I may end up changing the rating of this story from T to M if it ends up having more swear words and adult content than I originally thought.
Silk POV
I should have gotten up twenty minutes ago, but instead I lay in bed running my hands over the luxurious fabric under my naked body. If my mother knew I slept without any bed clothes she would feel scandalized, which is funny because sleeping in the nude is probably the activity she should worry the least about. I've gone skinny dipping several times and a few times I've slept under the stars out in Fraser's meadow with nothing beneath me but the grass. It's not that I'm trying to be sexy or anything. I just love the feel of the wind and water and silk against my skin. To my knowledge, no one has ever seen me do these things.
"Silk!" My mother calls from down the hall. "You need to come on in to breakfast! We're leaving for the reaping in half an hour."
The reaping. This will be my last and it's the first one I'm really worried about. It's not that I'll have any more slips in the ball than any other 18 year old girl, I'll have only the six, but this year they aren't allowing volunteers, so if I happen to be selected there will be no hope of some glory hungry idiot coming to my rescue by putting her own name forward. Even though my chances of being reaped have been pretty low, I've trained for the possibility that I could end up in the arena. I'm no great beauty, the kind that has sponsors tripping over themselves for, so I know that I'll need to have a skill in order to have a fighting chance. If I'm not selected this year, I don't know what use I'll have for my keen balance and deft hands. It's not like throwing knives is something I'll do on a regular basis or anything. At least if I go into the medical field like my father I'll have a use for my knowledge of medicinal plants.
"Silk!" Mother's voice grates at me and I throw my silk sheets aside. My reaping outfit is ready and I bathed the night before, so getting ready takes me all of five minutes. I let my straight blonde hair fall loose, not bothering to put it in a braid or anything and I don't bother with make up. I feel fresh and natural. The blue ruffles of my dress hug my slightly too curvy hips and dance like water around my knees. I slip into matching baby blue shoes and head to breakfast.
My younger brother, Garnet, is already seating and picking at his eggs. This will be his first reaping, he looks a little freaked out. I knuckle his hair and he brushes my hand away.
"You're in a good mood," he says. "Don't know why. You know it's reaping day, right?"
"Yeah, I know. But come on," my false bravado holds up and I can barely make out the smallest of a quiver in my voice. "There are thousands of names in the bowls, what are the chances that either of us will be reaped?"
"But if they do draw our names, no one can volunteer." He protests. "You're not even a little bit worried?"
"Well, I guess that possibility is the reason Daddy has us train every day." I pick up one of a handful of knives that are always around and throw it at the bull's eye that is painted on the opposite wall. Throwing knives at breakfast has been part of our training for as long as I can remember. The knife sticks into the white circle just a fraction of an inch outside the bull's eye. "Beat that!"
Garnet grins and throws his own knife. It sticks right next to mine, just inside the center dot. I knuckle his hair again and sit down to eat. "Nice job, Booger."
He sticks his tongue out at me and I return the gesture, then we each settle into our scrambled eggs.
By 10:00 we are ready to go to the square for the reaping. Since we're the first district to be reaped, we have to get an early start. Normally we start at 9:00, but since volunteers aren't allowed this year, the process is much more streamlined.
I stand in the square with hundreds of other girls from the district. I'm standing in the back corner of the back row. On reaping day, just like every day, I tend to melt back into the background. I look around at the other 18 year old girls, most of them have more curves than me, their hair is fuller, they wear make up. Compared to them I feel mousy. But that's not such a bad thing. For one thing I don't have to worry about staying on top of fashion in order to stay with the popular crowd. For another, I'm not usually a target for the jerks. There was that incident a few years back with Leopold, but I'm sure he's about over that.
Mayor Cavanaugh walks up on the podium and welcomes us to the 175th hunger games and reads the Card to remind us of the importance of this years Games. She introduces the victors of previous games, all 42 of them, and the 27 living ones each wave from their elevated seats on the stage. Because of our victors, the reapings from districts 1, 2 and 4 will still take longer than the other districts, but in a few minutes, things are under way.
Chocolat Bluebells, our escort saunters up to the mic, adjusting his lavender tie and shrugging the shoulders of his violet suit on the way. "Welcome to the 175th Hunger Games and the 7th Quarter-Quell. May the odds," he winks over at the girls waiting to be reaped. "Be ever in your favor." A couple of the girls standing in front of me stick their manicured fingers in between their lips and wolf whistle at him. He grins and looks over to the camera. "Ladies first."
He walks to the big glass bowl with slips of paper and pulls one from the middle. He gives the paper a little kiss then holds it out in front of him.
