Chapter Two: Hands

I am having trouble processing the words. My name rings out across the district. The people next to me inch away, giving me space to walk forward. Somewhere in the distance I hear two young howls of protest. I know it must be Morgan and Herbie, and I'm instantly angry with Rodney for not restraining them. I don't even turn to look in their direction. If I do, what is happening might register and then I won't be able to walk.

I look up to the stage and see the expectant faces of Hamlin and the Mayor. Both of them look unaffected. Then I see Ransom. He's staring straight at me, with his mouth half open. His eyes have gone wide.. It's an unreadable expression and I don't waste any time trying to figure it out. For all I know, maybe he's pleased. Our conversation earlier wasn't exactly nice. Or maybe he's irritated. My being reaped means we have to spend the next week together. Something I'm not really thrilled about either. I stop, I was reaped.

The words have just started to settle and the panic is forming again in my chest. I can see everyone staring at me so I take a deep breath and head for the stage.

I try to keep my face a mask of calm as I walk up there, aware that all the eyes on the district are on me now. I can still hear my brothers crying loudly and focus solely on walking. The lights in front of the stage are so bright they're almost blinding. Ransom's eyes are following me the entire time.

"What a lovely girl," Hamlin says as I approach him.

He takes my hand, leading me to the front of the stage where I will be in perfect view of the cameras. For a moment, I'm mesmerized by the sight of myself projected on the screen. I look very fair. My skin and hair are blending into one soft wintry curtain.

I turn away from it immediately, not wanting to see how I'm going to look to competitors. To sponsors. My head is racing. I barely followed the Hunger Games anymore. I stopped watching after Ransoms games. It was too painful. Now, I'm going to live them. The thought makes my knees weak.

I'm going to the Games. The realization of this is like being hit in the stomach. I'm going to die. I am being sent to the Capitol to die.

What will happen to my brothers when I'm gone? My parents won't be able to take care of them. They can't even take care of themselves. It will have to fall on Rodney. He will have to make it work. I'll force him. I can barely breathe now as I turn towards my family. Herbie is sobbing into Amaly's hip and Morgan is wiping his tears with the back of his hand. Rodney is stone faced, clutching his toddler while his wife whispers something to him. I don't see my parents but it doesn't matter. If they're sober, they won't care. If they're not, they won't remember.

"Now," Hamlin says loudly into the microphone, still clutching my hand in his. "Do we have any volunteers?"

This is a formality. District Six never has any volunteers. Except for a few years back when Gregor Tillsbit volunteered for a thirteen year old boy he didn't know. No one could figure out why until after the Games. He had a chronic heart condition and would have been dead within the month anyway. It was one of the most selfless things we'd ever witnessed.

The crowd is silent now. No one says a word. They just stare up at me with pity. Something I'm used to. In the distance, Wheaty stands with his wife. They're both crying and it make me stomach flip. Probably reminded of their own daughter.

Hamlin clicks his tongue excitedly and moves towards the orb with the boy's name. He plunges his arm elbow deep into the orb ruffling through the slips for the perfect one. He brings it to his face and smiles as he reads out the name,

"Titus McKinley!"

There's a collective groan across the crowd, and my stomach sinks again. I know Titus. He's a year ahead of me at school. He's a large, very quiet boy who nobody bothers much with. His family lives out by mine, in a slightly larger house that's crowded with family members. Though his family isn't despised the way mine is.

Titus takes to the stage much faster than I did, and stops in front of Hamlin.

"Strapping boy, aren't you?" Hamlin asks as Titus towers over him. Titus says nothing and Hamlin seems to backtrack a bit, cowering beneath his size. He's got to be reaching six feet now.

"Any volunteers?" Hamlin asks quickly.

There's more silence and Hamlin smiles at the crowd, placing a hand on each of our shoulders, "Ladies and gentleman, our tributes from District Six, Titus McKinley and January Jameson!"

There's some gentle clapping, from the enthusiastic betters probably, as Titus and I are paraded once more around the stage. Peacekeepers take to the platform and shepherd us into the Justice Building. I barely have time to register what's happening before they shove me into a small room off to the right. I hear the familiar click, as it locks behind me.

