I hope you're enjoying this story so far; I would love to hear your thoughts on it! Stay safe.
Chapter 4- Cass Oceansong
Far out at sea, the fishing boats start to come back in, their nets full of fish bound for the Capitol. I stand on the docks, watching them, waiting for my father. The wind blows my hair around me like a storm of red flames. My mother's hair.
Mother's at home with the others; I needed some space this morning. Today's the day of the reaping, after all. I can't believe the Capitol is going through with it! I was so sure that they would change their minds, but they haven't. How naïve of me to think that the people who destroyed a district wouldn't send children to their deaths.
A few boats that I know pull alongside the dock; fishermen jump off and secure them with ropes, then start pulling the fish off the decks. One man waves to me good naturedly from where he stands by the Jewel.
"Good morning Miss Cassandra! What brings you down to the docks?"
"Waiting for my father! How's the babe?"
"Pink cheeked and chubby as can be. He'll be alright," he says proudly.
"The name?"
"Garret. For my own father."
"Garret Seawind? That's a fine name, sir," I say. The man, a friend of my father's named Cairn Seawind, smiles broadly.
"Thank you. We thought so too. Anna's still getting used to having a brother, but I think she likes him."
"She'll come around," I say, smiling. "I wasn't too fond of the idea of having a little sister at first, but now I can't imagine life without the two of them."
Cairn chuckles. "I'll take your word for it."
"Oh, I see my father," I say, pointing to the boat with the wooden hull gliding towards the docks. Father waves to me as he steers the boat into port. "I'll let you return to your work," I say. Cairn nods, and turns to go unload the fish, before pausing.
"Good luck today, Miss Cassandra."
My tongue appears to have stopped working; I freeze before recovering myself and saying, "Thank you sir." Cairn nods again, then goes back to his work. A chill goes up and down my whole body, like I've been dunked in winter ice. What on earth is going to happen today?
"What are you doing here, Cass?" Father calls behind me. "The boatyard is no place for a lass like yourself."
Even though I'm a lass like he says, I catch the rope he throws with ease and tie it around one of the pilings. "I'm only two years younger than Sea, and she works with you most mornings," I say.
"She's a young lady now, and we need her to work. I need you to go to school," Father says.
"There's no school this morning, and it's only barely started up again," I say. "Today's Reaping Day."
Pain crosses my father's face, before he smooths it back into its calm façade. "I think we can make an exception today, then. Come on aboard and help me."
Grabbing his hand, I step aboard the Luna, the boat my father had Kerrick Fallman build over twenty years ago. The boards are rougher than when it was first built, and the paint has worn away over time, but it still looks beautiful in my eyes. Some of my first memories are of sailing on this boat in Mother's lap. I remember being very small and seeing jumping silver fish, a rainbow in the sky, the sun shining on the water. And eventually I would always be rocked to sleep by the waves; no worries or cares in the world.
Oh, will I ever feel that safe again?
Together, Father and I unload the fish onto the docks, where fishermen and fisherwomen alike take them away to be processed for the Capitol. Even though the fish are our livelihood, I hate to see them killed. Their scales shine so brightly in the sunlight.
"You get on home, Cass; I need to clean the deck," Father says, kissing my forehead. "Wear something pretty today." His words are light, but I can see the pain in his eyes.
"Don't be long," I say. "Reaping's at noon." With that, I leap off the Luna and land on the dock, taking off for home as fast as I can.
"Cass!" I'm nearly at my street when I skid to a stop, my shoe with the loose sole flapping against the pavement. "Hold up!"
"I'm waiting!" I call; Tempest comes around the corner red faced and out of breath. Her face matches her hair, which makes me laugh.
"I've been trying to catch up to you since you left the docks; you're bloody fast," she gasps.
"What is it? What's the hurry?" I ask.
"Reaping Day," she says, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. "Wanted to wish you luck."
"Thanks," I say, rubbing my soleless shoe against my other leg. "I hate to admit it, but I'm scared."
"I think we all are. Mags doesn't know what's going on, but Da's on his worst temper."
"You be safe, alright?" I say. Tempest and Mags's father's temper has become notoriously short since their mother died, and half the time they're terrified of him.
"I'll get Mags and get out of the house as soon as I get home," she says. "Give my love to your family, and I'll think only good thoughts for you."
