The day before the Reaping
Owen Coin (18)- Citizen of District 13
I'm coming back home from school. The sky is as grey as ash, and it seems almost to merge with the surrounding landscape. A grey picture painted by a miserable artist. In the distance, I can see the dark silhouette of Panem's largest nuclear plant, which is called Alpha Plant… a bit far from the town, but not far enough if an accident happens. Nevertheless, many people still prefer living above ground; the underground tunnels are like a ghost town now, buried in the depths of the earth along with the past they represent. My family was in a sense forced to move above ground, where we can be seen, where the Capitol can see us. It was an act of surrender, in my opinion… not that they were given a choice. I stop to look up at the sky. Those dark clouds aren't well-promising, it may rain by nightfall. I wrap myself tight in the grey jacket of my school uniform and head home quickly.
"How was school?" asks my mother as soon as I cross the threshold.
"The same as every day… all that stuff about nuclear power," I answer, evasive.
"It's your last school year, Owen. Then, you'll need to work… a job in a nuclear plant wouldn't be that bad, don't you think?" she points out.
"That's not what I want."
She sighs. "Your father works at Alpha Plant, he could put in a good word for you. Besides, salaries are adequate… adequate enough to let me stay home to bring up our son."
"Believe me, I'm grateful for that, but…"
"You can't always have what you want; sometimes, you have to be content with what you can get," she says, interrupting me.
"You're right, ma', just… sometimes, I'd like to be a different person," I reply, turning my back on her.
"You mean having a different name, maybe," she corrects me.
I turn around. "Ma'…"
"You don't need to say anything. Owen, will you ever be able to let go of the past?"
"I don't think so," I answer under my breath.
"But you have to do it, sooner or later. You weren't even born, when it happened," she rebuts, caressing my cheek.
"But it's part of my history… of our history!"
"Alma Coin- your grandmother- led District 13 on the verge of disaster. She didn't do good to our family. Ask your father… she was an absent mother to him, that's why he begged me to stay home to look after you, he didn't want that to happen also to you, Owen," she explains.
"She was a great woman, she had to make sacrifices to become the leader her district wanted her to be!" I rebut, rushing towards my room.
"Owen! What are you doing?"
"You know what I always do before every Reaping!" I reply.
"Owen! Listen to me, it's useless, you…"
But I can't hear the end of her utterance, since I've already slammed the door. It's not her fault, if she cannot understand me; she's not a Coin after all, her blood doesn't boil when the memory of President Coin is insulted.
I switch on the small TV I've got in my room. There's a footage I always watch the day before every Reaping: my grandmother's execution *. It's the only footage I've got of her… the only image I've got of her, since there's no picture at home. It reminds me that, even if the Hunger Games involve also District 13 now, someone tried at least to rebel against this barbaric practice… my grandmother in the first place. I watch her, as she's getting ready for her execution, displayed before the entire nation as a hunting trophy. I think I look something like her, with my ashy blonde hair, light grey eyes, and thin features. I'm really proud of it. Sometimes, I wonder if this resemblance means that I'm born to be a rebel like her.
The echo of a thunder in the distance distracts me from my thoughts. The perfect day before a Reaping. That thunder is the herald of a great storm, and I can only hope it's not a bearer of bad news for me.
…...
The day before the Reaping
Carol Lumine (14)- Citizen of District 13
I hear a thunder in the distance. It's going to rain soon, I can already smell that dampness in the air that usually precedes rainfalls. I like it when it rains, especially that drizzle that gives your skin such a pleasant sense of freshness. However, rain is no good today, rain could spoil our plans. Christie convinced me to skip school this morning (and I still feel guilty), but she promised me she would make graffiti- which I really like- to be forgiven by me. I just wish she will be able to do it before it starts raining.
"Are you not afraid of peacekeepers?" I ask her, while we're looking for the best place for graffiti.
"Nah, there aren't many around, not with this weather," she answers, shrugging.
"You're always so brave, just… if you grew your hair, you'd look nicer, don't you think?"
She snorts. "I've told you thousands of times… no, because it gets into my eyes while I'm working!"
"You could comb it in a ponytail. It's really a pity… this wonderful, raven hair…" I remark, caressing her hair.
"Your blonde is a better colour… blonde hair and blue eyes, the perfect combination," she retorts.
"Nah, too classic!" I say, giggling.
