I'm back again. But I'm soon to be back off holidays so the updates will get a bit slower. I hand wrote this chapter and had to type it up but mostly (while hand writing stuff without a computer) I started training, Games and planning so District 6 might not be up for a while.
For my future reference: should I do train rides yea or nay?
Once again: warn me about grammatical errors.
Warning: Drug references. Not real drugs (morphling) but still the point needs to be made.
District 5: Apollo Crete
The swings creak as I kick vaguely at the ground.
I know I'm not meant to think about where I came from but I don't see how I can't. I had a brother and there were lots of things I remember that don't fit: smoke, warehouses and a definite lack of builders.
I'm the only one around since it's the Reaping Day. All the little kids are being kept at home by parents, thankful that they're too young to be Reaped. My adoptive parents probably want me home too but I don't want to be there. It's too sad and I know they'll just worry about me more every time they see me.
Reapings aren't until 10am so most kids are probably making the most of a day off.
My friends definitely are, mucking around in the main village.
As afraid as I am of the Games, somewhere in the back of my mind is the idea that if I win the Games maybe I'll see my brother again. The big problem is the Games themselves. So much blood and death that I don't want to see, couldn't handle seeing. I hate being alone and I'm scared of dying.
I never want to go into the Games but at the same time I'd rather me than some little kid who'd never watched them and still didn't know what the Capitol could do.
Finally my morbidity is disrupted when a little kid appears tailed by a tired-looking mother who had the resigned look of a parent who's been badgered all morning until they gave in. As I jump off the swing I realise the kid was only about six. He probably doesn't even know what the Reapings were or why I hate each time my foot hits the ground more than the last.
I wouldn't force the Reapings on anyone else; I'd rather me than some poor little kid but I still wished they didn't happen at all.
I tried to convince myself the same thing I tried to convince myself every year; maybe we'd get lucky. Maybe District 5 would finally have another victor and all the food and fame it brought.
I never believed me.
District 5: Josephine "Joey" Cox
The sky's pretty this morning.
If only I had some paper. Maybe some colours too. My pencil is still behind my ear from last night but all my paper's used up.
There's the feather… Tina's cat… that dragon roof tile for the Capitol… Oooh I didn't finish that tree… wait it's that fish, I liked that fish… hey there's some paper… what did I want to draw?
Hey the sky's pretty…
I've just started the first cloud when Papa yells at me, "Come on Joey don't screw with me. Get up! Unless you want to be late for the Reapings?"
I shudder as I jump out of bed. If there's one thing I really hate it's the Reapings. The Games scenery is pretty but I don't want to see it for real.
Dave, Kyla and Leana don't have to worry about the Reapings. I know they're not real. It's just… nice to have people who don't worry about getting Reaped or their parents not giving a damn about them.
Must not think about Reapings.
They show me cool stuff to draw from their world; machines, clothes, animals, plants, whatever they/I can come up with.
Not today though.
My imagination is too panicked for them to come up with something nice for them to do so I block it out as I go to breakfast.
The table is deadly quiet as everyone eats. This is the only year we can all be Reaped. The first year for Freya, who wouldn't talk to me anyway, and Taylor's last yeas, not that he talks to anyone when he's stoned. Normally he's great- the best brother- but he smuggles morphling from District 6 to sell and on Reaping Day he uses it to get totally stoned. Mother works as the assistant to the assistant of a struggling building firm so I'm hardly surprised she's already at work, even on Reaping Day. Papa is stuck at home so he's wearing an old set of shorts and a loose T-shirt that makes his scrawny muscle look even more out of place than usual. I can't even draw him quite right and that's saying something.
When I finally leave the room I can feel the entire family relax slightly. Just because I don't want to live in a world where 23 kids die each year for sport, not counting freezing and starving in their own homes. My own little world is so much happier, my imaginary friends get to do whatever they want and get dessert every day.
I pull open my drawing box and rifle through, debating whether to take it to the Reapings or not. If I get Reaped I don't want to lose it… but I want to draw while I'm waiting for the speeches to finish.
Hey there's the perfect orange for the sun… Maybe I can just take my pencil… then again if I get Reaped my family might sell my art set.
I saved up for years to buy it but they always want to get rid of it for food. We have enough food but they want more. Food was temporary; you eat it, it dies and vanishes but art was forever and they aren't going to take away my art. When he wasn't stoned Taylor would say that art would die and vanish too if you ate it but he was only kidding.
Taylor actually likes my drawing. Sometimes he tells me things to draw things the… mushrooms show him.
Freya bursts in with her hair done up in a bun with her best clothes on and her eyes narrow before she yells at me, "Are you serious Joey? You're not even dressed? Now you're gonna make me late!"
