Chapter 3

Reapings

A Blood Stand

Grace Giga, 13 years old. District 3.

"Gracie! Gracie wake up!", Arthur is calling me, but his voice sounds very far away. Is he really calling me? Maybe not, maybe it's just another part of my dream. I am walking through a grass field and there's a river in the middle, which is certainly weird because there are no rivers in district 3. I've only seen one when they project the Games at school. I walk towards it and kneel on the side. I stare at my reflection, my blonde hair flowing past my shoulders and my blue eyes look sad, but lately they always do.

"Grace!", Arthur shakes me this time and I wake up. I blink and sit. He's wearing the reaping outfit I made for him, he deserves some nice clothing.

"Gracie get ready, it's late", he hurries me and walks outside. I stand from my bed and look around, I'm very nervous. I hate the reaping day, it scares me. Arthur says that it will be all right but I differ, we both have the chances of getting reaped anytime. I look around our room, heading towards the box in which my clothes are, a square made of zinc walls and ceiling is what we get to call home. Arthur says that someday we'll get to have a big house, he plans on volunteering when he's older. I don't want him to, I don't want to lose anyone else. I search for the bottom of the box, and grab a pale blue dress that belonged to our mom. I can feel the tears building in my eyes, as every time I think about our mother. She's gone now, I remind myself.

I open the cut out part in the wall that serves as a door, it creaks. I put my hand up to cover my eyes from the sun, which is blinding. There are no windows at our home, just the door. It's very dark in there, and there is only a gas lamp to give us light on the nights. But, I believe that as long as we have each other, we'll be ok.

Arthur Giga, 13 years old. District 3.

I managed to fall asleep when the rain and thunders calmed down, when our house didn't seem to be crumbling apart. It must have been way past twelve, because I feel as if I didn't sleep at all. I am dressed in my reaping outfit, and I know my name is on that bowl more than it should. I can't help but feel nervous about it, though I won't accept it. I roll up the long sleeves of my white shirt, the morning sun warming the streets, drying the water left by yesterday's storm. I roll up my dark blue pants too, there are many swamps around, Gracie will kill me if the clothes she made got dirty. I look towards the sky, praying to mom and dad, hoping they'll hear and give some strength to me. I want to believe they do hear what I say, but I know they don't. They are dead, and that's it.

I hate reaping day a lot, I fear that the escort will pick my name. But, moreover I fear that Gracie's one does. She has also signed up for tesserae, she has the exact same chances I do. And that doesn't calm me down. If she got reaped, I'd volunteer. She doesn't have a chance on her own, she's too sweet and caring for the Games. She wouldn't last, she'll die. I shake my head, as if by doing so the thought will disappear. It doesn't.

If I got reaped, I guess I could last for a while, but I doubt I'll come home victor. I'll join father and mother wherever they are, for sure. Gracie would have a hard time without me, but she'll make it. Or at least that's what I want to believe. I know, that the probabilities of me going to the games are high, and that they will be higher. Because I want to go, I need to go. Not now though, when I'm older. When I'm eighteen I'll volunteer, if neither of us is unlucky enough to get reaped before that. Volunteering is the only way we'll be able to get out of this crappy place, we'd get a big house on the victor's village that wont get destroyed if there's a storm outside, and enough food to eat until we are full. Of course for that, I'll have to win. But, I know that by that time I'll be able to do so. I've been training ever since mother died five years ago, and started training even harder when father passed away. I laugh a little. I probably sound like a career. But, I don't mind, I know that preparing myself is the key to success, the key to the life Gracie and I deserve.

There's a creaking sound coming from our house, and I turn around. Gracie is ready, she has the dress that belonged to our mother on. She looks scared and nervous, and she has the right to. I put on the most confident face I can, I need to be strong for her.

"Let's go Gracie", I say softly.

Ampere Elyot, District 3. Victor of the 52nd Hunger Games.

And here comes the escort. I frown. Her skin tone is a light green this year, her lips are fresh blood red, while her hair, a mixture between green and brown, is all messy and has some flowers tangled on it. She's disgusting, as always. She still has the tattoos around her face and that tight, and also green dress is probably asphyxiating her. How do they call that a human being? Whatever. She starts babbling some words in that annoying high pitched tone of hers. Meanwhile, I look to the crowd of children in front of me and wonder who is going to this year's massacre. Who's life will I have to see departing? Will it be that girl who's shaking over there? Or that one with the broken glasses? I look away, back to the tree we have as a escort.

