Rush woke up the morning of the reaping with his hair glued to his face with sweat, and a new burn stinging his flesh from, what he assumed, a game of chicken with Teo. From the look of it, Rush won. But he usually did. He sat up on the edge of the bed and quickly lit a cigarette. It wasn’t until he released a cloud of thick smoke into the air that he realized he had no idea where he was. He turned to find a form wrapped in sheets, rising and falling steadily.
He let out a low sigh and stood up from the bed and walked towards the small kitchen in the corner. He filled up a glass of water from the sink, peering out the window. Dozens of heads below, all walking in a silent march in the same direction. Another sigh.
He dropped the burning filter into the glass and left it on the counter before gathering his things, fastening his belt and stepping into the hallway and joining the crowds. This was where his calm demeanor melted away. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets as his shoulders began to tense up. His eyes hastily darted to the floor and his pace quickened. His breath began hissing through gritted teeth in fast succession.
He began shoving into people as he passed them, only able to focus on the thought of helping this go by faster. The faster he’d get there, the faster they’ll call someones name, the faster he can leave. The crowd grew thicker as he hurried closer to the square, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Belonging to another boy on his way to the reaping that Rush had shoved aside.
“Fucking prick!” He announced, calling the attention of those in their immediate vicinity.
But Rush hadn’t even turned to see his face before he felt the boys jaw crunching against his elbow. He turned, a look of shock almost parallel to the faces looking back at him, surrounding him. He looked down to see the boy writhing on the floor and he swallowed hard. He returned his fist to his pocket and turned on his heels, resuming his journey through the crowd.
Once he’d gotten his finger poked and directed to his section, Rush became a statue. Standing motionless, just as tense, staring blankly ahead towards the stage. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, which he quickly wiped away. He shoved another cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply. He began to feel his shoulders rest and his heart rate slow as he refreshed his lungs with smoke.
Suddenly there was a large bird woman on stage tapping her talons against the microphone. She welcomed everyone to the reaping and began the video. As the Capital anthem rang in his ears, Rush could feel his stomach hollowing out. It started to become difficult for him to even swallow but he still clung to that cigarette.
Rush blinked his eyes, trying to snuff out the sting of his own sweat when a large, familiar looking girl took the stage.
“And now, for the boys.” The escort cheered.
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“Rush Wattson!”
Rush’s face jetted up to meet the woman on stage, confusion engulfing him. Had she really said it? Rush’s face grew a grin and the entire square looked on at him with confusion as loud boisterous laughter began to spew out of him. He clutched onto the shoulder of the kid next to him, exclaiming “Thats fucking me.” Before continuing with another bout of excessive laughter.
He began shoving people aside, pushing his way into the aisle. Clutching onto his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes. He stood proudly in the middle and threw his hand up into the air.
“I’m Rush Wattson!” He announced through his own cackling.
He strutted down the aisle, ready to take his position on stage next to the two women waiting for him. Snickering still, he stood next to his fellow tribute and lit another cigarette.
“Ladies and gentlemen may I present to you, your District Three tributes in the 45th annual Hunger Games!”
Her announcement was quickly punctuated by even more nasty laughter from Rush and followed by a bought of coughing and chocking on cigarette smoke before the three disappeared into the Justice building.
Self Para: “The Reaping” ft. Teddy Clarke, Monday Twilight
Location: District 11
“Wha, what the hell is that noise,” I say softly.
The morning light seeps from under the door as I pry my eyes open. I fight with my pillow to cover up what sounds like a train’s whistle in the distance, growing louder like a forlorn call into the night. I toss my pillow across the room and stare blankly up at the ceiling. The realization of who I am sunk in. For a brief second while I regained full consciousness, I forgot who I was. I forgot about my worries, the past, I just kind of… existed.
Controlled by luck, my arm reaches over to the makeshift nightstand beside my bed and smacks the fan to off mode. My eyes shut once more, hoping that just for a moment I could recover. That I might somehow slip back into the comfort of the dream. A grunt escaped my lips, followed by a sigh and the sound of sheets being shuffled. Unfortunately, I was awake.
