Chapter Two
Fern looked at the framed photograph which stood on the dresser, showing five kids standing in a row. Herself and her siblings as they had been five years ago, before the rebellion that had tried and failed to bring down the Capitol. She remembered her mother, Rowena, taking that picture, arranging the kids so that they were standing in order of age, with sixteen-year-old Hickory on the far left, followed by twelve-year-old Fern, then nine-year-old Teresa, then five-year-old Aspen, then three-year-old Ralph. It was the only picture she had of herself with all four of her brothers and sisters, a snapshot of a time now gone forever. Hickory was dead, as were both her parents, and it was possible that either she or Teresa would soon be joining them. For this was the day. July 4th. The day the reaping for the First Hunger Games would take place.
For the past two months, she'd often found herself wondering if she or Teresa would be chosen. Aspen and Ralph were safe for now, but between them she and Teresa had nine entries in the reaping. Under the rules, all twelve-year-olds had their names entered once, with the number of entries increasing by one for every year over that age until you got to the eighteen-year-olds, who had seven entries. This meant Fern, aged seventeen, was entered six times and Teresa, aged fourteen, was entered three names. Nine chances for one of their names to be drawn.
Next to the photograph stood an old clock which had once belonged to Fern's grandmother; it showed that there was just over an hour to go before everyone had to be in the square. "Come on," Fern said, turning to her siblings, who were hanging out nearby. "We'd better go get ready. Mayor Henshaw won't want to be kept waiting."
And with that, she turned and walked towards the door leading to the bedroom in the two-room cabin that had been her home for seventeen years, followed by her brother and sisters. She tried not to think about the possibility that this might be the last time she or Teresa ever set foot in that room.
Several minutes later, all four Staffords emerged from the bedroom, dressed in what passed for their good clothes. Fern, whose blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, was wearing a cream blouse that had once been Rowena's, with a grey skirt underneath, while Teresa wore a pale green dress that had been Fern's until she outgrew it two years ago, Aspen the blue-and-white checked dress Teresa was wearing in the photo on the dresser, Ralph a white shirt and brown trousers. The last two garments had once belonged to Hickory and had been hanging in the closet for more than ten years, waiting for Ralph to grow into them. All these clothes were old and worn, material wearing thin, buttons missing, the hem on Aspen's dress starting to fray, but they were the best ones the siblings possessed. Most people in District 7 had clothes which were in far worse condition.
Passing the dresser, Fern suddenly had an idea. "Wait there," she said, crossing to the dresser and opening the drawer. Inside the drawer was a small box which she opened to reveal two gold rings. Her parents' wedding bands which she'd never been able to bring herself to sell. She slipped the slightly larger ring, which had been Waldo's, into her skirt pocket, then handed Rowena's ring to Teresa, who looked at it questioningly.
"Why are you giving me Mom's ring?"
"I thought it would remind you of home if you get taken to the Capitol . . . which probably won't happen," Fern added after a moment's thought. No sense worrying about Teresa or herself being taken to the Capitol when the reaping hadn't even happened yet. After all, there were hundreds of girls in District 7 whose names could be drawn. All the same, she felt reassured by the presence of Waldo's ring in her pocket; it was like having a part of him with her and she knew that, no matter what happened today, he would be watching over her. She watched as Teresa slipped Rowena's ring into her own pocket, then after pausing briefly to wipe Ralph's grubby face with a rag, ignoring his protests, told her siblings it was time to go.
"Listen," she said to Aspen and Ralph as she bolted the door to the cabin, "I don't know what's going to happen today, but I want you to be brave. Teresa and I, we're going to have to leave you, but you're going to be all right. Mrs Mason will watch you while the reaping's going on, and after that . . ." She trailed off as she realised she had no way of knowing where she would be after the reaping. Would she be safe in District 7? Or would she be on her way to the Capitol as the district's female tribute? The latter was too awful to contemplate, so she planted a reassuring smile on her face and reminded herself once again that no-one had been reaped yet. "Just be brave," she said again, before she started to lead Teresa, Aspen and Ralph down the path which led to the square.
