Voices of the Reaped
A Hunger Games Fanfiction: Suzanne Collins traumatized me so I'm writing a whole 6th book!
It's got a whole new cast of characters to get to know! A whole new district to learn about (I wanted to try my hand at world building)! Heavily inspired by current political events! And the characters you know and love very much haunt the narrative!
WARNING! This chapter contains: spoilers for Sunrise on the Reaping, Mentions of Death, elusions to rubber sounds that might be annoying to some people, a really, really poorly phrased motto that will likely be edited in future additions because I don't know how I feel about it. Let me know if I missed anything!
Chapter 1
I wake up to a sharp pain, as my head thuds to my hard wood floors. Thin blankets are sprawled in every direction, some bare pillows laying next to me. With stiff arms, I reach for the edge of my mattress, sluggishly pulling myself up. Grey light peers through my blinds which - apparently - had been pulled down last night. As I start moving towards the window, each of my joints crack and ache uncomfortably. My fingers brush against the cold stony walls as I pull the blinds up, revealing the bright yet cloudy sky that District 6 has become accustomed too. Fog looms over my small neighborhood of cracked cobblestone and thin wood. Normally, this kind of weather wouldn’t phase me in the slightest. But as I look closer, towards the rainbow tinted puddles, and the formal attire of my neighbors, I realize there is no smog. Of course not. Everyone has the day off. Reaping day. The shadows cast down by my house imply that the sun has already risen a fair amount. What time is it? Nine - ten o'clock? Dad must’ve closed the blinds to make me sleep in for the day. My last reaping until I am no longer eligible to be a tribute in The Hunger Games.
I don’t dress up as much as the others do - a very common occurrence for those on their last reaping. I’m not sure if the other districts do this as well, but we have this superstition that wearing business - casual attire will make you less likely to be picked. Like the box somehow knows you’re not ready for capitol presentation, and decides to place the odds in a more fashionable person’s “favor.” Of course - it’s really just an excuse to not have to dress up as much. Besides, everyone knows that the kids my age that do generally get picked are the ones who have somehow managed to stay alive with tessere.
Most of the kids I know don’t take tessere. We live in The Garages, otherwise known as the county where they make cars for the capitol. The only people I really talk to are the people I know from school, and those aren’t the kids that end up needing tesserae. The ones in our county that do tend to work in the Warehouses. The Warehouses are these big metal buildings that the cars are actually built in. Usually, kids in my county don’t have to take tesserae unless they’re struggling enough to work in The Warehouses. Even then, there aren’t a lot of kids that have to do so. Tessare is generally only for food, ingredients, and water. We don’t really struggle with that here. Everyone has enough to eat, even if our stomachs aren’t entirely full. So not many kids end up absolutely needing to work in The Warehouses or take tesserae. This means that, for the most part, my county is safe from The Hunger Games. I’m lucky enough to say that I’ve only lost one friend to the games. Anyone in the districts would be lucky to say that.
I change into my beige and white polka dotted dress. It’s got some “frills” on the edges of the fabric, although I suppose it’s really just loose white cloth. Normally, I’d have woken up early to spend the next couple hours taming my curly hair into a near bun. This year, however, I just style it into a quick set of curly pigtails. No sense going crazy when I’m probably just gonna come home and change anyway. I put on some leather mary-janes and leave my bedroom. My house isn’t big. It’s got two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom, and that’s about it. The real marvel is the cellar, where my dad’s shop is. Well - I guess most people assume it’s my shop. I’m generally the one manning the store, since Dad is busy working at The Garage during the day. He gathers small parts from work wherever he can. Nails, screws, screwdrivers, hammers, wires, cables, lightbulbs, switches, anything the man can get his hands on. He takes it home and stores it away in the cellar, where we trade it for food or cash. Technically, this is illegal. The parts at the factories are strictly used for Capitol vehicles. So, technically, my father consistently steals government property. Once he’s got it stored at home, he hands it out to the district for whatever they can offer. Food, coin, spare parts, we aren’t too picky. He risks so much for everyone in the district, including me, the least I can do is help around the shop once in a while.