"Silk Xibalba" he croons into the mic.
No! You've got to be kidding me! My jaw drops and I stand still in shock until the girl next to me nudges my shoulder. "Silk!" She whispers. "Get up there!"
I step out from the back and start to make the long walk up to the platform. I hear snickers coming from the 18 year old's section and look over to see Emerald. She's sneering at me and I hear her say in the loudest whisper in the world, "Oh look, poor Burlap is gonna go get killed off in the arena." I plaster a smile to my face, determined not to let anyone see how upset I really am. Despite myself, I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I resist wiping it away and walk up on the stage next to Chocolat.
Cary POV
The metal cap on my windproof lighter flicks back and I scrape the flint wheel across my jeans, sending little sparks flying at the wick. It takes a few swipes before the wick lights and I flip the lighter around, tapping it back and forth from hand to hand, the flames dancing around my fingers. It's the same routine I do every time I'm nervous. Whether I'm getting ready for a test at school, drumming up the courage to talk to girls, or reaping day. One of those I don't have to worry about anymore, ever since Grace and I started dating, and after today, I won't have to worry about reaping day anymore. But today, the wicked dance of the flame provides a mesmerizing calm that soothes my nerves.
I pinch at the flames and fun my fingers through them, letting the warmth caress me. I respect the flames and understand their strength. A single match has the power to burn down an entire village, after all. With a flick of my wrist, I snap the cover back onto the lighter and let the hot metal tin drop down on my bed.
If it's going to be my last Reaping day, I'm gonna make sure this one is a blast. I grab the folding step stool from the corner of my closet and climb up to retrieve the box on the top shelf. It's not like my mom and dad couldn't reach the shelf themselves if they wanted, but since I can't reach it without the stool, they never even think to look up there. Inside the box is a decent collection of small fireworks. Bottle Rockets, Lady Fingers, Black Cats, Roman Candles, cherry bombs and M-80's, things that I can fit into my pocket and don't need a lot of set up. It won't be a spectacular display, but if I'd thought of it earlier I could have bought some really decent stuff.
My reaping outfit is a little more casual than it's been in years past, with the cargo pants and an untucked button up, but if I'm gonna sneak a bunch of fireworks into the square, I'll need the pocket space.
It's already quarter to nine when I enter the kitchen and my parents are drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. They've already put the finishing touches on their reaping day outfits. My dad is decked out in a suit. A suit! At nine in the morning! In 90 degree weather! Not that mom is understated or anything. She's wearing a slim, cream colored dress with light brown trim, matching shoes, a diamond bracelet and diamond earrings. Diamonds. They don't need to flaunt our money, but they seem to enjoy it. You'd think with all the money they have to throw around, they would have done something about my teeth earlier; ever since they first came in they were just a little too big, too prominent. You don't get a nickname of Jackrabbit with normal teeth. I have braces now, but the name stuck. Even my friends call me Jack half the time. If I hadn't learned to roll with it when I first got the name, there could have been some serious bullying. At only 4'8" I'm already a target for some of the bullies, but with my parent's money, no one wanted to get on their bad side. I gotta say though, having money really does have it's perks.
There's a tray of pastries on the table, fresh from the bakery and still warm. I grab a few chocolate croissants, a canoli and some donuts, tossing them all in a basket. "I'm gonna head over to see the guys." I say on my way out the door.
"Alright Cary," dad says, and turns the page in his paper. "We will see you in the square."
"Don't be late Darling." mom says, absorbed in the society pages.
Neither of them bothered to look at me. I know they love me, but sometimes I wonder if they'd notice if I just took off. After high school I already plan on heading to the Capitol to get a job with the television crews. I've already started building up my portfolio. My friends and I have made a couple of short films, but our pièce de résistance is the full length feature we made last summer. It's a pretty decent zombie flick. I was the lead script writer and was in charge of the pyrotechnics. After the reaping we've arranged with the Mayor to let us air it in the square, since the big screens will already be up and on.
I head straight to the clock tower, which is our normal hang out. The lock on the door busted off years ago and since the clock never really needs any maintenance, no one bothered to replace it. We head up into the top of the tower and sit among the gears and cogs. As many times as we've got up the tower, I don't even lose my breath anymore, even though the thing is about 6 stories tall. Today is no different and when I get to the top, I see Grace is already there. She's laid out a blanket and has a big bottle of orange juice.
I grin at her and set my basket down at the edge of the blanket. She stays seated and I cross to her and kiss her full on the lips. I like kissing her when she's sitting down. Our difference in height isn't noticeable when she's sitting down.
