Chapter 2- Silver Bellcreek
"Look Flaire, the daffodils are blooming!"
Flaire smiles and runs over to the patch of yellow that signals the beginning of spring. "At last! I thought that winter would last forever!" We giggle together and pick as many flowers as we can; Mum loves daffodils more than any other flower. We pick armfuls, and still there are more than we can count left.
"I'm all wet," I say, holding my bouquet with one hand and shaking the water off the other. "That's what we get for coming out before the dew's gone."
"We had to come out early, because at noon we have to go to the Justice Building." Flaire's smile falls from her face, and her eyes crinkle the way they do when she's worried.
"Are you nervous about today?" I ask.
"It's April 1st, of course I'm worried! We have to put our names in the bowl today." A strand of red hair escapes my friend's braid and blows over her forehead. In the morning sun, it looks like her head is on fire.
"So? I'm excited," I say, holding my head high and walking with a skip in my step. "It wouldn't be so bad to be chosen. Imagine if I did go, and I won!"
"Then what?" Flaire asks. "You'd have to kill a bunch of other kids. Not worth it, especially since you don't get anything out of it."
"I'd go down in history as the first victor, that's what I'd get out of it," I say. "Fame and glory."
Flaire laughs. "Not even! Silver, have you seen the district? Hell, have you seen the country? It's in ruins! There's not going to be any fame or glory for you if you go."
I throw my arm around my best friend's shoulder and laugh. "Of course there is! This is only the first year; there's going to be more, and then they'll remember me and put me in the history books."
Flaire shudders. "I think it's barbaric that they're doing it. I don't think District 1 should even be included; we barely revolted here at all."
"Yeah, but think about the Downs and the Pembersies; they all supported the rebellion. Even if my family didn't, and your family didn't, it doesn't mean that everyone in the district was an angel." I'm proud to support the Capitol, like my whole family. We fought against the rebellion, which made a few of our neighbors into enemies, but it doesn't matter now. The Capitol won, and that's all that counts.
"Kids killing kids? It won't last; nobody wants to watch that," Flaire says. "I don't, that's for sure."
"Like it or not, the kids chosen will be from rebel families, and then they'll get their comeuppance, and it won't affect us at all." I pull my arm from around Flaire's shoulder and walk a little faster, making her jog to catch up. "You'll see, Flaire; all the tributes are going to be rebel kids, and that'll drive it home that rebels are not tolerated in Panem."
The rebellion lasted three years, and it's been over for just about a month now. District 1 didn't suffer too many casualties, or too many bombings, but the craftsmen are still putting buildings and streets back together, and the graveyard in the east of the district has well over two dozen new graves in it that it didn't have four months ago.
"Sun's up; I've got to get home," Flaire says, grabbing my arm. "See you at noon?"
I nod. "See you!"
I watch Flaire run off down the grey street, her braid thumping against her back with every step. She's been my best friend since we started school, and we're practically inseparable. When she disappears around a corner, I make my way down a side street, towards my own house, with the white brick walls and grey tiled roof. It came through the uprising intact, which is a blessing. Can't say that for all of the District 1 houses.
When I open the door, I'm hit with the smell of baking. It's a bittersweet smell, because it reminds me of the days before the rebellion, when sugar and flour were easy to get, before the world turned upside down; but it's wonderful now that Mum can get the supplies to bake again. The rebellion is over, and life can slowly go back to normal.
Mum's standing at the stove, pulling muffins out of the oven as I close the door. She smiles at me as she places the tray on the counter. "Good morning, Silver. I wondered where you had gone."
"I got you flowers!" I say, holding out the daffodils as I pull my boots off. "Spring's finally here."
"Aren't you thoughtful," Mum says, taking the flowers and kissing my forehead. "Your father's gone to work already, but would you go wake your siblings? It's going to be a busy day today."
I give Mum a quick hug, then run up the rickety stairs to the loft where my siblings and I sleep. It's hot in summer, and vaguely warm in winter, since the fireplace chimney runs right up the middle of the room. My thirteen year old sister, Shine, and I share a bed on one side of the chimney, while our ten year old brother, Glint, has the other side of the room, where the stairs come up, to himself. On either side of the chimney, my mother strung old sheets up, for privacy. They're so see through that it doesn't help much, though.
I grab my brother and roll him back and forth, singing out, "Wake up, Glint! Breakfast!"
"Shove off, Silver."
"It's a big day! Come on, get up!" I shove him one last time, then run through the curtains to where my sister is sitting up, blinking sleep from her eyes. Shine and Glint aren't morning people, but I am. Morning is my favorite time of day.
"It's April!" I say, jumping onto the bed next to her. Shine smiles weakly. "Oh, don't you worry, you just get your name in twice. You'll be fine."
"I don't want to go to the Justice Building!" Shine says.
