The Forgotten Games

Chapter 3 ~ The Reaping

Distinct 4 is the seventh largest District, so I imagine the anxiety surrounding the Reaping in the smaller Districts is more aggressive than it is here. But still, any one person taken from our District is cruel and unjust. There have been rumors that there are two career Tributes this year, but it gives me no comfort.

Before the Reaping, everyone stockpiles supplies and prepares themselves for the possibility of a family member being taken from them. People also spend the days before telling their family and friends that they love them at least five times a day. I find myself watching Georgia more carefully, like this may be the last time I ever see her.

It's July 3rd, and Georgia and her dad are helping me coil ropes and organize everything since we won't be at work tomorrow. I look at the way that the lamp lights shine off her hair, and I can't hold back my tears. The fact that the Capital could possibly take such an innocent and sweet child makes me sick.

Mr. Hayes notices me wiping my face and walks over. He wraps his big arms around me, and his thick wool sweater itches my face, but I ignore it. "You're going to be okay little bear."

House Cane's sigil has always been a grizzly since we were Vikings and Mr. Hayes had called me little bear for what feels like just as long. My sister used to call me little bear too but it doesn't make me sad to hear it, just a nostalgic happiness.

"It's not me I'm worried about." I retort.

"I know," he says, stroking my hair. "I know."

That night I couldn't sleep and just sat on my porch instead. I know it's stupid to worry, but the anxiety comes nonetheless. Suddenly I'm flooded with memories from the 71st Hunger Games. I had been so confident that nothing would happen. But no positive thoughts could stop the rug from being pulled beneath my feet.

It's the morning now, and my bones tingle as I get up and head to my room to get ready. Our District color is a dark teal that has been embroidered into flowers on my white linen dress. The dress has a square neckline, thick ties in the back that make a bow, and frilly shoulder straps. It's the nicest thing I own for the worst day of the year. I put on white shoes and go to do my hair. After taking almost twenty minutes to brush through, I begin to braid my hair back.

One on the side for my Dad. One on the side for my Mom. The two braided together for my sister. And two on the top for Georgia and myself.

My hair ends up in a half-up half-down style and tickles my bare back. I head downstairs and drink my coffee quickly since it's a thirty-minute walk to the pavilion. As I leave, I take one look back at my home. The white chipped paint on the ceilings, the green kitchen, and the white curtains that are blown by the breeze of the sea. I sigh and lock the door, hiding the key under the hose attached to my house.

The air is warm but grey and heavy. The general feeling of anxiety and depression seeps through my dress and into my skin. The gravel under my feet crunches, and I can hear nothing but the collective stomps of everyone walking.

In our District, it's rare for someone to enter their name more than once so that they can get supplies from the Capital. In fact, to my knowledge, no one ever has. So there is no comfort that Georgia and my name are only in the pot once. Still, there are eleven hundred thousand people in District 4, and thirty thousand of them are eligible for the games. And twelve thousand of those are women. So everything will be fine.

I take a deep breath as I get in the line for candidates. My head is on a swivel looking for Georgia, but I can't spot her yet. The peacekeeper pricks my finger and places my bloody fingerprint on a document that says:

Name: Cordelia Grace Cane
Age: 17
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Height: 5'6"

I'm sent close to the front since we are alphabetically ordered. After ten minutes, I see the familiar red curly hair bopping around the crowd, and weight is taken off my chest. At least she wasn't killed by a peacekeeper before she could get here.

I stare blankly at the stage and watch them roll out two large glass pots with folded dark teal papers in them.

And then it begins.

The video plays about our Independence Day and why the grotesque display of violence in the Hunger Games is essential. I mostly zoned out throughout the video and thought of what I would do tomorrow. Some nets need to be mended, and I should really clean out the ice cooler.

The video ends, and out comes our Capital representative and Escort, Jinx Jackle. He is a tall, slender man with black hair that has been dyed gold at the tips. His suit is dark blue and gold, no doubt an homage to our District. On his face are diamonds that appear to be embedded in his skin along his cheekbone. He walks up to the mic and clears his throat with a smile.

"Today, this fantastic District will sacrifice two courageous Tributes to represent your beautiful people in the Hunger Games. So without further adieu, your first Tribute from District 4 for the 75th annual Hunger Games is...."

Jinx starts to walk over to the large glass pot with all the female candidates' names. My heart starts to beat so hard that I have to stop myself from convulsing with every beat. Outside the contest of the Reaping, I never get anxious. You could stand me in front of the entire District and ask me to give a speech on the creation of the Universe, and I wouldn't bat an eye. But here, standing in complete silence with no possible way to stop Georgia from being picked, panics me.

Please don't be Georgia. Please don't be Georgia.

"Cordelia Cane!"

I breathe out, not Georgia.

Everyone begins to step away from me, and I look around in confusion. Who did they call?

"Miss Cordelia Cane?" Jinx asks into the mic.

Another breath leaves me, but this time it is uncontrollable. I try to breathe back in, but I can't. My feet are frozen to the ground, and my face is burning like I am standing in front of a forest fire. I look around again; surely there is a Career Tribute after all who will volunteer. This can't be it. I don't want to die.

Peacekeepers break through the crowd towards me, and something suddenly takes over in my mind. In a matter of a quarter second, my face switches from panic into complete calm, and my breath returns.

I walk past my peers and into the aisle between the girls and boys, giving my skirt a small brush-off. I nod to the peacekeepers and walk to the stage. I see my face appear on the screens surrounding the crowd and am silently shocked by how old I look all of a sudden. Void of all emotion.

I turn and stand by Jinx, facing the crowd.

"What is your name, sweetie?" He asks, passing me the microphone.

"It's actually right there in your hand." I point to the blue card with gold writing. "See the big, bold letters?" The crowd lets out an uproar of laughter, and Jinx begins to cackle.

"You make a great point Miss Cane."

"I usually do," I say with a smile. The crowd laughs again, but Jinx's face hardens.

"Cane. I know that name." My nerves fire, almost making me shiver. "You are Ophelia Cane's sister, yes?"

I nod reluctantly.

"Oh yes! The 71st Hunger Games! I remember she made it to the final five. Horrible business that was with that ice. My condolences."

"T-Thank you," I say politely, but shivers run up my spine, and I can feel a sob forming. I'm not as strong as my sister, and even she couldn't win. I turn to face the crowd again. I would rather die than let the Capital see me cry.

"Alright then! On to the boys."