I survey the room carefully. It's small. About the size of a large closet, with paneled walls and a small velvet sofa pushed against it. There's a tiny wooden chair pressed against the other wall, for visitors.

I can feel panic rising in my chest so I sit down on the tiny couch, running my fingers over the arms. I try to keep my breathing steady and not work myself up. My family will be here any minute and I can't let them see me cry.

The door opens before I'm prepared for it and I feel two tiny bodies slam into mine. Herbie's arms latch around my thighs as Morgan reaches for my of them are still crying. I can feel their tiny bodies shake with the sporadic gasps and breaths between the tears. The feeling is like a knife to the chest. This is the last time I will ever see them and they are distraught. I wish I had the time to comfort them properly. To reach down and stroke their cheeks and sing something to them. To make them something delicious and tell them a story of something nice, the times our family had before the morphling. But I don't. I don't have the time. So instead, I place my hands on both of their heads gently peeling them from me. I crouch down so I am closer to their height and look them in the eyes. Their faces are pink and blotchy from crying and they look so young. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the emotion from showing up on my face.

"It's okay," I say softly, tracing Herbie's cheek. "It's going to be fine, I promise." The lie tastes like dirt coming out of my mouth. I hate lying to them.

Morgan reaches from my hand grasping it tightly. His little chest is moving up and down so quickly. I know his heart is racing. "It's not!" he shouts. "You're going to the Capitol! You're going to the Hunger Games." His eyes screw up tightly and I reach for him, pulling him and Herbie into a hug that takes up precious time I can't afford to lose.

I have to break it up quickly. I pull the boys back so I can look at their faces again, needing them to focus. "Look boys, I only have a couple of minutes so I need you both to be mature and look at me alright?" They're both still crying but they nod their tiny heads in unison and it makes me want to throw up right there. I reach into my pocket and pull out the gold coins Wheaty gave me earlier. I thrust them into Morgan's hand, closing his tiny fingers around them. "Keep these. Use it for food, and hide it really well okay? I have some more hidden in the woods too. A small canvas sack with some money and my tools under that Blueberry bush we sometimes pick from. Go to the woods and dig it up. My tools are there too. Bring those to Wheaty, Morgan. He will buy them from you and maybe you can convince him to let you help him out. Clean up a little and he'll pay you. Tell him I asked him too, okay?"

Morgan nods, tears sliding down his ivory cheeks. "You can forage too. In the woods. All those places I showed you, remember? The patches for fruits and vegetables. Never go alone though. Always bring Herbie or Rodney." The mention of our eldest brother stings. He is going to have to step it up now. He is going to have to take the boys in. Without me here, and with mom and dad in the condition there in currently, they will starve if he doesn't.

There is shouting going somewhere in the hall. Two loud, distinct male voices are shouting at one another, but I ignore them. I place a kiss on Morgan's soft forehead. He smells like soap from the bath today. I turn to Herbie, who has started crying again "I know this is scary, but you're going to be fine, okay? You'll stay with Rodney."

"Rodney doesn't like it when we go to his house," Morgan reminds me. I try not to frown but can't help it. It has been a thorn in my side for years. Rodney's abandonment still stings.

"He'll get over it," I assure them. "Tell him I said so."

There is a knock at the door and the boys both cry out, knowing this is the end of our visit. They know they are never going to see me again. They are young, but they understand the Games. They know I will die out there. I reach for them, pulling them both into a tight hug, their tiny skinny arms wrap around my neck. "I love you both so much," I whisper.

"We love you too," Morgan whispers. Herbie just cries.

The door opens and a Peacekeeper comes in. He separates us, pulling the boys from my arms as they wail and cry. It takes two of them to pull them out of the room, I can hear them crying for me long after they shut the door. It makes me want to sob but I know I can't. They will take pictures of me at the train station and I cannot cry. I will become an easier target than I already am.