"Too bad, we have to. But Mum's made muffins! Come on downstairs!" I leap off the bed, through the curtains again, and almost fall down the stairs. Mum rolls her eyes at me, but she's smiling when she does it.
"Do you ever walk anywhere, or are you perpetually running?" she asks, placing a plate of muffins on the table.
"Always running," I say, sitting down in my usual spot.
"Are they coming?"
"Think so."
A few minutes pass, but Shine and Glint do eventually make their ways downstairs. I'm excited and nervous for today; it's just writing my name on paper, but it means something, you know? I'll bet it'll be like pulling teeth to get some of the other kids to write their names, but I'll write my name proudly. I have nothing to fear; I supported the Capitol.
Once the muffins have all been eaten, Mum says, "Go make your beds, comb your hair, and all that. We should leave earlier than later for the square; it's bound to be busy today."
"Yes, Mum," we say together. You don't disobey Mum, ever. Leaving our plates where they lie, we rush up the stairs, into the loft that's sunlit by the two windows high up by the ceiling.
"How many slips do you have to write today?" Shine asks, pulling our quilt up while I plump the pillows.
"Five, because I'm sixteen," I say, placing the pillow neatly by the headboard and letting Shine pull the quilt over it. "And you only have two, so you shouldn't be worried at all."
"What if we get picked in July?" my sister asks, her blue eyes wide. Everyone says we look alike, and I suppose there's some truth in it; same blue eyes, same platinum hair, same thin nose. In truth, we look just like Mum, who gave us our features.
"What if we do? I'd go without complaining. You know that the Capitol wouldn't do us any harm, and like it or not we'd be the victor."
"I wouldn't want to kill anyone," Shine says firmly. "And the Capitol isn't always right. They bombed our district, they cut the food lines off, and there're too many Peacekeepers."
"That's because some of the district rebelled; you know that. It wasn't like that before the rebellion, and I'm sure it'll get back to normal soon. The Capitol likes us; even if it keeps the Hunger Games going, they'll make District 1 stop competing. You'll see; everything will turn out wonderfully. The rebellion's over, and the Capitol won!"
I poke Shine's nose, expecting her to laugh, but she doesn't. "Even still, I wouldn't want to go to the Capitol," she says.
I shrug. "Suit yourself then. I'm going to brush my hair; you can have the brush when I'm done."
"No fair! Just because you're older doesn't mean that you can take the brush first every morning!" Shine says.
"Watch me," I say, and laugh. Now that the uprising is over, there's so much to laugh about; life is beautiful again!
It's precisely half past eleven when Mum lines us up at the door and nods. "You'll make a good impression today. Ready?" I nod, and so does Shine, who looks dramatically less enthusiastic than I feel. "Then let's get going," Mum says, opening the door, and we all file out onto the street.
The roads are chaos as we make our way to the town square; Peacekeepers are stationed every few feet, holding guns that make Glint shrink against Mum. I'm not scared; I have nothing to fear. The Peacekeepers are simply here to keep the rebellion from sparking again. Once it's clear that the Capitol won, most of them will go home.
Walking with us are our neighbors; Mrs. Treenettle is pulling along her daughter Jasmine with one hand and her son, Ravish, with the other. They're old enough to know better, so why does she have to pull them?
On my right, Ariana Dovecote is crying while she walks by herself; her family were rebels, high up rebels, and her parents were shot right after District 13 fell. Now she's all by herself, and even though it's not exactly her fault, I don't feel very sorry for her. If they hadn't been rebels, they wouldn't be dead!
My family mingles in with the crowd, rebels and loyalists alike; today it doesn't matter who you are. Your name is going in the reaping bowl no matter what. Better to look proud about it, and be happy that you can represent your district, than to look downcast; like you're going to slaughter. Even if you're chosen, having a pessimistic view on things won't help you in the arena.
When the district clock, that was just recently repaired after being blown up, rings out twelve, Mayor Athie Cumberslip gets up on the steps of the Justice Building, flanked by Peacekeepers. "Excuse me! Excuse me, District 1! I would like to do this in alphabetical order, so we might get through it faster."
More Peacekeepers materialize from the sides and start silently creating groups. "I would like those with the surnames starting from A-H to stand to the far left; I-R in the middle; S-Z on the far right, please."
Mum has Glint by the collar of his shirt, pushing him forwards and to the left, while simultaneously propelling Shine the same direction. I don't need help to move; I just step quickly through the crowd, narrowly avoiding crushing a girl's foot with my own. I don't see Flaire anywhere, or her siblings, but they're Moreau, so they wouldn't be standing with us anyway.
"What do we do when we get up there?" Shine asks; I can barely hear her low voice over the chatter around us.
"They'll tell us I'm sure," I say, facing front and waiting for instructions. Mayor Cumberslip is a good woman; a Capitol supporter before and throughout the war. My parents have had her over for supper in the past, before food was rationed and there was an unspoken rule that you don't let anyone else know how much you have in the house.