"You too. I'll find you today I promise," I say. We hug quickly, then she takes off towards her own house. I watch her until her red hair goes around a corner and I can't see her anymore. Time to go home.
"There you are, where have you been?" Sea asks as soon as I step through the door.
"Helping Father on the boat."
"Did he need the help or were you just annoying him?"
"He told me to come aboard and help him, so I think he wanted me there," I say, crossing my arms. Sea can be so bossy sometimes.
"Let her alone, Sea," Mother says. "She's home now, and everything's fine." She's wrong, nothing is fine, but I don't say anything, just rub my shoe against my leg again in an attempt to act normal.
"Oh dear, is that shoe getting worse, Cass?" Mother says, glancing down at my loose sole.
"It's nothing," I say, trying to hide it. Even with Mother taking in washing and Father getting his monthly pay from the Capitol for the fishing, we're barely scraping by. There's no money for shoes to be had, so flapping soles must be endured. At least I have shoes; the girls next door go barefoot wherever they go.
"What are you wearing today?" Wave asks from where she sits at the table, eating a piece of bread.
I shrug. "Same as always." District 8, I've heard was hit the worst of all the districts. If the rumors are true, the whole place was taken out by a fire right near the end of the war, and they're trying to rebuild. Until the factories are up and running, though, there's no cloth for the rest of Panem.
"When everything is open again, I'll make you a dress of green silk," Mother says, lovingly stroking my arm. Her eyes are lined with worry, and her red hair has streaks of grey in it that it didn't have a year ago, but she's still the most beautiful person in the world to me.
"We will all have new clothes when things are back to normal. And shoes besides. Sissy, please stop that racket," Sea says, trying to stop Cressida from bouncing her ball against the wall.
"Let her be; she's alright," Mother says, letting her hand drop. "Come here, Wave, I'll braid your hair."
We all inherited my mother's curly red hair; not one of us girls got Father's dark straight hair. Mine tangles too easily for my taste, but I love being told I look like my mother. Me more so than Sea or Wave or Sissy, who take after Father. After Mother braids Wave's hair into one long braid down her back, she motions for me to come over.
I sit down on the floor in front of her, and she deftly weaves my hair into a complicated braid down my own back. "What sort of a braid is that?" Cressida asks, leaning over to watch my mother.
"A fishtail braid," Mother says. "There, you look beautiful. Sea, would you like yours done?"
"No thank you; I think I'll wear it loose today." I get up off the floor and smooth my dress out the best I can. Blue cotton that I inherited from Sea; it's patched in more places than there's actual fabric, but I don't have another dress. Sea looks worse than I do, and Wave and Sissy have been living in our hand-me-downs for years.
We don't look any worse than anyone else in District 4, though. I dream of the day when we'll all be properly dressed and fed again. I worry about Wave; she's too small for her age, and skinny besides. More days than not, Father brings home a fish or two for supper, but there's a risk in that. He's careful, but if he's caught 'stealing from the Capitol,' he could be flogged in the square, or worse, shot. Two fish don't go a long way when they're small, though, and I often go to bed hungry.
Of course, I'd rather have my father than fish or shoes or dresses. Nothing is worth him being killed for it.
"Where is your father?" Mother frets, checking on the bread that rises on the counter. It smells of yeast and seaweed, and it makes my stomach rumble just at the thought of fresh bread for supper. "He should be home by now."
"He was cleaning the deck when I left," I say.
"Well, he should be home any minute now then."
"Mother?" Wave asks in a small voice.
"Yes?"
"They're not going to pick me, are they?"
Mother's face falls, then she pulls Wave to her tight and doesn't answer for a minute. My throat closes up; I'm so scared for what's going to happen. Even though the reapings are today, I still don't fully believe the Capitol will make children fight to the death. It's just unthinkable.
"I won't let you go," I say, pushing the tears down. "No matter what, I'll make sure you don't have to go."
"Don't you go volunteering for anyone," Sea says. "That's my job if either of you gets reaped."
"Neither of you will," Mother says firmly. "Nobody in this room is going to the Capitol. None of my daughters will be reaped today, or any other day." And she says it so fiercely that I believe it.
"I'm sorry; I was stopped by a patrol," Father says as he steps through the door. "They only just let me go."