"But it attracts boys," she replies.
Her tone has suddenly become icy.
"I'm not interested in boys, and you know it. What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," she answers.
"Christie… I know you too well…" I insist.
"What about the boy of yesterday? You were talking cheerfully during the break!"
"You are jealous, aren't you?" I reply with a smile.
"No, I'm not jealous!" she retorts.
"Yes, you are… your cheeks have turned red, they look like tomatoes!" I tease her, pinching her cheeks.
"Stop it!" she complains.
I put my hands on her shoulders. "Seriously, Christie, the only person I'm interested in is you," I say, but, since she avoids my gaze, I gently lift her chin up, so that I can see her eyes. "Okay?"
"Okay."
I kiss her. Every fibre of my being is suddenly warmed up by our contact. After what seems like an eternity, she steps back, breaking the spell.
"Ahem… your kisses are always amazing, Carol, but work before pleasure, I have graffiti to make! Don't distract me!" she says in a tone from which I immediately understand that she's not serious.
"As you wish," I tell her in response.
"I found the best place," she goes on, resuming her walk.
I follow her, smiling. I stop only when I realize that she's heading to the Justice Building.
"You want to make graffiti in the main square!?" I say, bewildered.
"That's the best place to convey my message," she explains, keeping on walking.
I catch up with her. "Which message?" I ask her, curious.
"Well, tomorrow is Reaping day, right?"
"Right," I reply, a bit worried about what will follow this statement.
"The entire district will be there, and also the Capitol will see," she goes on.
"Christie, that's dangerous… whatever you intend to do, you'd better forget it."
"I cannot, Carol. No one should forget. That's how they control us, they use our fear against us!" she rebuts in an angry voice.
"You're right, but…"
"No buts, Carol! Someone has to show them that we're not a flock of scared lambs!"
I sigh. "What are you going to paint?"
"I was thinking of a hopeless tribute, represented as a puppet on the strings of a flamboyant Capitolite… the more grotesque, the better… and maybe there could be also an inscription like that's how they see us," she answers, enthusiastic.
"You will be punished for that… the entire district, if you don't get caught!"
"I won't get caught, my work will be discovered only at the last moment."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I found out that the Reaping of this year coincides with the 60th birthday of Mayor Blight **, and that, for the occasion, he had a small mural- he loves art, apparently- painted on the façade of the Justice Building, in a corner because there's not much space left with all those windows. Anyway, it is meant to represent harmony between the Capitol and District 13, but it needs retouching, in my opinion," she explains.
"You will never been able even to touch it!" I point out, shaking my head.
"That's why I need your help," she replies, smirking.
"That smirk is not well-promising," I comment.
"The mural is hidden behind a curtain. Apparently, they're going to show it during the Reaping. I just want you to keep watch while I'm working, okay?"
"That's insane!"
"Don't worry, Carol. I've already given it a peek: there's a Capitolite who puts his hand on the shoulder of a nuclear-plant worker… I just need to retouch this image and turn it into my vision."
"The bare idea scares me, Christie!" I say, shaking my head.
"I'd do anything to defy the Capitol, which makes our lives so miserable. But I need your support, honey, only together we can win," she insists in a begging tone.
Oh, jeez! I cannot say no, when she speaks to me like that!
I sigh. "Okay, just promise me that you'll do your best. This work has to impress everyone, is that understood?"
"That's my Carol!"
…...
Present day
Owen Coin (18)- Citizen of District 13
When I wake up, I realize that I went to bed wearing my school uniform. My stomach is growling with hunger, since I skipped supper yesterday. Actually, I spent the whole evening watching the TV; as a consequence, a headache is to be added to my hunger. Great… I get up and change my clothes for the Reaping. I choose a simple, light grey sweater, sneakers, and a pair of blue jeans. I comb my hair. Even if I find the Reaping an outrageous masquerade, I don't want to look sloppy. I stop a minute to look at my reflection in the small mirror hanging above my bedside table. I cannot help but think about how much I resemble my grandmother. I cannot help but think that if the Capitol hadn't won the war, things would have been different. I sigh. Just another Reaping, and then everything will be over.
I join my parents- who are having breakfast in silence- in the kitchen. They don't say a word to me, and neither do I to them. If they expect me to apologize for what happened yesterday, they will be disappointed. I'm not going to choke on my words, because that's what I sincerely think. The present is the product of the past, and we cannot reject the latter. I wolf down my cup of milk and cornflakes, then I leave without waiting for my parents.
