Welcome to the year of the First Hunger Games! This is my second story based in this year; my first, The First Annual Hunger Games, was written before Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes was released. This story you're about to read is more accurate to the books, and will flow better with the series of stories I have already written and will write for this site. I hope you enjoy this story, and let me know what you think! I own nothing of the Hunger Games; I am merely playing in the world that Suzanne Collins created.
Chapter 1- Cass Oceansong
"Get into the square! Now! Now!"
I grip my mother's hand as we hurry past the Peacekeepers armed with guns and batons. Father is coming after us, holding onto Cressida who's crying quietly. She's only six, and the Peacekeepers are terrifying her.
Of course, they've been terrifying all of us.
Ever since the districts lost the rebellions, District 4 has been swarming with Peacekeepers, who club people for being outside after dark, for speaking their minds, for doing nothing at all. Wave pretends that she's okay, but I hear her crying in her bed every night from the nightmares. I have them too.
"Hurry, Mother!" Sea calls from a few steps ahead of us. Mother doesn't answer, just presses her lips so tightly together that they disappear. People shove up against me, making me almost fall, but it's not their fault. I blame the rubble that lies underneath my feet, and the slowly melting snow.
Just when I think I'm going to suffocate in this crowd, we turn the corner into the square. It's changed so much since the last time I was here a week ago, when the leaders of the rebellion were killed.
Several weeks ago, something happened, something big, and then the Peacekeepers arrived and killed the last of the rebellion here in District 4. We weren't allowed to leave our homes for weeks. I think we all cried a lot. I still don't know what happened, but rumor has it that District 13 was obliterated. A district can't be destroyed, can it?
I'll never get the sounds of bombings and shooting out of my head. Even thinking about it makes my hands shake. We lost so much; our buildings, our freedom, our hope. Now I, Cass Oceansong, am waiting in the semi-rebuilt town square; waiting to see what the Capitol will take this time.
Just a week ago, the Justice Building was more than half rubble; the cobblestones that make up the road were cracked and destroyed, partially hidden under snow. Now the Justice Building has been patched in places, with Peacekeepers guarding the outside, and a large television screen has been erected on the one fully remaining wall.
Wave slips her hand into mine, and I squeeze hers tightly. My sister, my beautiful little sister, with the red hair that matches mine. I'm scared. I think we all are- and defeated. While the last of District 4 packs into the town square, I hold my mother's hand in my left and my sister's hand in my right, trying to draw their strength into me and give back to them what I do have. What does the Capitol want from us?
Our mayor, Crest Clawsea, steps out onto the ruined steps of the Justice Building, looking just as pale and dejected as the rest of us. "Welcome, District 4," she says, her voice carrying throughout the crowd. We're dead silent. "Our kind and benevolent President wishes to speak to us all as a District, and indeed, as a country." She swallows, and nods to her left.
On cue, the screen that sits on the side of the Justice Building lights up, and there, larger than life, is the president of Panem. I hate him, hate him to the bottom of my soul. He should not hate me, however; my family was neutral in the uprising. We did nothing to him or his Capitol. We did nothing.
"Hello Panem," President Ravinstill says, unsmiling. "We are once again a united country. District 13 has been obliterated, and the rebellion is over."
So it's true. District 13 is gone; my family heard the rumors, but I didn't want to believe it. We may not have officially chosen sides in the uprising, but my family wanted to be free no matter what; no matter who gave us that freedom. Freedom from oppression was the dream, and now it's been taken away. District 13, the leader of the rebellion, is gone, and so is that hope of liberation.
"We are a kind and generous Capitol, and you betrayed our trust in you," President Ravinstill continues, sitting at a desk somewhere thousands of miles away, reading off a paper. "Just as District 13 was destroyed, so can we destroy you. But," he says with a flicker of a smile, "We have decided to be merciful. However, you who rebelled must face the consequences."
District 4 collectively holds a breath as he pulls out a crisp, white piece of paper and begins to read off of it. "The newly instated Treaty of Treason states that, in penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and a female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public reaping. These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol, and then transferred into a public arena, where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games."
Here he pauses, as District 4 erupts, shouting and screaming at the screen that shows our president. Mother grips my hand and looks down at me with grief and shock. I feel like I've been hit in the head with something heavy and blunt. Fight to the death? Children? How could the Capitol do that? They can't, can they?