"What did they want?" Sea asks, half rising from the table. Cressida's gone silent at last; I don't know if she really understands at six what the stakes are today, and every other day, but she at least understands that we're all worried. I wish I was six again, unaware of the every day worries.
Father sighs, rubbing his face. "They're going to be cracking down on poaching from the Capitol. It's lucky that I didn't have a catch on me today or it could have been bad."
Mother is white and her lips are pressed together again. "Then you mustn't bring the fish, for now at least," she says.
"Then we starve," Father says, slumping down into a chair and leaning his face into his hands. "I don't know what to do, Claire."
"I'll take out tesserae," I say at once. "Then we can get the grain at least." For every person in our family I can take out tesserae, which means more grain, but also six more slips of paper with my name on them in the reaping bowl. Six more chances to be chosen.
"No. None of you is going to take out tesserae," Father says.
"We don't have a lot of options," Sea says. "If anyone's going to take out tesserae, it should be me."
"None of you will take out tesserae!" Father says, standing up so suddenly he knocks the chair over. "It is my duty to provide for all of you, and I will not see my children go to slaughter because I could not protect them. No! Nobody will take out tesserae."
"Kai," Mother says gently, and it's enough to bring Father back to earth. "We have to go."
I glance over at the carved wooden clock that sits on the mantel. My grandfather carved it for my parents' wedding gift; it's a miracle it made it through the war. My grandfather didn't, and I miss him every day. His beautiful clock reads a quarter past eleven. The reaping's at twelve.
"I won't let them take you," I whisper to Wave, and she nods. I won't. No matter what, I'll protect Wave. And if it comes to it, Cressida and Sea as well.
The streets are full as we make our way to the town square, much like they were when the Games were first announced. It's warmer now, though, and the snow is gone. Many of the buildings are being rebuilt, and the roads repaved. District 4 looks like it's being put back together again, which makes me happy; I long for my beautiful home to be the same as before. The presence of the Peacekeepers that line the streets, however, remind me that nothing will ever be the same again.
Wave's hand is in mine when we turn the corner into the square, and her grip tightens when we see the changes that have been made for today. Around the outside of the square there's a tall metal fence, with a Peacekeeper at the gate. Inside the makeshift pen, there appear to be groups of children, divided into ages by shorter fences. Ringed around the outside of the tall fence are the families; grandparents, mothers, fathers, older and younger siblings. People who have no children at risk and are just there because they're required to be stand further back.
"We're not allowed in," Mother says, her eyes flitting from one sight to another; lips still white and pressed together. "You'll have to go in alone."
Wave grows quickly hysterical, letting go of me and grabbing onto Mother. "Come with me! Please!"
"I can't. I can't," Mother says, tears welling up in her own eyes. "If I could, I would. Be brave, and I'll see you when it's over. You'll be fine, I promise." It takes a few minutes more to calm Wave down, though, and when she finally pulls away from Mother, they're both shaking.
I hug Father, and he holds me for a long time. We're all so scared. I hug him, and I hug Mother, and I hug Sea, and I hug Cressida, who is terrified but unsure why. Mother's tears spill over down her cheeks, but she nods at us to go and get in line. "You'll be fine."
The Peacekeeper at the gate questions each child going through, then tells them where to go. The girl behind me is crying, even though she looks a year or two older than me. Wave keeps her hand tightly in mine as we follow Sea in the queue. The line rapidly moves up, until Sea goes through the gate, looking backwards at us only once before walking steadily forward into the slaughteryard.
"Next!" Wave and I step up, hand in hand. "Name?"
"Wave Oceansong," my sister says quietly.
"Age?" The Peackeeper keeps a blank face, and it scares me more than if he was angry at us. Why is he so calm?
"Twelve." Wave's voice shakes a little, but she says it louder than her name.
"Group on the right, by the stage. Next!"
"I'm her sister, can't she stand with me?" I ask, not letting Wave go.
With a quick movement, the Peacekeeper wrenches Wave out of my grasp and throws her through the doors. Another Peacekeeper on the other side catches her and marches her away, while I try not to burst out crying with shock. "Name?"
"Cassandra Oceansong," I say, shaking all over. I need to get to Wave, need to get to Sea, need to get out of here! I think about running to the Luna and sailing away from District 4, until we find a new place to live where everything isn't so horrible.
"Age?"
"Fourteen."
"Fourth group back from the stage, right. Next!"
