Author's Note -
Here's a final introductory chapter, which means our five tributes have been revealed! Voting is live on my profile, vote for who you like the best or who you think could win realistically. It's up to you! This poll won't be the only one, your feedback will affect the outcome of the victor.
The wind is sluggish today and the fields of wheat ripple in the distance lazily. It reminds Anona of when she hangs the clothes out to dry, whipping and waving in the breeze. There are small dots sprinkled throughout the golden mass; the field workers. Her father and sister are somewhere in there, hacking at stalks of wheat until their hands blister. She told them to wear hats. Hopefully, they're smart enough to remember her advice.
She scoops a handful of wooden pegs from the basket and starts spreading the shirts and pants along the line, clipping the tops of the clothing to the wire. The sun is harsh, so they should be dry before sundown, ready to be folded and worn for work next week. They'll probably be done before lunchtime if she's being honest. The sun in District 9 is unforgiving.
She rests the empty wooden basket on her hip and turns back towards the house. Her home is a concrete square, like every other house in the district, but they get the job done. It's impossible to feel the elements inside unless a particularly cold winter happens. The structures stick out sorely amongst the amber waves that wash over Nine. It's a shame that they mar the beauty of the fields, but at least they're sturdy.
Anona opens the front door with her shoulder. Her sister, Lilavati, snores away on her faded, old mattress. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically with each snore, and Anona takes a step with each wheeze she makes. There's not a lot to do in District 9, so she takes any form of entertainment she can get. The only thing on television is the weird and dumb Capitol programs that are filled with shows about swapping spouses or tattoo competitions. She'd rather watch grass grow.
Anona makes sure to be quiet as she reaches the stove. She turns it on. Lila's shift work is long and harsh because she finished school last year, and the younger workers are given the longest hours. The family agreed to let her rest whenever she falls asleep.
The kettle still has water left in it from breakfast, and she moves it to the stovetop to boil. She stands there, checking the heat of the kettle with her fingers every so often, and once the water has boiled enough, she pours it into cups. When she opens the box of teabags, she has to scrape the last few from the bottom. A mental note is made to buy more when she gets the chance.
There's a scuffling noise outside, and Rufina and Pa trudge through the front door. Anona purses her lips to keep from laughing at the mess of flyaways on Rufina's head. It wouldn't be appropriate, given the look of exhaustion on her face.
Pa collapses into the sturdy chair near the bench window and unstraps his boots.
"That bad?" Anona asks in a hushed tone.
"We had to make double quota today," Rufina says. "To make up for no work on Reaping day."
"And boy, did they work us," Father murmurs from his corner.
Anona runs a hand through her father's hair and hands him one of the cups.
"Drink this, go and wash up, and then lay down. I'll sort out dinner."
Father shakes his head. "No. We want to sit out here with you."
She knows better than to argue, so she sits and asks about their days. She has a couple of shifts sprinkled throughout the week, but she's still in school, so the hours are nowhere near as long as everyone else in her family. To say she's dreading going to full-time is an understatement, but the work is to be expected. If her father can do it for twenty years, she should be okay. Everyone does it, it's just a hard fact of life. Unless, of course, you win the Hunger Games.
The winners they do have stay cooped up in Victors' Village, too good for the rest of the district and its' 'backward ways'. Better they stay up there than walk around, treating everyone else like dirt on their shiny Capitol shoes.
Dinner is awkward for some reason. Lila is still disoriented from her nap, but Pa and Rufina are oddly quiet. Anona writes it off as fatigue from their shifts, but something scratches at the back of her mind.
Everyone has an early night, though Anona doesn't fall asleep for a while. She knows staying awake won't prolong the Reaping in two days, but it feels like it will. If she feels like she's putting it off, she gets to feel in control.
She wakes up to an empty house and lays there for a while, watching the light from the rising sun slowly infiltrate the concrete walls through the windows. She drags herself out of bed and prepares for the school day. Porridge and a cup of water for breakfast, organize her school books, wash her face, and brush her hair.
The day before the Reaping is morose every year. Everyone just shuffles along the hallways silently, trying to make it through the next few weeks to come. Making it through the Reaping without your name being picked is fine, but everyone has to deal with watching two kids from the district fight for their life. For the past thirty years, no one's come back home, and you can see the weight of defeat wearing down on everyone. It feels like no one will come back again.
Katla Chester, whose mother owns the Inn nearby the Reaping Square, tells her class that Zephyrus Khan arrived from the Capitol last night. He doesn't seem to enjoy picking the names out of the bowls that much, and he's often seen shooting dirty looks at the victors on stage. No one knows why he works as an escort. Probably hoping to get promoted to a better district where they churn out child murderers instead of the murdered children.
During Geography, Mr. Yepez suddenly starts crying. No one knows what to do. His son died in last year's Hunger Games during the opening bloodbath. He disappeared for a month, but the other teachers didn't seem concerned. Anona guessed the school let him take time off to recover. He's been back for almost a year, but he isn't the same as he was. He has the habit of trailing off mid-sentence, and his patience is much shorter than it used to be.