Things aren’t bad enough for me to need to pull out tesserae, but they could’ve been if he hadn’t started this little business. He and my mom met in the warehouse he works at. She had just moved into the county, from the Train Station, and she had desperately needed work. They were in their early 20s when they met, and in their mid-thirties when they got married. Mom was a really kind, cheerful, mischievous and funny woman. She had beautiful brown skin, the same curly hair as me, soft hazel eyes, and a curved round nose. I was about fifteen when she died. There was a fire - supposedly someone threw a cigarette too close to some oil - and she had gone in to save some people. I was at school when it happened, so I missed the whole thing. When I got home, Dad was just sitting on the couch…wheeping. Watching such a big man crumble to the ground like that was…it was hard. We were all we had, so we learned to look out for each other. It took some getting used to. Dad had trouble remembering that he wasn’t cooking for three anymore. I didn’t have someone to help me out with math anymore, especially since we were just starting to learn assembly in school. Money was tight for the first year, since we were living on my Dad’s income alone. He didn’t want me going to work with him, especially after Mom, so we were sort of scraping the bottom of the barrel for ideas. One night, when I got home from school, I told Dad about how I was going to need to wear my coat in the classroom. We as a county may not generally have food problems, but our entire district struggles to keep the power running. Our supplies are incredibly limited, and everything generally breaks before the year is over. This is a major problem when the colder seasons begin to arrive. Winter can mean certain death if you can’t keep the power running. No working fridge? Your food expires. No heater? You’ll probably freeze to death. And that’s assuming you’re staying at home. I’m lucky enough to only live about two blocks away from the school. But one year, a kid froze to death on his way to class. It was a cold Monday morning, and he just…passed out on the sidewalk. He was buried in the snow by recess. We were talking about that boy when Dad got the idea to start the “Traynor’s Trades” shop down in the cellar. People paid a decent amount of money to get some proper parts for their homes. We keep the lights on, the fire going, and the power running. In exchange, people offer food and coin. In time, we made it out, and I only had to put my name in for The Reaping seven times. It’s been three years since Mom left. We’re finally starting to be okay again.
I step outside, taking in the small remnants of smog that still remains in the air. I strut towards the back of my tiny house and unlock the cellar door. The air becomes musky and moist, as I close the doors behind me. The room is dark, only lit by some candles and light bulbs hanging on a wire on the ceiling. I find Dad at the desk. He’s a big guy. Beefy hairy arms, pale skin, and blue eyes. His fuzzy beard matches my dirty blonde hair. I like to say all of his hair slid off of his head and onto his face, leaving room for the burn scar that he got in the factory accident. He usually covers that up with a hat, but I guess he doesn’t feel like that today. Dad peers up at me, with his rosy cheeks and his solemn smile.
“Hey there, Peanut.” he greets, setting his coffee down onto the counter by the register. “You sleep okay?” he asks. I nod, walking over to the counter and stealing his drink.
“About as well as I could, considering today.” I reply. The old man nods. He places one of his big calloused hands on mine. My fingers are chapped and cold to the touch.
“One more, kiddo. Just one more, and it’s over.” he reassures me.
“One more and I’m home free.” I clarify. Dad remains quiet, so I decide to lead the conversation. “We’re still open today, aren’t we?” I ask, sipping on his coffee. It’s bitter, but it’s alright.
“Yeah, we’re still open.” Dad confirms. “Power doesn't get to go out just cause it’s Reaping Day.”
“So why didn’t you wake me?” he eyes me, before shrugging softly.
“Cause it’s your last Reaping, for better or for worse.” he specifies. “You deserve the day off.”
“But - weren’t we gonna spend today at the shop together? You know…just in case?” We did that every year, since before mom passed. Every reaping day was spent with them. Just in case they lost me. Dad and I have been especially strict about this tradition since we lost her. So it’s a surprise to hear him change the plan so suddenly.
“Yeah but…” he trails off, briefly, then smiles at me. “Sue is family too. You should go spend time with her. Just in case.” I can feel a rosey pink dust over my tan cheeks, and I almost choke on the black coffee I had stolen from the counter.
“Uh -” I clear my throat “- Uhm - yeah. Yeah I guess she…she is. Or will be…someday…maybe…hopefully.” my Dad bursts into deep laughter, and I look away in embarrassment.