Wave's hand trembles in mine. She's twelve, just eligible. I'm eligible at fourteen, and Sea is too, at sixteen. How will they choose us? There're so many children eligible; how will the Capitol choose us? All around us our neighbors and friends protest the news, and the cacophony rings in my ears, drowning out all my thoughts. I don't scream; I have been struck silent.
Peacekeepers shoot over our heads several times, bringing the crowd to silence again, with only vague mutters here and there. As though he expected pushback, the president hesitates a minute more, then continues his speech.
"In one month's time, the first of April, every boy and girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen will be required to submit their names at their Justice Building. At twelve, their names will be entered once into the reaping bowl, at thirteen, twice, and so on until the age of eighteen when they will have seven chances to be reaped. The reapings will take place in the first week of July, in every district in Panem."
President Ravinstill smiles briefly again, then lets his face return to stone. "You may have tried to burn us, Panem, but the Capitol has risen out of the ashes like a phoenix: reborn and stronger than before. You may have tried to burn us, but we have reduced you to ash. Every year, you will remember how you rose against the Phoenix, and every year you will regret your choices. May you never forget what you chose. Panem, may the odds be ever in your favor now. You will need them to be."
The screen fades to black and I feel a cold chill run down my spine. Every year. Every year. Two children every year.
"A posting of the rules of the reapings will be posted here in the next few days," Mayor Clawsea says, speaking loudly and desperately over the mutterings of the crowd that grow louder and louder, swelling into a roar of protest. "Remember to come and sign your names here on April 1st!"
"Like hell my children will!" a man shouts a few feet away from me. Wash Roarside, that's his name. He has four children eligible, according to the Capitol's rules. A few others shout alongside him, agreeing.
A gunshot goes off and Wash drops to the pavement, a bullet through his head. Wave shrieks and bursts into tears; I take my hand out of hers and pull her face into my side, so she doesn't have to see Wash bleeding out into the snow-covered cobblestones. I don't say a word; I'm too scared to. I knew him. He was my father's friend, and now Wash Roarside is dead. Mother has my hand in a grip like iron. I want to look away from Wash, but somehow, I can't; it's like my eyes are riveted to the sight of the dead man.
"Get out! Get out of the square and shut up, or you'll end up like him!" the Head Peacekeeper shouts at us. I watch Wash's children wail and scream; his eldest daughter kneels at his head and screams a long, animal like wail at seeing her father's blood in the snow. Before, my mother might have gone and helped them, but that time is past. Instead, she pulls me away, hurrying towards my father who's becoming lost in the crowd with Cressida and Sea.
"Don't let them take me!" Wave wails, full on sobbing now.
"Shush! I won't! Hurry, Wave!" I tell her, pulling her along behind me.
"Cass! Cass!" I can hear my name being called, but I can't turn around to see who it is. The tide of people is coming in against me, and I know better than to go against the current. Whoever is calling after me will just have to come to me with the flow.
Wave keeps sobbing all the way to the house; gunshots go off behind me and I don't know whether the Peacekeepers are actually killing my neighbors, or if they're just shooting over our heads again. Mother pulls me along faster, until we reach our topsy-turvy house with the slanting roof and step inside the door.
Cressida's crying when we get inside; fat tears roll down her face and drop onto the floor. Wave sits down by the door and buries her face in her knees, not even bothering to take off her boots. Father hasn't taken off his boots or his coat yet either; instead he paces back and forth in front of the woodstove.
"Kai!" Mother says, and she says my father's name like a cry of despair.
"Claire," he says, and Mother throws herself into my father's arms. For a brief moment in time, they are one person, indivisible.
"They can't get away with this," Sea says, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes. "They can't! This is why we should have helped with the movement!"
"You're sixteen; you couldn't have taken on the Capitol on your own. Thirteen districts couldn't; how could you?" I say, pulling off my boots and pushing them neatly into a corner. Wave hasn't moved yet, so I tug her boots and coat off, helping her up and over to the kitchen table, where she promptly buries her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking.
