The very first thing I have to mention in this chapter is that I know absolutely nothing when it comes to boats and ships, so the part with Elana was all made up. I'm sorry, but it probably won't be accurate in the slightest as to how a boat works, but it's the best I could do. If I did get some things wrong, let's just assume that the boats they use in Panem function differently than the ones we have now. ;)
The second thing I have to mention is that this is the absolute fastest I've ever updated a real chapter. I'm really excited! I had hoped to get the chapter out yesterday, but, alas, it was not meant to be. :p
Anyway, I present to you, District 4!
DISCLAIMER: If I were Suzanne Collins, I think you guys would know. ;)
-Elana, District 4-
"Land, ho!" I shout from my perch at the bow of our fishing ship. The salty spray of the water fills my nostrils. I run my hand back through my hair to pull tendrils out of my eyes.
A loud chuckle is the first response I get. I turn around to see old Mo grinning his partially toothless smile at me. He's leaning against the starboard wall, legs crossed, the picture of ease.
"What?" I say defensively. "I've always wanted to say that."
He laughs again and playfully ruffles my hair. At this point, it's pointless to bother fixing it; I leave it be. I'm sure it looks lovely.
I roll my eyes and skip off to help the rest of the crew with preparations for docking. I'm excited to be back near land. Almost constantly this time of year we're out fishing in the ocean, not too far from the coast since the law requires us to stay within a certain distance, but we don't bother docking every day. Most of the time, we'll just sit out on the water for days, even weeks, at a time, the sun and wind our only other companions.
"Elana!" calls a gruff voice.
Without so much a glance from my work, I nod and reply, "Yeah, Bort?"
"I need some help with the sail. It's caught up there. Mind helpin'?"
"Okay." I check to make sure what I had been doing with the nets is covered by another crewman, and then I go over to the main mast where a burly, hairy man stands. "Give me a lift?"
Wordlessly, Bort helps lift me up so I can scramble up the mast to detach a piece of caught sail from one of the many hooks and other oddly shaped things.
I am the only girl aboard this ship, and I also happen to be the lightest person. So I am the one that acts as the retriever for anything and everything hard to reach.
I'm straddling one of the arms of the mast, legs tightly wrapped around it, and carefully pick off the stuck sail with my nimble fingers. Satisfied, I slide back down the mast and stick the landing with both feet quite well. I didn't stumble in the slightest. Thumbs up for me!
Bort thanks me, and I tell him it was nothing. I enjoy working on the ship, whether that means monkey-climbing the masts or untangling the nets or scrubbing the deck. Just being here is enjoyable.
The ship jerks for a brief moment; we're here!
I run to the side of the ship, bare feet slapping the deck, and look out at the jumble that is District 4.
Yes, the ship is enjoyable. But solid land is comforting, and I could use some rock just about now to stand steady on.
I scramble with the others to make last minute preparations, and then I'm running off the ship. The wood of the dock is too much like that of the deck; I don't stop sprinting until I've reached the dirt of the ground. Laughing, I hop around. I don't care that I look crazy. I'm just glad to be back.
Spinning, I catch sight of two distinguishable people: a girl with legs too long and a boy with hair too white. Despite my dizziness, I skip to them. Barely pausing to break, I throw my arms around the two of them. We teeter for a moment, balance overthrown, but we don't fall over.
They gently pat me on the back before pulling back.
"How have you guys been?" My excitement to see them again is obvious is my voice. "I've missed you both!"
Mishan scratches the back of his blonde head uncomfortably. Lyeela shuffles uneasily and grimaces.
My mood vanishes. "What's up?" I can't help it; horrible pictures are forming in my mind of what could be wrong. Has Mishan's mother gotten sick, worse than last time? Did a Peacekeeper do something horrible?
Lyeela answers first, the one who can work up the courage to lay down bad news. God knows she's had to do it plenty of times before. "The reapings are happening today."
I groan and throw my face in my hands. How could I not have known? I'm thankful Mo and the crew decided to dock a day earlier than originally planned. Out on the water, there are no separate days, just periods of light interrupted by a black sky and stars for several hours. There are no worries on the ship. Suddenly, being back on land isn't as good as I wanted it to be. I want to go back to the ocean and forget the stress of real life.
Mishan and Lyeela look at me with sympathetic eyes as I process the information.
"So," I say into the silence, "what time does it start?"
"About an hour." Mishan glances around for any signs, but there isn't a clock to be found.
Distantly, I hear Mo calling for me back from the ship. I tell Lyeela and Mishan to hold on two seconds while I go see what Mo wants.
I jog over to him. He's standing next to a pile of boxes filled with our nets and other fishing supplies. "Yeah?"
"Are ya gonna go with them kids over there?"
"Um, yes." I have to hold my hand up to block the sunlight. "Actually, the reapings are going to begin soon." Mo grumbles something unpleasant about where the Capitol can shove the reapings. I shoot him a warning look. "I've got to go change, and then I can meet you at the square, okay?"
