I wake up to the smell of the factories smoke and the taste of metal. My clock on the purple night stand, that is at arm's length, says 8:04, meaning I have merely 5 hours left before the Reaping. Although neither my brother, nor my sister are in the Reaping, I can imagine their terror. Waking up takes some effort, the thought of standing already aches my feet. Walking down the cold, tiled hallway I finally reach the steps. My feet breathe at the warmth of them, and step after step a new, outrageous sound comes amiss. My kitchen, I can smell the breakfast my mother is cooking from the step I'm still standing on. I get a chill. Walking down the stairs seems to take effort this morning, but the wonderful smell of eggs, toast, ham sliced into little strips, I can just picture it now! I almost trip, but then I come to. Sausage. With every step, every time I inch closer to the kitchen, I breathe in a wave of new foods. Apples. The last step makes a little dip, it then makes an astounding groan like sound, then goes back to normal. Strawberries.
My little sister Layla is sitting like a princess at the head of the table. Being only 7, this is her favorite thing to do. A part of me fears that by my volunteering today, like I plan too, I will miss watching that little princess grow into a queen. Layla has my brother Toby, whom is 11, sitting at the opposite end, as if her prince charming. Momma and Pop, -that's Layla's nickname for my father, its a little cheesy but as time past, its stuck with him- walk into the room. Layla and Toby didn't notice me until Momma bid me a good morning. "CC!" -CC is Layla's nickname for me, she is a one of a kind doll we found in our attic years ago. Layla loves CC, which is where I get my nickname, or so that's what Pop says.- Layla's eyes beam at the sight of me. She runs as fast as her 7 year old legs can handle, and flies into my arms. I hug her, fearing I may be choking her, but fearing my possible death more. Toby does the same, only its harder to lift up his 11 year old body. I try with every inch of muscle my still waking body allows. He makes it up to my waist and I allow him to rest there. I hug him with the same force I did on Layla, only I feel my veins may burst.
"Come over here honey! -my parent's nickname for me- Before Pop eats your plate!" said Momma. "Comin' Momma!" I call over my shoulder, as I set my little brother on the ground. I rub his head as Layla yells for him, she's already seated at her throne. "It's really quite something, isn't it? The way he just goes along with what Layla does." I say as I reach for my plate. "He realizes how much she adores it. About how much it means to him to see her smile. Toby is wrapped around Layla's little fingers. He couldn't do anything to hurt her." says Pop. Momma nods her head in agreement and adds, "He gets it from you, you know that honey? He does." The thought of Toby being the boy version of myself brings on a smile. Although I'm confused with why its amazing to be like me, its also a compliment. "Thank you Momma and Pop!" I say, and i kiss them both on the cheek and give a slight hug with my free arm. "And thanks for the wonderful breakfast, of course!" I add. I sit where Layla directs me, and eat my food. Dreading, terribly dreading for 2 o'clock. The Reaping. What I've trained for forever.
Toby has a face as fresh as the sunflowers my mother grows, and his eyes are as bright as the Metallic Green metal used in our District's Industry's Factory. He is only 11, being 12 this November, he has already started in the Training Center. Bow's and Arrows and Spears are his strong suit. Every year before The Reaping, our families gather in a watch room at our Center. It used to be certain ages in certain sections, but since so many people have many children of various ages, it had been argued upon. Now, even though we train in age sections, we have time periods of when to go. You start training at age 8 -Layla will start this fall- and you train until you win, your 18, or until you die in the Games. They start from the youngest ages and go to the more advanced kids. It usually takes a few hours, but the parents enjoy it.
Layla has a face a soft as the bunny rabbit that hops around our house everyday. Her eyes are so incredibly green, just like Toby's and my mother's, that her light skin makes her eyes gleam sharply. That tiny little rabbit has the same look as Layla does. She has taken so much interest into that squeemish little hare. If she doesn't finish her food, she will use her innocent baby voice, and her big green gleamy eyes, and ask to feed him. Layla turns 8 in the end of August, and the gift my parents have vowed to give her the rabbit. Although she doesn't know it yet, it will be good to see her bright green eyes flourish with color again. Layla is an exact replica of my mother, although Layla is more fresh and breathtaking, my mother was once as soft and gleaming as her.
