Neam and Aldera went to Justice Building the following day with me. The couple was apprehensive about bringing me because it is hit or miss if the governing officials will allow the couple to keep the child that they found in the slums or take the child from them. It was a good day because they were in and out without an issue.
"What now?" Aldera asked.
"This is District 4. We need to get floaties for the guy." Neam said, pulling one of my toes. I was a very laid-back baby, so I wasn't fazed by Neam pulling my toe.
The couple spent the day in town shopping and showing me off. I enjoy the attention that the other women in the town are giving me, so I just giggle, laugh, and make whatever noises a baby makes.
At the six-month mark, my parents take me to a vast body of water, which I would find out years later was the sea, for a family date at the beach. I was content with playing in the sand, but every now and then I would crawl away to the water.
In the months that followed, when I started walking, Neam would put my floaties on my arm then sit and watch me play in the water. Neam remembered that I was the child of a victor, but District 4 had at least five victors in the past fifty years, and he can't put his finger on who my father might be. As time goes, and I grow older, anytime I take to the water I swim like a fish. As if I had a natural talent for swimming. My father decided to test my skills. We would play catch, but he would throw it into the ocean. Sometimes I think he was trying tire me out so I would sleep through the night. When I turned seven my parents announced, and to the district that they were expecting a child. I guess this is a big thing, but I don't think much of it. As with all children who had grown used to ruling the roost, I started to cause trouble before my siblings—found out that my mother was pregnant with two babies—were born and even after they were born.
When I turned twelve, I had to take part in the drawing for the Hunger Games. I've seen many have seen many children get taken as tribute for the Games. Most died. District 4, in the time that I have been alive—which is only twelve years—has had three victors. Most Games I don't even bother watching. The thought of grotesques violence and death doesn't interest. My parents don't force me to watch the Games, and I couldn't be bother even if they did. Although the times that District 4 was victorious, the victor didn't have to engage in a brutal land fight.
Makes sense. Four's specialty is fighting in the water, but a few of those victors that won almost lost to Districts 1 and 2. I thought.
As I'm standing in the roped off section for twelve-year-old males, I contemplate what the arena for this years Games could be. I also contemplate on what kind of weapons the tributes will have. I remember a variety of weapons, but nothing that stands out to me. I look at the pool of remaining victors, and none of them look special.
As I scan the victors one stands out to me. If memory serves me correctly, she won the Eleventh games, and her name is Mags. No last name but what get's my attention is that she is less the five feet tall. I'm intrigued to say the least. How does a woman that short win her Games against boys and girls who weigh more and are taller than her?
The reaping, what we call the drawing for the tributes of the Hunger Games, comes and goes, and I'm home before I know it. I switch of my clothes and head back to the ocean. My father started teaching me how to fish, but I never master the art by using a rod. I was more capable of catching fish either with a net, or a tool called a trident. I was a reckless boy as I as I enter my teen years. I got into a lot of fights, but I was never the one who started them. The fights were usually near the docks were I could use a net to trap my bully.
It's amazing how I stayed out of trouble. A lot of people picked fights with me, but I was always wily enough to either talk my way out of the fight, or I had a back up plan. I became a very popular boy: boys either hated me or wanted to be me and girls wanted to be with me. It was a very exhausting.
One random day, while my father and I were fishing, I said. "Father, I thought of a gift I want for my birthday."
"What is that?" he asked.
"I want to learn how to tie knots. Whether by private lesson, or by a book." I said.
"I think I can arrange that." he said.
My thirteen birthday came and went, and true to his word my father gave me a book on knot tying, while giving me hands on lessons in the subject. My skills increased greatly, and I was able to become a more efficient fisherman when I was out with my father, but I still preferred using the net and trident. I became efficient with a knife as well.
Come summer, we had another reaping—still more children I didn't know—and we spent more time at the beach as a family. My younger siblings—a brother and a sister—would either play on the shore, or occasionally swim in the ocean. I taught my siblings how to swim, more like of begged my parents if I could, and then didn't seem to mind.
My little brother start to take after my father and show talent for fishing. So, while our father is out working, I take my brother to the little fishing spot where I learned to fish. My brother acquired our father's talent for using a fishing rod, so I teach him all of the knots that I know, and he becomes an even better fisherman. So much so that while the three of us are out fishing one day, my brother catches a twelve-pound fish with little effort on his part.