Sue is one of my old classmates. Her parents died in the same accident my mom was killed in. She didn’t have any remaining family members to watch over her and her brother. Not in the county anyway. So she had to move away to The Stables to live with her aunt. I had seen her boarding the train. She had dark - umber like - skin. Her eyes were a forest green, and her hair was a deep chestnut brown. She was standing tall, proud almost, as the peacekeepersushered her inside. There was a little boy holding her hand. He was so small and frail back then. He had the same skin and hair as his sister, but his eyes were a soft amber. It wasn’t long before I had come up with an excuse good enough to travel to The Stables myself. I remember the train was musty, and worn down. I had this overwhelming fear that it would break, and I’d be out in the middle of nowhere by myself. When I reached my destination, I was met with the unfamiliar concept of a dirt road. To the right side of the town was The Mill, where they built the chariots for the Capitol. To my left were large open fields that were fenced off from the rest of the town. In the distance, I could see the horses galloping around. Those were the Stables. The gate creaked open, and after asking around, I managed to find the girl’s new home. It was just at the edge of the fence, where the district line met with the wilds. She was sitting on the porch, easing a bruise on her brother’s cheek, when she saw me.
“You should go see her.” My father reiterated. “She’s got a surprise for you.” that snaps me out of my thoughts. Sue isn’t exactly one for surprises, so I’m assuming this is for something special. An anniversary? A birthday? I thought I kept track of those? What am I forgetting?
“What about the shop? Won’t you need help?” I ask. Dad waves a hand at me.
“I’ve got it for today, don’t worry,” he states. “Go see your girlfriend.” I don’t fight his instructions. I lean over the counter, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. He does the same, almost crushing me against the hard wood top. “I’ll be fine…go enjoy the day as much as you can.” he whispers, although I’m sure he’s trying to reassure himself more than he is me. Reaping day is always hard on him.
I don’t have to make up excuses to go to The Stables anymore. The peacekeepers have gotten used to my “deliveries,” and it’s not uncommon for citizens to visit other counties on Reaping Day. As long as we’re all in front of the courthouse by two, nobody really cares where we go. I’ve gotten significantly more accustomed to the railroad tracks that take me between counties. It would be really convenient if I could just drive there myself, but we aren’t allowed to operate vehicles. Kids aren’t even allowed to have bikes here. The only ones who could were the kids that had backyards, since they could ride them there. I guess it’s technically a “toy” in that case, since they aren’t blocking the roads or side walks. But the train is fine. If you’ve got business, or family members to visit, in the other counties, you can come and go as you please. I’ve been using the “delivery girl” excuse for years now, it would break routine to deny me entry now. I’ve even come to know the conductor, Sphen, a little well too. He’s got bright blue eyes, dark curly hair, and a lean build. I’m pretty sure Sphen is from the Capitol, since nobody in 6 seems to recognize him. He’s usually the reason the peacekeepers are able to buy my story. We don’t talk much, but he’s nice to me. Sometimes, on holidays, he’ll send me off with some cookies. I always give them to Sue and her brother, since they need the food more than I do.
When I reach The Stables, my gaze lingers on The Mills to the right. Even with the day off, there are still plenty of kids pulling splinters out of their fingers. I don’t know much, but I know Sue works there after school. Too many times have I come to visit just for her to be stuck working late. Sweaty, bloody, bruised. One night, she missed the nail she was trying to hammer into the plank, and hit her ring finger. Her fingernail bruised so bad, part of it fell off. It took months for that wound to heal, and she still picked up shifts. The kids at The Mill are generally the kids who have to take tesserae. I don’t know how much Sue’s taken exactly, since we’ve only known each other for about three years now, but I know she’s taken some too. It might be my last day that I’m eligible for the reaping, but it’s not the last reaping I’ll have to worry about. Not by a longshot.
