Grain & Blood | A Hunger Games collection

The Reaping

It's the day of the reaping. I know it is, I was up all night thinking about it. Up all night thinking about my younger siblings Robin and Clementine. Their first reaping is today. I'm 14, this is my third reaping. I know how it feels to be waiting to see if you receive a death sentence or not. But my siblings, they don't and I know it must be hard for them.

I agreed to meet my best friend Jonen at her house before the reaping, so that we get some time together, alone. She lives in the richer part of District 9, unlike me. My family, all four of us, are farmers, and her dad is the mayor. We're opposite end of the spectrum.

I dress in my black jacket, maroon trousers and my sturdy boots, the boots I hide a knife in wherever I go. District 9 isn't safe in the poorer part of town, drunkards hang out in dark alleyways, so I need to be safe.

I run swiftly through the streets, sticking to the shadows as best as I can. When I reach Jonen's back garden, I swing up a low hanging tree branch, over the fence and onto the rocks below. She is sitting a metre away from where I landed, tapping her foot impatiently.

"I thought you'd never come," she says, eyes twinkling. "Let's get started then."

Jonen and I have been training in secret together ever since we were 11. She uses her bow, I use my knives. We aren't too bad actually, but definitely not as good as the career tributes of 1, 2 and 4.

Wordlessly I climb up into her oak tree and aim at the target. Then, with a swift flick, I launch the knife into the centre. Down below, Jonen claps and notches an arrow into her bow, shooting at the bullseye.

"Well done!" I shout, hopping from the tree.

"Thanks."

I pull a handful of berries from my pocket and offer her some. Greedily she eats them, leaving none for me. I don't mind though, I can get some more when I get back from reaping. If i get back.

We train until half 11, and before I leave, I stop to say goodbye and reassure Jonen.

"It's six names, Jonen. You'll be fine."

She briefly smiles, "It's you I'm worried about. Your name is in there eighteen times."

My heart pounds in my already tight chest, and I try to push the number out of my mind. "But I'm ready. I can run, fight, climb, and survive."

"Could you win though?" There's doubt in her voice, "Against 18-year-old careers?"

I know that I can't, so I bite my lip and shrug. "Good luck," is all I can say.

Together, we raise three fingers, one at a time. They stand for thanks, honour, and farewell, and we press our fingers to our lips and hold our arms in the air.

Jonen smiles a little and says "I'll see you later,"

Then I run back to my house to get dressed for the reaping at 12. I wave in goodbye and speed through the now active streets to my house. 

Inside, my mother is helping Robin and Clementine get dressed. My sister is looking gorgeous in my first reaping dress, a lilac one with a daffodil embroidered into the neckline. My own dress is laid out on my bed. I got a new one for this year, so that Clementine could have mine. This new one is much nicer, a pale green knee length one with a leather belt.

I slip out of my dirty training clothes and into my reaping dress. I twirl like a little girl, watching the folds spin out. I clip the leather belt around my waist and stick my knife in it, just as a precaution. Or as my tribute token, but they probably don't allow fighting among the tributes before the arena.

At the town square, peacekeepers check our blood to prove it is us, then let us through into the roped-off areas for the children. I lead my siblings into their sections and walk forward to wait in mine with Jonen by my side. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it nervously, then rubbing her sweaty palms on her blue dress.

As the clock strikes midday, our escort, Aquafina Konnesburg steps up to the podium, with the only victor from our district, Pablo Hoffman.

"Isn't this so exciting!?" She squeals, "The 36th Hunger Games!" and proceeds to show the same video as every year. The capitol defeating the districts in the rebellion, etc etc.

Then comes the part we all dread, the part where one of us gets effectively sentenced to death.

Aquafina walks to the glass ball containing the girls' names.

"Ladies first!" She cries, and plunges her hand into the ball.

She reaches around a bit, but to her it doesn't matter. To her, they're just names. But to us, the people of District 9, they're an innocent life lost.

Finally, she pulls out a slip of paper, and clears her throat, and her voice rings clearly around the square.

"Jonen Stanford!"

It takes me a couple of seconds to register what has been said, and in that time, she's already left my side and is heading for the front. I'm not thinking, and then I yell, 

 "Jonen! No!"

I run forward, the crowd making way for me as I run after my best friend, my training partner, the person who keeps me going in life. She can't be reaped, I won't let her, I won't. Then an idea pops into my head, a stupid one but not a pointless one.

Peacekeepers surge forward to force me back, but I persist. And then I scream, "I volunteer!"

The crowd goes silent. My mother looks terrified, terrified that I would give up my life like this for my best friend.

Jonen looks shocked and heartbroken, but returns to her place in the crowd nonetheless.

"And what's your name?" Aquafina asks, her sickly voice echoing around the otherwise silent square.

I can barely hear her, staring blankly at Jonen's defeated face, "Iris Sheaf," I say into the microphone, not dropping eyes with my best friend.

"Can we have a round of applause for Iris?!" she exclaims, and a few applaud my dumb bravery.

"Now for the boys!"

That's when I look up, as Aquafina fishes around in the other glass bowl. Not Robin, not Robin, not Robin, I think to myself, heart pounding.

"Robin Sheaf!"

Either Robin or Clementine cries out, and my brother slowly walks forward, and my heart drops even further in my chest. No. NO! Why did this have to happen, why does the Capitol have to play this dark, twisted game with us every year?

"Any volunteers?"

The crowd remains silent, and my last hope of ever winning disappears. I could have won, but now Robin has to.

I pull him into a hug and stand up tall, locking eyes with one of the cameras, and mouthing "You did this."

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of District 9, Iris and Robin Sheaf!"

-Author's note-
Originally uploaded 3/2/21
Rewritten #1 29/4/21
Rewritten #2 6/7/22