*clears throat abashedly* Hehe, hi everyone. . . I know it's been a long time, but I've finally finished another chapter. See? *points over-enthusiastically* It's not very long, but it's something! Johnny doesn't say much in this chapter, really just because he doesn't seem like he'd be a very talkative person, even in his own mind.
Anyway, I'm on Thanksgiving break now, so I'm hoping I'll have time to write another chapter before going back to school. I've got a ton to do this week, though, so I can't promise anything. :/
DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Hunger Games. If I did, they would be far less popular. ;)
-Lynna Rassorvanni, District 8-
I gently slide a brush through my hair as I sit cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom, my back against the wall. Light passes easily through the window above me and rests in streaks across the single bed in the center of the room, illuminating the twisted, wrinkled sheets on my side of the bed and the juxtaposing smoother side where my sister sleeps.
A rose-colored dress lies folded at the end of the bed, a silent reminder of what day it is.
Having procrastinated long enough, I stand and place my brush beside the dress. My fingers run over the stiff fabric, reminding me of the only other two times I've worn this dress. Gritting my teeth, I decide I'd better just get it over with now.
I pull the dress on and adjust the straps; I've grown in the past year. The dress is on the verge of being dangerously short, the hem only reaching mid-thigh. I suppose that's what happens when you suddenly seem to shoot up overnight to be just a couple inches shy of six feet.
After putting on a pair of white shoes, I leave the virtually empty bedroom and walk out into the kitchen.
"You look nice," Linen greets me from a chair at the table. Her dress is a yellow version of mine, but I can already tell it fits her better than mine fits me. Linen has yet to have any kind of major growth spurt, so now I stand a good half-foot taller than her despite the fact that we're twins.
"You too." I take a seat in the chair across from hers. Linen scoots her half-finished plate towards me. I pick up the rest of the bread and begin pulling off small pieces of it to eat. It's stale, but it serves its purpose. I smile my thanks.
Fingers drumming, Linen looks towards our parents' bedroom. "I hope they're almost ready."
I nod. Our parents have a bad habit of waiting until the last possible minute for every occasion. Sometimes that's not a problem, although it's annoying, but the reapings are not something I want to be late to.
Soon enough, though, our parents come out of their room, and together we walk to the square.
-Johnny Whiplash, District 8-
"Johnny!"
"What,Mom?"
"Get down here. Now!"
"Why?"
"Because it's time to go!"
"But I don't want to go! I'm eating."
"Then bring the food with you!"
"But—"
"Stop whining and getdownhere!"
"Ugh, fine," I yell back to her. I start gathering my piles of sausage links in my hands, grumbling under my breath.
Getting down the stairs is difficult with my hands so full and my stomach so empty; I'm huffing by the bottom. "Why do we have to have these stairs in our house? I don't like them," I complain.
"Honey, don't you dare start whining again," Mom says exasperatedly. She's waiting by the front door, impatiently holding it open.
I take my sweet time getting to the door, savoring her frustration. I don't want to leave yet, and I want her to know it.
"Thank you," she says when I'm through the door. I give her a sarcastic smile and shove another sausage in my mouth.
The walk to the square is going to be a long one.
-Lynna Rassorvanni, District 8-
"Guess who?" Cold palms sneak up behind me, over my eyes and cheeks. The voice is exaggeratedly rough and deep, but there's a hint of girlishness to the accent that makes it quite obvious who it is.
I pretend to think for a moment. "Um... Is it Max?"
There's no attempt to cover up the laugh from behind me. The hands peel away, and Kayle says, "Nice try."
I turn and give a quick hug to my best friend. "How are you doing?"
She shrugs. "Decent. You?"
"Same." I glance around at the other fourteen-year-olds lounging around our section of the square. I easily spot Linen in the crowd, but that's the only really familiar face I can find. "So where's Max?" I ask nonchalantly.
"I'm right here."
I spin around to find Max standing behind me with his humorous smirk fitting easily into place across his lips. Noticing his mouth automatically sends my mind reeling back to two months ago when he kissed me behind the textile factory. We're not officially together, but we might as well be.
"Oh, hi." I grin self-consciously. His returning smile is warm.
Today being the day it is, our conversation is strained as we wait for the mayor. Even Kayle runs short on words, so we settle for silently standing in the crowd, sending comfort through brief glances and weak smiles.
The sky is like a mirror reflecting the entire crowd's mood: gray with smog and sorrow. Humidity clings to everyone's skin and seduces my hair to frizz and curl at the ends.