When I reach her farmhouse, I’m quick to check the barn for her. When she’s not at The Mill, Sue is usually tending to her aunt’s horses. Apparently, Auntie Morre is very well respected amongst The Stables. Her horses are almost always picked to go to the capitol. A couple times, apparently, she’s sent them off to the Hunger Games to pull the chariots. Like that’s something to be proud of. However, the old woman isn’t nearly as thorough about raising her niece and nephew. They constantly get locked outside if they’re out too late, or left unattended when they come home from work or school with injuries. She never cooked or cleaned for them either. I’m pretty sure the only reason she even took them in was because she got royalty checks for “fostering” these kids. She shouldn’t, considering she’s just making Sue raise herself and her brother all on her own. I unfortunately have no say in the matter.
As expected, I find Sue tending to one of her horses in the barn. She’s wearing a green shirt, baggy denim overalls, and some rainboots. Her short, dark hair is braided up into a ponytail, possibly for reaping day, most likely to keep it out of her face while she brushes her horse. The horse has a black and white spotted coat, with deep black eyes. She named him Darcy. I lean against the barn doorway, watching her care for the gentle creature. Her forest eyes were so focussed, waiting for the moment that the brush finally failed to gather up any hair. It took a few minutes for her to realize I was there, but when she did, she looked at me like I had changed her whole world. Her stern eyes softened, and a smile gently tugged at her chapped lips.
“Hey Sixer.” She greets me. “Sixer” was a nickname she came up with when I first introduced myself. My parents, clever as they were, took my name very seriously. So they thought of how they were both from different parts of the district. Mom was from The Station, where The Reaping takes place. It’s located on the northern side of the district. Apparently, it gets especially snowy there during the winter, but it doesn’t storm nearly as much as it does in the Garages and Stables. Mom said that, long ago, The Station was once part of a place called Ontario. My parents wanted my name to represent the district as a whole. So, they named me Cyx. C - Y - X, pronounced like the number six. Apparently, it’s a word from an old language my mom’s family used to speak. It means “Powerful” and “Mighty.” I wish I had grown into the title, but I never did. I was one of the weaker ones in gym class. Mom used to say that there was more to strength than size, like intelligence or kindness, but I’m not sure I excel in any of that either. Now, Sue? Sue is the strongest girl I know.
“Hey Sue.” I let her come to me, so as to not startle the horses, before wrapping my arms around her waist and twirling her in the air. She laughs, wrapping her arms around my neck for security. Once I set her down on the ground again, she’s quick to give me a firm kiss. It’s as if to say: “I missed you.” A shiver runs up my spine, and I tilt my head to lean further against her. She pulls away, gently cupping my cheek. I feel a stupid grin sliding onto my face. It’s like the whole world just got ten times warmer now that she’s here.
“You look nice.” she says, scanning my appearance.
“You look better…” I say honestly, causing her to roll her eyes in return. “I’m serious. You’re so pretty, have I told you that?”
“A few times.” she admits. Sue looks up at me, and I find myself caught in her eyes again. They’ve got just a tint of brown circling around her iris. I could get lost in them for ages. I’ve never liked the woods, but whenever I look into her eyes, I wish we could all just pack our bags and run. Live in the wilds, be free, eat rabbits every day. No more Capitol. No more smog. No more reaping. Just Sue, and me, and Dad, and - “So…one last Reaping, huh?” and suddenly, my fantasy is over, and I have to face the cold reality that I live in. There’s still a Capitol. There’s still smog. There’s still a reaping.
“For better or for worse…” I reply. Sue furrows her brows in thought. Her fingers slide down from my cheek, grazing over my shoulder, trailing down my arm, before they intertwine in my hands.
“You’ll probably be fine, it’s usually the kids from The Mill that…you know…” she tries to reassure me. I sigh, looking away. I love her, but she can be so blunt sometimes.
“Thanks, but that doesn’t exactly make me feel better.” It’s bad enough to think about how there are people who get worse chances than I do because of circumstances outside of their control. It’s worse to think about how one of those kids is my girlfriend. And she’s still got two more reapings before she’s free. Then we have to worry about her brother.
“Right - sorry.” she apologizes, and I gaze back at her. “But…it’s true…you’re probably gonna go home, and have some cake, and never have to worry about The Reaping ever again.”
