CHAPTER ONE: Moxie Tyler
I PULLED THE SHE-MULE TO THE SIDE O' THE DUSTY ROAD SO'S THEM Peacekeepers could pass. They had a big old motorcar that was big and definitely old, all beat up and like. But we had nothing to compare but our feet and they was pretty beat up too. So I guess we were equal for once.
I pulled that darn mule right back onto the road when the Peacekeepers had gone. She wasn't anything special but she carried Elka when the heat burned her feet a few years back, and she was carrying Elka now too. So that was good. But she was looking a bit saggy in the middle now and moved none too fast either. Sissy brought up the rear and Bess walked alongside the creature and held Elka's hands while she sat astride the girl. Striker and Lenox stayed back at the Compound with the other kids who weren't school age yet. Being five years each, they could stick back only one more year from the Reaping. That's where we were going'. For me, it's my second year in and nothing yet, but Bess goes in the first time today. I catch a glance of her, and I reckon she's scared dumb of today, but then I see she's just telling' stupid stories to Elka. I had to sigh. Bess's been real brave. Elka, though, hasn't slept for a week on account of night terrors. She's too sensitive a child, I fear for her. If Bess or I go in this time… I am not going think about that. What's the use?
Sissy looks real nice today. She's got on one of my old dresses. Miss Vetta Cordwip made that one for me on my 10th birthday, and since the Reaping's always the same day every year – and that's Sissy's birthday – I figured she should wear it as a tradition. It's special to us. Its blue stripes down the straps on the shoulders and down to the knees where the dress stops. The rest is white underneath the stripes. At the belt, they cross horizontally – that's a word Miss Vetta taught me – and boxed the white bits into little squares. Sissy's hair's coming' in like I think I remember Momma's being: jet black and awful straight. Sissy catches me looking at her and comes on up, skipping to me like it isn't Reaping Day. For another five years of getting to know her, I hope it isn't my time today.
"Tell me, what silliness is Bessy telling your sister 'bout?" I ask Sissy.
"She's trying to tell Elka that there are giants in the sky. I don't think there is but Bess is convinced there is. What do you think, Mox?"
"I think there's something in the sky, honest, but it isn't giants." I grin at my little sister.
"I don't know, Mox. What do you think makes the thunder an' lightning then? Isn't it giants fighting?"
"Nah, Sissy, it isn't giants fighting none. It's something else. You know that awful fence on the rough side o' the canyon? Know how it hisses like rain on the prairie? Well I think that's what's happening' when the thunder takes up arguing' with the lightning. Miss Vetta calls it 'electricity."
"That's a strange thing to say, Mox," Sissy shows some serious concern. "How's all that hissing' got something to do with the sky?" I can't answer her because I don't rightly know. If I make it to Miss Vetta's after the Reaping Ceremony, I'll ask her. And then I get a shudder thinking' 'bout the Reaping'. Sissy knows it too. She's seen me shudder. "Hey Mox," she chirrups. "You were alive for Miss Atoka Menzies' Games weren't you?" I shake my head.
"Nah, I wasn't yet born. But I tell you 'bout that time I seen her at Miss Vetta's?" Sissy's face lights up and I see Bess and Elka are listening' too, so I clear my voice and tell 'm the story I must've told a hundred and ten times already.
It was a school day, but I was finished with classes and wanted a visit with Miss Vetta. Her rooms are above her herbs shop in Town. There's but fifteen families what live in Town, and the Menzies' are one of them. It's also the Morrison's, the MacNaghten's, the Forbes', the Munro's, the Keith's, the Gordon's and the MacFie's. The Robertson's are over on the red clay road with the MacInnes' and the Rose's, and on the near edge of Town is the Guthrie's, MacThomas's, Chisholm's and Daddy's family, the Tyler's. Usually Miss Vetta will let me come in the back door from the schoolyard, but she must've forgotten to unlock it for me because that day it was locked. I had to go around the shops to the front and climb up the steps to her herbs shop. I don't remember the last time I had been in the front part: Miss Vetta only lets me in the kitchen when I come by and visit, and it's a big kitchen, course, because folks that live in Town are rich folks, but there I was finding' myself walking' to go knocking' on Miss Vetta's shop door. Well what do you know, as soon as I get my fist all ready to knock, the door opens and there's Miss Atoka Menzies herself! She never looked fierce or nothing, not like when we see her on the moving' picture screen. I was looking at her and I knew who she was, and she just looked at me and smiled and walked her way back to the Victor's Village!