I moved accordingly here and there, like any other Reaping day. I buttoned up my overalls, strapped on those ratty boots I got out of the dumpster and began high stepping it to the Hall of Justice like the rest, but today felt different. I feel different. I can’t tell if I’m thinking this just because today is Reaping Day, but I still feel like something bad might happen. Or I just have the bubble guts from last night’s rotten cabbage stew… Either way, I was resistant in moving forward.
Passing by the barn nearest to my house, I decided to stop by and see if anyone will help me out with this whole late thing. I have an idea. Not fully realized of course.
“Hello, hello, hello,” I ask grey-haired woman holding half a cigarette between her lips.
“Nah,” she scoffs. “We closed for Reaping.”
“I’m tryna to get there, I just need one of those,” I say pointing to an orchard tractor.
The lady lets out a cloud of smoke, “Boy if you don’t get your ass outta this barn.”
I let out a smile, “C’ mon. I’m already running late. I don’t need a nice one.”
The lady coughs while putting out her cigarette on the barn door. She smiles weakly before turning away with a thousand-yard stare.
“Get. Today is already hard enough.”
“I just-“
“Go,” the woman declares while shuffling her tattered cardigan.
Scrunching up my lip, I nod weakly. The temptation of just taking what I want anyway is still there. I know that if I wanted I could start up one of these old tractors without a key or permission and be about my day. The Seed taught me to not feel bad about taking what isn’t mine.
I start to walk away from the barn, but when I step forward I notice a set of keys hidden in the hay. They must have fallen out through one of the many holes in her cardigan. I turn back to the woman as if I was going to tell her, but I stop. I guess there still is some part of me that misses the dangerous life…
With the bang of the engine, I drive away from the barn. The tractor pulls faster than I anticipate, as the wind wants nothing more than to announce its arrival. To say, "I'm here," in my face.
It’s not until I swiftly arrive at the Hall of Justice when I realize that I’m going fast. I tear around the corner and fly by a set of peacekeepers. I try to slow the tractor down as commanded, but the brake appears to be jammed. I violently shift down on the gearshift to get the tractor, but it’s useless. I’m screwed.
“Uh oh,” I mutter as the key breaks off in the ignition.
Over the sound of the purring tractor, I hear a loud voice coming over the speaker system while I weave in and out of people. I realize how late I am as that voice calls out a distinct name from center stage.
“Monday Twilight.”
I steer the runaway tractor away from the crowd, knowing good and well what I have to do next. I head straight for the nearest solid, sturdy object and embrace for impact.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a blurry shape of a person where the voice was talking, strutting over to the glass bowl. Before she can say the name into the microphone her attention fixates on something in my direction. I try to see why it got quiet, but I realize it’s me. Everyone and I do mean everyone is looking at me. I look forward just in time to witness myself plowing the tractor straight into a peacekeeper tower.
“my luck isn’t that bad, you know?” jude sat cross legged on the floor of the family barn, his younger brother in front of him, little blonde head bowed. “i already lost a bet this week, i’m not about to get reaped as well.” this was jack’s last year before he’d join the reapings, his last year of proper childhood, and jude worried for his little brother.
the hunger games weren’t something the proulx family ever talked about, and their father insisted reapings were to be dealt with like any other day – jude suspected the only reason why they were allowed to go was because peacekeepers would come to drag them out of their house anyway. so, since alma was 12 years old, the three siblings would sit in the barn the morning of every reaping, holding hands and whispering silent encouragement as to not let their parents overhear. but their older sister had just married and had another household to take care of, so this year it was a boys only affair. ruffling jack’s hair, he pulled him up so they were both standing. “now go, you promised you would have your morning chores done in time for breakfast. and don’t cry, i’m supposed to be the dramatic one in the family.” kissing the top of the younger boy’s head, jude pushed him away with a smile.
and just like that, he was all alone, which was never how he preferred to be. they lived close enough to the town square that he didn’t need to hurry, but still he had woken up earlier than usual and gone through his morning chores before sunrise, making sure to change his clothes as soon as he was done. all there was to do now was help prepare breakfast and wait. walking towards the house, he could hear the cheerful noise of his mother and cousins bickering. the ones who were already safe from the games seemed to follow suit in ignoring the significance of the day, while the ones who would stand side by side with him in front of the stage gave him tight-lipped smiles or squeezed his hand as he walked by.