“Except I’ve got you and Hive to worry about.” I argue. “I don’t - …” I trail off, feeling myself tear up from frustration. I hate Reaping Day. “I’m sorry, I’m just…I worry about you two, you know?”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Sue states firmly. “Don’t you worry about us, we’re gonna be just fine.” I pull away from her, crossing my arms, as a pit forms in my stomach.
“Cyx.” she interrupts, placing her hands on both my shoulders. “We’re gonna be fine. Hive’s only put in his name twice, I’ve only got two more reaping’s left, and I’ve finally got a way out of this dump.” I raise a brow.
“What do you mean?” I inquire. She smiles, leading me out of the barn and into the field. We sit down on the grass together, and she stares up at our cloudy sky. “Sue?” I press.
“I just need one more year, and I’ll have enough money to move back to The Garages.” she states. My eyes widen in shock and wonder, but she keeps talking before I can ask any questions. “I have enough money stored up to rent an apartment for about a year. When I’m nineteen, I can move out, and take Hive with me.” I raise a hand, asking her to slow down.
“Wait - wait - wait, how are you going to take Hive with you?” I ask. “You don’t have legal custody over him, he’ll have to stay with your aunt.”
“I’m gonna take her to court the second I get the apartment.” Sue states firmly. “I’ve been gathering evidence against her for years. Her receipts show that she barely feeds us, eye witnesses to report that she’s locked us out of the house, I’ve got plenty of scars to suggest child neglect." The brunette lifts her finger, showing her crooked fingernail. “I just-” she sighs, flopping her hand back to her side. “I just hope it’s enough…” I stare at her for a moment. Sue’s plan is good, but I’m worried it’s not gonna be enough to get Hive out of there. But I certainly don’t think it’s a good idea to leave him with their aunt until he’s nineteen. Chances are, he’ll starve. I know that. Sue knows that. And god knows Sue won’t be able to leave him behind. If she can’t get him out, she’s just gonna live with that woman for four more years. I can’t bear to see that anymore.
“I’ll testify for you, if you need me to.” I offer. “I’ve seen the bruises, I can confirm your stories.” Sue looks up at me, her worried brows wavering. “And I’m sure my dad would be willing to testify too.”
“I think he does.” I interrupt. “He asks about your health a lot. He always checks in to make sure you guys are eating…glares at your aunt every time he sees her in the market.”
“Really?” Sue interjects. “I’ve never seen your dad glare at anyone before.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t seem real fond of your aunt.” I confirm. “Always upcharges her whenever she tries to buy anything at the shop.”
“Pfft-” Sue chuckles, her eyes creasing from the smile she can’t help but give me. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love your dad?”
“He loves you too.” I tell her. “He thinks you’re really smart.”
“At least in comparison to your ex, right?” Sue teases, grinning mischievously at me. I cringe at the comment.
“Anyway,” I clear my throat, then gently place a hand on my girlfriend’s cheek. “You’ve got support. So much support. Don’t feel like you have to do all of this on your own.” Her grin slips back into a soft, vulnerable smile. She gently leans her cheek into the palm of my hand, closing her eyes.
“Thank you…that means a lot.” she says. Sue places her calloused hand over my own, and opens her eyes to look back up at me. “You’ve helped me so much these past couple years…I…I kinda feel like I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” I assure her. “Just hang on for me. One more year.”
“One more Reaping…” she clarifies. I nod, then lean in to give her a chaste kiss. It’s short, sweet, but enough. She pulls away, and we look into each other’s eyes for a moment. We’re silent. It’s peaceful. Moments like these are so hard to come by nowadays. She gently moves my hand off of her cheek, before leaning forward and gently resting on my shoulder. We lay down on the grass, staring up at the grey sky above us. The cool wind blows through the humid air, brushing against our intertwined fingers. One more reaping, and then we’ll be home free. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” Sue breaks the silence, though it’s perfectly welcome.
“Yeah, Dad mentioned something about a surprise.” I turn my body to face her, resting on my elbow. “What do you have for me?” she grins bashfully, before pulling something shiny out of her overalls.
“It’s my mom’s ring…” she tells me. “She always took it off when she went to work…so…I snagged it when we moved out.” I stare at the jewelry in shock. Though Sue never said it, I could tell that it was a wedding ring. Or maybe an engagement ring. I could never tell the difference. But the implications catch me by surprise. I’m quick to sit back up, and she follows.