"Get a room!" Martin calls out behind me and I turn to see him mounting the top step with the rest of our entourage. Joe lets out a shrill whistle, Alice giggles, Preston screams about his eyes needing bleach and Charles pretends to vomit on the floor.
"We had a room," I reply. "If you leave we can get down to business." I make a show of starting to unbuckle my pants and Grace smacks my hand.
"It's okay Jackie, We don't want to make all these guys jealous." Grace winks at me and I grin, sitting down next to her.
After yucking it up for a minute, each guy trying to say how much bigger than the others he is, everyone sits down and we lay out our reaping day breakfast. Added to the pastries and juice, we have some sausages, a bowl of blueberries, a carafe of coffee, fluffy scrambled eggs and buttered toast. Preston looks a little shamed by only bringing toast among the array of luxury items but no body says a word about it. We know his family isn't as well off as the rest of us. The first thing I grab is a piece of toast, smiling genuinely at Preston.
For the next hour, we gorge ourselves, eating everything but the canoli. We clean up our breakfast and head to the square. It's a little early, but that suits us just fine. On our way, I hand the canoli to Martin and he carefully scoops some of the cream filling out, not all of it, just enough to make a little tunnel inside. He licks his fingers and hands the pastry back to me. I glance over at Grace to see if she's paying attention, but Charles and Preston are doing a good job of keeping the girls distracted. Grace doesn't exactly like my fascination with blowing things up, and normally, Alice would be right there with her in disapproval, but this year, she has agreed to be an accomplice. I gingerly tuck an M-80 into the tunnel, making sure to keep the wick dry and pass the dessert over to Joe.
We need to make a distraction so that the Peacekeepers around the square don't pay attention to him tucking it under the mayor's chair. It's going to be lit by Alice, right after the boy's name is called. I see the perfect opportunity for a diversion and when we're going to get in the roped off areas, I trip myself on one of the stanchions and pull a whole section of rope down. Martin and Preston, wise to my idea, come over to help me up and get tangled in the rope as well. By the time we're all untangled, Joe is by our side and smiling.
Grace leans down and I give her a kiss then she and Preston head to the sections for 17 year olds. Alice turned 19 last fall so her head is off the chopping block. She's been filming the reapings from behind the ropes for the last 3 years, even though the Capitol has camera crews to do it. She grabs her camera and finds the best place to film the reaping. The rest of us head to the 18 year old males section and wait for the ceremony to begin.
Our escort, Chocolat, calls the girl's name. Silk, a pretty girl who's always been kind of an outsider. I watch her march up to the stage, holding her head up high, despite the tear I see streaking down her face. Then Chocolat announces that it's time for the boy tribute and I can't help grinning. The wholly Moley canoli, as we've come to call the prank, is going to really make this a reaping to remember.
The violet suit reaches in to the bowl and I lean forward slightly and out into the aisle so I can see the stage better, ready for the canoli to explode. "Cary Sparks!"
The canoli doesn't explode. It just sits there like a lump of pastry. We didn't really talk about what we would do if one of us were reaped. A hand pats my shoulder as I step out into the aisle, Charles smiles at me, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. I smile back nervously and join Silk on stage.
Chocolat stands back and the mayor steps up to say her final words. As she finishes her speech a small explosion rocks the stage behind her and glops of cream and dough fly everywhere, a chunk of it landing right in the mayor's hair. Classic.
Silk POV
Inside the justice building I wipe the smears of cream off my dress and try to compose myself in the minute that I have before my family comes in. My anger at having my dress splattered with goo helps in washing away the fear that I had at being reaped. I finally wipe away the tears that leaked out and put on a winning smile just as the door opens.
Garnet runs right into my arms and hugs me tight. I hold him and ruffle his hair a little. "Come on Booger, I'll be fine." I plant a kiss on his head and he chuckles a little.
"Yeah, as long as you don't have to throw any knives," he says sniffling as he straightens. "You're terrible at it."
He steps back and mom takes his place, holding me tight. "You can do this, you know. You can win it. It's in your blood." Mom is talking about my great grandpa Char's older brother Maxx. He was one of the winners that the mayor announced. We don't usually acknowledge our relation to him because a few years after winning he went a little crazy and was found eating a dead rat on the steps of his house in victor's village. I give my mom a wry look and she smiles. "I don't mean the going crazy part, but you can win the games."
"Of course she can win the games," Daddy says matter-of-factly. "If she tries." Daddy comes over and hugs me and mom at the same time. "Just remember your training."