“good morning sweetheart. did you check on the calves? your pa said they were looking awfully skinny.” his mother planted a soft kiss on his cheek, holding onto him for a second. even if they’d never speak of the reaping, jude could always tell how his mother held him for just a moment longer, how his father’s hands shook.
“yeah ma, i think everything is fine though, we just need to give them time.” and like that the conversation went on: the older members of the family talked about the farm, the younger ones delighted in the gossip jude had gathered the day before ( something good about the reaping at least, the amount of gossip running through the district was at an all time high ). once they were all done eating, the younger kids washed the dishes, while everyone else prepared for the day’s work. jude always enjoyed how everyone in the family concentrated at their house for breakfast and dinner, even if they just worked around the farm. he knew not a lot people in panem were fortunate enough to have a big, happy family, so he counted himself lucky.
running his hands through his hair to make sure it looked presentable, he joined his cousins at the door. the adults never left with them to the town square, but he knew they’d make their way there soon enough ( they were always there to send them straight home, after all ). jude kissed everyone goodbye and walked off.
by the time they made it to town square, jude had gathered a bunch of his friends around him and they talked cheerily about their plans for the day (sneaking out after work was done to celebrate not being reaped, as per usual) and for the future (getting married, trying to forget you kids could be sent to die at any moment, somehow getting rich) until they reached the registry point and were separated, only a few of them following jude to the respective age group. the conversations up until they reached this point were the same every year, without nothing particularly new to add, but it was comfortable and warm and jude was sure it brought them all the peace of mind they needed to face the day.
“bets on how old the male tribute will be?”
“i just lost a bet to you three days ago, what makes you think i’d bet anything again?” jude sighed, elbowing his friends in the arm. “you took all my money.”
“you both know you could just bet on an older guy and you’d probably win right? our chances have never been so high boys.” another one of his friends added from behind them, but jude didn’t have time to respond as their escort took the stage, tapping the microphone and capturing everyone’s attention. the capitol escort ran through the speech, showing the mandatory video that they all knew by heart before walking to the bowl filled with folded papers, and where before there was laughter and joy, all jude could feel now was worry. all the boys had friends who could be reaped, family members, girlfriends and the silence was heavy on both sides.
no matter how prepared you are, you never expect to hear a name you recognize. you never think you’ll see your best friend take the stage.
everyone around him tensed, he wasn’t sure if he heard amira’s mom or if he had just imagined in, so he just stared at her, hoping, somewhat selfishly, that this was some kind of mistake. that it wasn’t really amira who should be standing on that stage
when the escort moved to the bowl holding the boy’s names, jude could feel someone grabbing his wrist, another hand resting on his shoulder. he focused on this, repeating his friends names and his cousins names inside his head as if it made a difference. and when the name was called, he felt a momentary sense of relief - it wasn’t any of his cousins, or any of his friends, but as people turned around to look at him, the realization hit. it was his name.
for a second, he thought he might faint, but then he was being pulled into a hug and just as quickly someone was pulling him away from the crowd, onto the stage. he wasn’t sure how his legs carried him up the stairs. he thought he heard someone scream. he was telling himself to find the people he knew in the crowd, to look them in the eyes if for the last time, but he couldn’t seem to raise his head.
as the blood rushed to his ears, and he grabbed onto amira’s hand, there was only one thought going through his mind. bad luck always comes in threes.
Entering through a back door, I make my way through the barn nearest to my shack. I pass by an array of haystacks and wheelbarrows full of apples before bumping into a dark-skinned boy.
“Is Chaff in,” I ask while the boy wipes the sweat from his brow onto the white, cotton shirt that hung from his shoulder.
“Nah. But if ya lookin’ for some work you can help out by choppin’ up those cow carcasses we got low key from Ten.”
”We interested,” the boy asked.
“No,” I sigh with a smile. “I got work out in the fields. I just need to see a man about a tractor.”
I just got out of this black market crap. I still have nightmares of stealing and dealing with The Seed. It was all so sloppy. I’d hate for anyone to get stuck and end up how they did.
