Sorry this took so long… exams…
Well exams and a complete lack of will to write more Reapings.
I feel almost motivated now. Only two Reapings to go!
Wait… no I don't. There's another Reaping to write. So sorry if this isn't up to my usual level, I'll rewrite after I've escaped the Reapings… I'm continuing my bad goodbye challenge; Denver's still has a hint of saccharinity but Millie's is pretty bad.
Then I put up a poll on my profile and start the fun stuff like *tiny spoiler* Felix (1) breaking into the drinks car on the train.
Two more things: I had to change Millie's history a tiny bit to make her a bit more of a canon District 11 character.
Second thing: should I do the chariots from the POV of Regan Vale the rookie stylist or the tributes themselves?
Scratch that, three things: Someone made a forum for the Christmas SYOT Awards so feel free to go over and submit your favourite SYOT for an award of any kind. No I don't mean this is for me, this is for anyone's SYOT you think is worth a mention and there's a completed SYOT directory: .net/forum/Christmas_2011_SYOT_Awards/99052/
District 11: Denver Radisson
Some people might enjoy waking up to the sound of birdsong on Reaping Day, the one day they know they won't go to bed aching from the cracks of the Peacekeeper's whips and the strain of pulling fruit from the trees. It's a special kind of skill to be able to pick just enough fruit into your own mouth to push yourself through the day without being obtrusive, either in fruit count or just being obvious.
I can't appreciate the birdsong.
Not because I'm a crazy psycho or anything, I just can't hear anything. Being deaf sort of does that to you.
Funny that.
In another District I might have been treated before I went deaf but no, losing another District 11 slave doesn't mean much in the Capitol. I'm lucky to be alive, unlike my parents who vanished when I was 8 leaving me packed in with my grandparents as a prime example of the poor lives we live in District 11.
Aspen watches me anxiously as I get up from the floor. I don't have to worry about blankets since we have none and since we have no space it's only two steps to the door. The only un-filled space is a corner with the door, the mandatory television and a bucket for… waste matter.
Anyone in District 11 is lucky to live past the age of 40 so being able to live with grandparents is a privilege especially when they're 57. They're pretty much village elders since having kids at 20 is a way of life with the famine in District 11.
Breakfast is a gritty mix of a few blueberries with tesserae flower and water that has the consistency of glue with a sour aftertaste from the week-or-more old berries. Still, it's food and it gives me something in my stomach that will take the next few hours to digest until I go to sleep. Waking up at 12 is a relief after years and years of hard work in the fields with only one day of respite for Reapings.
I like not being at work for once. I know that I have to accept the fact that I'll never hear again. I have to accept that I can't even claim that I'm a man if I don't know if my voice has broken yet. It's still a relief not to have to work more than twice as hard as anyone else for 2 hours every day trying to lip read the 'teacher' at District 11's pathetic excuse for a school.
Leaving the District, the hard work and the dodgy schooling; I can't even imagine being Reaped.
District 11: Millie Sun Mallard
It's already 1 pm when I finally manage to coax myself off the floor.
Our 'house' is basically just a few sheets from one solid wall strapped to the ground. It gives us a permanent under-a-blanket effect but I like it just as much as I did when we had a house. It seems warm and cosy with an extra blanket over my head and the feeling of us all squished together. What's considered a house in District 11 is a small shack that's just big enough to fit a family in so after there was a fire that burned through a section of the District and half our house before it was put out.
This means I'm up for a ridiculous amount of tesserae to feed my layabout father who experiments in 'herbs' now we can't afford morphling and my mother because all the money she earns goes towards blankets for the roof which are rare in District 11 but not as rare as the building materials we would need for a proper roof. It sucks that she has to work so hard and I'm more than happy to take tesserae for her. My father? Er… less so.
This has made me more than a little bit paranoid before the Reapings. Taking tesserae is a commonplace necessity in District 11, but I've been taking more to cover for the food we can't buy because we need a roof and, for that matter, a back wall.
Having shoes is a luxury we can't afford so I'll be going to Reapings barefoot in an old set of shredded jeans and a t shirt, same thing I wear every day. It looks a lot comfier than all the tight pants, weird designs and sharp edges that I sometimes see Capitol people in.
I doubt I'd even know what to do if I had free time because with too many days off I couldn't just sleep all day and the Reapings wouldn't be on every day off. We work every day of the week except for two hours a day at school where we get Capitol-funded jargon spewed at us by a Peacekeeper. There used to be a teacher I haven't seen him in District 11 since he 'retired.' I miss him, he was a fun teacher and actually made jargon entertaining.
I wonder what people do all day in other Districts or if they got Reaped to go to the Capitol. There's no work and plenty of food that they don't have to make or anything. Well that's because we do it but the point is that they have so much freedom that I don't even know how I would use. It must be strange being a victor, spending all your time cooped up in a house with anything you want.
Still, with no money for food and no siblings to wait for, I trudged out of the door, hungry.
Getting the day off for Reapings was a double-edged sword for me; it was a day off from work, but without any work there was no reason for me to have to eat and waste our food.
