The third chapter, written by Tracker Jackson, once again! You'll love it! And why don't you review?
The dull hum of cartons moving down the conveyor belt almost lulls me to sleep, and I have to keep repeating my instructions: left, center, right, and repeat. I pack apples according to their type. Every tenth crate, I slip and apple into my dress without anyone noticing. My family is too poor to go without this extra food.
We survive on the meager wages brought in by my mom, who is a gardener, and my dad, who is a harvester. I am a packer, and it is easier for me to steal food. The Peacekeepers search all of the harvesters when their shift is over, and anyone caught stealing will be whipped twenty times.
I remember the day Rye caught me stealing apples. Rye is my packing partner. We were paired together when we both first started the job when we were twelve. After a year, we became close friends, and I have had a crush on him ever since. He doesn't know this yet, but I plan on asking him out after the reaping today. I return to packing apples.
Packing is the easiest of all of District Eleven's jobs. There has only been one accident on the job: A fifteen year old girl's hair got caught in the belt, and she was dragged into the machine that squishes the crate together. I was only nine when it happened, and wasn't working in the factory, but I remember the gruesome body as it was carried past the school.
It was the day I was partnered with Mazie for the school's infamous seed identification test. We were working off in the corner, stuck on identifying a pesky guava seed, when the body was dragged past. It's not uncommon for people to die of unnatural causes, because the Peacekeepers are so strict. However, Job accidents were rare.
Mazie and I were the only ones to see the body. We never talked about it, but I remember her nauseous face, and shaking hands. If this hadn't happened, I'm not sure we would have become such close friends.
You know what they say about traumatizing moments bonding people? I think that's what happened to us. The next day, without either of us really talking about it, I went over to her house for dinner. We quickly became the best of friends.
She even knows about my crush on Rye. They aren't great friends, because he quit school when he started packing, but she knows him enough to know he is nice.
The shift bell rings, and I return to the present. I pluck one more apple from the shelf, and hide it in my skirt. I need to get home quickly, because the reaping is in a few hours. Rye washes his hands and joins me as I'm walking out of the door.
"Are you ready for the pre-reapings?"
The pre-reapings, as far as I know, exist only in District Eleven. We are the biggest district, bigger even than the Capitol. In order for everyone to fit in the Main Square, the mayor holds a pre-reaping. He picks five thousand names at random from a list of the children aged twelve to eighteen, and he prints off their names. These are the names that go into the reaping ball.
I am fourteen, and take tereasse for me, my mom, and my dad, so my name is on the population list twelve times. I am expecting to make it to the final reapings, but it is highly unlikely I will actually be chosen for the Games.
"Ready as I'll ever be. Are you?"
While Rye is also fourteen, he has three sister and his parents. Because none of them are of reaping age, he has to take tereasse out on all of them. His name is on the population list twenty one times. While the odds are still in his favor, he has a larger chance of being reaped. Still, he appears almost calm.
"Nothing I can do to stop it now. The most I can do is hope."
We walk the rest of the way back to my house in silence, neither one of us wanting to talk about the terrifying five hours ahead of us. We reach my house first.
"I hope I don't see you tonight."
He cracks a small smile at my almost-joke. "Same with me."
I walk into the small house I share with my mom and dad, and walk into the bathroom. Knowing I will be in the final reaping, I wore my reaping clothes to work today. I admire the stitching on the ebony sleeves, and the fabric on the light green skirt.
It goes well with my brownish reddish hair, and my tan skin. I apply some water to my cheekbones to make them shine and some tinted soap to my eyelids to accentuate my brown eyes. I pull my hair back into its signature low ponytail, and tie it with a bit of rope.
My parents won't get home until right before the final reapings, so I pass the time by cutting and eating one of the five apples I was able to steal.
Right at three o'clock, there is a heavy knock at the door. I take a deep breath to steal myself, and answer it. A Peacekeeper stands at the other side.
"Are you Willow Fields, age fourteen?"
I know where this it headed. "Yes, I am."
"You have been selected to participate in the final reapings. Please be in the Main Square in an hour, or you will be whipped. Good day."
The Peacekeeper leaves, and I run over to Maize's house, only a street away. She flings open the door with a huge grin.
"I wasn't picked! Were you?"
My frown is enough.
"Oh." Her smile fades as she realizes that I have a chance of being thrown into the Games. "I guess you have to go get ready. The children not in the reaping aren't allowed in the Square, but I'll watch everything on the television. You will be okay."