“Are you proposing to me right now?” I ask stupidly.
“No - no nothing like that.” Sue laughs. She twiddles with the ring in her fingers, staring at it lovingly. “I just…I wanted to give you something nice. Something meaningful.” She trails off briefly, before continuing. She has a determined look in her eye. A look I love so much. “You and Hive mean the world to me, Cyx, and…and I want you to have a part of me with you.” A small smile slides across my face, and I can’t help but laugh sheepishly in response. I can feel my face go red with embarrassment. It wasn’t often that Sue was vulnerable with anyone, but she was vulnerable with me. Even when she didn’t mean to be. I’ve always felt so honored that she trusts me enough to do so. But this…this is a whole new level. I feel like our relationship has reached a new stage, and I’m so excited to see where it takes us. Sue looks back up at me, giving me that sarcastic grin I’ve come to be so accustomed to. “Here, let me put it on. I’ll see if it fits.” she takes my hand, gently sliding the metallic item across my finger. It’s a little small, only able to get just past my knuckle, but I don’t care. “This alright, Sixer?” she asks.
“It’s perfect…you’re perfect…” I tell her. Sue’s face flushes ever so slightly, but she keeps her composure. She leans against my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around her protectively. We both stare up at the sky for another hour, in perfect silence, as the cool breeze breaks through the humid air.
“We should probably get Hive and go.” Sue suggests, breaking the silence between us. I sigh, resting my cheek against her head.
“Yeah…can we just skip the reaping today?” I joke. She pulls away, rather abruptly, and I wince.
“No, no, unfortunately we can’t.” she giggles slightly, and I’m relieved to know that she did, in fact, find my joke funny.
“Damn. Oh well.” We giggle, then help each other off of the ground.
“He should be in the woods,” Sue states, “he’s been hiding from Morre all day.” I nod, following her towards the fence that marks the end of our district. The fence is tall, with barbed wire. When I first visited, Sue warned me not to get too close. Apparently, if you listen closely, you can hear a small buzz coming from the wire. It’s an electric fence. I have this theory that the reason the power goes out so consistently is because all of the energy is being put into blocking the exit. I obviously can’t compare the sizes of the other districts, considering we aren’t really allowed to know much about them. But considering we need a train to run through various counties, I doubt 6 is very small. If this fence really wraps around the entire district line, like I think it does, it’s no wonder nobody has enough power to keep the oven hot.
We walk towards the left end of the fence, where it turns in a sharp corner. There, we can see the hole that Hive and Sue dug. Just big enough to fit two people in. I start towards it, but Sue stops me, and I remember that I probably don’t have time to wash the dirt off my dress. Reaping day. That’s right. She raises a hand to her mouth, calling out to her brother.
“Hive! Get your ass over here! We gotta go!” she exclaims. We’re met with silence for a second or two, before a raspy voice calls out.
“In a minute!” the boy calls back. Sue furrows her brows, gathering some air to yell louder.
“Now!!!” she demands. I hear a small groan in the distance, then a THUD, and I see Hive trudging over. He’s grown since the day we met. His dark hair has grown curly, and shaggy, his amber eyes have darkened into a deep brown, and he’s fairly taller. Admittedly, he’s fourteen now, but I’ll always think of him as that nine year old boy on the tracks. He’s still just as skinny, anyway. He ducks to the ground and crawls through the pit, easily slipping past the electricity in the fence. He climbs up, dusts off his muddy t-shirt and jeans, and looks up at me.
“Hey Cyx.” he greets bluntly.
“Hey kiddo.” I reply. “You should get changed.”
“I know, I know.” The boy briefly eyes the ring on my finger, but says nothing. It’s hard to tell if Hive approves of me sometimes. I don’t think he has any problems with his sister dating another girl. But sometimes I worry he has problems with his sister dating at all. He’ll give me these looks any time Sue and I hold hands, and completely freaks out whenever he walks in on us kissing. It’s a shame, since we used to be so close when he was little. Sue says that he’s a teenage boy, and he’s being immature about it. I worry he thinks he’s gonna end up alone with his aunt. I sure hope that Sue is right. As Hive stomps off, I catch a quick sigh from his sister.
