This is it. This is the day we have been preparing for since we got the letter. Everyone is nicknaming the lottery "The Reaping."
Everyone is expected to dress nicely, and I have on a deep purple dress that stops at my knees, black sandals and my hair is in a curly bun with a few loose strands hanging down. Becca looks like a little pixie with a blue dress. Her hair is tied up with a matching blue ribbon. Daniel is in a simple red flannel shirt and dress pants. He refused to put on anything fancy, claiming that what he was wearing was good enough. Ah yes, the little rebel of the family.
We all hop into the truck and start our journey to Frankfort, Kentucky. It is about an hour and a half drive from our home, and all traffic is heading to the same place.
When we finally arrive, father parks the truck and we head to the capitol building slowly. A stage has been built in front of the building and two chairs sit in the middle, with a microphone in front of them. Two glass balls stand on each side of the stage filled with thousands of slips of paper. One for the boys and one for the girls.
Some where in the girls, Becca Stague and Annelise Stague are written on them. In the boys, Daniel Stague. Just that thought alone already has me nervous.
There are 14 sections roped off for each age group and gender. The 18 year old males and females are the closest to the stage, while the 12 year old males and females are at the back. Everyone else surrounds the perimeter.
Everyone is silent, some are crying. I'm holding on to Becca's hand, while Daniel has her other one. I can tell she doesn't want to let go by the tight grip she has on my hand, but sadly the time to split up is upon us. I give her a tight hug, and do the same to Daniel. We reassure each other that everything will be ok and make our way to our sections.
I find myself next to Kaitlynn and she gives me a weak smile. I hug her and we stand with our arms linked together, waiting for the reaping to start. You can just feel the worry in the atmosphere, from the kids as well as the adults. I wonder what its like for the adults who have no kids and are only here because they have to be. And the younger kids who are not yet twelve, what are they thinking? All I know is I'm so nervous I might get sick.
The mayor of Frankfort claims one of the two chairs. An older lady, probably in her mid 40's steps onto the stage. She is wearing a black pencil skirt, with a white ruffled blouse. She has on black high heels and her blonde hair is in a tight bun on the back of her head.
"Welcome citizens of Kentucky. The time has come to select one male and one female to represent Kentucky in our first ever Hunger Games!" She says. Her voice is very high and nasally. It kind of irritates me the more she talks.
"My name is DeAnne Carter and I will be the tributes escort. Now I will turn it over to the mayor to explain how the games work and some other details."
The crowd gives a weak clap as the mayor steps in front of the microphone. He begins by telling how we ended up in the position we are in now, 'the uprisings that should have never happened and are a disgrace to this country', as he puts it. Then he lets us know how the games work.
"Two of you will be going to Washington D.C. into a vast outdoor arena that can be any type of terrain. The tributes elected will go through an opening ceremony, called 'The Parade of the Tributes.' After, you will train for three days will specialists in each area needed for survival. Tributes will have a private training session and will receive a score ranging from 1-12, with 12 being the highest, and 1 the lowest." He says.
"Each tribute will have a prep team and a stylist to prepare them for the parade and interviews, as well as the arena. After the tribute is selected, they will have an hour to say goodbye to friends and family." Oh great, we get our own personal stylists. It's something I dreamed of having when I was little, but it's not so glamorous anymore knowing they're going to prepare someone for slaughter. Hey, I guess you got to look good when you're dying.
Then he goes on to tell us about sponsors, and how each set of tributes will meet their mentor on the plane ride to D.C. I wonder who that poor fellow will be.
"Your mentor will be your lifeline in the arena. They control what sponsorship gifts get through to you and will help plan your strategy." He pauses for a moment and says, "Let the reaping begin, and may the odds be ever in your favor." With that he takes his seat and DeAnne steps back up to the microphone.
"Well, I couldn't have said it better myself. May the odds be ever in your favor! Now it's time to select the female tribute." She makes her way over to the girls' ball. No one moves, no one makes a sound. I don't even think anyone is breathing as they wait in anticipation for the name to be called. She reaches into it, stirring the names around. Then pulls out a slip of paper and makes her way back to the microphone.
The suspense is weighing down on everyone as they listen closely to the name about to be called. Kaitlynn and I hold onto each other tightly as she opens the folded paper and begins to read the name.