As I get out of the house, the chilly air makes me shiver. Maybe I should have worn something warmer, but I'm not going to go back home, I'll head straight to the main square. The part of District 13 that is located above ground has been put up ex novo in a grid pattern, in the heart of which the Justice Building arises- a stately building, whose massive shape is let's say lightened by the presence of several windows.
Once I've reached my destination, I join the other eighteen-year-olds in the front section. Our victors have all taken their seats onstage. In twenty-three years, District 13 had five victors, and they could have been even more, but the Capitol doesn't want too many victors from its former rival district, of course. Nevertheless, our militaristic upbringing pays off. The schedule system doesn't exist any longer, but we're used to hardship and discipline, and, as a matter of fact, the tributes of Thirteen usually prove to be excellent survivors. In the meantime, the mayor has mounted the stage along with the escort from the Capitol.
"Welcome to the 99th annual Hunger Games, District 13! This year, the Reaping will be a little bit longer than usual, since there's an important anniversary to celebrate: your mayor's 60th birthday. I heard that something special has been prepared for the occasion. It that right, Mr. Blight?" says the escort.
"Very true, my dear. For the occasion, a mural has been painted," replies the mayor, pointing at a red curtain behind him that hides the lower-right corner of the Justice Building's façade. "A mural that conveys a message of peace and mutual help between the Capitol and District 13."
"Let's show it, then! I'm thrilled to bits!"
In one smooth movement, Mayor Blight pulls the curtain, which falls to the ground, thus revealing the mural beneath. At first, dead silence falls over the whole square. As soon as they see the mural, the cheerful smiles of the mayor and of the escort evaporate like dew under the scorching sun and are quickly replaced by astonished countenances. The mural does not correspond with the mayor's description! You can see a flamboyant Capitolite- who looks like the caricature of the mayor himself- and a citizen of Thirteen, who's portrayed like a puppet with an absent smile. The Capitolite is the puppeteer, who pulls the strings of his puppet. The icing on the cake? A provocative sentence below the two: THAT'S HOW THEY SEE US. The whole square… or, rather, the whole Panem can see it. Slowly, the silent square becomes an inferno of deafening, roaring voices in protest. Many people are now moving towards the stage, while others stay in place, even if they risk being swept away by the crazy swarm of protesters. Looks like the rebellious nature of this district has finally re-emerged. My heart is beating faster with pride and a satisfied smile forms on my lips. I'd like to know who retouched the mural.
"Calm down, you all!" cries the mayor from the stage.
Eventually, peacekeepers intervene with weapons in hand to quiet down the crowd. By dint of menaces and beating, calm returns. No shots, but several wounded. The mural is covered again.
"Shame! A really bad conduct in front of the entire nation! But I assure you that whoever is responsible for this will be quickly found and punished!" comments the mayor, red with rage.
"And now the Reaping! We'll see how many of you will still want to protest after that!" he goes on, beside himself.
The escort- clearly frightened- picks up a name from the boys' ball as fast as she can. "O-Owen Coin!"
What? Me? It can't be true, it must be a nightmare! Two peacekeepers drag me out of my section with their cold, gloved hands. I feel like my entire body was made of ice. I mount the stage in an almost mechanical way.
"Hurry up! We haven't got all day!" says the mayor.
I look at him. There's contempt in his gaze, but also a hint of satisfaction. Yeah, he must be happy that a Coin is getting into the Hunger Games. The escort is now ready to read the name of the female tribute. She doesn't even ask for volunteers. "Carol Lumine!"
"I volunteer!" shouts a firm voice.
A girl emerges from the fourteen-year-old section. She's wearing casual clothes like me. Her dark hair is short-cut, and this fact brings out the round shape of her rosy face. But her most noteworthy feature are definitely her piercing, dark brown eyes, the mirror of an untamed soul.
"My name's Christine Harsh!" she says in a self-confident tone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of District 13: Owen Coin and Christine Harsh! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" says the escort, still a bit uncomfortable.
We're quickly let inside the Justice Building and assigned a separate waiting room for visitors. My parents visit me.
"Oh, Owen!" cries my mother, as soon as she enters the room.