“I should get inside, I need to change too.” she states. Sue turns to look at me, a wary smile plastered onto her face. “See you later?”
“Yeah…I’ll see you later.” I respond. Then she begins to walk off. I get this sinking feeling in my gut, this cold chill running down my spine, and it blurts out. “Hey -” I stop, and she turns to me, and I choke. “...I love you..” my voice cracks slightly, and her gaze softens. She nods, looking back at me earnestly.
“...I love you too.” she says. Sue stands there a few beats, as if waiting for something. The girl eyes me thoroughly. A small smile creeps onto my face. I love moments like these. Moments where she sticks around - out of her own volition - make my heart go all fuzzy and warm. I give her a nod, trying to reassure her that I’m okay. She can go. Sue nods back, then paces towards the house to get ready.
The train ride back to The Warehouses is eerily quiet. Aside from the conductor in the front car, I’m completely alone. The wheels clanking against the old worn down tracks fills my senses. Over and over again, just chugging along. The air smells like rust. The windows are smudged. The seat is uncomfortable. I fidget with the ring on my finger, twirling it around. It pulls slightly on my skin, but I don’t care. I look down to observe it more carefully. It’s hard to notice, but if I look closely, I can see trees engraved into the metal. As I twirl it towards what I presume is the center, I spot a little doe. There are no trees surrounding it. It’s just standing there, staring back at me.
The streets were pretty busy when I got back to The Warehouses. Everyone was getting ready to board the train to The Station. We still have about an hour and a half we actually have to be at the reaping, but the trains will be busy today. They’ll run slower. No one wants to risk missing it. I pace back to my house, happy to find that the Cellar has been locked and closed for the day. Dad must be getting ready. When I head inside, I can hear him shuffling around in his room. I hesitantly knock on the chipped wooden door.
“Hey Dad, I’m home.” I call. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah - come on in.” he replies. I don’t wait to open the door and step inside. Dad hasn’t changed the room much since mom died. He’s still got an old photo of her sitting on their dresser. Next to one of my baby pictures. The room is neat and tidy, but covered head to toe in some artwork she used to make. Admittedly, mom always hated her work forty seconds after it was done, but Dad kept putting it up anyway. Some old drawings from when I was a kid are up there too…I guess that could be why she never fought dad too hard about her drawings. I find dad standing in front of the buttoning up his vest. He’s not wearing a hat today. Never does at the reaping. “Too disrespectful,” the peacekeepers had said. He turns towards me, and I can’t help but notice that his navy blue tie was uneven. Again.
“Let me fix that.” I instruct. I walk over towards him and undo his tie. Mom always did it before, so after she died, the responsibility kind of fell on me to do it for him.
“Thanks, Peanut.” he says appreciatively. I nod, before firmly pulling the tie into position.
“There, all better.” I state. When I look up at him, Dad has this solemn look in his eyes.
“So…how was Sue?” he asks. I shrug.
“She’s…she’s good. As good as anyone could be today.” I tell him honestly.
“I see you got your surprise.” Dad smirks. He earns a chuckle from me.
“Yeah…yeah it - it’s beautiful.” I look back down at my ring. Her ring. “I love it…how did you know she was gonna…?”
“She asked me what you’d want.” Dad answered. “Said she wanted to give you a present for your last reaping. And she had no ideas, haha.” I laugh with him.
“And you told her to give me her mom’s ring?”
“No,” the old man corrected me. “I told her to give you something that meant a lot to her. Something she’d trust you with.” my heart goes all fuzzy and warm again. She trusts me. That’s…god, that’s an honor. “She didn’t propose, did she?”
“Huh?” I reply stupidly. He just laughs. “Nothin, I’m just teasing.” he gently takes my hand in his, squeezing it tight. “Let’s get going…don’t wanna miss our train.” I hesitate to respond. The fast approaching reaping comes back to my mind. I nod, silently reminding myself that the odds are in my favor, no matter how morbid that might be.