Just as the giant looming clock announces that it is now noon, the mayor strolls onto the stage.
-Johnny Whiplash, District 8-
I roll my eyes at the fat man with no hair and a dumb smile who begins talking into the microphone as if anyone actually cares. Snickering at his stupidity, I toss another sausage into my mouth.
I stop snickering when I realize that it's my last one.
Ugh.
-Lynna Rassorvanni, District 8-
By the time the escort has the mike, I'm biting the inside of my cheek from nerves. I've never been this anxious at the reapings before; I know how dangerous they are, but they've never seemed particularly real to me. Like it could never happen to me. But for whatever reason, I'm starting to feel just how real this really could be.
I have to squint to see the escort, Taliana Marsco, dressed in her bright neon colors. "Hello, everybody! How great it is to see all of your excited faces. Isn't this just a lovely day?" Her question is answered by dead silence, but she continues cheerfully. "It is time to select the District 8's female tribute for this year's Game!"
She swings her turquoise hair over her shoulder as she saunters over to choose an unfortunate girl's name. Her hand hovers over the slips of paper for a brief moment, fingers wiggling, before snatching a small piece of paper.
Someone grabs my hand, and I find myself immediately gripping it with all my strength.
Smile wide, Taliana reads the name into the microphone. "Lynna Rassorvanni!"
No… no.
My breath comes quick, but I swallow and try to compose myself, turning to look at my friends.
Kayle's eyes have already spilled over with tears, and she appears to be stuffing her fist in her mouth to keep from shouting out loud. Max's face, on the other hand, is relatively blank. The only sign of consciousness in it are his eyes, which are staring intently at our grasping hands.
Tentatively, I let go and watch it drop to his side. His eyes raise slowly to meet mine, but I'm suddenly wrenched toward the stage by an impatient Peacekeeper. I glare accusingly at him, but when he ignores me, I try to look back at Max. I stumble and am forced to keep facing forward as I'm thrown at the stairs.
When I'm onstage, I hear someone cry out.
Linen rushes forward through the mess of the fourteens, screaming that she will volunteer to take my place, but I shake my head violently.
"But Lynna!" she cries in exasperation.
"No," I say. "Linen, I can do this!" That's probably a lie. Who knows if I really can make it out alive? I sure don't. But I do know that I won't let Linen die, especially not for me. I can handle myself. I don't want people thinking that I need others to solve my problems. I can do this, even if it doesn't necessarily mean I'll live.
Linen stares open mouthed at the stage, unsure of what to do. I just glare back at her. When two Peacekeepers start to strut forward, though, she finally backs down and merges back into the throng of people, head down.
"Excellent!" Taliana exclaims, and I glare at her too. She also ignores it.
Then she grabs a slip from the boys' bowl and announces the male tribute to be, "Johnny Whiplash!"
-Johnny Whiplash, District 8-
My jaw drops when the escort dares to choose me.
This can't be right! I desperately look around for my parents. When I spot my mom, I try to run to her, but the people around me shove me the other way. Their annoyed faces make it clear that they don't care that I've been chosen. In fact, some are relieved. This only makes me more frantic and upset, and pretty soon I'm being dragged to stage by Peacekeepers, shouting for my mom to fix this horrible mistake.
Once standing in front of everyone, I scrunch up my watery eyes and purse my lips. Every one of them is stupid and not worth my attention, so I just scowl at the buildings across the square, pretending nothing just happened. Because nothing did happen. When my parents settle this little misunderstanding out, everything will be just as it was. After all, we are one of the wealthiest family in the district; we own the finest clothing factory. My parents will get me out of this.
With this comforting thought, I settle for imagining what Mother will make for dinner tonight once I'm back home and some other poor fellow — no pun intended — is stuck on a train in my place.
-Lynna Rassorvanni, District 8-
Johnny Whiplash is an extremely portly boy with squinty gold eyes, about four chins, and, from what he has displayed so far in the reaping, a pompous attitude.
When Taliana tells us to shake hands, I stare down threatening at him, and he leers right back up at me, and both of us are too prideful to offer the other our hand. Again, Taliana continues as if we had both obliged with cheery smiles and cheesy introductions.
And then all too soon, the reapings are over. As I'm escorted into the looming Justice Building, I realize that the reapings have become all too real for me.
Thanks for reading and please leave a review! :)
-Tasting Raindrops-