"We don't even know what weapons they'll have in the arena. What if I haven't trained with what they give us?" I'm a little worried about the games. I'm not wet behind the ears, but there are going to be 23 kids gunning for me and I'm sure that some of them will be better trained than me.
"That's what the next couple of weeks are for. Just learn whatever they can teach you and be smart." Daddy kisses my head and he and mom let me go.
"Here," mom says, taking off her silver necklace. "I want you to wear this." her voice is thick with emotion and I know mine will fail me if I try to say anything. The necklace was a gift from my father when they were dating. The oval pendant has a pearlescent piece of seashell set in it, with a tropical sunset intricately painted on it. I nod and she loops it around my neck.
We say goodbye and I sit down on the couch to wait out the rest of the hour. I don't expect any more visitors. After about five minutes though, the door opens and I look up to see who is coming in. Leopold. Shock runs through me, hot anger on it's heels.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, venom in my voice. I don't bother standing up.
"I just- Well, I wanted to- I mean-" he stammers a bit looking nervous. I'm pleased that I have this effect on him. It can be a dangerous thing to trifle with a girl, and to let it slip after 2 months of dating that you only went out with her because you lost a bet. Something like that, well, it could make a girl go a little crazy. I remember kicking him out of my house, screaming at him till I was hoarse and then wallowing for a little while, before I learned how to channel my anger. That year I became an expert knife thrower and learned a lot about plants from my dad, the doctor who happens to know all their medical uses.
I can't help it if he happened to have started having a severe case of diarrhea for the next few months after that. And I can't help it if that could have come from a plant that grows in my back yard, or that I happened to be volunteering in the school cafeteria that school year. Though, the knife that flew into his backpack one day, that might have been my fault. He looks so lost now trying to talk to me that I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
"If you've come to apologize, you're about three years too late." I say, trying to speed up his lame goodbye.
"It's not that," he says. "Well, it is, but- I just-" I must be glaring at him because he swallows hard and looks away to gain nerve. "I am sorry for what happened. I just wanted you to know that I started going out with you because of that stupid bet, but after we went out that first time, I really did like you."
The venomous reply that I had prepared stilled on my lips. What? "You- Wait, what?" blindsided by the confession, I sit there stupefied.
"I really did like you. You're not like the other girls around here. I mean yeah, you're kinda plain, but you are pretty in a way, and you're smart. Really smart." Having gained his voice, Leopold starts rambling. "And funny. Some of the stuff you said..." He trails off and smiles.
My stomach starts to twist, I wonder if I overreacted to the bet. I mean we were kids after all, and it's been a long time, maybe he's not the jerk I thought her was. Before I know it, Leopold is sitting next to me, or rather, almost on me, and he's kissing me. I'm stunned and sit frozen for a second, but his hand trying to reach down my pants jerks me back to reality and I shove him away hard. He sits back and chuckles, the shy stammering boy replaced by a slick, confident man who is sure that he's going to get what he's going for. An act. It was an act and I fell for it.
"Awe, come on honey, don't tell me you're still such a stick up the ass prude that you don't want a little bit of play before you go off and get killed." He leans toward me again, his hand immediately going to my breast in a hard grip. I push him off and he re-positions himself, trying to get in between my legs. Panic rises like bile and I thrash out at him, screaming at the same time. My knee connects with his groin right when the door to the rooms opens and two peacekeepers come into the room and pull him off of me. One of them smashes the butt of his rifle into Leopold's head. "Bitch!" Leopold hollers at me as he's carted off.
It takes a second for me to calm my heart rate and steady resolve settles inside me. No one really thinks I can win this thing, but I'm going to prove them wrong. And when I come back here, I'm going to beat the shit out of every single person who has ever screwed with me, starting with that asshole.
I hear popping sounds coming from the other side of the wall and wonder if maybe the peacekeepers have had to shoot someone over on the boy's side. This Hunger Games is already starting off with a bang.
Cary POV
Hugs have never been a thing for my family, so when mom wraps me in her arms as soon as she walks into my room in the justice building, I stand still for a second before awkwardly hugging her back. My dad restrains himself, but I can tell he's upset. No one from my family has ever been reaped before. His great uncle had his name drawn in the reaping several years before, but another boy volunteered.