We hug, and I run to Rye's house. I can tell when he opens the door that he is in the final reaping as well. I just look at him. "You too?"
He shrugs like what can you do?
I notice he is already dressed as well—he was expecting this as much as I was. He offers me his arm with a dramatic flourish. "Shall we?"
I giggle, take his arm, and we begin the walk to the Square.
I pass the orange grove that stands behind my house, and I breathe in the sweet smell. When I get old enough, all I want to do is be a harvester. I taught myself how to climb trees when I was five, and have been getting steadily better as I grew up. Standing at the top of a tree fells like I am standing at the top of the world: untouchable.
I don't feel untouchable right now. When Rye and I get to the square, he squeezes my hand, and walks into the fourteen year old males section. I walk to the fourteen year old girl section, and pray that neither of us will be picked.
Once everyone is where they need to be, the mayor walks out onto the stage. He talks of Panem before the rebellion: the shining Capital, the wonderful thirteen districts, and the generosity the Capital showed them. Then, he talks about the rebellion. The greedy districts rising up against the generous Capital, and the war that followed. In retaliation, the Capital blew up District Thirteen, and created the Hunger Games. Twenty four went in, only one emerged alive.
Districts One, Two, and Four have it lucky—they are the Capital's lapdogs, and the Capital looks the other way when they train for the Games. If anyone in District Eleven tried to train, we would be immediately whipped and fined ten dollars, a whole week of food. This could be the difference between life and death for most families, including mine.
If I was to be reaped, I would be one of the first to die. Having a diet of only apples has caused me to stop growing when I was twelve. I weigh only eighty three pounds, even with my five foot four inches frame, and I can only lift the weight of an apple crate.
I do have a few skills. From the continuous cutting of fruits, I can handle a knife fairly well, I can fun fast, I can climb trees, and I can go a long time without food. However, this is nothing against the Career's years of sword handling and accuracy practice. The answer is simple: I cannot get reaped.
The mayor finishes his speech, and turns the microphone over to our escort, Hestia. It has to be one of her last years escorting. Even though she has had many years of surgery to try and hide it, she still is clearly pushing eighty.
Her hair has been dyed a raven black, and her skin a pale white. A tattoo of a bird is planted on her cheek, below her left eye. She has slathered so much makeup over her face, it is impossible to tell whether her features are real or drawn on.
Her eyes are coal black, and she has framed them with black eye shadow and heaps of mascara. The result makes her eyes look sunken into her face. She has also smeared black lipstick over her lips, and used a pen to create a fake beauty mark on her chin.
She thinks that she is the height of fashion. My district thinks that she looks like a freak. She daintily walks over to the huge glass bowl and plucks a single name from the top.
Suddenly, I'm terrified, and I need someone there to help me. I frantically look for Rye in the male section, but I can't find him. I shove several people out of the way in front of me, and finally meet his eyes just as Hestia reads the slip.
Her voice resonates through the Square. She reads the only name in the world that could fill me up with such terror and resignation as I feel now. My panic is reflected in Rye's eyes.
"Willow Fields! Willow please come up to the stage to claim your spot as the District Eleven female tribute!"
I don't know what to do. On one hand, I have to go up to the stage. Everyone in this District knows me as the girl who lives by the orange orchard. I can't escape from this. On the other hand, I can't go up there. That stage is my death sentence.
No one ever volunteers here in District Eleven. Better than only District Twelve, we have no chance of winning the games. In fact, we have only two victors: Two women by the names of Autumn and Sage. They won back to back games, and no one has won since.
It's over for me. I am dead. I can't fight it. I take one small step, and then another, until I find myself at the stage. No turning back now. I'm in this Game for good.
Hestia shakes my hand. "I see you are excited!"
What is she talking about? Being reaped is the worst possible thing that could happen to me. This is the moment that game me bad dreams as a child, was the taboo topic as I grew, and broke apart families every year.
Then, I look at myself on the screen. I was so shocked I wasn't thinking about my face, so it automatically morphed into my most common expression: A smile. I decide that this isn't a bad thing, and I need to look ready for these Games. I look Hestia in the eye.
"I've never been more excited about anything in my life!" The life that is about to be cut short. Hestia looks happy to not have to deal with a crying child.
"Well good for you! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Your female tribute!"
I notice how she didn't even ask for volunteers.