"Fern," Aspen said as they made their way to the square, "what will you do if your name gets called?" There was a fearful look in her eyes as she spoke and Fern quickly went to reassure her.
"Well, my name hasn't been called yet," she said, knowing full well what she would have to do if that eventuality arose. Step forward and take her place on the stage. Be taken to the Capitol to take part in a fight to the death against twenty-three others, from which only one would emerge alive. But she quickly dismissed the thought; there was nothing she could do apart from hope it wouldn't happen. "So I'm not going to think about it," she added, looking her little sister full in the face. Aspen had always been a worrier and, as Fern looked at her, she saw her brow furrowing in the way it often did when she had something on her mind.
"But just suppose . . ." Aspen started to say, only for Fern to cut her off before she could utter another word.
"Don't talk like that." But even as she spoke, Fern knew she couldn't really blame Aspen for being worried. After all, she'd lived through a war which had started when she was just seven years old, a war which had cost the lives of her parents and her oldest brother, a war which the districts had ended up losing. And now, thanks to the sadistic punishment the Capitol had dreamed up for the districts, she faced the prospect of losing one of her sisters as well. Not to mention that she herself would be eligible for the Games two years from now, and Ralph two years after that. "Just remember what I told you - be brave."
As the four siblings neared the square, they saw others heading in the same direction. Adults who would normally be working among the trees or in the lumber mills. Children who would normally be in school. All of them coming together not by their own will, but by the will of the Capitol, to attend a ceremony which would see two young people selected at random to take part in a game where defeat meant certain death. A cruel punishment to remind anyone in the districts who might still harbour rebellious thoughts that the Capitol had the power of life and death over all of them.
Before long, the Staffords found themselves standing in a long line which snaked its way as far as the eye could see. Fern tried to pick out individuals in the crowd, but they seemed to merge together into one big mass and the only people she recognised were the ones immediately in front of her and her siblings. Her best friend Silvia Mason, with her widowed mother Violet and twelve-year-old brother Alder. The two friends greeted each other as they always did, chatting amiably about various subjects while avoiding any mention of the impending reaping though it always remained at the backs of their minds, a dark shadow hanging over an otherwise bright and sunny day. And it wasn't long before they reached the head of the line to find themselves facing a table with a Peacekeeper, a young woman with close-cropped dark hair and a stern look on her face, seated behind it.
"Name and age?" the Peacekeeper said to Silvia, who was nearest to the table.
"Silvia Mason, seventeen."
The Peacekeeper checked a list on the table in front of her, then pointed in the direction Silvia had to go. "Behind the ropes, second row from the front," she instructed in clipped tones. "Next."
And one by one Violet, Alder, Fern, Teresa, Aspen and Ralph stepped forward and gave the Peacekeeper their names and ages, with the Peacekeeper then telling them where to go. Fern joined Silvia and the other seventeen-year-old girls in their section, while Teresa was a few rows behind in the fourteen-year-old girls' section and Alder, being only twelve years old, was in the back row on the side of the square where the District 7 boys who were of reaping age stood. Since they were not eligible for the reaping, Violet, Aspen and Ralph stood outside the ropes with others waiting to hear their love ones' fate. No-one spoke. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the temporary stage, on which Mayor Henshaw stood between two sacks, a squad of Peacekeepers standing to attention behind her.
The town clock began to chime, signalling the start of the reaping. Mayor Henshaw, a tall, middle-aged woman with dark auburn hair and a face which made her look like someone you wouldn't want to cross, stepped up to the microphone on the stage and began to speak.
"Citizens of District 7," she said, her voice echoing round the square, "we are gathered here today for a solemn purpose: to select two young people to fight to the death in the First Hunger Games. This sacrifice has been made necessary by the traitorous acts of those who sought to defy the rule of law and bring about chaos and anarchy." The exact same words President Ravinstill had used when he announced the inception of the Games, Fern noted. For the next few minutes, Mayor Henshaw lectured the crowd on how the laws passed by the Capitol were necessary to ensure the smooth running of Panem, how dissent could not and would not be tolerated, and how the Hunger Games would serve to remind the people in the districts of the power the Capitol had over all of them. After that, it was time for the most important part of the day: the drawing of the names.