Everyone watches him awkwardly. He has his head in his hands, but when he puts his head down on the desk, Anona taps one of her classmates on the shoulder.
"Come with me to the principal's office."
She and Rohit sneak out and rush to Principal Hashem. She ends up taking Mr. Yepez out of class and gives everyone the period off. Anona's happy to spend the free period with her classmates until they start anxiously discussing the Hunger Games, and she turns away to finish her homework.
Her textbook reads that District 9 was settled in an area previously known as 'the Great Plains' in what used to be central North America. The huge territory was known for its flat farmlands and was, as the name implies, the ninth district to be established. During the first rebellion, Nine was ravaged by the war, as Capitol soldiers and district rebels came from both sides and moved inwards. It took years for the district to bounce back. Of course, Anona already knows this. It's one of the first things they learn.
But the point of the homework is to explore the areas most affected by the Dark Days, which were clearly the wheat farms. Miles and miles of wheat to hide in. A lot of it was set on fire to flush out rebels and loyalists alike, and it took years to replenish the area back to its prior glory.
Anona considers her answer for a moment. It seems like a good but obvious answer, and she's sure there must be a catch. She tries to look at it another way, but her brain just doesn't cooperate. She sighs and starts to write. If it's not a great answer, then oh well. Mr. Yepez has more to worry about.
She walks home with Fatima and two of her other friends, Dorthy and Lidka. Walking from school with them is usually forty minutes of gossip, but today they all remain mostly silent. Anona fills the time by watching the scenery. Dorthy does try to have a bit of a chat fifteen minutes in but gives up. None of them are up to it. Not with the reaping so close.
Anona is almost thankful when the group splits up. Fatima and Lidka go towards the factories. Dorthy and Anona are in separate farming villages and walk for a few more minutes before splitting off as well.
Anona strolls along the roads, people-watching as the sky begins to dim. The Hunger Games begins to creep into her brain. She went the whole day ignoring it, but the anxiety of her fellow students seems to have gotten to her, and the gory moments from a lifetime of watching them replay in her head.
She doesn't have many slips in the bowl (her father and sisters refused to let her put her name in for more food and oil), but the thought of Zephyrus Khan plucking out one paper slip and ruining the lives of her and her family swirls around her head like a paper bag in the wind.
She likes to think she could win with a lot of hard work. She considers herself to be hardy, and she knows her way around a scythe. She's no stranger to starving either. The thought of competing against younger kids, though? It's hard enough to imagine fighting someone her age, and there's usually one or two young kids every year. The odds of her having to kill them would be minor, but they exist.
She finds herself in the Tribute Graveyard. Rows upon rows of graves for the dozens of tributes who have died in the seventy-four previous Hunger Games. Her feet take her to the most recent graves of Bran Yepez and Rosie Thurman, both dead on the first day. There's nothing on the gravestones except for a name. Besides the occasional bunch of withered flowers placed purposefully on a grave here and there, it's a bleak place.
Anona's feet shuffle forward, and she traces her way back through years and years of names. Yarden Saqqaf and Brahim Piper from the seventy-third games. Sara Naggi and Wilmar Karimi from the seventy-second games. Neelima Abbas and Hassan Gorman from the seventy-first games. On and on. The number of names is overwhelming, and it's hard to consider how many kids have died. She finally reaches the first two graves of Barley Mohren and Evert Finley. Both from the very first Hunger Games.
There's a sorrow that fills her head. She wonders if they'd hoped anyone would remember them so many years later. If they wanted to leave a legacy. The graves are weathered, and the names are faded against the old stone. The Capitol probably doesn't care enough to come out and restore it until they're literally crumbling.
The presence of the rotted corpses six feet underneath her becomes overwhelming, and she steps back. She's suddenly aware of the heavy grief that bears down on this place, and she rushes to the exit. She never wants to be here again. She's just turned the corner of the entrance gate when she collides with someone, grabbing by them the shoulders to stop them from falling.
"Mr. Yepez!"
He looks at her awkwardly, moving her arms from his shoulders.
"Hello, Anona. Are you…" He trails off.
"No," She says. "I don't know anyone here, I was just paying my respects."
"At least someone remembers him."
He moves on, and she leaves the graveyard, not turning back to look at him. Not her business, though she does feel sorrow for him.
The markets aren't busy when she passes on her way home, so she makes quick work of her shopping list. She has a good rapport with the merchants but skips the small talk for today. She just wants to get home and lay down.
By the time she drags herself through the front door, her father and sisters are back from work. She allows herself twenty minutes at the dining room table to rest. Taking the time to unwind, she washes her hands, combs her hair a bit, and splashes her face with water. Then she begins dinner.