At least I get to spend the day with Greg and Sash, my personal first and second wheels.
Denver:
Emit is waiting for me outside, he's been my next door neighbour and best friend since I was a toddler, even before I was deaf, and he learnt Panem's sign language just for me.
You ready for Reapings? He asks; Reapings isn't in the sign language so we replaced it with a… crude hand signal.
Who's ever ready for Reapings? I reply rhetorically as Emit answers anyway. I wish he wasn't up for Reapings, but I'm glad for the company and at least there's no chance of Aspen being in danger.
Careers, he replies with a flick of his wrist.
True, I reply thoughtfully. If I was ever in the Hunger Games, I wouldn't just be dead because I'm deaf, that's never been much of a problem for me because I can work around it such as using body language and tiny air movements or ground movements, but because I have no experience. The Careers and their training would rip me apart in seconds.
The noise of all the people approaching the square doesn't faze me as we head towards the square before Emit has to break off and go to the 16s section, leaving me to go to the 17s alone.
Hey, Egra says as I stand next to her. She's in my grade at school but she doesn't sign so I have to lip read, like I've done for most of my life.
Hey, have you seen the new stage for the Reapings? I wonder how they can afford that, I reply darkly. I can't hear myself, but I learned how to speak before I went deaf and no one seems to have any trouble understanding me.
Probably paid it off with the kumquats they made us spend 3 months harvesting in the orange field last year, she replies, I had calluses on my hands for months after hoeing all of the land they needed to plant an entirely different type of tree on that land and I almost choked to death on all of those fertilisers. You could smell them, right? She asks.
I narrowly avoid rolling my eyes at her. It's infuriating how many people don't realize that I'm just deaf; not blind, mute, unable to smell and stupid as well.
Yeah, it was definitely stupid, but not as stupid as that stage looks.
Egra giggles as we both look at the stage. I like communicating with people even if I can't hear them. It's strange but fascinating and I just like making people happy in general. The stage really does look stupid; a bright red and neon green stage which makes me wish I was already blind so I don't have to gouge my eyeballs out with my fingernails. The only thing that looks more stupid is our escort who's tattooed like she's covered in fruit.
I don't even bother putting in the effort to lip read her. Sure it's a second nature to me, but even Egra's little rant took a considerable amount of effort to keep up with.
I almost wish I could hear, just to distract me from worrying about the Games and what could happen to me.
I don't even know the name of the girl who gets Reaped; I just see her walking desolately towards the stage.
I don't know the name of the boy; I just stand there until Egra pokes me in the arm. I don't even have to ask her why she's poked me, I don't have to turn and see her nervous expression and I definitely don't have to hear the words she utters to know what's happened.
I've been chosen for the Hunger Games.
I'm leaving my District behind.
I'm going to miss the rest of my day off.
Damn…
Millie:
When I leave my 'house' I'm met by Greg and Sash, my two friends in District 11. I'm pretty lucky to have any company at all considering the amount of work we do but we talked sometimes at school and Greg is the guy that pulls the cart for our area to the depot to be sent off to the Capitol so we see each other occasionally.
Still, I always feel like a third wheel. While Greg and Sash say they enjoy my company and joke about the fact I'm horribly shy in public places, they sort of leave me out of it. They always tell me I should talk more but that doesn't stop getting them carried away. At least they're funny to watch getting carried away.
Even if they were people who never spoke to me in my life, it's a comfort to have someone with me as we head for the Reapings. Since they have spoken to me plenty of times, it's so much better to be with them than on my own.
They're not totally unafraid of the Reapings, but Greg's fairly rich from having a higher paid job shifting all the food into the city centre and Sash's an only child with one parent so they have a tiny shack and fewer mouths to feed and thus more money. Meanwhile, in the Millie corner, I've taken a huge stack of tesserae and I'm panicking; badly.
It doesn't help that I barely make it to the 15s section with Sash without collapsing due to the lack of food.
She tries to keep me happy by continuing to chat, even if I don't reply with all the people packed in, but I can see her having a non-verbal conversation with Greg in the 16s. Sometimes I wish I was able to talk more, but after I was half-strangled to death by Yeast Wedry for saying his brother should've learned how to climb trees before shattering most of the bones in his body trying to steal raspberries from my tree two years ago. His brother was 'euthanized' by the Peacekeepers a week later and since then I've tried to avoid saying anything in case it comes out… I guess wrong is the word.
Our escort leaps onto the stage and I can't get rid of the incessant buzzing of her voice no matter how much I feel like passing out.
The only things that could focus my concentration are the three words I hear, "Millie Sun Mallard!"
I have to try and keep myself steady as I blunder towards the stage, the tunnel vision starting to creep in as she calls out the boy's name. There aren't any volunteers.
A bear walks up to join me from the 17s section as the mentor cheers our names.
I don't think they reap bears but he's huge and has a dark red-brown tan and with my hunger-addled brain he looks like one.
I can't… pass out now…
I need to get through the Goodbyes and passing out on stage… bad idea.
Things I like about the Capitol already; food.
Denver:
First to say goodbye are my grandparents.