Not waiting to be thrown through by the Peacekeeper, I go through the gate quickly, my hands in fists to stop the shaking. I pass Sea on the way, who looks at me with wide eyes. A Peacekeeper standing at the fourteen year old section pushes me through the shorter gate, shutting it behind me. Trapped again.
"Cass! Cass!" I push my way through the tightly packed crowd of fourteen year olds until I find Tempest, who's sporting a black eye and is near tears herself.
"What happened to you?" I ask, grabbing her hand tight so we can't be separated.
"Da. Guess the reapings were a bit too stressful and he took to the bottle this morning." Tempest shrugs like it's no big deal. "Mags didn't get any of it, so I don't care much."
"Where is she?" I ask.
"Told her to find your parents. Thought it would be best."
We get pressed closer and closer together as the pens fill up. A lot of people are crying, both inside the gates and outside. I can see mothers holding onto the bars of the fence, reaching through to grab their children's hands. I'm so scared; I've never been this scared, even in the war.
The war was hell on earth, but this is pure chaos. It's unnatural to be put together like this, crushed up against each other. I want to wake up from this nightmare.
Finally, when I think I can't bear it any longer, the gate at the back of the crowd slams shut and Mayor Clawsea walks out on the makeshift stage that someone's constructed outside the Justice Building. "Welcome, District 4, to the First Annual Hunger Games," she says, sounding very unenthusiastic.
When nobody makes any noise, she continues, "As it has been decreed, I will now read the Treaty of Treason, created by our benevolent and merciful Capitol." Tempest grips my hand tighter, and I grip hers back. I close my eyes and block out the words as long as I can, until the last few minutes.
"As a yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never happen again, it has been decreed that on the same day each year the districts must offer up as tributes one courageous young man and woman to fight in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice: The Hunger Games.
The twenty-four tributes will be sent to an outdoor arena where they will struggle to overcome both man and nature and triumph over the odds.
Each year, the lone victor will serve as a reminder of the Capitol's generosity and forgiveness.
This season is a time for repentance and a time for thanks.
This is how we remember our past.
This is how we safeguard our future."
I grit my teeth at the words Mayor Clawsea speaks. Generosity and forgiveness? The Capitol has given us neither of those. We have been starving here in District 4, and now they will take two of us away to die. That does not sound like forgiveness or generosity to me.
"Now, it is my duty and privilege to choose the brave young man and woman who will be representing District 4," Mayor Clawsea says, managing a small smile as the two large glass bowls are brought out and placed on the rickety stage. I stare at them; one has three of my and Tempest's names, five of Sea's, and one of Wave's in it. My knees start to shake and I try to lock them so I don't fall down.
"I will begin by choosing our male tribute," Mayor Clawsea says, walking with crisp and precise steps over to the reaping bowl on her right. She reaches in, takes out a white slip of paper, and walks back to the middle of the stage, speaking loudly so everyone can hear her.
"Rigg Watershire."
Someone, a woman, screams behind us. His mother? A sister? A gate clangs open, and a boy comes out of the fifteen year old pen, walking with careful steps up to the stage, climbing the wooden stairs up onto the platform where Mayor Clawsea stands with the Peacekeepers.
"And you are Rigg Watershire?" she asks uncertainly.
"Yes." The boy looks like many in District 4, with his sun-bleached hair and sturdy build. He's short, probably shorter than me, but he looks like he didn't suffer too much in the war.
"How old are you?" Mayor Clawsea asks.
"Fifteen." Like I thought. The woman has stopped screaming now, but has begun a high-pitched keening noise that tears at my heart.
"Do we have a volunteer for Rigg?" Mayor Clawsea asks, addressing the crowd. There are a few mutters, but nobody steps up to take his place. It's to be expected; who would volunteer for a boy they don't know? This whole affair makes me feel sick.
"Our boy tribute, Rigg Watershire!" Mayor Clawsea claps a little for him, but stops when nobody else joins in. A Peacekeeper pulls the boy back a few steps, making him stagger. I'm impressed at how he's keeping his emotions inside; he must be petrified.
"And now for the girls." The mayor steps to the girls' bowl, pulls out a paper, and walks back to the center of the stage. I think I might throw up; I grit my teeth and will myself to stand upright.
