When I wake up, it's with a start, because it's the day of the reaping. I'm sweating a bit, I think I was having a nightmare, but I tell myself to stop being so stupid and get my ass out of bed. I roll off the futon and push myself up, the covers falling off me into a heap on the floor. Across the room, dad's snoring his damn head off, sleeping off last night's binge. I sigh, and place my hands on my naked hips, contemplating whether to leave him or kick him awake. I decide to leave him. If I get picked, I don't want him seeing.
I look at the sun in the sky from the window, and the people already heading off in their dresses and smart trousers, and growl from the pit of my stomach. I've never been one for getting up early, but this is ridiculous, it's almost noon. I pull on the thin leather trousers I've had for years, strong boots and remember I have to wear a shirt. I grab a dark green tunic and head out the door pulling the sleeve on, and mingle with the crowd. The line for the seventeen year olds is already filing out of the square, and I groan. They make us stay in pens for over an hour like pigs, snatch one of us from loving parents to kill or be killed and make it all out to be some big show, but the thing I hate the most is the waiting in line. I ruffle my hair, what's left of it, sigh loudly, and start tapping my foot. The girl in front of me in a pink dress sneaks a peak behind her, I catch her eye and give her a stony stare, and she instantly whips her head back to the front. I smirk silently. She probably remembers me from school, before I quit and went to work on the yard, and I was a bitch then and I'm a bitch now.
Finally after what seem like hours waiting I'm at the front of the line. I don't even wince when I get my finger pricked, like all the others did. They press my finger against the paper and confirm my identity. I could have told them that, but the peacekeepers don't trust anyone. I make my way over to the pen where they hold the seventeen year olds, and hang at the back. I check the clock that's portrayed on the big television screen. Its two minutes to noon. The reaping will begin shortly. I check behind me at the lines, the last couple of kids being let through, kissing their parents goodbye, though they'll never be chosen. Some of them are even crying, urg.
Finally the anthem plays, and the capitol seal comes on the big screen. Then there he is, Juno Jeno, out representative. He looks so stupid up there, all bright orange suit, white spiked hair with little pink bits on the end, compared to our muted forest colours. He's had some sort of surgery to make all of his eyes black, and I hear he's had something done to his shlong, though I'm not sure what, the girls around the lumber yard tell different stories. He starts talking in that stupid capitol accent, and I stifle a groan, but not well enough.
"Citizens of District 7, welcome to the 71st Annual Hunger games! May the odds be ever in your favour!" A few people wary of the peacekeepers guns clap, but not very loudly and not for very long.
"Well now then boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, shall we get started? As per usual, girls first. Who's going to be the lucky contestant to represent your district. It could be you," he points to a snivelling girl in the front "Or, you or you. Well let's find out shall we?"
Juno puts his white gloved hand into the big glass bowl that has all of the girl's names in District 7 on neatly folded slips of paper. I try and do the math and count how many times my name is in there, but I was never good at math at school and left before we got onto multiples, so my head gets muddled and I don't even hear the name getting called out. But when I look up from my fingers everyone's staring at me with eyes the size of tractor wheels. I look at them, raising my eyebrows and frowning. It would take a genius not to figure out it me.