EPISODE ONE
4 Months later…
In the middle class sector of the District 6, a heated conversation between a twenty-four-year-old morphling junkie and his mother sparked in the Embers household.
"For the last time, mother, he's not going to be reaped!"
Tears filled Mrs. Embers' eyes as the thought of her youngest son getting reaped into the Hunger Games. It was already enough she almost lost her oldest son; she's not prepared to go through that again. "You don't know that! What if it's different this year? His name has been entered more times than ever."
"It has been six years, and nothing has ever happened to him!"
Mrs. Embers couldn't tell if Chastace was about to cry. You can't really tell anymore if your son has been on morphling for a while. No matter how many times she's tried to convince her son to stop doing it, the morphling always called him back.
"You heard President Snow announce the Quell on television, how this year's Games are going to be. If Conrad gets reaped into this, what are the chances of him being able to get out?"
Both of them heard footsteps coming down from upstairs, the heavy boots stomping against the hardwood stairs without intentionally trying to be that loud. A younger teenage boy stood at the bottom of the stairs as he looked at his mother and older brother.
"Will you guys stop fighting? You're going to get us reported for disturbing the peace," Conrad scolded.
"Conrad," his mother called as she walked over to her precious little boy, "let me look at you."
Her hands stroked his biceps in a calming manner, knowing that Conrad must've been nervous about having to go into another Reaping. She carefully studied his clothing and removed any sight of hair, lint, or speck of dust and fixed any visible wrinkle. Conrad groaned in annoyance.
"Mom, I'm not twelve anymore," he said with a slight blush of embarrassment. He took her hands and grasped it as he gazed into her eyes. "And don't worry; I'm going to be fine just like I always am."
"Don't worry?" Against she felt salty water forming in her eyes. "Of course I'm worried. Each year, the odds of your name being pulled into the Games become more and more likely…"
She turned away; her words got caught in her throat, and she was glad they did because she didn't want to even finish that sentence. Knowing her son might be another victim to the cruelness of the Capitol's custody sent shivers down her spine. She tried to stay strong, but she just had a feeling.
Conrad dusted his charcoal gray button-up shirt and used a lint roller to clean up the little remnants of lint off his khaki pants. The khaki colored boots complimented his light skin tone along with his hazel eyes. Vivian took another glance at him for good measure.
"You look just like your father," she smiled weakly.
Behind her, Chastace rolled his eyes as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. "You tell that to all of us, mother."
"Yeah well, him more than you," she jokingly replied with a smirk.
Conrad let out a chuckle as he let go of his mother's hands. He went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of sparkling clean water. He handed her the glass. "Don't be nervous; I'll be just fine."
Conrad lied; he didn't feel fine. He knew that his name would be at a high number in the reaping bowls this year. He cursed in his mind for ever applying for tesserae when he was fourteen. But he had to; his family was low on food and it was the time when his father was laid off his job for a while due to an explosion in the factories.
The digital clock in living room sounded and blinked the time, 2:00pm. Conrad let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in, and his mother's expression of dread waved back onto her. She tried to give Conrad a hopeful expression the best she could give him before the three of them stepped out and headed for the town square where they would convene with Mr. Embers.
The children of the district rallied according to their gender and age after processing their blood for sign-ins. Conrad stood at the very end opposite of the middle isle along with the other eighteen-year-olds. A gust of wind blew into the town square, and his brown spiky hair brushed against each other in the wind. He watched as the Capitol seal spun around in a proud manner on the live screen overlooking the square.
His family stood close by him behind the line of Peacekeepers who held plasma guns in their hands, a new invention and upgrade no thanks to District Two.
On the screen, the Panem anthem sounded and the television broadcast from the previous night announcing this year's Quell. The Capitol audience cheered as the President came into view on the podium, watching him wave at them before the anthem subsided.
"For one hundred years, the Hunger Games has been able to keep the order of our glorious nation. For one hundred years, not a single spark has been ignited since the First Rebellion. Today, my people, we celebrate one hundred years of the Hunger Games with a fresh, original Quell." The audience applauded for a moment as President Snow took out another envelope from the box that contained each rule of the Quarter Quells and opened it to snatch out the papyrus card.
"And so, as a celebratory reminder that The Hunger Games will forever be a test of honor, strength, valor, and courage, each district will offer up two of their strongest tributes who will compete in twelve hostile tasks in a survival of the fittest."
The Capitol audience cheered once again as it echoed throughout the town square before the President waves away as he stepped down the podium and disappeared back into the building.
That was the thing that Conrad was worried about. Knowing that he was one of the more athletic boys in school, he figured that people would enter his name on the ballots. But he tried to be confident and hope that it wasn't him. Maybe it would be Jack Trimera, the school bully who looked like a giant.
The mayor along with the district's political powers along with Petunia Evermay stepped out onto the stage. Petunia was a vivacious figure, a similar personality to Capitol-renown Effie Trinket, who saw Effie as an idol to her and wanted to be just like her. Her lopsided grin showed her pearly whites as she stepped to the microphone and greeted the town square.