"Well, well! Shall we go now with this year's tributes? Yes, okay. Let's see", she says over the speaker, while giving a wide smile to the crowd. I hate her. Of course she's happy, she doesn't get to be in there. She doesn't feel the nerves, the anxiety and the panic it causes. But, that's how this world works. Or at least how it works for now.

She walks over the bowl with the names, almost falling as she does. Why the heck does she wear heels if she's going to walk like a dying goat? I smile a little when she trips. Cali squeezes my shoulder giving me a hard look. I frown. The karma is good, she should let me enjoy it while it lasts. She motions me to look back to Trisha with her head.

"Here we go! So, this year, for the female tribute we'll have…", she puts her hand in the bowl, searching for the one she'll pick, showing her white teeth. I'll punch her on the face one of this days. She picks one paper, and opens it slowly. Probably those long nails make it hard for her, not like I really care. "Grace Giga"

As every time a person gets reaped, the rest of the children walk away from the person like he or she has some sort of hazardous disease, while looking all relieved. Unless of course, they are close friends or family. I see movement in the thirteen years old section. You have to be kidding me. There, in the middle of the group, now with a clear path to the stage, stands a little girl. Blonde haired, with pale blue eyes and all the color seems to have drained from her face. She's biting her lower lip, probably trying not to cry or thinking that it is a nightmare she wants to wake up from. I wish it was, but it isn't. She's in shock and doesn't move, the peacekeepers start walking towards her. And then there's a kid beside her, wild eyes on his face. They look a like, so they are probably brother and sister. He says something to her I can't hear. The girl nods robotically, and takes a little step forward. The peacekeeper puts a hand on her shoulder, and she puts a pained expression, he must have grabbed her too hard, that animal.

"She can walk by herself you broken bulb!", the boy that ran towards Grace shouts to the peacekeeper that is holding her, and then kicks him straight in the groin. The guard lets out a groan. That must have hurt, a lot. There comes another peacekeeper and punches the kid on the face. Grace screams, the tears she was holding now running freely down her cheeks. I stand up and grab the microphone. Which was in the stupid escort's shaking hands.

"Stop this right now" I say. It's not like I have the authority to do it, but I won't let some adults bit the crap out of a kid either. Nobody says anything though. I look at the crowd, the peacekeepers are throwing angry faces at me, and the rest of the people stare expectantly and fearfully. The boy is already on his feet now, a trail of blood coming down his nose, and more of it in his mouth. He has the same wild stare as before, I can see his fist are clenched on his sides.

"Come on Grace, you must come to the stage now", I say, this time not as an order, but putting my voice as soft and soothing as I could. Which is not much, but it's something. The girl walks forward, sobbing. She positions herself next to me. I give the microphone back to Trisha and sit down, Cali also stood from her chair, and was now sitting again, her eyes fixed in the crowd. The peacekeepers made their way back to their original positions, alternating their hateful looks from me, to the boy, who is now cleaning the blood with his sleeve, never taking his eyes from the girl. I wonder how would the people of the Capitol take this, I'm sure they are quickly editing what happened.

"Oh… Oh well. My my… Now, let's go to see who'll be our male tribute this year", Trisha says, going back to her normal self. She picks the paper faster this time and opens it while giving nervous smiles to the crowd. She stares at the paper for a second, and swallows. "Arthur Giga"

Grace starts crying again, while shaking her head. I can hear the murmurs of the crowd, troubled expressions in their faces as they glance at the thirteen years old's section. The boy starts walking forward firmly, with a frown in his face he stands by Grace's side and hugs her for a few seconds, he steps back, but stands by her side and crosses his arms. She continues sobbing, but a little bit quieter.

"Uhm… Here are your tributes for the 63rd Annual Hunger Games, Grace and Arthur Giga!", Trisha announces. The Giga Twins... This will be a hard year.

AN: This are the Giga Twins, I particularly like writing about Arthur a lot. I wrote this while hearing Stand by Rascal Flatts. And yeah, I'll do the reapings without a particular order.

I STILL NEED MORE TRIBUTES. I'm missing District 1 boy (which I REALLY need), the boys from 5, 7, and 9, and both from 11 and 12 (No district 12 fans out there?)