She walks over to the boy's ball, and selects a name from the bottom. I don't care what she says. Nothing can ever make this any worse. And then I am proven wrong.
"District Eleven, your male tribute is… Rye Sharp!"
The name resonates through my head, and removes any possible thought of bravery or skill. I snap.
"Rye! RYE!" I see him slowly walking up to the stage. "Rye! No!" I run to him, pushing aside the Peacekeepers trying to keep me on the stage. Rye opens his arms, and I fly into them, trying to find the familiar comfort.
The Peacekeepers come, and force both of us back onto the stage. This is it—I'm fighting to the death with the one boy I actually like. I've given up hope now. All I can do now is savor the final moments with Rye, and make sure he makes it as long as he can.
I may be a dead person walking, but Rye sure as hell won't die in these Games. Hestia holds up our hands together, and turns us so we are facing the District. I the distance, I can see my orange trees and the roof of my house. Now I'll never become a harvester.
"I present the tributes of District Eleven!"
The crowd claps politely, but is clearly unhappy about Rye and I being killed together. Everyone knows how close we are.
The Peacekeepers lead us to the City Hall, and to our separate rooms. I don't want to leave Rye, but they force us into different rooms anyway.
My parents come in first. I assume that Maize is using this time to say goodbye to Rye. While I feel plenty bad for myself, I almost feel worse for Maize. She has lost two friends today, and the last memory she will have of us is us killing other children.
My dad hugs me tearfully. I've never seen my dad cry, and it makes me even more scared than I am now.
"Dad, please don't cry! I love you."
I don't even bother reassuring them I will come back. We all know this is goodbye. I'm not coming back. Mom, as if she is thinking the same thing, starts crying even harder.
"Sweetie, I don't want you to leave. But when you're there, remember: You are fairly good with a knife, and you can climb trees better than anyone in the District. Find an alliance with people you can trust, stick with Rye, and remember that we love you very much."
As much as I try to fight it, tears start to drip down my cheeks. "I love you both so much. I don't want your last memory of me to be me killing children."
My dad takes my face in his hands. "It won't be. We will remember your kids, and your husband, because you will make it back. You have to promise! You are our little girl, and we can't deal with your loss. Promise!"
"I promise, Dad."'
They leave after a couple of tearful hugs and kisses, and then are replaced with a sobbing Maize. She runs to me, and we hug each other tightly.
"You can't both go! It's so unfair!"
"I know, Maize. I know. I'm so sorry. One of us, and probably neither of us, is coming back."
She twists out of my grip, and glares at me. "Don't say that. One of you is going to come back. You are my only close friend. I need you here."
I decide to humor her. I don't need our last moments together spoiled by pleading. "I will try as hard as I possibly can."
Maize, nods, satisfied with my answer. She presses a necklace into my hand, and I look down to see a guava seed hanging from the chain. The tears start sliding down my face as I look at her.
"Is this…?"
She finishes my thought. "It's the guava seed we had to identify a few years ago. Can you promise it will be your token?"
This is the best gift I could have been given. "Of course I will, Maize. I had no clue you kept this after all these years. Thank you. I'll see you in a few weeks."
She offers me a watery smile, and the Peacekeepers make her leave. I call out to her retreating back, "I love you Maize! I'll see you soon!"
The Peacekeepers shut the door before she can respond. I sit in silence until they come and collect me.
As I walk to the train station, I meet up with Rye. He looks like he hadn't cried, but I'm sure I look like a mess. We fall into our usual stride next to each other, neither one of us wanting to break the silence. Finally, as we are nearing the platform, he turns to me.
"Well, I don't think this could have turned out any worse."
"What were the odds?"
He turns to me and looks me in the eye. "I don't think I even need to ask this, but I assume we will be an alliance?"
I smile sadly at him. "Of course." I work up the courage to tell him that I like him. Rye I've liked you for two years now. Say it out loud you idiot! "Rye, listen. I have to tell you something."
At that moment, we reach the platform, and the cameras start snapping in our faces. I can't tell him now; I want this to be a private moment. I'll wait for later, but I know I can't wait for much longer. I don't have that much time left.
I accept the fact that I'll be in these Games for the rest of my life. All I want is Rye to make it out alive.
I turn, and enter the train, with my head held high. Let it begin.
Yaaay! Wonderful right? Of course it is! :P P.S. Review and maybe the odds will be in your favor! :3