When we leave the woods, it is with far more game and food than we had anticipated on having. We head to the Hob first, knowing that we will be able to sell or trade a good portion of it to benefit our families. The warehouse was abandoned once technology had progressed enough for us to find a better way to transport coal, and the Hob gradually took it over.
We go to Greasy Sae first, giving her a choice of what she wanted. Her name isn't actually Greasy Sae. It's Beryl Patmore, but she'll skin you alive and add you to her soup if she ever hears those words tumble from your lips. She trades us some paraffin for a good handful of greens, then offers us a bowl of soup. We decline, gratefully, having eaten our fill in the woods.
When we leave the Hob, we have made quite a few good trades. Pleased with ourselves, we make our way to the mayor's house. While in the woods, we found a patch of ripe strawberries, which the mayor has a weakness for. When we arrive, his daughter opens the door. Anna Carson looks picturesque in an expensive white dress with a pink ribbon tying back her blonde hair. Anna and I were in the same year together. I wouldn't necessarily consider us friends, but we were friendly with one another. She sits with me at lunch and despite the lack of conversation, she doesn't seem to mind.
"You look lovely, Anna." I greet with a smile.
"Oh, thank you, Tom." She reaches down to tug at the dress a bit. "I suppose I want to look nice if I have to go to the Capitol today."
Gwen snorts and I grimace, already knowing what's coming before it even happens. "You don't have to worry about going to the Capitol today. The odds aren't in your favor." The harshness in Gwen's voice is unfounded but understandable when you know her predicament.
"Don't be cruel, Gwen."
"Well it's true. Her name has been entered, what, five times? I had my name entered six times my first year."
"That isn't her fault," I argue, but I can tell Gwen doesn't care to hear it. I sigh and look over at Anna, who surprisingly seems unfazed. I hand over the strawberries and she gives me the money we're owed.
"Good luck, Tom," she murmurs before shutting the door.
Gwen and I walk away from the mayor's house, neither of us saying a word. I am beyond upset with Gwen's behavior, and I can tell she isn't particularly thrilled with mine either.
"What's gotten into you, Gwen?" I whisper softly, stopping the redhead from walking by stepping in her path.
"Nothing," she answers briefly, motioning me to move aside. I ignore her unstated request and she sighs. "It's the reaping," she confesses. "I hate it. I hate the Capitol for punishing us year after year because one district lashed out."
"All the districts fought," I remind her.
"But 13 started it," she counters, throwing her hands up in frustration. "And then disappeared."
"They were bombed, Gwen." I am generally confused by her attitude. Gwen has always had a particular disgust for the Capitol. Normally I hear it while we're in the woods. This, it makes me nervous.
"Forget it, Tom. I'll see you later." I watch as she walks away, toward her own home and her own family. I head back toward the Seam, where my mother and brother are waiting for me. I try to shake off the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it continues to gnaw at me.
Kieran greets me happily at the door and I ruffle his hair in response. My mother can already tell that something is wrong, but she doesn't ask. I hand her what we had caught and traded for, and she smiles gratefully. Things are still tense between my mother and I since my father's death, but we are both making strides to make it better.
I notice that my brother is already dressed. It will be the first reaping he is entered in, and I can't help feeling nervous. He follows me into the other room where my bath is waiting.
"Will you teach me to hunt soon?" He asks before I even have a chance to strip. He asks me just about everyday, and everyday I tell him the same thing.
"When you're older."
"I'm old enough now. Please Tom?"
As I slide into the bath, I debate his request. He is older, technically. It could be beneficial. Who knows what could happen at the reaping?
"We'll see," I reply, which he promptly takes as a yes. I laugh at Kieran's excitement and shoo him out of the room so I can bathe in peace. When I'm finished, I dress into a pair of pants and the nicest shirt I own. My mother adjusts my collar and gives me a smile.
We eat a small meal and then head for the reaping in the square. We're quickly separated-Kieran heads to the roped off section in the back for the twelve year olds, my mother is with the rest of the parents off to the side, and I am toward the front with the rest of the sixteen-year-olds. I nod toward a few of my classmates, but we don't speak. What's there left to say?
On the stage in front of us are a podium, three chairs (two of which are filled), and two glass bowls filled with slips of paper-one for the boys and one for the girls. Inside of the boys' bowl are twenty slips with my name. But inside the girls'...I look back at Gwen and she's looking over at me. I offer her a small smile and an encouraging nod. She returns the gesture, then looks forward when Anna's father steps up to the podium
Mayor Carson began his usual speech, going over the history of the Hunger Games. It's something we've all heard before and I find my mind begin to wander. That is, until the third chair is filled.
District 12 has only had two victors in the seventy-four years that the games have been held. One is dead. One is very much alive, and very drunk as he makes his way onto the stage. John Bates stumbles into his chair, hollering something completely unintelligible. I fight back the urge to laugh and see Gwen trying to do the same.
Mayor Carson, ever the perfectionist, continues his speech without even blinking. When he's finished, he introduces the person the other person on stage.
Sarah O'Brien, while having quite a common name, is anything but. Her outfit, from the obvious pink wig to the ridiculous makeup on her face, just screams 'Capitol!' She is an escort for the tributes of District 12 and there's no doubt that she's hoping to be promoted to another district. I can hardly blame her.
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She greets with a smile. She turns toward the bowl filled with girls' names and announces, "Ladies first!" as she draws a paper from the bowl. I unconsciously hold my breath, my eyes fixated on the back of Gwen's head.
But it isn't Gwen's name she announces.
"Sybil Crawley!"
Oh no. I watch the dark haired young woman step up to the stage. Sybil Crawley's family owns and works at a bakery in town. Gwen and I had sold a couple squirrels to her father earlier today for a few loaves of bread.
She keeps her eyes cast downward as Sarah asks for volunteers, but no one does. Poor Sybil, I think to myself.
Sarah is moving on to the next bowl and I barely have any time to think about Sybil's misfortune possibly becoming my own when she reads the next name.
It's Kieran Branson.