They're barely alive; starved, moving carcases that exist only because they feel obligated to look after Aspen and I after our parents died.
The time off work will do them some good but the reason might just kill them.
You can't give up because of me, you got it? I say quietly as I pull them each into a hug. I know you want to care for us so you better keep doing it for Aspen with or without me… please.
My grandfather smiles at the use of the word 'please,' something he's tried to get me to do for years.
He waves me goodbye and I wave back as a lump forms in my throat at the thought of never again seeing the people who have raised me like their own child since my parents were dragged away.
Next up: Emit.
My best, and only, friend in District 11. The one who never cared whether I could hear his rambling stories and his tales about his 'romantic exploits.' The one who would speak in sign language just for me, whether his other friends thought I was a stupid waste of space or not.
"Hey Denver…" Emit signs, looking sorry for me but clearly not sure what to do with himself or what to say.
"You don't have to sign just for me, Em," I say out loud… I think.
"Come on Den, you know I don't mind having to do this for you. I've known you since I was born and some stupid deafness isn't going to get in the way of that, least of all before the Games!"
"That's the problem. The Games I can't let them know that I'm deaf, they'll exploit any weakness. I have to act like I can hear and like I don't know sign language," I reply. It's only then that the full horror of the Games crashes over me. I'll be living a lie through the Games; I'll be on sentry duty in the pitch blackness relying on only scent to notice any potential threats.
I'm not sure if I'm more worried about that or the fact that if I win I'll be able to hear again. I can't imagine hearing anything after years of unearthly stillness.
Emit doesn't reply, he just nods and sends me off with a bro-hug. That's what we are; brothers in all but parentage.
He might not be my real brother but that doesn't make him any less important than any other sibling lost to the Games. The only person I could ever miss more is Aspen so it breaks my heart to see her replace Emit in front of me in the Goodbye room.
Her jaw is set tight and I can see she's trying not to cry.
I pull her into a bear hug, wishing that I could shield her in my arms from the Games like I have every other year when our TV flickers to life. Even just being able to turn off the TV would be enough. Letting my little sis not watch her big brother either kill or be killed on the big screen.
For the first time I feel myself truly wishing that I was never struck down by meningitis. I've always been able to do everything anyone else does no matter how much effort it takes but the thing I want most in the world right now is one thing I can't do.
I can't hear my sister crying as she tells me goodbye. I can't hear her say the words even if I feel her lips move against my skin and her breath on my shoulder but I can't hear the words she says.
Maybe the Capitol will repair my hearing if I win. They never do beforehand; blind, deaf and mute tributes are great fun.
That doesn't change the fact that if I don't win I'm never going to hear my little sister's voice. I'm never going to see my little sister grow up, get pissed off at her first boyfriend, never going to help her through another shift on the orchards.
According to one of the old victors, the best thing you can have in the Games is focus.
Right now, all I need is the image of Aspen getting married some day with a crown of orchard flowers, the District 11 tradition, and I'll fight forever.
Since I have no parents, she's my sister, my foster 'daughter' and my best friend and not even Death can take her away from me, no matter how weak my hearing is.
Millie:
I just make it into the room for the goodbyes when I collapse onto the chair, unable to function enough to move my arms.
Greg and Sash walk into the room and I just manage to stand up to say goodbye and hug them. For once, they're more speechless than me as they choke through their words, wracked by sobs.
I don't even realise I've blacked out until I'm coming to on the couch of the couch with my mother giving my hair one last stroke, my head in her lap like she would have done when I was just a little child in her arms. Then the hand stops stroking and my eyes snap open.
The Peacekeepers are leading out my mother as I try to grab her hand, to pull her back towards me as she gives me one last loving glance before turning a corner as I'm slammed back into the room by a Peacekeeper.
Once again I collapse onto the couch with exhaustion, but now there's a light in my eyes. Now I have to win. I can't let myself die in the Games without telling my mother I love her and my friends that they're the best.
So I'm not going to die.
No way are the Games going to take me without me getting to say goodbye to everyone important.
I know fate's not exactly the best of company, I do live in half a house after all, but it's not that evil.
Now that I know that I can win this, I'm more than willing to pass out until I get some food. That way I get to dodge the cameras on the way to the train and I don't get all depressed about not getting to see my mother before the Games.
Yet the more I want the blackness, the less it comes. I won't admit it, but I'm scared. I know I can win, I'm used to Hunger and living off berries from the trees but I'm scared.
When I start feeling scared I feel somehow incomplete, my mind totally entranced in the past instead of looking towards the future, to how awesome my life would be if I won.
The bear boy, Denver, just looks dead focussed and cold.
I don't know which I'd rather be; normally I'm the smiling one, even when I'm not talking I try to be happy, but right now I'm exhausted and scared.
Really I'd like the third option; remaining the third wheel of Sash and Greg, no matter how much it annoyed me, is an unimaginable amount better than dead.
No.
Depressed is bad.
I need to look forward, make the most of things and in general; don't worry and be happy.
Sorry this took so long and is probably so bad… I can barely stand to write any more Reapings…
Train Rides next, (after D12) YAY!