I remember seeing' her for the first time on the screen when we had to watch all the clips of the past victors of the Games, and she's the only living' one from 10, so we all had to watch for her Games. It was the 7th Games, the same Games I was born after. They came up on them four Islands and there was the fifth one in the center of the arena: water everywhere and basically no place for hiding'. There she is, Miss Atoka Menzies… but younger than she is now… and she's looking' fierce and a little scared too. Cut right away to the first kill where she faces down that boy from 7 and finally hangs him with the vines from the tree! Woooweee! That's a good kill. An' next she comes across the leader girl from 12. Miss Vetta says we ought to like District 12, an' maybe in a different world we would, but in the Games you had to kill even your friends. There's Miss Atoka Menzies spotting' the girl from 12 on the beach of their island. Next thing, they're fighting and tearing' at each other, an' at the last hope, Miss Atoka tosses sand up in her face and then gets the upper hand! Bam! Two down.
Of course we had to cut to Mr. Denton Forbes – poor cad getting' himself into it with the gal from 3. Except he gets away without killing her, which Miss Vetta says is a good thing. 'We don't need more deaths 'round here, girlie,' she likes to say. 'Seen too much o' death here. We don't need more.' But these are the Games! Course, the girl from 3 dies in the night anyway, so that's Mr. Denton through. Doesn't get it so easily the next cut on. It's Day 3 an' he comes through the trees an', WHAM! District 3 guy knocks him down. They go at it, first Mr. Denton has the upper, then the guy from 3, then Mr. Denton, then 3, 'til suddenly, Mr. Denton is on top o' 3 and suddenly they go still. Camera zooms, an' there's District 3, bleeding all over the rock his head been banged on. Course that means Mr. Denton is the last man standing on his island.
We cut back to Miss Atoka who's in it with the boy from District 5. He's trying to choke her out but he can't do it 'cause she keeps kneeing' him in the boy-parts. He gets a knife in her side an' we think it's all over. Even the camera's trying to get in to see if she's a dead one. No cannon fire, so can't be, but 5 isn't trying' to get her anymore. Then we see it! She's got the knife out of her side an' she's creeping' up on him behind. BAM! One side is in him, the other side is sticking' out of him. The cannon fires and Miss Atoka's the last woman standing on her island!
That isn't the Miss Atoka Menzies I seen that day. I actually can't picture the Miss Atoka I've seen as the Miss Atoka on the screens each year. I think that's why she isn't ever there for them replays. That isn't her. So the Games change you, I guess. There isn't anything more changing than being dead.
Then they cut to the big finale. It's been only four days to the point when Mr. Denton swims across to the big island in the center of the arena. He meets, of course, Miss Atoka, and she's bleeding'. She's been stabbed deeply, but only in her side. Mr. Denton, turns out, isn't doing so good himself. Seems like they aren't going to kill each other after all. They just kind of sit there and mend. Day 5 goes by, then Day 6. Mr. Denton isn't looking good at all. An' on Day 7, some awful tidal wave come roaring up and tried to squash them but it isn't doing anything more than help kill the tribute from District 4. Shocking' because you think District 4'd be the good swimmers. But he's dead. That leaves just the District 1 girl, Miss Atoka and Mr. Denton, an' he isn't looking' good at all now. Night time comes an' sure as sure, poor Mr. Denton dies from his scrapes. It's all sad sorry music watching Miss Atoka find 'm an' see he's deader than a doorknob.
Then the real battle begins. Day 8 must have been real hot because we see District 1 swimming all around, stopping on other islands and looking around for the only remaining Tribute. An' Miss Atoka's getting' herself all ready for the war. Sure as sure, Day 9 rolls around and District 1 finds Miss Atoka. They fight like it's the last fight of their lives, but in the end it's Miss Atoka, bloody and limping and looking broken into pieces, who lifts a handmade rope, lassoes District 1 right 'round the neck and SNAP! BANG! BOOM! She's the Victor o' the 7th Games.
Sissy isn't so keen on my story anymore. It's too gory for her anyways. I tug her to my side as we go on and walk along. The Town is getting' nearer anyways, and before it is the Ranches and the Victor's Village. Miss Atoka is the only one in there nowadays. She always wears the same thin golden shift on her tall sleek body when it's a Reaping' Day. I point out the train station standing not very far from the Victor's Village. "That's where they'll be taking either me or Bess today if the odds aren't in our favor." Sissy gives a little whimper and I know I've gone too far now, so I tug her harder against me and yank the mule's rope a little more. "I'm only kidding. We aren't going' in the Games. My name's in there just three times, thanks to Miss Vetta, and Bessy's here is only going in today once. The odds are in our favor for sure. Just you wait an' see!" Sissy doesn't look like she believes me, and I don't blame her: if my big sister was talking like I am now, I'd be really scared out of my shift. Of course I only say because now that we're getting' closer to the Town, and closer to the Reaping', I'm pretty darn well scared to death myself. Three times is more than one, and one was bad enough. But I am not going to tell Bessy or Sissy that. Miss Vetta tells me I had to be strong, had to be a big girlie now. I had to start I suppose and start somewhere, an' here's 'bout as good as anywhere.