Mo nods absently before shouting to burly Bort about the unloading of the ship.
"I've got a small problem," is the first thing I say when I come back to Lyeela and Mishan.
"What?" they say simultaneously.
I finger my ratty tank and shorts. "I don't think they'll much appreciate me showing up like this, and at the moment I don't have any other options." There's no need to mention who they are.
Mishan steps back and surveys me thoroughly. "I kind of like it. Rough."
"Like you don't give a [crud]," adds Lyeela.
"Well, I don't want any more tally marks against me," I respond bitterly. Being someone who works on a ship, the Peacekeepers never seem to be too approving. They are all suspicious that we'll somehow find a way to get past the giant wall cutting through the ocean that marks the border of our district.
They bob their heads in understanding.
"I've got something might be able to work." One look at Lyeela, and I doubt anything of hers will fit me. She's a tall beanpole of a girl, while I'm only 5'3". I'd have to role up a pair of her pants at least four times to keep from tripping.
Hesitant, I answer. "Okay…."
-Falcon Jones, District 4-
The reaping should be interesting today. I actually kind of feel bad for whichever sad girl has to be my district partner. She won't last five minutes in the Games. I'll make sure of it.
I lounge around in the square, hands in pockets, leaning against a building just on the outside edge of the seventeens' section. Having decided that this is the year I will claim as my own in Hunger Games history, I take this opportunity to examine the sorry faces of the girls that could be my partner. So far, no one of any interest. Besides, it's a 98% chance that none of these people I've looked at will even ever be going into the Games, let alone this year. Lucky them. Gives themselves at least another year alive, not that most of them have any choice, unlike me.
I yawn loudly and stretch, then push myself off the wall. I amble through the gathering crowd, letting people make way for me. No one ever dares to get within my reach.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a familiar head of dark curly locks. She notices me, gives a quick wave before turning back to a group of jabbering girls. And that is that. Amber and I rarely ever hang around each other outside of school. Compared to how often I acknowledge Damien, though, it's something.
Having no use for anyone, I go back to my previous spot against the wall. People stiffen as I pass them; exhales of relief follow behind me. I smirk in satisfaction. Better to have people fear you if gives you power. That's how it's always been for me, especially after my parents died three years ago. It makes it possible to earn a living when people are too scared to defy me.
Although, after these Games, I won't have to work to survive anymore. I'll have everything given to me to live easily from now on. And I'll be famous.
-Elana, District 4-
As it turns out, Lyeela actually had at hand a pair of gray cargo Capri's that fit me more like pants and a snug but comfortable blue tank. I will admit, I'm quite surprised.
When we arrive at the square, Lyeela says goodbye and walks to the sixteens' section while Mishan and I join a group of other fifteen-year-olds. I chat with them, but I can't stop distressing about the reapings. This is the worst day of the year, and I can't believe I lost track of it. One good thing did come out of that though: a few days less to stress. At least I got sleep last night.
The mayor walks on stage and makes his speech about the point of the Games, to torture us as punishment for the fight we caused a century ago. He brings up the point about how the Capitol almost decided to make the Games even more malicious after the stunt several years ago involving that girl, Katniss.
The thought of the Games being more horrifying than they already are sends shivers down my spine. Of course, this one being a mysterious Quarter Quell, it could be even worse this year. I pray that I won't have to find out personally.
-Falcon Jones, District 4-
I ignore the mayor's monotonous lecture. When the escort, Nathanial Shine, adorned with an electric blue Mohawk, saunters up, however, I straighten immediately and step away from the building. As if pressing fast forward, I don't see anything until Nathanial selects the female tribute's slip.
His voice is infuriatingly squeaky as he reads off the name. "Elana…" Nathanial trails off, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Elana!" he repeats more confidently.
For some reason, Elana — whoever she is — appears to be without a last name.
I expect disorder to arise due to the lack of a name, but it's quickly clear whom he has called.
A round-faced girl steps up to the stage. She appears shell-shocked. The look of fear hidden in her green, almost gray, eyes tells me that she won't be too difficult to knock off. Maybe I'll even let someone else take her; she won't be that impressive of a kill.
Then Nathanial moves to draw the boy's name, but I won't have any of it.
I bellow, "I'm the male tribute."
Taking my time, I stroll to the stage, a satisfied grin on my mouth.
Nathanial scrutinizes me for a moment, and I examine him back. He's dressed only in nets and ropes, and I have the strong desire to gag. Might not want to look too closely at him.
Nathanial exclaims to the audience that we shall be the year's tributes from District 4. He begins to elaborate, but I clear my throat. Noting my impatience, Nathanial, much like a hurt puppy, murmurs something unintelligible and has us shake hands, as is customary.
When Elana turns to face me, though, I just sneer down my nose at her. She's short, so it's not hard to. Her hand is held out expectantly, and I notice that it shakes almost imperceptibly. I don't offer my hand back.
An awkward moment later, Nathanial says, "This year shall be the best yet!"
We are dismissed into the Justice Building.
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-Tasting Raindrops-