"Wave, shush," I say, sitting down beside my little sister. "There're a lot of kids in District 4; they're not going to pick you." Every word that comes out of my mouth feels heavy. I can't believe the Capitol has decided to do this! I'm sure they'll think it through and cancel it, try to reconcile with the districts.
Of course, they didn't exactly reconcile with District 13.
"You don't know that! And somebody's going to go away!" she says, muffled. Sea's picked Cressida up off the floor and is rocking her gently back and forth, sitting down opposite me at the kitchen table. Her face flickers between bewilderment and anger, but she doesn't say anything else about the rebellion. Three years of bombings and famine and war for nothing. In fact, we're worse off than before!
"None of you is going anywhere, not if I can help it," Father says, stepping away from Mother and pulling up to his full height. "I am not going to lose a daughter."
Mother's lips are pulled tighter than ever, but she nods slightly. "None of you is going to die." Wave pulls her head out of her arms, her face tear-streaked, but before she can say anything, someone knocks on the door.
I tense instantly. A Peacekeeper? Are we going to be arrested or killed? They killed the leaders of the rebellion a week ago, right there in the square where we were a few minutes ago. Just put bullets through their heads and left them there as a warning. Are they going to kill us?
Showing no sign of fear, Father strides over to the door and opens it wide. "Tempest, come in," he says, and I instantly relax. My best friend. "I see you brought your sister."
"I couldn't leave her in the square," Tempest says brightly, but her eyes are worried when she looks at me. I've known Tempest Flanagan my whole life; our mothers were best friends before her mother died two years ago.
"Hello Mags," I say, slipping off my chair and crouching down to her level. She's an adorable five year old, with a head full of red curls. She looks a lot like Tempest, who's my age, fourteen, except for her nose. Mags's little pointy nose comes straight from her father.
"Hi Cass!" she says brightly, then runs over to where Cressida is sitting on Sea. The two girls have been friends since birth, and my sister lights up when she sees Mags.
"Since they're playing, would you like to walk down to the docks with me?" Tempest asks. I look to my Mother, who hesitates.
"I don't want you out there, with the guns and crowds, Cass," she says. The lines around her eyes deepen when she looks at me. The last few years have been hard on her. "I don't want you hurt."
"The crowds were nearly gone when I got here," Tempest says.
Father opens the door and looks out. "You may go, as long as you stay at the docks. Nobody will hurt you or question you there."
"Yes, Father," I say, grabbing my boots and pulling them back on. "We won't be long."
"Please don't be," Mother says, smiling faintly. "Be safe, both of you."
Tempest and I fight against the newly falling snow as we make our way to the docks, amongst the last of the stragglers who came from the square. Peacekeepers stand sporadically along the streets, watching us go by. I avoid their eyes.
"Spring is coming soon, so why can't we do away with this snow?" Tempest mumbles as we brush snowflakes out of our eyes.
"This has been the longest winter I can remember," I answer. "I hope this will be the end of it." The bleakest winter anyone can remember, the bleakest in three years. District 4 used to be a place of color and light, and now all I see are shades of grey and bombed out houses.
The rough stones turn into smooth wood unexpectedly; I look up from the ground, where I've been watching every step, and there in front of me is my beloved ocean. No ships or boats are out sailing today; every person in District 4 has been out of work since right before the rebellion ended.
"Come on, let's go sit on the edge," Tempest says, so I follow her to where the dock hangs over the water. Sitting down, we dangle our feet over the side, and then we fall silent.
All at once, I burst into tears. "I can't believe it! They can't do it, can they?"
"I don't understand it at all. How's it going to work? How are they going to make us fight; anyone who gets chosen isn't going to fight, don't they realize that?" Tempest says, pulling a loose chunk of wood up and throwing it as far as she can into the dark water.
"I wouldn't fight," I say, wiping my eyes. "They couldn't make me."
"Let's hope you won't have to," Tempest says, reaching over and grabbing my hand. "Or me, or our sisters."
"Mags can't anyway," I say. "She's too young, like Cressida."
"What about when they grow up? When they are eligible?"
"The Capitol isn't going to go through with it. And even if they do, they'll have it one year and that will be enough. They won't really run it for years and years," I say. "They can't."
Tempest looks over at me, then out at the horizon. "I hope you're right, Cass. I hope you're right."