She's weeping, I've never seen her weep.
She hugs me. The warmth of her body stirs me from the cold, robot-like numbness I felt after being reaped. I listen to my parents' recommendations but say few in response. What can I tell them, after all? I cannot tell them that this is a final farewell, that I'm not going to come back because I'm a Coin and, therefore, they cannot let me survive. That's an unspoken truth, and we all know it. I can only promise them that they won't kill me easily, that I'm not going to go down without a fight. Better than nothing, right?
When they eventually leave, the emotions of this day return to my mind all at once- the rage of the crowd, the sense of pride I felt, the shock of being reaped, the awareness of my imminent death. I don't know how to cope with these contrasting feelings. It's almost suffocating. My head starts spinning. I sit down on one of the couches, waiting for the moment in which I'll leave District 13 forever, and silently hoping it will never arrive.
…...
Christine "Christie" Harsh (14)- District 13 female tribute
My mural had its desired effect. The crowd protested… yeah, it was silenced, but it protested. That's the most important thing! My joy could be complete, if it wasn't for the Reaping's outcome. A storm cloud that overshadowed everything… but the alternative would have been worse: Carol, my Carol in the Games! I couldn't let it happen!
My parents visit me first. They look more furious than sad, especially my mother.
"How could you be so reckless? Volunteering for that girl, without thinking about the consequences!" she yells.
"I love her, but I know it's something you cannot understand, no point arguing," I reply.
My parents cannot understand my choice. They're fans of the so-called "traditional family", they cannot conceive a different model, they cannot conceive a different kind of love. Actually, if I had enough money of my own, I would have gone live with Carol years ago. No matter if we're not yet of age, we would have found a way.
"What's done is done, but you have no idea of what kind of trouble you got in, Christie!" adds my father.
"Only Carol can call me Christie!" I shout.
He slaps me. "Keep your voice down, we're still your parents, whether you like it or not! What we say is for your own sake!"
I massage my cheek. "My sake!? You don't know me! You've never wanted, because I'm not the daughter you wished me to be!"
My father is about to slap me again, but my mother stops him. "What your father wanted to say is that we love you, Christine, and that now we're scared to death, because you will end up in the arena," she says, lowering the tone of her voice.
"I'll find some allies to survive. I'll win for Carol and for my district," I affirm.
"Choose all the allies you want, but not that Coin, he's already doomed," she points out.
"Such a name is a synonym for rebellion… by the way, what do you think of what happened with the mural, Christine?" inquires my father.
That's a dangerous question. I know there must be some hidden camera in this room, so I cannot tell them that the mural is my doing as I wish I could. That would spoil all my chances of winning; my parents would be punished in my stead, and so would Carol. Anyway, I can tell by the tone of my father that he suspects me.
"Someone wanted to provoke the Capitol, that's all I can say," I reply with a shrug.
When they finally leave me alone, Carol enters the room, her eyes reddened by tears. She's so pale that I fear she could faint. I immediately hug her.
"I'm sorry, Carol, the last thing I want is making you suffer," I tell her.
I'm about to cry as well, I can feel it, but I must try to stay strong for her.
"You shouldn't have volunteered, Christie! I don't want to lose you!"
"And you won't, indeed. I'll win the Games, you'll be proud of me."
She breaks our embrace to watch me right in the eye. "I'm already proud of you. You're so brave… yeah, maybe a little reckless, but always brave," she replies with a sad smile.
I know she's referring to the mural, but she's clever enough to understand that she cannot say it aloud.
At this stage, she takes off her red foulard and gives it to me. "As a lucky charm," she says.
"Umm… in the ancient times, knights used to receive such presents from the ladies for which they fought… I'll be your knight then, my lady," I reply, ceremoniously kissing her hand.
She giggles in response. "You'd better fight hard, my lord."
"I will, that's for sure."
Last but not least, the tributes of District 13: Christine Harsh and Owen Coin. They have both a rebellious nature, and I think they could be good allies to each other. What do you think of this possibility?
In the next chapter, you'll find the full list of tributes. Now that the Reapings are finally over, we can move to the Capitol, but I will first update Divine Punishment before going on with this story.
Thank you for reading :)
*As for the execution scene, see Divine Punishment chapter 1
**Desmond Blight, the mayor of District 13, was introduced in Divine Punishment chapter 4 (D13 Reaping)