Moving towards the sack on her left, Mayor Henshaw reached inside and pulled out a slip of paper. Everyone, the kids behind the ropes and the adults and younger children round the edges, held their breath, waiting to hear which name was going to be announced. None of the girls whose names were in the sack wanted to be called, but they all knew one of them would have to go up to the stage and take her place as District 7's first female tribute. Several of them, Fern included, closed their eyes or looked down at the ground, as though this would somehow keep them safe. But there was no shutting out the words which Mayor Henshaw uttered as she stepped up to the microphone and unfolded the slip she had just drawn out of the sack.
"The District 7 girl tribute is Fern Stafford."
At first, Fern could not take it in, her mind rejecting what her ears had just heard. But the sound of Mayor Henshaw's voice calling her name again was enough to tell her this was for real, that the slip which had been drawn from the sack was one of the six which contained her name. She felt . . . She couldn't really describe how she felt right now, knowing she had just been condemned to almost certain death in front of the whole population of District 7, not to mention anyone who might be watching elsewhere in Panem. It wasn't fear, not exactly; it was more a sense that this shouldn't be happening. Nonetheless it was happening and that meant there was only one thing she could do.
Steeling herself, she turned to Silvia. "Thanks for being my friend," she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could muster.
"You too," Silvia said. "Fern," she added, her voicing cracking, "I'll miss you."
Fern gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry - I'll try to come back in one piece." She and Silvia quickly embraced before she stepped out from behind the ropes and began to make her way towards the stage.
As Fern walked down the passage which led to the stage, two small figures emerged from the crowd and ran after her. Aspen and Ralph. They had heard their sister's name called, seen her emerge from behind the ropes. And they knew what that meant; Fern was going away from them, possibly never to return, not alive anyway. They were going to lose her, just like they'd already lost their parents and Hickory. They could not let that happen to another member of their family. And so they ran after Fern, catching up with her just as she was about to mount the stage.
"Fern, no!" Aspen cried as she and Ralph grabbed hold of Fern and tried to hold her back. "You can't!"
"We won't let you!" Ralph added, tightening his grip on Fern's skirt. "We need you here!"
At a nod from Mayor Henshaw, two Peacekeepers moved towards Aspen and Ralph who continued to cling to Fern, tears pouring down their faces. Looking down at her two youngest siblings, Fern felt tears pricking her own eyes, but held them back. She had to be brave for their sake; she could well be dead in a few days and she wanted them to remember her as the older sister they had always been able to depend on. So, moments before the Peacekeepers pulled them away from her, she spoke to them in the same calm tone she had used when she thanked Silvia for her friendship.
"Aspen, Ralph, you have to let me go. I don't want to do this, but I don't have any choice. You'll be OK; Teresa will look after you, and the Masons will help too. But you have to let me go." She looked up to see Violet walking towards the three of them, a determined expression on her face. "Please," she added as Violet drew level with her, "get them out of here."
Violet gently pulled Aspen and Ralph away from Fern. "Come on," she said as she led the two visibly upset children away from the stage. "Don't make this any harder for your sister than it already is."
Fern watched their retreating backs for a moment before turning and mounting the stage, followed by the two Peacekeepers who had been sent to deal with Aspen and Ralph. She stood staring at the crowd in front of her through eyes that were blurred by tears she was trying not to shed. "Be brave," she whispered to herself, echoing the words she had said to Aspen earlier. Aspen, her little sister who, along with Ralph, had tried to save her from the fate which awaited her. Of course, they couldn't hope to succeed and she was grateful Violet had pulled them away from her before the Peacekeepers could. Some Peacekeepers could be rather rough, even if those they were dealing with were just ten and eight years old.
The next order of business was choosing District 7's male tribute. Mayor Henshaw moved towards the sack on her right, reached into it and drew out one of the slips of paper within. As she prepared to announce the name of the boy whose name had just been drawn, Fern found herself hoping for Silvia's sake that it would not be Alder. It was bad enough that Silvia could lose her to the sadistic punishment the Capitol had imposed on the districts, but to lose her brother as well . . .