Once we've all been segregated into our three groups, Mayor Cumberslip starts calling people from the crowd forward. "As! Can I get those whose last name starts with A to come to the front and make a queue please?"
While the As do that, I look at the people who surround me. There's a mixture of emotions going on; one girl with dark blonde hair looks almost bored, while a boy with a shaved head looks furious and keeps picking at his nails. Two feet away there's a younger girl, maybe Shine's age or a little younger, who's sobbing into her hands.
Everyone has one thing in common, though; we're all skinny and underfed. District 1 was never like this in the past, and it makes me sad that the luxury district has fallen into such disrepair. It's all the rebels' faults; if they hadn't attacked the Capitol, then we wouldn't be here right now. I agree with Flaire that the Hunger Games might be a bit barbaric, but no more so than what the rebellion did to Panem. The rebels deserve it. Even if I get chosen, I'm not representing the rebellion. I'm representing the brave citizens who fought back against an uprising, and I would be proud of competing.
"I'm scared, Silver," Shine says, gripping my hand.
"Don't be; it's just writing your name twice," I say, standing on my tiptoes to see farther. I'm so damned small, and I blame that on the rebels too. You can blame practically everything on them, really. "I've got to write mine five times, and I'm not scared."
"You'll be fine, Shine," Mum says behind us. Glint's unusually quiet; it's nice he's keeping his mouth shut for once. He can be such a brat sometimes.
"Are you happy?" I swivel my head and see Glass Coramund glaring at me. Honestly, I'm surprised to see her. I haven't seen Glass since the beginning of the year, and I almost thought she was dead.
We were friends when we first started school, and she even was my second best friend at one time. We fell out when the uprising began; her family were rebels, mine were not. Now that she's obviously alive, I don't know what we are to each other.
"What do you mean, Glass?" I ask, pulling my hand out of Shine's and folding my arms across my chest. "Care to explain?"
"Your precious Capitol has given us all a present," Glass says, gesturing around her. "Happy?"
"I don't see what your problem is," I say. "Oh wait, maybe it's because you lost the war?"
"You lost it too; you just don't realize." Glass scowls and pushes her hair back. "Don't you realize that somebody's going to die, because the Capitol won? Two kids are going to be killed, because of the Capitol."
"As I recall, if you hadn't revolted against the Capitol, we wouldn't be standing here," I retaliate. "The Capitol's right to punish us. Punish you, more like. I didn't do anything wrong."
"What are you going to do if your name gets called in July?"
"I'll go represent my district proudly, and come back a victor," I say.
Glass doesn't say anything, just looks at me for a long time. "Loyalist traitor," she mutters, then walks away into the crowd.
"Don't blame her too much, dear," Mum says behind me. "It's the rebel mentality that's gotten to her. It's a wonder she's even here, what with the parents she has."
"I'm glad you're sensible," I say, turning around. Mum smiles.
"Me too."
"When can we go?" Glint whines, the first thing he's said since we got here.
"When we sign our names," Shine says. "There's a lot of A names in District 1, so this will take a while."
Shine is right; it's a long wait. My feet start to hurt after a while; I shift my weight side to side to give each foot a break. Babies cry, and children wail, and people talk around us, until the noise reminds me of a tracker jacker nest I saw last year hanging from an abandoned house in the east. A constant humming.
"Bs, please come line up!" Athie Cumberslip calls over the humming, as the As slip through us and down the street. I'm extremely glad to be a Bellcreek today.
"Come on, let's go; I don't want to be at the back of the line," I tell Shine, pushing her forward. Mum drags Glint along behind us, and together we manage to move our way into the front of the line, right behind a girl who was crying earlier. Only seven or eight people stand between me and the Justice Building.
Surprisingly, the process is very quick; it only takes a few minutes for each person to go in, do what they're asked to do, then leave, pushing through the crowd to get home. Only two people stand between me and the building; one…
"Next!" A Peacekeeper bellows at me; I pick my chin up and hold it high. Untangling my hand from Shine's again, I walk confidently up the marble steps, cracked and warped as they are, up into the Justice Building.
There are three tables set up; two have men sitting behind them, one has a woman. In the middle of the Justice Building lobby are two bowls labeled Girls and Boys. There's a constant cycle of movement; boys and girls writing, then getting up to put the papers in the bowl and leaving through the front doors as the next wave comes in. I make my way to the table with the label A-H.
I recognize the man sitting down in front of me; he supported the Capitol, and for that the rebels burned his house down a year ago. Crito Bronze, that's his name.
"Silver," he says, nodding.
"Crito. What do I have to do?"
"Full name and address," he says authoritatively, hovering a pen over a clipboard with documents attached.
