Chapter Two The Reaping

                When I was done with a little practice in the backyard, I was drenched in sweat. I’m pretty sure I almost dislocated my shoulder with the speed I was throwing the knives. I went inside and saw my father sitting in his favorite chair, all dressed up. His dark brown hair was combed back. He had on a dark blue button down shirt with brown slacks. They were probably from my parents’ wedding, because we couldn’t afford to buy fancy clothes every year. Only the wealthier districts like One and Two could afford fancy clothes each year. My father’s glasses were perched on his nose and a spool of wire sat on his lap. When he saw me, he greeted me with a smile.

                “I have your dress ready in your room. Go upstairs and bathe. We’ll leave when you’re ready,” my father said quietly in a scratchy voice. Reaping Day always had been an emotional day for him.

                I nod and run up the stairs to the bathroom. It had a small metal tub in it, a faucet with a bucket underneath, and a toilet. I grabbed the bucket from next to the door and filled it with water. The water wasn’t warm because nobody in our district could afford it. Instead, I had to make do with freezing cold ice water. But I was used to it. I get in the tub and wash my hair and body; then I get out and dry myself with a threadbare towel. We only had two towels; that’s all we’ve ever needed. I used mine and Father used his. I wrapped myself in my towel and went to my bedroom.

                The dress was laid out on my bed. It looked familiar but I wasn’t sure where I had seen it. It was a light blue, kind of like the color of ice but with a blueish hue. It fell a little short of my knees but it covered all the necessary parts. The dress was cinched at the waist but flared out underneath. It also was a one shoulder dress, leaving my right shoulder bare. My shoes were light brown sandals and matched perfectly with the dress.

                I looked at myself in the mirror and gasped. I looked just like my mother! So that’s where I recognized the dress! It was my mother’s dress from when she was Reaped for her own games. While I was marveling at how I looked exactly like my mother in that dress, I didn’t notice my father walk right up to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

                “You look just like her, you know. You look so beautiful and-and I’m so proud to have raised a daughter like you!” He looked down at me, silent tears streaming down his face.

                I looked up at him, my own tears covering my face. “I miss her so much!”

                “I know, I do too. But remember that she’ll always be here with us, in here,” my father pointed towards his heart. I turned around and hugged him. He enveloped his arms around my thin frame as we cried together for my mother, and unintentionally- Rye and Raven too.

*~*~*~*~*~*

               Every year, the entire population of District Three gathers to the Town Center for the Reaping. Most of the people in the district come from The Wire, the poorest part of the district. I’m so glad that our family had money and could provide ourselves with the things we need, unlike many of the people in the Wire.

                My father and I walked together to the town center. Before I had to go and get checked in for the Reaping, I stopped and looked at my father.

                “What will you do?” I asked, stopping in my tracks.

                “What do you mean?” my father asked.

                “What if I’m chosen? What will you do? You’ll be all alone and you’ll have lost another child from the Capitol’s Hunger Games,” I tell him.

                “I’ll just have to get through it. After all, that’s what you’d want me to do, right?” my father responds. “But let’s not think about that, Sugar Plum.” He bites down on his bottom lip, fighting off the sadness. I nod, knowing how unhappy it made my father to think about losing me the same way he lost Raven and Rye.

                All of a sudden I hear a bell ring. This sound meant that the Reaping would begin in 30 minutes. I looked all around me. I saw families walking down the dirt path. Some younger kids were skipping and laughing, not a care in the world. But us older kids knew our own lives depended on this day.

                Abruptly, I get a dreaded feeling. I don’t know what overcame me but something wasn’t right. I drown the feeling by gripping the hand of my father. Father was the one who grounded me, the only one I could ever rely on.

                It only took us ten more minutes to get to the Town Center. I walked with my father all the way to the section for families, before walking over to a long table reserved for checking in. Of course Father would have to be checked in, but in a different way. It was mandatory for everyone to attend the Reaping, unless you were too old to make it or were ill. I stood in line with the other sixteen year old girls until it was my turn to get checked in. I press my index finger on the white pad set up and wince a little as it pricks my finger to take a sample of my blood. It does hurt but not as much as you’d think. As soon as a small bubble of blood appears on my finger, the Peacekeeper lady moved my finger and pushed the drop of blood onto a piece of paper that had my name and information on it. They take out another machine and scan it. “You may go,” the lady says.

                I nod. Then I make my way toward the crowd of girls in my age group. I stand alone because I don’t have any friends. Everyone at school always avoided me because they were scared of me. They thought I was a Career since my mother trained me with knives. That and also because I was “too much of a freak to hang out with”. Whatever that means. I don’t need friends; all I need are my father and my knives.

