Welcome to wonderland
Where should we go
There's a tea party along down the road
Make an appearance and maybe they'll sing us a song
Malory Black
District 11, She/Her, 17
(2 months Prior the Reaping)
...
I lay in the field, staring up at the drifting clouds in the azure sky. No thoughts about work or money even dare stepping into my head as I absorb the alluring world that surrounds me. And then there's no longer sky, just those luscious lips lowering themselves toward mine.
"Oh, get a room!" The two of us are startled by this and jump away from each other, I turn to see my brother, James, throwing his head back in a laugh. I roll my eyes and watch Briana shake her head, her dreadlocks swaying from side to side.
"Dude! I almost got a kiss in." She sighs, feigning annoyance. "Panem knows I don't get to kiss this face enough." She says while leaning in for another kiss to press to my giggling mouth. James groans at this so I grab him in a headlock and ruffle his hair.
"You wanted to come, idiot." He struggles free and it takes Briana tickling me for me to finally release him. We all fall to the ground in laughter. These are my favourite moments, the moments I get to spend with my two best friends and truly be myself. With everyone else, it's less easy. With them, I can't just talk without thinking and kiss my girlfriend without pink replacing my pale skin. "Well, we better head home. Need to grab some dinner and head off to bed, I have an early start tomorrow." I internally sigh thinking about the day to come, a 12 hour shift in the heat we've been getting won't be any fun at all.
"No!" James and Briana shout at me at the same time, James tackling me to the floor when I try and stand up and Briana pleading with those beautiful, big brown eyes. I put my head in my hands and shake it, secretly I'm smiling at the idea of them wanting to stay and hang out with me a little longer. We can't, though, as much as I'd love to sleep under the night sky.
"Come on guys, don't make this difficult." I say, getting up and pushing James away before he can tackle me again. Briana sticks out her bottom lip in protest and we stare at each other until one of us backs down. It's her, of course, I like to get my way and she knows it. "Bye, love." I whisper as I pull her off of the ground and into a tight embrace, pressing my lips against her warm cheek. We stand there like that for a few minutes, allowing ourselves to be fully wrapped in each other - remembering the touch of each others' skin and our scents so that we hold onto each other even when we're apart.
Briana leaves, waving goodbye to James, and my brother and I begin our walk toward our house. It's not too far and we make it in around five minutes, our emotions quickly flattening at the depressing sight of the maze of beaten down houses - if you can even call them that. Eventually we make it to the end of the street and approach our house, not any less or more beaten up than any of the others, it has 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom all squeezed into it but my family and I make do.
"We're home!" I shout and immediately Mum is rushing down the stairs to pull us into a group hug.
"We were wondering when you'd get back, Momma's just in the kitchen making some dinner." She says, tightening her squeeze on us.
"Great, I'm starving." I reply.
"Perfect! I picked up some bread on the way home today." Mum shouts from the kitchen and James responds with a cheer. I smile, a great end to a great day.
Odalis Witherell
District 11, He/Him, 14
(Reaping Day)
...
"And then this stroke right here kind of brings it all alive." My father says, admiring the painting set out on the easel in front of him.
"That's brilliant." I murmur, noting down - in my head - everything he has told me about this new painting of his so that I can use them in some of my future projects. He and I have always been painters, it's how we've bonded over the years and it always manages to relieve me of the anxiousness of every day life.
"Odalis, are you going to get down here and help me with breakfast?" Mum shouts from downstairs and I jump, startled. Father gives me a sympathetic look but his support doesn't go any further than that - turning back to his painting. I sigh as I walk down the stairs, enjoying my final seconds of solitude before I'm bombarded with my Mother's abuse and disdain. "There you are." She spits, slapping the back of my head. "Get started on some eggs." I do as she says. As always.
As much as she despises me, I can never really find it in my heart to feel anything but understanding and appreciation for her. She works hard, every day of her life, and she does it so she can help support me and for that I am grateful. Even if she likes to take out her frustration at life on me, if it makes her feel any better then I'll gladly take it because what is the point in making somebody else's life any harder? It's a question I've pondered a couple times now as apart of my philosophical research. I'm often confused when the characters in my books go out of their way to make somebody else's life miserable. Can't we all just work together to make everybody's life easy, would that be so hard?
It's impossible, though, with an oppressive government like The Capitol. My father chooses to ignore my questions on The Capitol and the agenda that it pushes, he always replies with 'it is none of my concern'. In my mind, I repeat the words of Plato in a solemn response. If you do not take an interest in the affairs of your government, then you are doomed to live under the rule of fools. That is one of the many quotes that encouraged me to think the way that I Do, to make me questions things that others would simply ignore.
We eat breakfast, as usual, in silence. It's not that we are unhappy as a family, the three of us are just so different that there truly is nothing to discuss as a group. My mother and father talk, they are very much still in love, and my father and I talk, he is my best friend. There is my sister, Amara, but she moved out a few years ago and is much older than me so we've never really interacted. Which is good, I suppose, I don't think she'd like me. People rarely do.
Once we finish up breakfast, we begin to walk (again in silence) toward The District Centre. It's a fairly long walk, my father enjoys the quiet so our house is secluded from the rest of the District. I avert my eyes from the apple orchard, the place that I work, when we walk past. It makes me feel so small, so inconsequential to be working in such an environment. The Peacekeepers act as The Capitol's enforcers of oppression, whipping anyone who even dares look up at the sky. I've had one too many whippings to learn not to get caught up in my dreams of a better future.
We reach The Centre and Father gives me a quick squeeze, I awkwardly hug him back, and then he walks off into the crowd. I get into line, turning my focus to my shoes to avoid eye contact with any of the other kids in The District. Talking has never been one of my strong suits and it creates a tightness in my chest that I try to avoid. "Finger." A peacekeeper says and I stick out my index finger, not looking at him in the eye. When I've been pricked, I blend into the crowd and wait, staring ahead.
A few moments later, a tall man with a matching tall, green hat and an orange tuxedo casually walks out from The Justice Building. "Hello District Eleven! I am Bobby Craft." He says, cheerily and with a dip of his hat. "Welcoming your one, your only, Victor and Mentor...Crow Pullman." I roll my eyes at the dramatics of it all. Does sending children to a death game really need to be this theatric?
"Right, then. Ladies first." He says matter-of-factly before pulling out a slip from the female bowl. "And our female tribute...Malory Black." After the name is read, a scream pierces my ears and I flick my eyes toward the screen where the source of the scream is shown. It's not from the girl reaped but from the one beside her who is clutching her tightly, eventually, the reaped girl, Malory, struggles out of her arms and makes her way toward the stage. There is terror in her eyes as she takes her place on stage and I don't blame her, there are many things that I am afraid of but death is one that stands out above all.
"Now, our male tribute." Bobby says, unfazed. He reads out the slip and my breath catches. "Odalis Witherell." There are no screams for me, none but the ones in my head telling me that I am going to die. And I believe them, how could someone like me survive such a place? Tears begin to drip from my cheeks as I trudge up to the stage, feeling all eyes on me causes me to go red with shame. I take my place beside Malory, staring down at the ground.
"Our tributes from District 11, Malory Black and Odalis Witherell!"
A/N: ONE MORE INTRO CHAPTER, I REPEAT, ONE MORE INTRO CHAPTER! Thanks thehungergamesz for Malory and Lumi84 for Odalis.
- Neb