Tarragon Layland - District 6
My mother used to tell me that there's always a happy ending to every story. To be honest, it's complete bullshit. Whoever put that into her mind was cruel and one son of a bitch. I wonder how well happy endings turned out for my mom now that she's buried six feet under.
There is no such thing as a happy ending, especially here in District 6. Today's the day of the Reaping, therefore, there won't be happy endings for two kids. By the end of the 35th Hunger Games, there will be twenty three kids without happy endings.
The only exception is my father, and he still doesn't have the happiest ending. He may be a Victor, but he's stuck with me. My father won the Twelfth Hunger Games. After that, he started taking morphling and after I was born, he decided to gradually give it up. Every now and then, he'd take a shot or two. We live in the Victors' Village, so no one really bothers us.
Downstairs, my father lounges in a seat at the table. A couple of people from the Capitol are fixing his hair and putting some weird stuff on his face. Since he's the last Victor in District 6, he gets to mentor the next tributes. I get no such attention. Not many even know I exist. I'm pretty much a ghost in the town. It's basically no attention or receive sympathy for being a kids without a mother. Which would you pick?
"You should head to the District Square, Tarragon," my father says. With a shrug, I finish buttoning my shirt and slip on my brown shoes. It's just going to be one of those days. The Reaping will be over soon and I'll return to my everyday routine. It's my last year so I won't have to deal with anymore Reapings.
The makeup people leave as I grab a quick bite to eat. "Shouldn't you be leaving, too? You know, do whatever it is you do with the mayor and our escort?" Each year, my father explains what he does, but I never listen and always forget. After eating dinner, I head to the District Square. My father follows, but he splits away from me as soon as we get near a crowd.
I shove my hands in my pockets and squeeze into the overcrowded section of eighteen year olds. A pretty girl waves to me, but I ignore her. She sends me a glare, rolls her eyes, then joins her friends. I don't have many friends. Actually, none at all. As said before, I don't want the attention. Either I'm the son of a victor or the poor boy whose mother died. Or I'm no one. Being nothing sure beats praise and/or sympathy.
I examine the other kids in the District Square. I spy a brawny eighteen year old with scraggly brown hair. To my right are two fifteen year old girls with their hair up in elaborate braids. They're holding hands tightly, making me think they must be really scared about the reaping. Behind me, a boy is kissing a girl. They're "star-crossed" lovers as many would call them and it would suck if one of them got picked. In the twelve year old section, I spot a young girl with her flaming red hair in braids. She stands stoically, not moving. It's her first time having her name in the drawing, but she shouldn't be worried. Her name is in there once and by the looks of how her outfit looks, she can probably afford not to get tesserae.
The mayor begins his speech and everyone turns their heads to listen. My eyes search for the cameras that capture this event. The Capitol and every other District will be watching. The mayor finishes and our escort Vecturia Jemini skips up to the stage. She twirls around in her turquoise dress. This year, her sky blue hair is curly and huge. She giggles as she talks. She's so annoying and she's like this every year. She never shuts up. Never.
"This year will be extra special!" she says into the microphone with her screechy voice. "May the odds be ever in your favor!" Her hand eagerly dives into one of the glass bowls. She pulls it out, grinning like a mad woman. The paper is being held up and she circles the stage, adding to the suspense. "The female tribute is…" She opens the slip of paper. "Sage Freedan!"
I keep my eyes straight ahead and wait for the girl to walk up. A familiar head of flaming red hair climbs the stage. She looks into the crowd, eyes aimed towards the older kids and I see a girl with red hair that matches Sage's. Sage is a twelve year old and she's hoping someone will volunteer to take her place, particularly her sister who is in the seventeen year old section. Yet, her sister stays put. Sage's lip quivers as she tries to be brave and she tightly holds the edges of her red skirt.
"Gentlemen next," Vecturia beams. Very slowly, she picks a piece of paper out of a different glass bowl. I watch the mayor and my father, sitting on the edge of their seats. My father keeps an impassive expression on his face as Vecturia reads the name. I'm not too worried about being picked. I didn't put my name in extra times for tesserae. There's a slim chance of me being chosen.
"Tarragon Layland!"
My father just about falls out of his seat and I nearly burst out into laughter. Then, I realize why he nearly fell off his seat. For the first time since my mother's funeral, all eyes are on me. It's a weird feeling and I don't know what to think at first. I take a deep breath, clenching my fists, and take the short walk to the stage. I turn to see Sage biting her nails nervously. My father tries not to show any emotion. The mayor's eyebrows are raised. Vecturia squeals excitedly.
"Oh my goodness! Lookie here! The son of a Victor," Vecturia says, jumping up and down.
I shake hands with Sage. Her hands are so small and they're shaking, proving how anxious she is. I hadn't noticed it, but my heart is racing and my face feels warm. However, I make sure I'm calm and collected on the inside and outside. This is on live television and I can't show myself being frightened. The Career Districts can't think I'm a scared little prick.
Vecturia grins even more. She closes the Reaping ceremony. My father stands up, tromping off the stage. The mayor and our escort follow. Two Peacekeepers direct us towards the Justice Building. There, we'll say our goodbyes. In no time, we'll be on a train to the Capitol. And suddenly, we'll be in the Games. Time will seem to slow down in the arena. One person will come out and twenty three will die.
Sage gazes up into my eyes. She's so small. She probably won't last past the Bloodbath. In fact, I think I'll take bets. She'll be the first to die. My father had me train a little when I was younger. I have a chance at winning, at being a Victor. Sage has no chance.
There is no such thing as a happy ending.