The door opens again and this time it's Rodney. He looks so much like me that it is impossible to not know that we are related. Willowy, fair skinned, blonde hair and those dark unforgiving brown eyes; we all look alike. His face is turned down into a grimace now as he reaches for me, pulling me into a hug. "January," he croaks, his voice firm , hard. He goes in for a hug and I shove him away. My face is tighter and meaner than it was before with my little brothers.

"What?" Rodney looks confused and I don't care. "Don't hug me. Don't pretend you're sad about this," I gesture to the room.

Rodney steps back "How can you say that? You're my sister. Why would I not be sad about you going to the Games?"

"How can I not?" I ask, my upper lip curling. "Why wouldn't I be here? Do you know how much tesserae I had to take out after mom and dad started morphling? After you left us?"

Rodney stiffens. "That isn't fair, January. I had to get out of that house. I couldn't take it."

"And I could? Morgan and Herbie could?" I'm practically spitting now. "You left us all and I had to do something. This is the result of that."

Rodney's face is tight. He is shifting and looks uncomfortable. He never liked being faced with the reality of what he's done. "You sound just like Ransom," he says, annoyed.

I blink. "Ransom?" I ask, thinking or his ignorant face from earlier. 'What does he have to do with this?"

"He was just out there, shouting at me I might add, and saying the same thing." Huh. So that's who was out there screaming. But why would Ransom be yelling at Rodney? And about me? They didn't even speak anymore. They hadn't since his own games. I didn't have time to ponder it.

"Why we're here isn't the point," I continue.

Rodney sighs. "What do you want from me then?"

It's an infuriating question because he knows exactly what I want from him. What I need him to do. It;s been the same since he left.

"I want you to tell me that you're taking the boys in and that you're going to look out for them for a change."

Rodney looks like he's going to argue but I hold up a hand, I can see the grease hardened into my nails better now in this light. They're gross. But I'm sure the Capitol will buff it out when I get there. They want clean, pretty tributes, after all.

"You have too, Rodney. I can't do it. I am going to be dead."

The word hangs in the room like a fog, the reality of drifting all around us. I am going to the Games.

I am going to die. Rodney sighs again. There is another knock at the door. I don't have any time.

"Say you'll do it," I pres, urgently.

"January, I have to talk to Amaly. I can't just-"

"Rodney!" I shriek furiously and he recoils. "FINE. Alright? Fine. I'll take them in. Calm down."

I breathe a sigh of relief. I was going to throw something or threaten him if he didn't agree. I needed to make sure the boys had someone looking out for them. They were so young. They couldn't do what I did back then. They were too innocent.

The door opens again and I expect a Peacekeeper. But it isn't. It's Ransom. He's wearing the same silky button up shirt and trousers from the reaping, but they're rolled up by his elbows now. I'm momentarily stopped by the sight of his freckled forearms. It was something I'd forgotten about him. Lost to the fading of childhood memories.

"Time's up," Ransom says quickly, his eyes are green normally but he looks furious now, and they look nearly as dark as ours do. He is turned away from my brother, ignoring him completely. "We need to get you on the train."

"You have some nerve," Rodney spits at him. Ransome ignores him. He gestures me forward. 'Seriously, January. We need to leave. We've run over your time as it is."

I hesitate looking at Rodney again. Looking at my brother for the last time ever. He is practically snarling at Ransom, but isn't looking at me anymore. His fury at his former friend has taken over his grief,

"You'll take care of them," I say to Rodney again as I follow Ransom out the door. "You promise?"

"Yes, January." He sounds annoyed but I don't care. I give him one last longing look before I follow Ransom into the wide, empty Justice Building lobby. I can hear his footsteps behind us as we walk, but I don't turn around. I am afraid Herbie and Morgan will be lurking somewhere and if I see them again I will break down.

I focus instead on walking forward. Towards the exit. In District 6, the justice building has its own train stop outside. So there is no long journey to the train. In some districts they have to take sleek Capitol cars to make it to the station, but we do not. The benefit of having our own train system.

My footsteps trying to match Ransom's long strides. I don't want to talk to him but the silence is making me jumpy. 'Where's Titus?" I ask, scanning the halls for him. He is a big guy. Tall and stocky. I would see him if he was around.

