REAPED

Cedaris and Jaxon pull me to my feet and away from the mess. I try to regain my composure, now I will be in the games even if I have to volunteer. The odds were not in my favor. It is Cedaris voice that brings me back.

"What is wrong with you? She got your brother killed!"

My rage boils over "A Peacekeeper killed my brother! " my fist landed squarely across Jaxon's jaw. The three of us brawl until peacekeepers brake it up. All of Panem is going to see it now.

This was not good! I had no intention of drawing the careers attention, now that was going to happen, like it or not. The peacekeeper who has pulled me off Cedaris still restrains me. I stop struggling and look up. There the 6 of us are on the big screen. It is surreal, as if the image is someone else, some where else, some other time. The three young men's faces are so angry, the peacekeepers simply impassive. None of them are small but held by the peacekeepers they seemed to shrink. Ezera's voice brakes the moment. The reality takes my breath away for the second time this day. If I had never seen the look of rebellion, it would still be clear.

"Were getting off schedule, please." Ezera walked towards the boys reaping ball. Her eyebrows looked knit together, lines are formed on her forehead. It is clear she is unnerved but her voice did not betray her. I review my options. Volunteer as soon as the first boys name is pulled? I am smart I can figure this out. It would be better to be reaped than volunteer. I will wait if my name isn't reaped, I will volunteer. Her affected voice calls out "Sage Sae." Was this day going to get any worse?

Sage is Greasy's fourteen year old brother. I find him as he walks head up, no tears, nothing, his eyes are cold. I find Greasy in the crowd. She holds the girl close to her chest. Her face is held tight, I can feel her screaming from here, but she isn't making a sound. Odd how people in district twelve can scream in silence. Should I save the little girls other uncle? I weigh the truth, Sage is 14, a lot of his family is still alive. Most are disabled from mine work. He collects tesserae for 10 just like me. But, my volunteering now won't keep him out of the reaping ball next year. By the time he is 18 he will have 77 entries. The odds will never be in his favor. What am I going to do?

Now Sage stands on the stage. He is half way between the podium and the reaping ball. He stands in the position peacekeepers use at rest. Hands crossed behind his back, shoulders back, feet firmly on the ground beneath his shoulders. My respect for the boy grows by the moment. I will stick to my plan.

I look to the other side of the podium, Maysilee and Ruthie hold hands. I can see that their fingers are so tightly entwined that they are turning an odd bluish grey. Tears flow down both faces, but neither makes a sound. The contrast between the two girls is startling. Maysilee's blond hair shines, it is wavey, held back in a pink ribbon soft at the nape of her neck. Her skin is porcelain, the tears streak her cheeks, she is even paler than usual. Her blue eyes are glistening, the tears flowing over the rims, puffy and red already. She looks so young, so small, so innocent my heart almost stops.

I recognize the dress she wears. She has been working on it with my mother for the last two weeks. It is soft pink, it falls gently around her. Its trimmed in velvet at the collar, cuffs, and her slender waist. The white collar of her dress is held closed by a pin. It looks like a bird of some sort from here. It only helps to bring my attention to her slender neck, the curve of her chin.

Then Ezera is talking again. Her voice finally pierces my skull "Heymitch Abernathy." Finally something goes as planned on this wretched day. I straighten my shoulders, it takes a moment for the peacekeeper holding me to realize that it is my name that has been called. It is odd how a path opens so quickly in what just moments ago was a sea of boys. It is over, who's children will be lost has been determined. You can feel the relief in the crowd.

Once I reach the stage I search for my mother. I am the second son reaped from her care. My sister stands beside her, one arm around mothers waist the other holding her arm. My mothers face is absolutely expressionless. Tears escape my sister control, along with small choking sounds. The Tailor and his son stand on the other side of mother. His arm slides firmly around her shoulders, he brushes his lips over her hair as he pulls her under his shoulder. He clearly loves her. He holds his young sons hand, clasping it tightly. He has just glimpsed his worse nightmare.

I have said my goodbyes, they will not come into the Justice Building. We all went to Veiner together. It was ghastly, mother and sister wailing, my father pacing and saying "please come home," my brothers and I sitting silently. Now only the three of us are left. Since the day Veiner was reaped, we have gone from 10 to 3. They cannot go through that room again. I am not sure how I will endure the memories.

The Mayor starts reading the Treaty of Treason, it is long and boring. I cannot continue to dwell on my family. I look to Cedaris and Jaxon. Both have pulled their emotions under control. Their faces have gone still, their eyes dead. No, we don't look like the boys we should be. We are men, each of us responsible for a family. Our lives have been irrevocably changed and the games have yet to begin.

We met at the lake Sunday last, it is hard to believe only two days have passed. I had worked our trap line and hunted along the way. I brought the makings of a feast with me from the Hob. This was the last time we would be together before the reaping, maybe the last time ever. Neither Cedaris or Jaxon know that they are no longer at risk, at least not this year. We are relaxed and easy in each others company. Jaxon builds a fire as I clean the two rabbits we will roast.

Cedaris has a natural affinity for wood and music. We have a hiding spot near the lake, we each keep our most personal possessions there. Cedaris has pulled out an ancient book, it contains very old music. The songs are all war tunes from battles and rebellions past. If we were found with it we would be executed but just being in the woods would reap the same fate. He pulls the fiddle he recently finished building from its hiding. The strains from the strings and his rich voice fill the block house.

"When Johnny comes marching home again Hurrah! Hurrah!

We'll give him a hearty welcome then Hurrah! Hurrah!

