A/N: Still no reviews or anything. We hope you aren't boring you guys too much ;) Anyway, here's the next chapter that introduces my character. Also, Merry Christmas!
The day is here; the one that everyone dreads. For today is the day of the annual Reaping for the Hunger Games in District 12.
Stood in a crowd of girls my own age, I can't concentrate on anything, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as everyone waits silently for Denver Trinket to make his appearance to pick the two names from the glass bowls that stood proudly on the stage. He is late, as per usual.
Swallowing anxiously, I look up, hoping to find some sense of solace up there. But there is nothing. The normally beautiful blue sky is thick with a grey layer of clouds that hide the sun, reflecting the gloomy mood of the people around me. I sigh deeply. It's only my second time standing in this courtyard, but my name is in that glass bowl fifteen times already.
District 12 is one of the poorest Districts with most of us barely surviving on the little food we have. Even though I'm the baker's daughter, it's still hard to have enough to eat. We can barely afford to buy the ingredients needed to make the bread, and with everyone else having so little money, it's not surprising we get hardly any profit on selling the products we make.
A hand sneaks its way into mine, bringing me back to the present. I look up at my best friend beside me and give her a half-hearted smile.
"Don't worry, Willow, you'll be fine," she tells me. "Look at all these girls. What are the chances of either of us getting picked this year? Some of them must have their name in that bowl nearly one hundred times!"
"Don't jinx us!" I warn her jokingly as the doors of the Town Hall open and the man everyone dreads to see strides out.
This time, Denver was dressed in an elaborately sewn orange suit, his hair styled in bright blue spikes, contrasting ridiculously against the rest of the dull, grey courtyard and his beaming, white smile the opposite expression to the sea of people around me. He stops at the front of the stage and looks round at us all.
"Hello, District 12, and welcome to the 25th Annual Hunger Games!" he calls into the squeaky microphone and then pauses, as if expecting us to cheer. We stay silent. Quickly, he clears his throat and continues. "So, this year, as you all know, is the first ever Quarter Quell, celebrating twenty-five years of all that stands for the Hunger Games. I shall proceed to pick the names of the lucky girl and boy who will have the great honour of representing this District in this special event. May the odds be forever in your favour!"
I wince at the choice of words, but my mind immediately loses interest in that as Denver plunges his hand into the first glass bowl for the female tribute. I can hear my heart thudding as his long fingers close around one piece of rolled up paper and slowly draws it out.
"And the female tribute for District 12 is…" All that can be heard is the crinkle of unrolling paper as everyone waits with baited breath, praying it won't be them. "And the lucky girl is… Willow Flyrose!"
I freeze. I can't breathe. The air seems to have stopped inside my lungs as everyone turns to look at me, horror written all over their faces. It can't be me! Who is going to walk my sister, Poppy, to school each day? Who's going to look out for her when the boys come and knock her over in the school hallways? My parents definitely don't have the time with the bakery in the position it is!
"Willow… Willow." Orchid's worried voice brings me out of my trance. I turn to her in terror.
"Orchid…" I start, but I can see the Peacekeepers coming for me out of the corner of my eye and fear manages to choke back the words I want to say.
"I'm so sorry, Willow," she whispers, a tear slowly falling down her cheek as the Peacekeepers reach me and take hold of my arms, wrestling me out of the crowd and into the aisle.
As I'm marched up to the stage, I try and spot my parents in the crowd of adults stood to the side of the aisle, but there are too many faces staring back at me, remorse clouding their eyes. All too soon, I reach the stage. From here on, I am alone. Taking a deep breath, I tentatively start to climb the stairs. Denver is standing at the top, his hand outstretched to help me up.
That is when I hear the most awful wail come from the back of the crowd. I turn just in time to spot my mother desperately trying to push her way through the crowd to reach me.
"No! Not my baby, please! Not my Willow!"
My father catches her before she can do anything else stupid and pulls her close to his chest as she sobs, catching my eye and looking at me sadly. Poppy soon appears at my father's side and wraps her arms around his waist, burying her head in his shirt.
A tear finds its way down my cheek as Denver takes hold of my wrist and pulls me up the last step, causing me to lose sight of the last time I would ever see my loved ones together.
"And, so, how old are you, Miss Flyrose?" he asks, trying to take everyone's mind of my grieving family.
"I… I'm thirteen," I say shakily.
"Ah, well. Shall we see who your fellow tribute is going to be?" He lets go of my hand as he delves into the other bowl. I pray that the name is unfamiliar. "And the male tribute for District 12 is… Benedict Hollowthorn!"
It seems this time my prayer is answered. Although I know the name, I can't put a face to it, so I scan the crowd, looking for someone moving towards the front.
Soon, I spot a relatively tall boy making his way to the aisle. He must be about fifteen or sixteen, with shaggy blonde hair swept across his eyes. He looks familiar, but I can only guess it's from school or serving him in the bakery.
I see him look back at a boy about my age with saddened eyes. A boy who also has shaggy blonde hair. It can only be his brother, I realise as the Peacekeepers escort him towards where I was stood. His face is blank as he mounts the stage and walks over to me. Yet, as he catches my eye, he gives me a small reassuring smile before turning to face the silent crowd, his face emotionless once again.