"Thanks for teaching your little brother how to fish." our father said while my little brother was distracted.
"I just taught him all the skills and techniques that you taught me." I said.
My little sister and I interacted on here and there on occasion, but I never really bonded with her like I did with our brother.
Another year goes by, and it's time for another reaping. I get back for the ocean, get a shower, and get changed. I've gotten harassed a lot, but today seemed different. I can't place my finger on it, but this day is not going to end well. Everything was going well; I was even preparing to join the boys swim team at school. But something about this day seems ominous.
The family leaves together, and when we get to the town square I kiss and hug my family and then go register. When I get to the section for fourteen-year-old boys I'm surrounded by people I know. Some are hostile, some indifferent, others that are friendly enough. I work the crowd to liven their spirits. We have another thirty minutes before it starts.
And before I know it, I eat my words because the Capitol escort takes the stage and begins the reaping thirty minutes early.
Must be in a rush to get this show on the road or has a tight schedule to keep. I thought.
I take a look at the pool of victors again, and I see Mags is looking directly at me. I flinch the moment we make eye contact. I wasn't expecting her to be looking at me and so intently. It makes me wonder if she knows the outcome of today's reaping.
That's a literal impossibility. No one, not even the victors, knows who's going to be tributes for the yearly Games. If that's the case, why is Mags staring at me. I thought.
I was lost in my thoughts that I missed Amethyst Underworth, the escort, and the mayor give their speeches. Not that it matters. It's required reading, and it bores half the crowd to sleep. I take Amethyst features: It's a woman, I think, that has a lot of masculine qualities, but she's wearing a crap ton of makeup. Even from this distance no amount of makeup can cover up her looks. Rumors floating around the district is that the people from the Capitol are very garish looking. Seeing that Amethyst has all that makeup on, plus a neon green wig on, and two-inch artificial nails that's not a stretch of the imagination.
I'm brought back to reality as Amethyst walks over to the girl's bowl pulls out a name and then walks back over to the microphone.
"Coral Ashbrook!" Amethyst announces gleefully.
I look over to the girl's side of the aisle and I see the part crowd turn and look around, while the section near the person in question looks at her. Coral is attractive—oh who am I kidding. Coral is stunningly beautiful. I can't make out her qualities from here, but now that I think about it, Coral was one of the girls that was trying to get my attention while I was growing up. But I remember Coral and her group of friends were very superficial and borderline psychotic. In another life I might have been attracted to her. Coral attempted to get my attention when we were growing, but she gave up or she never wanted me in the first place.
I was in my head thinking about Coral that I missed Amethyst walking over to the boy's bowl and pulling out a name. I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear.
"Finnick Odair!" Amethyst says, almost in a sing-songy voice. She is obsessed with the boys. Last year Amethyst voice was dripping with sexual tension as she read the male tributes name. It was quite disturbing.
It takes me a moment to mentally react. Finnick Odair! Finnick Odair! Finnick Odair! I hear my name over and over again in my head. I exit my head to see the boys in the immediate area are looking at me. I can feel the energy in the immediate area as well: some are glad that I'm going to the Capitol and to my death. Others are not happy that I'm going. I step out of the crowd and make way to the stage I can feel the energy radiating off of the girls, and all of them are sad that I'm leaving. I look over my shoulder, as the Peacekeepers flank me and escort me to the stage and look at the families. I see my family: my mother and younger siblings are crying, while my father just nods at me. I never really felt like an outsider, but somehow today I feel alone.
As I'm approaching the stage, Amethyst walks over to great me, but I'm still creeped out by this woman. I look over at Coral as I'm making my way over to the spot behind Amethyst; I try to make get a good look at her, but Coral is hiding her features.
Coral was a superficial girl, but she still has a major crush on me. To be hiding her emotions, even those that most can never contain after just being reaped, she must of had help. I thought.
"…Shake hands." Amethyst said.
I shake my head, and then turn to shake hands with Coral. We finally make eye contact, and while I regain my composure and put the playboy demeanor back on, Coral is excited that I'm going to the Capitol with her.
As we're being escorted into the Justice Building all I could think about was Coral's excitement.
Is Coral happy because she's a tribute, or is she happy that she get me all to herself? If it's the former who's happy about being a tribute in the yearly death games? And if it's the latter I might be a playboy, but I prefer my partner not to be an airhead. Maybe I could use that to my advantage. I thought as the doors closed behind us.