                I notice Mayor Westford, his wife, and their four children walk onto the stage to a row of chairs on the side where they sit. He has one daughter and three sons, only one who is of age. The oldest is 19, a year past the Reaping age. The youngest are the 7 year old twins, Mase and Pari. And then there’s Byron, the fourteen year old. He’s the only one of his siblings that is of Reaping age and doesn’t look much. Short and scrawny, like the rest of his family, he doesn’t stand a chance in the Games. But most likely, he wouldn’t even get picked; after all he is the mayor’s son and doesn’t need to take any tesserae like the rest of the district.

                Focusing my eyes back onto the center of the stage, I notice a woman walk up to the microphone. Her name is Tetra Sparks and she’s the District 3 escort from the Capitol. And as always, she is wearing one of the strangest outfits I’ve ever seen. Every year she amazes me with her horrendous clothing attire. This year she wore a black puffy-sleeved dress that looks extremely tight around the waist and then fluffs wildly out at the bottom. It’s tied together with a neon green belt, a mint green curly wig, and bright red boots that look to have a 9 inch heel. Her face is as white as snow and she has black lips that are lined in red. It’s obvious that she has fake eyelashes because they reach mid-cheek when she blinks. Then at the corner of her eyes are red jewels. All in all, she looked dreadful. Why does our district always have the scary looking escort? I remember last year, a twelve year old was chosen and as soon as she got a close up of Tetra, she screamed and then promptly fainted. I’m sure Tetra was shocked.

                ‘Welcome my darlings!” She said cheerfully looking around at the audience. It was weird that she called us her “darlings” as at least half the district was older than her. She continues, “This is the Reaping of the 64th Annual Hunger Games!”

                People look around at each other. She always stated the obvious, but I guess that was her job.

                “I am here to select one male and female to have the wonderful opportunity to represent District 3 in the Games!” She says getting excited, “But first we will begin with a small video brought from the Capitol itself!” It’s the same video every year about the Dark Days and how the Games came to be. I just tune out the sound and try to ignore the video.

                The video is over and everyone’s eyes are back on Tetra, not that anyone was actually paying attention to the video.

                “That was such a moving film, wasn’t it?” she asks. Nobody answers. “Anyways, let’s get on to the Reaping shall we?” Tetra claps twice and two peacekeepers come up, holding the jars with the slips of paper.

                “Let’s begin with the ladies!” Tetra shuffles over to the jar marked “Females” and sticks her hand in. I cross my fingers behind my back for luck, but I know it doesn’t help. I have a feeling that this year it will be me, for most of my family went into the Games. It would be just my luck to be Reaped. Oh, a victor’s daughter in the Games! It would be so much fun! I can just see President Snow rigging the Reaping so that I would be picked. Just so that the Capitol viewers can have some entertainment in their precious Hunger Games.

                Tetra pulls out a slip of paper and moves back to the microphone so that she can announce our female tribute. All the girls hold their breath, except for me. Then she begins to read, “Reyna Piercen.”

                I gasp. My classmates all stare at me in sadness. I won’t cry. I won’t show everyone how weak they think I am. I knew this day would come, and I know that I am ready. Ready to win. I push my way through the crowd with my head held high. Nothing was going to stop me.

                I climb the stage and firmly shake hands with Tetra.

                “You’re the Victor Regina’s daughter aren’t you?” she asks.

                “Yes, yes I am,” I reply curtly, trying to seem as if I don’t care and am waiting to just get on the train already. I am certain that my mother’s identity will get me more noticed by sponsors in the Capitol who are watching.

               I then proceed to search the crowd for my father and find him with ease. I give him a look that says “Stay Away” and he nods. Good, he knows that I don’t want to see him lest I blow my Career tribute cover. If he came to wish me goodbye, I would surely cry. And I don’t want anyone to see that.

                My father gives me the traditional three-finger salute, and that’s when I know that today might be the last time I ever see my father again.

                I turn back to Tetra to see her move to the Male jar and pick a slip. She opens it and reads aloud, “Byron Westford.”

                I spin around and see him sitting next to his father the mayor. He looks bewildered, terrified, upset and a lot more. He shakes as he walks towards us. I noticed that he was the only one of his siblings with blond hair and blue eyes. He resembled his mother while the others resembled their father. Dalton kept his gaze down as his knees wobbled. At that moment, he looked like he wouldn’t far at all in the Games. He looked like bloodbath material.

                “Oh, the mayor’s son! What a pleasant surprise!” Tetra says, clapping her hands. “Now go on you two, shake hands.”

                 We do so briefly and turn back to the audience.

                “I now present to you, our District Three tributes for the Sixty-Fourth Hunger Games!” Tetra smiles and looks toward us. “May the odds be ever in your favor!”

                I vowed myself that day that I would win the Games. For Rye. For Raven.  For Father. And for Mother.

                  But most of all, to beat President Snow at his own game.