"Cary, I'm sure we can make this go away. I can grease the Mayor's palm, the president, whoever we need to. There's no reason for you to go into the games." I thought I was doing a pretty good job masking how much I am freaking out about being reaped, but my dad must be paying more attention than he ever has before if he's willing to bribe someone to change the games. I look at him, the surprise causing my mask to falter a little. I consider his offer, but it feels just a little too cowardly and my stomach roils at the idea of hiding out in daddy's pocket like a baby. I'm 18, I'm a man, even if I don't quite look it.
I square my shoulders and set my jaw. "It's ok dad, I'll be fine. I can win this you know."
"This has nothing to do with you." he says with a hard edge in his voice. "The nerve of them drawing a Sparks name. The money that we put into this town." Crestfallen, I realize that his offer was about his pride, not about protecting me. What an idiot I am to think for a minute that he'd actually thought about me. Doubt about being able to win the games creeps in. If my own father is dismissing me, and my mother is hugging me goodbye, I could actually die in the arena. Oh, God, oh God! "I'm going to go talk to Cavanaugh. That woman needs to learn that she can't run this town without Sparks money."
"Dad!" I shout, surprising everyone in the room, including me. "You're not going to talk to the mayor. My name was drawn, that's all there is to it. Yeah, I might die in the arena." I swallow hard and wipe my sweaty hands on my pants, they feel the fireworks in the pockets and I grin. "But if I do go down, I"m gonna take a lot with me. I got more fire than you think."
Maybe they're still shocked that I dared to yell at my dad, maybe they are resigning to the idea of losing their son, or heck, maybe they're thinking that I can actually win. Either way, they nod at me and say goodbye.
Not ten seconds after they leave, the door bursts back open and my entourage rushes in. Grace is leading the pack and pulls me into a hug, this one isn't awkward and I hug her wholeheartedly. I tuck my face into the hollow of her neck and inhale deeply, trying to imprint her scent in my memory. I kiss her and she kisses me back; for once the peanut gallery is silent.
After a minute, Grace releases me and we all sit down. We're all quiet for a few minutes until Martin breaks the silence. "Shit, man."
"So what are you gonna do man?" Joe asks.
"What do you think I'm gonna do?" I reply, flipping my lighter open. "I'm gonna burn 'em to the ground."
Martin and Charles nod approvingly.
"I hope you're ok with me triggering the wholly moley canoli," Alice says. She smiles at me, but I see her chin wobbling. She looks like she's trying not to cry.
"No," I say, grinning at her. "It was great. Did you see the cream hit Mayor Cavanaugh in the back of the head?"
"That's nothing," says Charles. "Vapor got it right in the face."
"You guys are the ones who exploded a canoli all over the mayor and head peacekeeper?" Grace was incredulous. "And Alice, you helped these idiots?"
"Well, it's not like it was my idea!" Alice says. "Cary wanted to make a big bang since it's his last … reaping."
The tears that Grace was holding at bay burst through at that. We all gather her in and comfort her. A scream from the other room draws all of our attention and Joe walks over to the door to see what's going on. The peacekeeper at the door rebuffs his efforts and he returns with a shrug. I reach into my pocket and pack of black cats. "We were gonna do this after the movie, but I don't want to miss it, wanna set these off now?"
"Inside?" asks Alice.
"Why not?" I say. "Biggest thing I brought were roman candles, we can just shoot those out the window." Alice glances at Grace, the sparkle in here eye begging permission, even though she's two years older than Grace. Grace smiles and I pull the collection of fireworks out of my pockets. "Preston, go bar the door. You know that the peacekeepers are going to come in here the second these go off."
"Well, here," Martin says. "Since we might not get a chance after we set these off. Take this." Martin removes a silver pin from his shirt and pins it to mine. It's custom made from the day we finished our film, Super 8. The pin has the number 8 in brushed bronze set in a silver circle.
I smile at Martin. "I'll give it back when I get home," I say.
"Ok, enough of this sappy stuff," Charles says. He pulls out his lighter and sets off the pack of black cats and tosses them into an empty trash can. It goes off like popcorn and as predicted, the door handle rattles. I grab a roman candle, run to the window and light it, letting the color bursts fly out the window. Everyone else grabs fireworks and we light off as many as we can before the peacekeepers break through the barrier that we put up.
When they get in they remove all of my friends, and I don't get a chance to really say goodbye. One of the peacekeepers posts himself inside the door and glares at me. I flick my lighter open, light it and flick it closed, then I do it again. I spend the rest of the hour doing this. The familiar action numbing my mind to the worry about actually going into the arena.
What do you think so far? Any favorites? Predictions? Do you want me to separate chapters for the male and female tributes so that they are shorter but come out faster, or keep them together? Thanks for reading!