He shrugs, “I don’t wanna do it either…”
“Then why you tryna get me to do it,” I ask. “The banners for the next game are up, the place is crawling with Peacekeepers… it seems a lil risky.”
“You can walk your self-righteous self right outta here with that bullshit,” the boy said moving hay bales around. “We all know what happened to The Seed, and almost you, but that risk is worth the reward.”
“Okay, you right,” I add throwing my hands up and raising my brow. “I can be a lil much with the advice, I mean who the hell am I, but for whatever reason y’all keep hearing me out.”
The boy stops, “What do you gotta say that I ain’t heard before.”
“Nothing. I just wanna help.”
The boy scoffs. He moves slowly towards the wheelbarrow full of apples.
“Unload this,” he adds pointing to the Capitol marked bin near my feet. “Put them in there, and maybe we can talk.”
“Oh, so you’re gonna make me work for it?”
“Yup,” the boy commands.
I obliged for whatever reason, slowly but surely moving the apples from the wheelbarrow.
“Okay, but like, you gotta tell me your name at least. I don’t even know you.”
“Johnny,” the boy adds.
“I’m Teddy,” I said reaching my hand out.
Just before he can return the favor, an elderly gentleman taps me on my shoulder. It’s not uncommon for folks around Eleven to wander around looking for food. We ain’t Twelve, but the struggle is still just as real.
“Spare a dollar,” the man whispers in his approach.
I shake my head, “I got nothin’ on me man.”
“But here,” I add picking up a fresh apple out of the bin. “It ain’t much, but it’ll take the hunger pains away.“
The man snatches it out of my hand before I can blink and promptly walks away without a thank you. Wish I can say this the first time someone had taken advantage of my nice behavior, but I’m used to it.
“You’re welcome,” I add sarcastically.
The man, who made it to the door, obviously didn’t like that. Not one bit. Before I can move, the elderly man turns back toward me with a furrowed brow and chunks the apple at me.
“I said a dollar, bitch,” the man chuckles as the apple bounces off my head.
The weeks leading up to the reaping, Axel’s parents had made her swear that she would not get into any fights. They didn’t want her to embarrass them sitting in the crowd of children with a large black eye or busted lip. Of course, Axel had done no such thing. She was only careful to win every fight she started. When that didn’t work, she snuck into her sister’s old bedroom and borrowed her old makeup to attempt to cover up the noticeable bruise running down her cheek.
The nerves that rattled her peers were telling in various ways. Some chewed on their nails, some twist the coils of their hair, some even wrung their hands together. How cliche. Even Axel wouldn’t lie and say the nerves didn’t affect her somewhat. No one wanted to fight for their lives, but she would never stoop to looking as afraid as some of these people. The night before the reaping, an eerie calm washed over her. Her dress had been set aside so she could easily get ready in the morning. Axel knew something huge was going to happen the next day.
Everyone in District 7 was dressed to the nines as they filed into the roped off portion in front of the Justice Building. Axel could spot her brother sitting up on the stage near the Mayor. He gave her a solemn nod. Perhaps he knew what she felt too. If her name was called, there would be no volunteers to take her place.
“Ladies first,” The Escort announced as he stood in front of a large clear sphere. Axel wondered momentarily if they were actually made of glass or if they were just a fake plastic like so much from the Capitol. The Escort reached into glass and pulled out a name. He read it to himself first. The anticipation was killing the crowd. She was certain everyone watching could feel the tension too. Was it a stunt? The Escort’s eyes landed directly on her before he read aloud. “Axel Dragomir.”
She stood. Her ears were ringing. Blood was pumping too quickly through her veins. A confident smirk slid across her lips. If she was going to win people over, it was time to start now. Confidence could win all of them over. Axel raised her chin and began her strut to the stage. She only hesitated a moment when her eyes met her brother’s again. He looked panicked. Or sick. Since when did he care what happened to her? No one had really given a shit about her except for her grandma. Her grandma was gone now, which meant no one cared.
Her lost focus caused her to entirely miss the name of the male tribute that had been called. It wasn’t until he stood and began walking up to the stage as well that Axel got a moment to assess her partner. Well, her partner until the games began. Axel didn’t intend to make friends.