"The District 7 boy tribute is Logger Hook," Mayor Henshaw announced, her words cutting through Fern's thoughts. Logger Hook. Fern recognised that name, the Hook part of it at least and, as she watched its owner emerge from behind the ropes and make his way to the stage, she recalled how a man named Elwood Hook had been caught stealing wood from the lumber mill where she worked, wood which was earmarked for the Capitol, and selling it on the blackmarket. He'd been sentenced to a public whipping for this and, as he was being led to the whipping post, he'd spat at one of the Peacekeepers escorting him and shouted a string of obscenities. This had earned him another ten lashes on top of those he was already due to receive. By the time the sentence was complete, his back was a bloody mass of raw flesh.
Was Logger Elwood's son? He certainly looked like a sixteen-year-old version of the man whose whipping Fern had witnessed, his hair the same shade of brown, his face bearing the same defiant expression as he mounted the stage and stood facing her. The only difference was that, while Elwood had ranted and raved, Logger was silent, conveying his distaste for the situation he found himself in through body language alone.
Mayor Henshaw directed Fern and Logger to shake hands which they did, though they let go as quickly as they could. A recording of "Gem Of Panem" was played and District 7's first pair of Hunger Games tributes were escorted into the Justice Building, each of them flanked by two Peacekeepers. Fern tried to look round in the hope of catching a glimpse of someone she knew, but one of the Peacekeepers escorting her sternly ordered her to stop stalling and keep moving.
The moment the door to the Justice Building slammed shut behind Fern and Logger, the Peacekeepers produced two sets of handcuffs. "Right, you two," one of the Peacekeepers said, addressing the tributes, "hold your hands out in front of you."
Fern, sensing it would not be a good idea to cross him, did as instructed, holding her hands out and allowing another of the Peacekeepers to fasten the cuffs around her wrists. Logger, however, was less co-operative. He stubbornly folded his arms across his chest and glared at the Peacekeepers with the same mutinous expression he'd had when he stepped onto the stage. Then, he spoke for the first time since being reaped, uttering three words that made it abundantly clear how he felt about what was happening. "Why should I?"
One of the Peacekeepers clouted him across the face and knocked him to the floor, where two of the other three restrained him and forced him to uncross his arms, allowing the fourth Peacekeeper to put the cuffs on him. "Don't ask questions!" the first Peacekeeper barked as Logger, his hands manacled in front of him, was hauled back onto his feet. "You district brats need to learn your place. And right now your place is in a holding cell. Now, get moving, both of you!"
And with that, the four Peacekeepers marched Fern and Logger down to the basement of the Justice Building, where the doors to two rooms stood open. Both rooms were completely bare except for a metal bedframe that had a thin mattress but no blankets, plus a chemical toilet in the corner. "You'll be held here until the train comes to collect you," the Peacekeeper who'd handcuffed Logger told the two tributes, as he and one of his comrades took hold of Fern and prepared to thrust her into the room on the left.
"When will that be?" Fern asked, wondering how long she and Logger would be kept in this basement. She wasn't expecting an answer, but she got one anyway.
"Should be some time tomorrow morning." It was the other Peacekeeper holding her who spoke. "So I suggest you make the most of your time here; after all, you probably won't be coming back." And he and his comrade roughly shoved Fern into the room, sending her sprawling on her hands and knees, as Logger received the same treatment next door. Picking herself up, she turned to see the Peacekeepers marching out of the room.
"Wait!" she called after them. "My family. Will I be allowed to see them?" She thought of Teresa, Aspen and Ralph, who could soon lose her after they had already lost both their parents and their brother. Surely the Peacekeepers would allow herself and Logger at least a few minutes with their loved ones before they were taken on what would for at least one of them be a one-way journey to the Capitol. Even Panem's military police force couldn't be heartless enough to deny two condemned teenagers the chance to say goodbye to those they cared about.
The only reply she received was the door slamming shut, followed by a key turning in the lock.