I want to be Freya's perfect big sister but I'm just not. I've tucked my pencil behind my ear and I'm about to get up when she keeps yelling.
"You're not even listening to me are you? You never listen to me, you're always daydreaming. You don't even try to earn us money because you're too busy drawing. Not even architecture, it's always dragons and mythological creatures," she yells as she grabs my wrist and yanks me towards the door.
I want to reach for my drawing stuff but the thought is half-hearted because I want to be nice to Freya so I let her drag me to the Reapings.
Dave, Kyla and Leana follow me, trying to make me happy and I let them pull me into my dream world until the Reapings start.
Apollo:
The Reapings would be bad anyway but the crushing claustrophobia makes it so much worse. Feeling packed in with all the terrified people pushing around with you.
A kid next to me with a constant nervous twitch, sweating like a pig and jumping up and down looks pale so I pass him my drink bottle and he nods gratefully. Meanwhile I'm not much better.
I don't want to go to the Games.
I'm scared but at the same time I'm just as scared of someone else getting Reaped. I know my adoptive parents can't have kids but I can't imagine letting a little kid go to the Games for me to be safe.
The last 2 years it's been older kids but what if it isn't this year?
Not that I have time to worry as our moronic escort leaps onto the stage, grinning manically.
When it's not the Reapings I'm normally described as 'bubbly' but I've got nothing on the escort.
He isn't too long compared to other Districts but he speaks in a monotone and it makes him seem more mind-numbingly boring than the others. Not that the Capitol sees the escorts much but I don't get why they'd hire anyone that dull. I didn't even know it was possible to speak in a monotone that happily until I say him.
When he finally finishes I realise that I don't want him to stop. I don't want to hear the names of the next 2 people going to their deaths.
"Freya Cox," he calls as a 12 year old walks towards the stage.
I want to do something –anything- for her but I don't have to as a voice calls out from the crowd, "I volunteer!"
The girl that climbs up is the spitting image of the 12 year old who got Reaped… a cousin maybe? Sister?
In cases like this the younger sibling usually begs the older one not to go or tries hanging onto them but not this time. The younger one looks thankful but awkward and confused as she walks off the stage.
The escort wastes no time in digging out another name, "Prale Grate!"
A scrawny 12 year old follows the females' footsteps, alone up the stairs.
His foot hits the first step, no volunteer.
Second step no volunteers.
Final step and still no one moves.
"I volunteer!" a voice squeaks and it takes a moment to realise it's mine.
I can already imagine my new and old families sobbing as I die and a tear rolls down my cheek.
I don't want to die.
I'm scared.
Joey:
Freya and I go to the square together; Taylor's too stoned so his 'friends' are dragging him.
My friends, Dave, Kyla and Leana, are telling me I won't be Reaped and that it'll all be fine when we reach my age group. Freya's clearly annoyed I'm in my dream world again as she huffs and storms over to the 12 year olds by herself.
Hm… our escort's hair's a nice colour this year… sort of blue like the ocean.
His voice is boring though and he goes on… and on… and on. I don't know how the other Districts stand listening to their escorts about the 'pride and value of the Games' and they drone on even more.
Dave's put the escort's wig on and is mocking his speech- I didn't think it possible to be so happy and yet so monotonous- and I let out a small giggle as I get 'she's nuts' stares from everyone around me.
I swear I'm not nuts… I just like other places more than here where the sky's always pretty and there's no Capitol.
Finally the escort steps towards the bowl. I'm not exactly happy about the Reapings but I've finished the sky and I want to go and draw using the colour of the escort's weird hair.
The name that's drawn shatters that little dream, "Freya Cox."
No… not Freya. I took all the tesserae for the two of us to keep her happy and make up for all the times my personality didn't.
Not Freya… Freya who has to deal with Taylor's… habits, Freya who started work at 10, Freya who's always so practical.
I can't let Freya go so I yell the only two words I can think of, "I volunteer."
Freya doesn't argue.
She seems shocked but she just lets me go.
I'm more distracted than usual as the boy's name is called. I can't believe that Freya's name was drawn, that I'm going into the Hunger Games. At least that means I get to see the Games scenery up close, now that I don't have a choice not to go.
Even with another volunteer I'm still out of it. It strikes me as odd that I see a tear roll down his cheek after he volunteered but I ignore it.
Leana tries to cheer me up, "Well we said you wouldn't get Reaped."
If she was real I would have throttled her.
Not only isn't my real world safe; now my dream world isn't either.
Apollo:
Rachel and Steve are crying when they arrive to say goodbye. I'm the only child they're ever going to have- they can't afford adoption, they just found me wandering in the woods.
I want to tell them that I'll come home, that we'll all be safe and rich in the Victor's Village but I can't form the words. All I want is to spend my last few moments in District 5 with my family- real or not.
