"Any volunteers?" Emerald asked good-naturedly "Anyone wnt to steal this young woman's glory?" Estella looked so small and frightened, her face still dirty. She met my eyes – she was trying to tell me something . . . but what?
"No volunteers?" Emerald asks. She seemed slightly disappointed. "All right then! Boys, boys!"
Emerald began to walk towards the boy's ball, but something happened that surprised everyone – even me.
I stepped forward.
"I volunteer!" I called, meeting Estella's eyes. In them flashed shock, gratitude, and horror. 'No' she mouthed. I shook my head at her. I had to do this. My mind was already made up. I climbed up beside her and took her hand.
"What's your name?" Emerald Grey looked slightly surprised, and maybe even a little bit annoyed, but her tone was normal.
"Lystra Fay Gull," I told her shortly. Emerald smiled at me, and took the hand that Estella wasn't holding.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your female tribute, Lystra Fay Gull!" she raised my hand.
No one pretended to applaud. Their shock was obvious as they gazed at me. They all knew me – the girl with the apples. Several, such as Isadora Remming were hiding their faces in their hands.
I searched for my dad. Standing stiff as a board, my father's eyes were hard and vacant. Tiny tears dribbled soundlessly down his face, and I knew he was thinking about Mom. About Mom and how she died, and about her daughter wearing her mother's dress on the stage . . .
Emerald let go of my hand when it became apparent there would be no applause. She walked over to the boy's ball and carefully picked a slip.
"Tanner Lawson."
There is a slight pause, broken by a small, 12-year-old girl. I know the girl – Katherine, went by Kathi. She had bought an apple from time to time, using small, filthy coins her parents gave her.
"No!" Kathi cried "No, Tanner!"
A boy with Kathi's nut-brown skin and caramel eyes glancexd at her and stepped forward to join me on the stage. He didn't say a word, and Kathi fell into the arms of another girl, sobbing loudly. I looked at the girl, pity filling my eyes. My father was an adult. Kathi was a child.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, your male tribute, Tanner Lawson!" Emerald raised Tanner's hand as she had mine.
Like me, he received no applause. The people of District 11 looked from me to Tanner, and back to me again. We were both well known, and liked. The people of District 11 didn't look too happy with the reaping. The only sound was Kathi's sobs, echoing eerily around the square.
I glance at Tanner. His face was set, glaring in a camera's direction. I felt a sudden kinship with him, and, upon instinct, grabbed his hand. He tensed, not expecting this gesture. But, sensing my desperation and sadness, he squeezed my hand back. I noticed his sweaty hand, and I knew and understood his anger.
I was sure of something now:
The Capitol, as a whole, was a monster.
For a moment, before the Capitol, and before our district, Tanner, Estella, and I were one straight line, untied by the Games, defiant and angry at the Capitol. Indestructible.
Then Estella let go of my hand and went into the crowd, as she should have done long ago, and Tanner let go of my hand and turned away from the crowd; from the cameras. From the Capitol. From the Games.
I found that I felt something for Tanner : respect. Great, building, billowing respect from the same place that my anger for the Capitol had come from.
I was tempted to turn around with him, but I didn't. He had let go of my hand. He wanted to be alone.
I crossed my arms and gazed into a camera. I saw my reflection there – strong, defiant, and hurt. Hurt by the Capitol, angry at them. And strong too. A worthy opponent. What I saw shocked me, and I knew that this was how the Capitol saw me.
A threat.
But I enjoyed the thought of being a threat. How wonderful – to cause all sorts of troubles. I felt the smug smile creep onto my lips, and wondered what the Capitol was thinking now.
". . . exciting Hunger Games this year!" Emerald was finishing.
The Capitol's anthem played, and I was whisked off to the Justice Building, and into a private room where friends and family could visit me to say goodbye.
First was my dad.
He sat down beside me, and grabbed my hand. We sat there.
He didn't say much.
He hardly ever did.
As he was being herded out, he told me, "I am proud of what you did today. You are definetly your mother's daughter."
"Dad." I had to say it. I hardly did, but now seemed to be the time to. "Dad, I love you."
"I love you too, honey." He smiled – a rare, beautiful thing that disappeared as he spoke his next sentence. "Win it. Come home. Please."
"I – I will, Dad." Then he's gone.
Estella took his place on the couch. There is nothing to say, because we have exchanged much more than words could ever say. So we are silent.
"Remember your promise," Estella said finally, quietly.
"Promise?"
She smiles at me, and sings:
I swear to you,
I swear it!
I shall break through these barriers one day
No matter what it takes
To break through the injustice
To reach the liberty!
Freedom!
I nod at her, allowing a small smile. This stanza was probably the most harmful, but I found that I intended to follow it completely.
"I'll break through," I promised her. "no matter what it takes. In life or death."
Estella stared at me for a long while. Then, reaching into her shirt, she took out a necklace. It was a beautiful thing – golden, and shaped like an apple. I remembered the old Greek tale about the golden apple and how much trouble it had caused. I smiled. The apple was like me.
"It's beautiful, Estella."
"It was my mother's," Estella said quietly, stroking it. Then, in one quick movement, she jerked it off her neck and shoved it at me. "Here. Take it. Take it for your token."
I blinked at her in surprise. "What? No, no. I can't."
"Yes, you can." Her eyes glistened with tears. "take it, Lystra. She'd be happy to know that you had it."
I stared at her for a moment, and silently opened my arms. Estella hesitated, but in the next seconds, her small face was buried in my bare shoulder.
We cried then.
I cried for my poor, alone father.
I cried for my dead mother.
I cried for Estella, the orphan raising her brother.
I cried for Estella's dead parents.
I cried for Kathi, who was losing her brother to almost certain death.
I cried for myself.
When I knew Estella would have to leave, I whispered in her ear, "It's rigged, Estella. Because of the song, I'll die in there . . . and next year they'll put you in and you . . . you . . . you'll die too."
To my surprise, Estella smiled. "Then soon, we'll truly be free." She paused, another grin spreading across her face. "Get it ready up there for me, okay?"
"Okay," I said quietly. And they took her away.