THE TOWN ON REAPING DAY IS JUST AWFUL. All the glum-faced kids in their bright outfits are shuffling their feet toward the Town Hall, all the bright and odd Capitol folk look really out of place like they're from some other planet or something with their cameras and their Test, one, two , three… it's just awful. We had to pass by Miss Vetta's shop, so I take Elka down from the she-mule and tie the creature up before we stop into Miss Vetta's for a quick round of hellos. She's gotten on in years but she's still like I remember her. Gold-skinned, buxom, wearing always a damp bandana on her head, tying up her black hair I guess. She dress smart in a nice gray dress and today she's even wearing a little piece o' flowers strung together around her neck. If I didn't know her better, I'd say she was pretty and stylish, but we don't give much for pretty or stylish about here. Can you rope a bull or any gosh-darn bovine with "pretty" or "stylish"? Didn't think so, so don't pay much mind to those things. So Miss Vetta would say. She apologizes for not having the time to ask us for a sit down but she promises cookies with lemon in them when we get done with all that hoopla over the Games.
"How old are you, girlie?" She growls at me like usual.
"Twelve years, Miss Vetta." I reply back. I've been doing this a long time.
"This is your second Games then, girlie?" She frowns. I nod. "Well… I will be looking out for you when it's all said and done." She turns to Bess next.
"How old are you, sweetie?"
"Eleven years, Miss Vetta." Miss Vetta sucks her teeth but puts on a smile.
"Oh my sweet girlie, you're growing too darn fast! You stop that now, you hear?" She breaks her frown into a smile so that our more serious Bessy knows she isn't as mad as she sounds. Maybe Bessy's a bit too sensitive too. I don't reckon so: it's her first Games, so I reckon she's just getting scared now.
"An' dear sweet child, how old are you?" Miss Vetta's gone on to Sissy.
"I-I'm ten years, Miss Vetta." Sissy manages, wide-eyed. Miss Vetta smiles at her.
"I've got some good old lemon drop cookies and some fresh milk from my Bessie this morning, so when you're done through with the Reaping Ceremonies, you just come on back over here and get some of that, you hear?" Sissy smiles and nods.
"Well, let's see how old this little lady is," Miss Vetta lifts Elka into her arms and brings her up close and gentle to her face, like I imagine Momma would've done. "Oh no, don't you be telling' me, little missy! I'm going to guess. Mmmm, you can't be younger than six years, am I right?"
"I'm eight years, Miss Vetta!" Elka busts out.
"Aren't you turning into some fine young lady, Miss Elka? You come on back here for some milk and cookies after the ceremony with your sister, you hear?" Elka nods, allowing a small and nervously slow smile cross her face. Then we hear the Peacekeepers' motorcar coming 'round, so Miss Vetta puts Elka down and turns all serious.
"I'll be looking for you," she says, like she always does. "I'll be looking for all of you, just as soon as this thing's over and done." She locks eyes with me. I feel more scared of letting Miss Vetta down, now, than of getting my name selected from that bowl.
"Yes ma'am, Miss Vetta," we all manage, though I don't really know how I do.
The Town Hall used to be something to look at but now it just looks like it's getting tired. Some folks talk about it being "ren-o-vated" soon, but no one says much more than that, and it's all school chatter, so more than half of it isn't true. The biggest screen you ever seen is set up on the side, and right now it's got the seal of Panem, which is impressive but scary too. Later, it'll have us on it… I don't rightly know how but it will. Something to do with them cameras all over the dusty square.
The girls is forming into a line trailing up to the place where we're going to check in. Everyone had to have their fingers printed by the officials so they know we're still here. I guess they don't rightly care much for Lenox and Striker, then, because if they don't know they exist, well that's no big deal for them. But me and Bess particularly, we need to exist for them 'cause we're getting' our names in the bowl today. I push my way through so I can be with Bess when she goes for her finger-pricking'. I can't let her cry at the very beginning and make it worse for all of us. Thankfully I can stand with her because they aren't roping off the twelves and elevens like they do with the fourteens and fifteens. It's her turn now and I hold onto her shoulder to keep her calm. Some nights in the dead of summer when the world is so still and sticky and electric, I hold her shoulders while she pretends to be asleep because I know she isn't on account of being afraid of the lightning'. She still thinks it's what took Momma away, and I don't have any better answer for her, so I let her go on thinking' it. All we knew was Momma went away the same night that Old Fifty Yards Tree got struck and set on fire. It woke up Baby Striker – he was Baby Boy to that point – and I swore he laughed when he seen it. Right then and there, Daddy named him Striker on account of the lightning' strike. I hope he isn't watching at home.
