub and take a nap. Their tubs are probably much bigger though, and filled with lovely scents and oils. It sounds amazing, but I don't long for the life they have. Capital citizens never have to work a day in their lives. They don't know what its like to be starving or in need and they take that for granted. This enrages me to think about though, so I shove it out of my thoughts.
I make myself rise from the water (which is no longer warm) and ring my hair out. When I step out of the tub, cold air wraps itself around my naked body, making me want to leap back into the slightly warmer water. I pull my old clothes back over myself and carry the tub and its contents out onto the porch. There, I pour the water into the grass. It forms a puddle and then is slowly absorbed into the ground which is still damp from yesterday's rain. I pick up the tub and take it back inside. Roan sits at the kitchen table looking at his thumbs. "Morning," I say setting the tub down in the kitchen. He looks at me and forces a smile, "do you want me to make breakfast?" he asks standing up. I nod. Breakfast sounds nice, but there isn't much to cook here. "If you really want to, we probably have spices we rarely use that can be traded or sold, they're in the cabinets," I take a few steps towards the wooden stair case. "I'm going to go get dressed," I say hopping up the steps two at a time. I can feel Roan's eyes on me, but once I'm out of sight, I hear him searching through the cupboards.
Pepper and Willow are still sleeping. I stay quiet so I don't wake them as I dig through my dresser. In the top drawer, underneath all of my everyday clothes, is my reaping dress. It's a muted pink number with a white ribbon in the back. I don't like it, but it was my mothers, or at least that's what Roan tells me. I look back to make sure Pepper is still sleeping and then quickly undress and slide the reaping outfit on. The dress fits me a little loosely, but it will have to do, it's the only one I have, aside from the small one I am letting Willow barrow.
I stand in front of the mirror and brush my hair out with my fingers. Today I decide to pin my long bangs back, which surprisingly makes my eyes really stand out. My bare feet slide themsleves into the same boots I always wear and start back down into the kitchen. Even though the reaping is still a little while away, I am completely ready.
Roan is already gone when I reach the bottom of the stairs. I guess he decided to consider what I said sell some of our spices. Fine by me, nobody in this house would know how to use them anyway, or at least not the way my mother used to.
My mother would turn the simplest dishes into magnificent creations. Some looked like meals you would find in the capital. We didn't have much food, but what we did, she made marvelous. My mouth waters when thinking about the oatmeal she made once when we were younger. She added the perfect about of cinnamon and sugar and nuts. It was delicious.
I check the cupboards out of curiosity to see what all Roan took, and by the looks of it, he took a lot. Maybe he is planning to get some food for the feast tonight. Usually after the reapings, every family has a feast. Well almost every family. Two families however stay in their houses and mourn over their children's awful luck. We could be one of those families, but I highly doubt it.
After twenty minutes of sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the pattern in the wood, I hear feet pitter patter down the stairs. Willow is already dressed in the outfit I let her barrow and ready for the reaping. Her hair stills hangs loosely around her face. Once Willow reaches me, she hands me some pins and ties for her hair. I take them and set them on the table.
"How would you like it?" I say running my fingers through her brown locks. She pauses to consider her choice and then finally answers, "I want it braided and then wrapped in a bun." I turn her around and begin sectioning off pieces of her hair. My fingers delicately fashion two French braids down each side of her head and then tie them off. I carefully wrap each of the braids into a beautiful knot on the bottom of her hairline. "There you go," I say pinning any stray hairs into place, "now you're ready to go."
I go to wake Pepper up when Roan gets back with two loafs of bread. We divide one of the loaves among us and leave the other loaf for this evening. The bread is still warm from the bakery and melts on my tongue. We haven't had real bakery bread in a long time, so my mouth is only somewhat familiar with the taste.
We all sit at the table and exchange small talk until it's time to head to the square. I stay calm, but Willow's eyes are full of fear. During our walk to the ceremony, I take Willow's hand, as to assure her that everything is and will be okay. We meet her parents along the way and we all walk together. Willow and I walk farther behind the group. From this angle I can identify everyone's reaping outfits. Roan is wearing a light blue shirt and tan pants, Pepper is wearing the same outfit but with a yellow shirt that matches Willow's dress. Mrs. Curtis (Willow's mother) is wearing a grey dress that makes her look very plane. Willow's father is wearing grey pants and a mute orange shirt. We aren't as stylish as the capital people, but this is the closest we will ever come.
When we reach the square men with cameras are mounted almost everywhere. The justice building looks cleaner, but still very old and dirty like it always is. When we sign in, we are escorted to the other girls who are sectioned off by age. The boys are not put in sections this year, so they stand amongst the older people of district twelve.
The mayor begins the ceremony talking about the power of the capital and the rebellion and the history of the games. Nothing I haven't heard a million times before. During his speech my eyes drift over to the two bowls that are standing on either side of the stage. My name isn't in there very many times, and neither is Willow's. It is impossible that our escorts hand could fall on either of our names; this thought is the one that keeps me calm during this whole thing.
Finally Maury Lux (our districts escort) bounces up to the microphone. Her long blue wig flows behind her as she comes. She begins to ramble on about the excitement this year's games will hold and how we are so lucky to be alive during such a magnificent time. I would listen, but I am preoccupied by the small amount of butterflies that is beginning to form inside of my stomach.
"I would say ladies first, but, well you know," now my attention is on Maury, who perfectly carries herself to the first bowl. She grabs the name that sits on the very top and takes it back to the microphone where she opens it. The butterflies leave me and are replaced by a cloak of fear when she pronounces the name "Rudbeckia Gere," my name.
I don't hesitate to head towards the stage. I don't want Willow to see that I am frightened, that's what a good role model would do. I shake my head, why do I care what good role models do? I am a great role model. I feel peace keeper's hands on the blades of my shoulders pushing me onto the stage. When I'm there Maury rushes me to the microphone. "What's your name?" she asks with her bubbly capital accent. I answer her question even though it is completely ridiculous. Didn't she already learn my name when she called me to my death?
Maury asks me a few other questions that I forget as soon as I answer them. The fear is beginning to overpower me by the time she finishes. I think she noticed to, and that's why she stopped talking to me. Maury's feet dance in her heels as she crosses over to the next bowl. If my name was called out of thousands, I am beginning to worry that Willow's could be too. Maury digs through the bowl and pulls the slip from the very bottom. She carries it over to the microphone and reads the name, "Willow Curtis."
An awful scream like sound escapes my throat. It's all I can do to keep my feet from giving out. I can't conquer the tears this time, and they begin to pour down my face. I can feel the entire audience's eyes on me as I cry. Willow comes onto the stage without a tear in her eye. She must be so petrified that she is unable to comprehend what is happening. All I can do is stand helplessly as she answers Maury's questions in a sullen tone. I cannot volunteer for her, now it's either I die, Willow dies or we both die. Our escort, too excitedly motions for us to shake hands. In the brief second we stand face to face the tears begin to fall harder down my cheeks harder as I tell Willow "I am so sorry."