"Welcome, everyone, welcome. As you all have heard, this year is a Quarter Quell!" She clapped her hands in hopes that the audience below her would follow her suit, but prevailed before going back to speaking. "As follows, the district has taken a ballot of who the strongest contestants will be to participate in this year's 100th Annual Hunger Games."
The Mayor stood holding a box in his hands and presented it opened to Petunia. She took out one of the two faced down cards, the top being the girl tribute, and the bottom being the boy. She puffed her rosy red wig that resembled something Marie Antoinette would wear before she opened the card and stood in front of the microphone.
"The female tribute of District Six," she glanced down at the card as she recited the name, "Jocelyn Heatherton!"
A huge wave of girly and relieved sighs came from the other side of the town square as the girls turned towards the line where the seventeen-year-olds were standing. The girl stepped out of the line in a slow and frightened manner, the same expression was on her face like Conrad's mother as she stepped up to the front of the Justice Building.
Petunia turned again towards the box and snatched the other faced down card containing the boy tribute. "Thank you very much, Mr. Mayor."
The Mayor nodded before he sent himself back to his seat, setting the box on the ground right next to him. Petunia turned her attention to the boys' side as she did with the girls and held out the card. Conrad's heartbeat was racing; his palms were sweaty as he unclenched his fists as he stared up at Petunia. Some of the boys glanced at each other as the anticipation of them not being chosen hung in the air.
"The male tribute of District Six-"
It's probably Jack, he told himself as a comforting thought. He's more likely to survive than the rest of us.
"-that will represent the district in this year's Hunger Games-"
Or it could be Preston Wheeler, the captain of the archery team. Conrad let out a calm breath as more names popped into his mind that was probably more likely to get picked into the Games.
"-Conrad Embers!"
His pupils dilated as the whole row faced their attention towards Conrad, the air feeling even thicker than it was before. He felt his breath shaking as he looked at his mother. She began to sob in Chastace's chest.
"Conrad, where are you?" Petunia asked in an excited tone.
He slowly maneuvered through the crowd of teenage boys before he was out of the crowd and walking up onto the stage. He gave a glance at Jocelyn; the name sounded familiar. Then it hit him. It was the girl that beat him in the rope climb in gym. Her climbing skills were remarkable, which meant that her arms must've been pretty strong.
Both tributes stood aside Petunia as she grabbed their hands and thrust them into the air. "District 6, I give you your finest tributes! Happy Hunger Games, and May the odds be ever in your favor."
She escorted them into the building with that perky grin on her face and the doors sealed shut.
An hour later, Chastace came barging into the room to say their last goodbyes. He shut the door and told Conrad to sit down. Still in shock, he stood at the window and stared down into the town square where some Peacekeepers were cleaning up.
"Conrad," Chaz (that's what Conrad always called him) called to him, "I promise you. I'm gonna get you out of that tournament."
It was a baffling statement to hear it from a morphling junkie. Conrad chuckled at the thought of his brother trying to give him advice while inserting morphling through a needle. "How in the world would you help me? You're always on morphling and most of time you don't even respond to me, mom, or dad."
"Listen to me; I have been off of morphling for a week, okay?"
Conrad blinked. "You're joking."
"I've been managing it; it's not easy. Hell, it's pretty hard. But I'm managing. Anyway, that's not the point. I'm a mentor; I can get you out of there."
He dribbled the thought around in his mind. Chastace was a pretty powerful tribute in his year of the Games eight years ago. Being the athlete of the family, he trained himself to survive in the arena and killing anyone who got in his way.
Killing. The word and thought of it made Conrad scoff. Killing people for money and fame? Sounds more like infamy if you really think about it. Conrad would never kill another living soul.
"Con?"
Conrad turned from the glass window and glared at his brother. "And what about Jocelyn? She needs a mentor, too. You can't always be helping me, Chaz. She has a family to get back to as well."
"You're my little brother, Conrad."
"That's not my point! I'm eighteen years old. I'm not a little kid anymore."
"Well then act like an adult and take my advice if you want to get out of there alive. I'll be able to help Jocelyn, too! But I'm more focused on you. Understand me?"
The doors burst open and two Peacekeepers rings their arms around Chaz, pulling the resisting adult out of the room. "I'm gonna get you outta there, little bro! I promise!"
When it was his parents' turn, all his mother could do was sob into her husband's chest. Vivian was never a strong person when it came to situations like this and now that one of her sons is a victim of the Games, she couldn't bare it.
She embraced Conrad into her arms and gave him a sincere and motherly hug, which made Conrad hug her ever tighter.
"I believe in you, my son," she whispered into his ear.
"Thank you, mom." His voice was shaky and a bit hoarse as he tried to hold back the tears. His father joined in before they were escorted out of the room, leaving Conrad all alone. And he was going to be alone for a long while.