Ransom doesn't turn his head, maintaining his pace. "On the train platform already. I told you you're late.. A Peacekeeper already brought him."

I blink, slowing my pace. 'Why didn't a Peacekeeper bring me?"

Ransom slows his steps, turning to look at me. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you come get me instead of a Peacekeeper?" I pressed. We are close to the doors now and I can hear the people outside of the train station lining up. The journalists and photographers who are anxious to get their first looks at the Tributes.

Ransom stops in the middle of the room. He looks confused. He pauses. "Why? Would you have rathered a Peacekeeper than me?"

It is a weird question to ask and I didn't know how to answer it. No one likes Peacekeepers, but they were an unavoidable part of life in the districts, especially if you were a tribute. They tended to be rough and unkind. But so was Ransom. He had spent the better part of the last three years being unkind to me. And everyone else.

"I don't know," I say and cringe at the nervousness in my tone.

I watch Ransom's upper lip twitch a little. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, looking resigned. "Are you alright?" he asked me. His tone is softer than I've heard it in years and my brow furrows in discomfort.

"Am I okay?" I repeat, sounding confused. Why is he being considerate now? After years of ignoring and belittling me. After what he pulled this morning? It had to be because I had been reaped. He knew what that felt like. Being sent to the Games was a death sentence for most. It would be for me. Ransom was pitying me.

I watch his eyes turn back to the crowds on the other side of the Justice Building door. I can see two Peacekeepers looking in, waiting for us.

"We need to get out there," Ransom urges me, "It won't be good if they have to come get us. We can talk on the train. I promise."

He nods forward and I follow behind him as he pushes the door open onto the platform. It is momentarily overwhelming, the sight of the journalists and Peacekeepers lining the side of the platform, with the sleek black Capitol train rising above us in the background. I'm momentarily stunned by the sight of it. I can't imagine the engine that thing has it in. I want to get underneath it and see how it moves. I'm pulled out of that desire by the sudden roar of the crowd when they see me. The journalists, all Capitol people, clustered in their vivid, bright colored clothes scream my name. I hear it echoing across the platform in different voices. "January!" "January!"

Titus is standing on the platform alone. A towering beast of a young man. He is solemn faced as they take his picture and it fills me with a resounding discomfort. I can't imagine how I look in comparison. If people were going to bet on a District Six tribute, it would definitely be him.

Ransom's body language changed the moment we stepped outside. He is no longer tight or tense. He has somehow relaxed, a feat considering all of the people who are screaming our names.

"Come on," Ransome urges, and I feel his hand brush against mine. I move quickly to pull it away, but he takes it before I can. My mouth hangs open in surprise as he my fingers through his. He holds my hand tightly, despite my confusion.

I gawk at him and our still intertwined hands. The gesture feels so intimate. It would feel intimate from anyone, but especially from him. In front of all of these cameras.

"Ransom, what are you-" He cuts me off, his head next to mine. His lips are nearly pressed to my ear as he whispers. "I need you to trust me for a minute, Janie. Please." The name stops me cold. It's a childhood nickname, one I hadn't heard in years. It's a reminder of how long Ransom's known me, and how well. No one's called me anything but January for years. Years of poverty and hardship turned me from Janie to January.

I don't know what else to do besides follow Ransom's lead. He keeps holding my hand as the flash of the cameras go off and he smiles at the crowds of Capitol people, which is weird because Ransom has always been a victor begrudgingly. He has made his contempt and dislike of the Capitol people very clear every year. This display makes no sense. Why is he smiling at them? Why is holding my hand?

He leads me to the front of the train beside only when he's positioned me next to Titus does he finally drop my hand, but not before moving a piece of my hair off my face.

He moves off to the side, beside Hamlin, so the photographers can take pictures of me and Titus alone. The tributes of District Six. I try to keep my face even and calm as they photograph me but I can't help looking back over at Ransom and the way he's looking at me.

When we finally finish taking photos, Hamlin assures us on the train. The moment the door closes, I turn to look at Ransom and find him grinning.