"Wave Oceansong!" Tempest grips my hand so tightly it hurts; my knees finally fail me and I collapse onto the ground, pulling Tempest with me. Someone else screams; Mother. Tempest pulls me back to my feet and I can see her, my little sister, moving from the front pen up the stairs to the stage, her red braid swinging down her back. Small and thin and weak and vulnerable.
I can't let her go.
"How old are you, dear?"
"Twelve." Wave sounds terrified, and I don't blame her. Mother screams again, a sound full of pain. My sister wasn't supposed to be chosen; we were supposed to be safe. We did nothing in the war, so why are we punished now? Please let this not be happening.
"Do we have a volunteer for Wave?" I wait, wait to see if Sea will volunteer for our sister like she said she would, but the square remains eerily silent. Sea isn't volunteering, and our little sister will die in the Capitol because of it. I can't let Wave go.
I pull Tempest in for one last hug; I know I'll never see her again. Her face is white and tears run down her cheeks but she says nothing. One last squeeze of her hand, and I scream, "I volunteer! I volunteer as a tribute!"
My peers pull away from me as much as they can, looking at me in disbelief. I volunteered. Wave is safe. I am not. A Peacekeeper arrives at the gate, unlocking it, and gesturing for me to come with him.
"You're the best friend I could ever have," I say to Tempest, talking quickly. "Tell my parents I love them, and that they shouldn't blame themselves. Tell them all that I love them. Please!" Tempest nods, beyond words, and then the Peacekeeper has my arm and he's dragging me out of the pen and through the short gate.
With careful steps in my flapping shoes, I walk up to the stage amidst the sound of screaming and crying. As soon as I get onto the stage, Wave runs into my arms, sobbing.
"You didn't have to! Cass, no!" she moans, her tears making the front of my dress damp.
"I told you I'd keep you safe. I love you, I love you so much; you'll be okay, I promise, I promise Wave; don't forget me!"
"You're going to come home! You have to!"
"I'll try," I whisper, and then Wave is pulled away from me by a Peacekeeper; she screams, and I'm crying, and the world is weeping for me and Rigg, because neither of us is ever going to see our families again. From where I stand on the stage, I can see a glimpse of the ocean; I'm never going to see that again, or sail on the Luna, or see the silver scaled fish pulled into the nets…
Oh god, I'm going to die.
"How old are you?" Mayor Clawsea asks, not unkindly. I'm the first volunteer, and I suppose I'm a bit of a novelty because of it.
In a voice barely better than a whisper I answer, "Fourteen."
"And your name?"
"Cass Oceansong."
"Our tributes for the first Hunger Games! Rigg Watershire and Cass Oceansong!" Again she claps, but nobody else joins in. I stare out for the last time at my home, at my friends, and at my family. I can see my mother and father from where I stand; their faces are streaked with tears; my mother is leaning on my father, who looks like he's been struck.
I can see Sea, crying into her hands, Wave who's been escorted back to right below the stage and is sobbing hysterically. Even Tempest, whose red hair and pale face stick out amongst all the other people our age. I'll never see them again, never, ever, ever, and the realization of it hurts like someone's driven a blunt knife through my chest and dug a deep pit in my stomach.
Suddenly, someone grabs my wrists and pulls them behind me, locking something cold and metal onto them. I twist my head and see that Rigg has been restrained too, by a pair of Peacekeepers who keep their faces blank. How evil do you have to be to take children away from their parents?
"Mother! Father!" I scream. My braid falls over my shoulder, the elaborate braid that my mother so nimbly created. My last piece of her. "I love you! I love you!"
Father lets Mother go and grabs the bars of the gate, rattling them. Two Peacekeepers come and push him backwards; he stumbles but catches himself before he falls. "Cass!" he screams. I have never heard him sound like that; scared and sad and desperate all at once. He cried when my grandfather died, but nothing like this. The pit in my stomach grows deeper and deeper.
"I love you!" I scream back; the cuffs bite into my skin and it hurts, but not as much as what's happening right now; it's a nightmare. A living nightmare, worse than anything that happened during the war.
"Come home!" It's a plea, something that my father has never made to me before.
I almost choke on my tears. "I will!" I scream, then whisper to myself, "I will." Then the Peacekeepers pull me backwards and spin me around, marching Rigg and me into the Justice Building. I turn my head to watch my family as long as I can through my blurry eyes, before the doors swing closed and I can't see them anymore.