The Sound of Falling Snow | A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 5

The Reaping

It's today. The reaping. The day I've been dreading.

All the remaining Capitol children, the survivors, the ones that weren't killed in the explosion that took the life of my sister, are required to congregate in the square where Coin first told of the Hunger Games that we are choosing the tributes for today. It'll be different from the usual reapings, no doubt, seeing as there are no district citizens participating this time, only the people of the Capitol. Twelve girls and twelve boys. I wonder who it will be. Me, of course, but who else beyond that?

Tesserae doesn't exist anymore, since the Games were sudden and unexpected. It's only the base few slips based on your age. Since I'm thirteen, my name should be in the bowl twice. Not that it matters in the first place. Two years ago, I wouldn't have had to worry about this, – my name being drawn – even if the reaping still had happened. I would only have been eleven, ineligible to participate in the Games.

I put on a simplistic outfit for the occasion; just a white blouse and pale blue skirt. I don't want to stand out any more than I have to.

I start walking to the reaping early, knowing that every minute I stay at home will be torturous. I give one last glance at my home, committing the image to memory, because deep down, despite how much I try not to believe it, I sense that this will likely be the last time I ever see it.

I tear my eyes away from the sight. It's not worth crying over. It's just a place, I remind myself fiercely. Somehow I still can't manage to pick my feet up and leave the home that I have come to love, still can't stop the tears from flowing steadily down my face, as I barely manage to catch them before they fall to the ground, splashing against the cobblestone road. Now is not the time for this. I have to be strong. I can't give them what they want from me.

—

It's mid-morning by the time I make it to the zone for the reaping, and I stand in line with the rest of the children who are waiting for authorization. When it's finally my turn for my identity to be checked, I understand what took people so long. A table covered in a white cloth stands outside the area that has been boarded off for the event. It holds a dark machine of some sort and an open book with names of the different citizens with a box beneath it.

And in each box, there is a drop of blood.

The person sitting behind the table asks me to hold out my finger, and I do it, feeling as though I am drowning. I'm paralyzed with fear as he takes the device and holds it up against my pointer, and all I can think about is the needle.

Get it together, I tell myself. I'll have to face much worse than a single prick to the finger when I am in the arena.

All the same, I wince noticeably as the metal digs into my skin, even though it's just for a moment, and even more so when I see the blood oozing out from the puncture as the official presses my finger to the box labeled Clio Snow, my name.

If I'm too weak to deal with the sight of my own blood, how will I ever be able to survive the arena?

I'm ushered into the open area, and I stand with the rest of the girls my age, all of us looking nervous and jumpy and scared out of our wits. I'm beginning to feel sympathy for the districts. How awful it must have been to go through this every year.

I glance around, trying to find someone I care about or someone that at least I can recognize, my lips pressed into a line tight with worry. I'm resisting with all my might the urge to shout Victoria's name into the distance to find her amongst the crowd, but I don't want to make myself look like any more of a fragile child than I already have. I don't want to be one of the tributes that the others will weed out the fastest, knowing that there is no way they can overcome them, knowing that they can't defend themselves. I'm going to make myself memorable, someone unforgettable. I will be the one who is strong.

A few minutes later, I see a figure sliding gracefully between the children, weaving delicately through. She appears at my side, and I give Victoria a small smile, and she returns it, squeezing my hand gently to tell me that she's there for me. That's it. No words are necessary. No exchange is required. We both can understand the tense pain that will come in the next few hours, and speaking about it does nothing.

Once everyone has filed in, President Coin steps up to the podium set high above the ground, testing the microphone that projects her voice throughout the most populated part of the Capitol.

She begins with a short speech about how this last Hunger Games would protect our future, how it would be the end of the oppressive reign of the Capitol over the districts. If I weren't so scared, I would have laughed at the irony of the whole thing.

As Coin reaches into the large glass bowl holding the names to pull out the first female tribute, I realize that I am holding my breath. I dig my nails into my palm, forcing myself to release the air from my throat. I've been preparing myself for this for days, but I still can't say that I would have felt any better if I hadn't guessed it already. I would only have been more surprised and horrified that I was chosen for these Games.

It probably doesn't even matter what name is going to be on the sheet that she just took out. She probably has the names of the tributes she wants already decided and all planned out in her head. Probably. I haven't yet released the hope that I won't be drawn, that I won't have to go into the arena.

"Clio Snow!" Her voice rings out, echoing loudly. No surprise there. It's harder than I imagined, though. Harder to let go than I thought it would be.

Victoria's hand is gripping my wrist like a vise, the only thing that is keeping me steady. I don't want to go, don't want to leave, but I have to. If I don't, there will be punishment. Punishment that will extend beyond me. I touch her shoulder, and we lock eyes for a moment before she drops my hand. I open my mouth to say goodbye to her, but nothing comes out. So instead, I just move away wordlessly, trying to forget and stay strong.

I'm trembling violently, not even sure how I'm putting one foot in front of the other and getting up to the front. Be strong.

There is dead silence, despite the number of Capitol residents that have gathered. Even if they aren't close with me, it won't be hard for them to identify me as the late president's granddaughter.

Coin seems to be looking at the people below, but really, I can tell that she's keeping an eye on me, to see if I'll break down in front of the entire Capitol. I'm not going to give her that satisfaction.

The next names pass in a blur, as more and more children join me. A handful I recognize. But there's one I would know anywhere. The light in the dark, who was always there for me, never questioning me. The person who would care about me, no matter what I did or who I was.

"Victoria Levine."