Now Bessy's done with the finger pricking and she's turning to me, a look of relief on her face. I flash her one single reassuring smile before I'm told I need to put out my finger and Bess needs to keep moving. Those Capitol folks are so pushy. I watch Bess get pulled into the crowd of elevenses in the roped off area. They're the youngest to be eligible for Reaping. What if Bess does get picked? What'll Miss Vetta say then? I don't get a chance to finish that thought because I get pricked then and my finger gets rolled on the paper to show I still exist. And that's it. Sissy and Elka are required to be here but they don't have to be registered. Some Peacekeeper will come around during the Anthem and take their names. They done it last year alright without me, so I think they'll be okay this time too. Of course it's harder to see two sisters in the pen rather than just one. I have faith in them.
I manage to push through again and find Bess, and I put my hand in hers and give it a good squeeze. I can't look around right now because if I do I'll get all scared again and then it'll be all wrong because she's looking at me for courage and comfort, and I need to give it to her. Her name's in only once – we made sure of that. Miss Vetta don't take money from folks for her herbs, but she does take other valuable things. She weighs them in accordance to their value, so it's almost like passing money from hand to hand. With the wealthier folk, she asks for a little extra: a little extra flour, a little extra butter, a few extra sausage links, more cornmeal, more grits, and so on. She stores 'm up and hands 'm off to me in my school bag so no one suspects anything. That's how I don't have to put my name in more than three times this year and we still feed well. I'm going to keep on doing that too so neither Bess nor Sissy nor Elka – when her time's up – have more than the smallest number of entries in their name. I can't think what it would do to me if one o' them got called on.
The Reaping Ceremony begins. What the heck am I going to do? Bess wriggles her hand out of mine a minute and makes a face at me. We can't talk to each other during the Reaping, but her scowl tells me something'. I quit guessing when she puts her hand back in mine. Maybe I was squeezing in too tight or something. And now we have to endure the program about how bad we was once and how the Capitol saved us from utter desolation, and because we have been saved by the Capitol we have to volunteer a boy and a girl between ages 11 and 17 each year to compete in the Hunger Games against all the other Districts except the Capitol. And this is obviously for our own good as well as the good of all Panem. It's history, but it's our history. We rebelled, and we lost. Now we're going to keep on losing. I take back some of my eagerness at the Games I was retelling about Miss Atoka now that I'm here and waiting to be called on or not. The last thing is the Anthem, and we all have to listen to it. I don't mind it, really. It's almost something to be proud of, except when you think about what it stands for. There's a horn of plenty for us all, but who counts as us, all?
Now it's time for the Reaping. I think I could hear my heart banging against my chest like that night when momma went away and I heard Miss Vetta's heart banging against hers. The person for District 10 is a guy in a ridiculous green outfit with bright orange pants. His face is too white and his eyes a little too yellow, almost like a ratter cats, and when he speaks there's nobody who can understand him. He is talking even now I can't tell you what he's saying until I make out that he's saying something about odds in our favor and that ladies should go first… I guess. But there's no mistaking his meaning when he dips his hand into that big awful bowl and pulls out a slip of paper.
This is the moment.
Is me? Moxie Tyler?
Is it Bess Tyler?
He's too slow to the microphone, and he clears his throat annoyingly about twenty times – while I'm sure I know now what dying feels like – before he opens it to announce,
"Flaxie McKay."
Flaxie McKay! I let out my breath and look around for this Flaxie McKay, and I find her at last, moving slowly toward the stage. She's older than me so she could probably win the Games. She looks to be Miss Atoka Menzies' age at least when she won the Games. Still, I can't believe I've been saved again this year. I turn the magical name over in my head – magical only because it isn't mine or Bess's: Flaxie McKay; Flaxie McKay; Flaxie McKay. Finally it don't make much sense anymore. Flaxie McKay is up there on the stage looking' at the stupid Capitol man as he goes to the boys' bowl and rummages around for a slip of paper. He goes to the microphone again, clears his throat another annoying twenty times, then announces – not that I care much because it'll be years before Lenox and Striker are roped off up here – and announces,
"Seeder McKay."
There's a ripple of murmuring. I'm not sure I understand what just happened, but then I see a younger boy – maybe a year or two more than me – step forward and walk slowly toward the stage. And I think I've seen him before. And then he's on the stage. And then I realize he and the girl look a lot alike. And then the name comes back to me: Flaxie McKay and Seeder McKay. Oh shoot! I groan at the silent part and everyone looks at me. They can't be, but they must be, but it can't ever happen could it? Can they reap a brother and sister into the Games?