The men will cheer and the boys will shout The ladies they will all turn out And we'll all feel gay

When Johnny comes marching home."

Cedaris barely finished the first verse, when his voice cracked. It was a first. When Cedaris sang even the birds stopped to listen. He tossed the fiddle, stood, headed towards the door, stopped and began pounding his fist into the wall. Jaxon and I just stared for a moment.

Cedaris, stopped, he looked at the two of us and simply stated "if one of us is marched off we are not likely to return."

To this point none of us had acknowledged that this might be our last Sunday. His statement drew the air out of the room. None of us seemed able to catch our breath or our thoughts.

I had to do or say something, I almost told the truth, as cocky as I could sound, I joked "Either of you weaklings get reaped, I'll jump up and volunteer."

Jaxon laughed but it never reached his eyes "Yah right and have your mother skin you alive before you even made it to the train." Silence fell across the room again. Our thoughts were heavy and dark.

Cedaris put the fiddle and the book back in their keeps. I dumped the contents of my sack. Jaxon smirked, joking aloud "Our families could live a week on that!" I did laugh aloud as I replied "But it will barely fill the hollow of a teenage boys stomach." There were a dozen soft rolls, a large hunk of goat cheese, a mess of greens, strawberries, three very small chocolates and a bottle of dandelion wine. When the squirrels were cooked we sat down to feast.

We made jokes about the peacekeepers, in that affected Capitol accent. We mocked the recently "elected" President Snow. We raged at the excesses of the Capitol. We went on and on until we could no longer ignore talking about it.

I started "Its going to be me you know. I can feel it in my bones." My voice is almost non existent, I can't lift my eyes from my feet.

All of us know I am rarely wrong when my gut screams at me. Before the sun started to set we had worked it all out. I had shared my secret of the fence and the mine collapse. We had agreed to take care of the three families for each other.

As we crossed the meadow I whispered "May the odds,"

their voices came back as one "ever be in your favor."

It was the last I had seen either of them before we all stood together and fought on this 50th reaping day.

My attention went back to the Mayor. He was only at the history of the Hunger Games. He still had to read the names of the tributes and winners from each games. We were about to hear 1,176 names. 49 victors only 1 from district 12, 1,127 victims 97 from district 12. My brother Veiner will be on that list, almost everyone in the square has a relative or ancestor on that list.

I couldn't listen I looked up at the screen where the image of the stage was projected. My eye was drawn to Ruthie. She is beyond tiny, she can't weigh as much as a sack of grain. Her hair is black, it hangs in strings. She has a gash above her right eye, and a bruise on her left cheek. Her eyes are grey and cloudy, her skin pasty and yellow. She must be a community kid. I keep looking at her. Everywhere you look her bones are jutting out. She wears a simple white shift dress, it is thread bare and almost transparent. I have never seen a body this thin that wasn't dead. I can't look at her any longer, I turn my eyes to Maysilee.

Tears still run steadily down Maysilee's face. There seems to be no recognition going on. Her face is blank, she doesn't make a sound, she doesn't shake with sobs, nothing but those silent tears. I want to pull her into my arms, hold her tight, and kiss away all her pain. But she doesn't know that. She has never once acknowledged I am alive.

Every merchants daughter learns to sew. Most of them come to my mother for lessons. Most only learn the basics of mending and the decorative arts. The first time Maysilee came to the house she was with her twin Junelle. They both came twice a week that winter. We were 8. I would tend the fire just to hear her laugh. Maysilee's fingers were much more adept at the stitches than Junelle's. But my mother helped them both with patience. Maysilee often made jokes and lightened the mood for her sisters benefit.

My brothers all were twins, I saw that same bond between them. I was jealous, jealous that my brothers had each other, that Junelle had Maysilee. I wanted someone, I wanted Maysilee.

By the second winter Maysilee came alone. My mother shared her most prized possession with her. It was the family quilt. It has been in the family since before the founding of Panem. There is a square for each family member of the keeper of the quilt. Each keeper adding her family to the quilt. She would tell the stories of the other squares passing on the history. Maysilee learned to quilt that winter. I heard the stories through her eyes as she asked mother questions. I melted paraffin for them to dip their fingers, dry and cracked from producing thousands of tiny precise stitches, into. And I dreamed of a life with Maysilee, as my wife, as the next keeper of the quilt.

The next winter the daughter of the apothecary joined the lessons. Soon there was a group of six. I avoided them as much as they avoided me. I would sit in the kitchen and try to study for school. Mostly I was bored, two of the merchant sons paid me to do their homework. Brainless fools. But at least it kept my mind off Maysilee. But, really it didn't. The Anthem interrupted my thoughts.

Then the Mayor had us all shake hands. That's when I first heard it. Cedaris was whistling taps. The peacekeeper grabbed my arms walking me into the building. The last sounds I heard were Jaxon joining in. My friends were saying goodbye. Only the three of us would know the song. It is from the ancient book. The words can have many interpretations.

Day is done, gone the sun, From the hills, from the lake, From the skies. All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

Go to sleep, peaceful sleep, May the soldier or sailor, God keep. On the land or the deep, Safe in sleep.

Love, good night, Must thou go, When the day, And the night Need thee so? All is well. Speedeth all To their rest.

Fades the light; And afar Goeth day, And the stars Shineth bright, Fare thee well; Day has gone, Night is on.

Thanks and praise, For our days, 'Neath the sun, Neath the stars, 'Neath the sky, As we go, This we know, God is nigh.

The peacekeeper practically throws me into the room. I can not breathe. I open the window. The Mockingjay's are continuing to carry the haunting melody. I shed a single tear.