The train ride isn’t just crowded. It’s cramped. And long. The Justice Building is on the opposite end of the district, meaning it takes about an hour. It doesn’t help that the train is also rickety as all hell, so we all keep bumping into each other. When we finally reach the Station, peacekeepers are lined up and waiting for us. They stop everyone at the gates, check their IDs, and separate us into groups. Dad gives me one last look before he’s sent with the civilians, while I’m herded out to the reaping. Hopefully next year, I’ll be able to join him. All of the potential tributes are sorted into lines by age and sex. The youngest go to the back, while the oldest go to the front. Boys on the left. Girls on the right. I’m standing in between two girls in my math class. I don’t know them very well, but I know they’re really smart and almost always have the answers. Both of them are dressed similarly to me. Business casual for the ones who might never have to do this again. But it doesn’t change the fact that one of these girls might be sent to their death today. Directly behind me, somewhere, is Sue. I’ve never been able to see her, since she’s always a year behind me, but it helps knowing she’s nearby. It’s Hive that worries me, mostly. I don’t know exactly where he is, and I hate the idea that I’ll find out before The Reaping is over. Suddenly, the clicking of heels snaps me out of my thoughts, and I let out an involuntary groan.
The Justice Building doors slam open, while an overconfident Matilda Steel struts onto the stage. Every year the woman wears fifteen inch solid heels, setting her at about six and a half feet tall. Last year, she wore camouflage and laced up her heels to impersonate cargo boots. I remember how her wig was slicked back into a militaristic bun…but there was so much of it, it was like a giant disco ball was hanging off the back of her head. I’m amazed she didn’t lose balance. This year, however, she’s dressed head to toe in shiny pink plastic. So on top of the obnoxious clicking of her heels, being that I’m so close to the stage, I’m forced to listen to her plastic dress rub against itself and make that god awful noise. Her wig is long, and curly, and drapes down to her ankles. As she moves, it flows - wait…no it doesn’t. Oh my god. It’s hard as a rock. And it’s got kind of a shine to it. What was the theme this year again…!?
“Everyone! Welcome,” she begins, her voice shrill and overly high pitched, “to the fifty first annual Hunger Games!” no one cheers. “Now, I know that last year’s quarter quell was exciting, but don’t let that fool you. I am positively positive that the gamemakers have something just as, if not more so, thrilling than before!” she claps for herself, her plastic gloves squeaking against one another. We all stay silent. Last year was the year that four of us were sent to die instead of two. For a while, it looked like one of us was going to win. Little Wellie, with her bicycle bell. She and I never went to school together, since she was so young…but I knew her. She’d come by the shop a lot. Not for basic needs, like most people, but to trade for parts for her bike. Every weekend, she’d come back hoping we’d have the parts she’d need. Chains, wheels, handles. Slowly, we helped her get it. Technically, she had finished it a while ago. But little Wellie was certain that she couldn’t have a proper bicycle without a bell. When someone finally traded one for some light bulbs, Dad and I gave it to her personally. On Reaping Day.
As per usual, Matilda starts us off with the capitol anthem, and the video about the war. This year was slightly different. Apparently, while last year’s theme was “No Peacekeepers, No Peace,” this year is all about “remembering your place,” and “leaving everything to the professionals.” The video ends with this year’s motto: “Capitol to Ideal.” …someone should fire the marketing team this year.
As the projector powers off, I watch as Matilda clicks her heels against the stage, rolling out the boxes with everyone’s names inside. On the left are the boys. On the right are the girls. My heart thumps as she dramatically sticks her plastic hand inside the box on the right. She pulls out the slip of paper, playfully waving it in the air, as if expecting “oohs” and “ahhs” from us. I want to slap it out of her hands. I’m trying so hard to be good, to keep a straight face. But my cheeks begin to ache with how tense my muscles are. I just know most of us are glaring daggers at her. When Matilda receives no applause, she pouts. With the stamp of her fifteen inch tall foot, she lowers the paper to her face, pink contact lenses reading it. Slowly. “Carefully.” Aggravatingly. She leans back, whispering something to the mair. A firm frown etches onto his face as he responds to her. Matilda gives him a firm nod, then takes a few steps closer to the audience. I hope she trips on her heels and falls off the-