She swiftly moves around the cooking area, shelving the items she bought at the markets. She didn't realize how bare the cupboards actually were until the empty shelves glare back at her. Tonight's dinner is a simple porridge. It's not the best meal in the world, but it keeps them alive. She sits on the floor whilst it cooks.
Everyone congregates in the kitchen and sits around the table. The family never really has awkward moments (the conversation generally flows easily), but for some reason, her sisters struggle to make small talk, just like yesterday. When she asks her father to deal out the bowls, his eyes linger on her face for a few seconds when he passes her to the cupboard. She pulls a face when she turns around.
The television on the wall serves as an ambiance during dinner, but the programs are all about the upcoming Quarter Quell due to how close the Reaping is getting. It clicks in Anona's head why her family is acting weird when Lila turns the television off aggressively. The anxiety in the room is palpable, and her sisters keep stealing glances at her like they're afraid she'll disappear.
"It's going to be okay, you know." She says to them. "Other kids have their name in that bowl so many more times than I do."
Pa breathes out slowly. "Can we just have dinner without talking about… that. It's not appropriate right now." He glares down at boiled potatoes as if they had brought up the games instead.
For the rest of mealtime, the clunky conversations they do have are about school or work. Always the default topics when there's nothing to talk about. When everyone is finished, Pa insists that they continue to sit around the table. He offers up some stories about him and Ma to fill the air. Anona always enjoys these stories, but the anxiety she has over tomorrow feels like it's going to suffocate her. Sitting around isn't helping.
Two hours pass before he decides it's probably time to sleep, and he and Lila leave for bed.
Anona creeps over to Rufina and whispers to her.
"Why are they acting like I'm a dead man walking."
Rufina looks over her shoulder and leans in.
"Lila is worried. She feels like something bad is going to happen."
"So she thinks my name is coming out of that bowl," Anona asks.
Rufina looks at her apologetically. "She's getting into Pa's head. They think you're going to the Capitol tomorrow."
Anona rolls her eyes. Lila's irritating habit of instilling anxiety in anyone she can is impressive. Rufina continues.
"Pa already worries enough about the Reaping, and it only got worse when Ma died. Once you age out next year, he'll be fine. We just have to get through one more year. Until we have kids, I suppose."
Anona bids Rufina a good night. It takes a while to fall asleep, but sleep does come eventually. She dreams of her mother. Before she got sick. They lay in the front yard on an old blanket, feasting on bread and butter. Ma brushes her fingers through Anona's hair, and she lets herself relax, not a worry in the world.
She wakes up whilst it's still dark. She lays there for a while, soaking in the feeling of her Ma's embrace. She lets it comfort her. Only two more Reapings to go. Just get through the next two, and she's free.
She doesn't move until everyone else is up. The morning feels sluggish, and everyone moves slowly, almost as if taking time to get ready will prolong the Reaping. Anona reminds herself again and again that there are thousands of other names in those bowls.
They hitch a ride to town on one of the big wagons going around. The trip is twenty-ish minutes, but on reaping day, it feels like hours. The closer they get to the square, the more anxious Anona gets. The others on the wagon share this feeling. There's one little girl who must be attending her first Reaping, and she's shaking into her father's side. Anona remembers being that little girl.
The wagon slows to a stop, and everyone jumps out from the back. Anona turns to her family.
"I'll see y'all after it's over."
They embrace in a family hug, not letting go until the warning bell sounds to signify ten minutes until the reaping begins. She splits off from them, making her way toward the front of the crowd where the seventeen-year-olds stand. She sees her friends and squeezes Lidka's hand.
"Good luck to you all."
They all chirp back the same.
They stand there for a couple of minutes in silence. Anona shakes her leg anxiously. The minutes drag by unbearably slowly. The town clock hits 3:10.
Mayor Hagen steps up to the microphone. He reads the history of Panem that's been described a million times. Natural disasters, world war, starvation. They hear it at the Reaping every year. Panem rose from the ashes as a nation, the districts revolted, and now they have the Hunger Games. It's a modified version of what actually happened, Anona's sure, so she ignores it for the most part. He reads the list of past District 9 victors. They're sat up on the stage in chairs, and just like every year, they don't look pleased to be here.
I'm not pleased to be here either, but at least you're actually safe, she thinks.
Once the formalities have been completed, Zephyrus Khan replaces the Mayor at the microphone. He trills about being happy to be back in District 9, how excited the Capitol is for this Quarter Quell, and how he's sure the tributes this year will bring great honor to Nine.
"As always, ladies first!"
He traipses off to his left, towards the large glass bowl of girls' names. Thousands of paper slips sit inside, waiting to ruin someone's life. He plunges his gloved hand into it, swirling the papers around. Anona wants to tell him to please hurry, but at the same time she doesn't want the moment to happen.
Anona grabs Fatima's hand with her free one. He mixes the slips for a few moments, picks one out, and crosses back to the microphone. The air buzzes with silent terror. He opens the slip and clears his throat. Everyone seems to inhale collectively.
"Our lucky lady is Anona Fletcher!"