"Why Apollo?" my mother asks in a hoarse whisper. It's nice to think of her as my mother at least once even if it's a lie.
"I couldn't just let that little kid die!" I shout. I don't mean to get angry but this should be my last time with my family and yet Rachel has to ask. The shouting just covers for more tears I try to choke back for Rachel and Steve's sakes if not my own.
Just make sure it's not in vain, Apollo. Come back to us please, just… come back," Steve covers over Rachel's potential outburst.
I nod, unable to speak through the tears and the terror.
As Rachel and Steve are led out of the room I wipe off the tears and try to compose myself as some of my friends are led in.
I try to grin and seem confident but my heart isn't in it. I think my friends realise but they're nice enough not to mention it.
Clay gives me a slap on the back and tells me I'm going to be great. His expression doesn't match his actions and I wonder if he's already thinking about how I'm going to die. Tyler looks at his feet and mumbles something about 'good luck' while avoiding my gaze. He's the smart one and if he thinks there's no hope for me then he's probably right. Dimen's famous for being hot-headed and obnoxious so he tries to give me some pointers on fighting but really I just fell more out of my depth than ever.
"Don't worry about me guys. Just don't watch, okay? I'll have a mentor and stuff. I hope you guys have nice lives. Just… remember me," by the end I'm close to tears again and they're all ushered out of the room by Peacekeepers.
I feel the most alone I've ever felt in my life as I'm escorted out as well.
Even as Joey, my District partner, is led out beside me as we're taken to the train I still feel totally isolated. Joey seems distant, but from what I've seen of her 'out of it' is her natural state of mind.
When I was little and first got found my Rachel and Steve I thought it was the worst moment of my life. I felt so lost without my family, my brother, in a strange District that was oddly loud and full of people in overalls.
Now was even worse. At least I'd had Rachel and Steve back then. This time I've lost my families, my friends, my life, everything.
I thought about smiling for the cameras on the way to the train but I don't want to give the Capitol what they wanted so I just glare.
Maybe if I'd at least seen the kid I volunteered for, knowing I chose to go to the Games would be somewhat better.
We're about to step onto the train when I see him and his mother being led from the Justice Building. So they did come to see me? Then why didn't they?
Knowing they came to see me makes me feel somewhat better but it only increased the ache for home pressing on my chest and the curiosity as to why I didn't see them.
Goodbye District 5.
Forever.
Joey:
My father visits first. I doubt my mother's going to visit at all. Normally I try to tell myself that she just enjoys work but I realise now that it's her way of escaping reality; I draw, she works.
"Why did you volunteer for Freya?" Papa asks, standing slightly apart from me.
"I thought Freya deserves it. I know I'm not like the rest of you, I just want to draw and Taylor wants to make trouble," I reply but it just makes him… confused? Angry? I want to go back into my own little world, to shut out real life but I force myself to concentrate.
"Don't ever convince yourself that we don't love you. I just don't understand you sometimes. Don't believe for a second that we won't be rooting for you the whole way, that we don't want you to come home," normally we're pretty distant but this is a hug moment and I finally let my imagination run away from the pain.
I imagine coming home to my family, to Taylor actually sober, to Freya actually happy to see me and Mother not at work. That I've won and live in Victor's Village with my own art room. The house is covered in flowers of different colours and I have a full set of paints, crayons, pencils, everything I've ever dreamed of.
The image shatters as he has to leave to be replaced by a still-thoroughly-stoned Taylor.
Morphling messes with your emotions and he's listless as he wanders into the room. I know he's going to be angry with himself when the drug wears off so I just give him a quick hug before writing a letter to his sober self with the pencil behind my ear.
I tell him to have a nice life and that if I don't come back it's the morphling's fault he didn't get to say goodbye. It's a cruel knife to twist but he needs to learn and I'm going to lose the rest of my life to tell him to go sober.
Finally I tell him I'm going to win for him and sketch me riding a dragon in a forest. Taylor likes my drawing so it's an excuse to zone out and draw before the Games.
Last is Freya.
"Um… thanks," she says awkwardly, "Sorry for yelling at you this morning."
"That's okay, just… make it worthwhile. GO get a job, get married, whatever, just remember I'm watching out for you," I reply, trying to cheer her up a bit.
"Thanks Joey," she whispers and I hold her while she cries before she goes.
As we walk to the train I'm back with Dave and Kyla as I start trying to think of a design for an armoured griffin to start drawing on the train… maybe gold?
That was trippy… I was copying this off a hand-written page and I though I'd made a mistake and I realised I was about a sentence past where I thought I was and I'd written it perfectly…
Weird.
Until next time folks.
Ryder out.