"Silver Leda Bellcreek, 381 Agate Lane." Crito takes down my words, neatly writing them into the papers on the clipboard. I suppose that's my official file; how they know who I am and where I live. That's alright with me.
"How old are you?" Crito asks, reaching for a large stack of paper, cut into thin strips, that sits to his right.
"Sixteen."
"So that will be… five slips. Have you taken out any tesserae?"
"No." Some of District 1's, let's say, lower class, has been having troubles making ends meet since the end of the war. In exchange for putting their names in the reaping more times, they get grain. Obviously, a Bellcreek would never have to stoop that low; that's mostly for the people who live in the south of the district. I've heard that it was hit hard, but there were mostly rebels who lived down there anyway. Can't say I have too much pity for them.
"Alright, if you could sign your name on these," Crito says, counting off five of the paper strips and laying them on the table in front of me. I pick up the black pen that sits in a holder off to the side, and in my neatest handwriting, I write Silver Bellcreek five times.
"Fold them and put them in the bowl," Crito says, taking the pen back and returning it to its holder, then gestures to the large bowls that sit in the middle of the room.
"I'm assuming the one labeled Girls," I say, and he nods.
"After you do that, you may leave." I fold each slip and collect them in my hand; as I walk away to the bowls I hear the Peacekeeper bellow again. I drop the five slips into the large bowl, each one falling like snow on top of hundreds of other slips. All mixing in together, so that nobody looking at them would be able to tell whose name was whose. That's the point, I guess.
"Silver!" Shine's come in now, waving at me. I wave briefly, take one last look at the bowl before I'm shoved out of the way by a tall boy, then make my way through the doors.
"See you outside!" I say. Shine nods; she's pale but looks alright. I leave just as Crito greets her.
"How did it go?" Mum asks when I get back to her and Glint.
"Fine. Wrote my name and put the papers in the bowl. We're all ready for July 4!" I say, smiling. Somehow seeing all those papers makes me nervous, but I'm not sure how.
"Well, here comes Shine; now we can get out of here."
Shine slips through the mob and nearly trips on the way. "All done! It wasn't so bad, you're right, Silver!"
"I always am," I say, laughing. As we make our way back the way we came, I hear my name being called. I turn, and I see a red head jumping up and down, waving. Flaire.
"Hold on, let me talk to Flaire!" I say. "She's not that far."
"Don't be long, dear," Mum says. "We'll see you at home."
"Okay." I escape the notice of the Peackeepers and make my way into the middle section, where Flaire is grinning at me.
"Did you see the rules yet?" she asks.
"No, have you?"
"Yeah. They're posted on that wall over there," she says, pointing at a brick building that used to be a bank. True enough, there are papers plastered to the side. "Thought you might want to see it before you left."
"I do, thank you," I say, giving Flaire a quick hug. "Don't worry about signing in; it's no trouble at all. There're a lot of papers in the bowl, though."
"I'll see you later; I'll come by tonight," Flaire says.
"See you then."
After leaving Flaire, I go to the bank building and shove my way to the front of the crowd that's gathered there.
The Rules of the Reapings and The Hunger Games
By law of the Capitol, the reapings will take place on July 4 of each year. The mayors of each respective district will be charged with pulling the slips from the bowls on the morning of July 4. Those who are chosen as tributes should go willingly and without battle; those who do not go quietly will be subdued by other means.
· To be qualified for the reapings, potential tributes must be between the ages of 12 and 18.
· The tributes are chosen at random from the reaping bowl; there will be one for each gender, and two from each district. In total, twenty-four tributes will be reaped each year from the twelve districts.
· Only one slip for each gender is to be pulled. If an eligible person (Ages 12-18), of the same gender as the reaped, in the audience would like to volunteer as tribute, they have a limited amount of time to do so.
· After both tributes have been chosen, they will be taken into custody immediately.
· The Hunger Games will commence on July 10 of this year and every year after.
"It's criminal," a man with a beard says next to me, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Taking our children like they're cattle, and making them fight to death?" He shakes his head. "Criminal."
"And I suppose you don't think the uprising was criminal?" I say, unable to hold my tongue. "More people died in the districts from the rebels' doing than tributes will in the arena."
"Capitol lover here," says the man, unsmiling. "What has the Capitol ever done for you, little loyalist?"
"They provided us with security, guidance, and kindness," I say, speaking the words I've heard my father say so often.
The man laughs. "Kindness? They're not so kind now, are they? They could pick you on July 4, and where would you be? Would you think the Capitol was kind then?"
"If I was a tribute, I would go to the Capitol proudly, and I would win," I say.
"You?" The man laughs again. "You couldn't save your life if you tried. Good luck with that, loyalist."
I open my mouth, shut it again, then turn on my heel and walk away, towards the street where my house is. I don't care what rebels say; the Capitol is right; it's always been right. And if we had all known our places and stayed in them, we wouldn't be in these messes, now would we?