The Reaping

When my family is finally asleep I make my way out. I pull a few knives out of the drawers and leave, making sure the door is left open just a crack, so I can get back in later.

I get outside and head for the woods reaching inside a few trees for the rest of my knives.

In my pocket is a small red marker to create my targets.

Tree by tree, knife by knife I manage to hit each one with a perfect cut. A few animals run by my feet and I shoot those, too.

About an hour into this practice, I step back, about 20 yards, and carefully aim my last knife. I watch as it cuts through the air making its way to my target.

As it makes contact with the tree's bark I smile.

"I'm ready," I whisper to the dark moonlit sky.

***************

"The Hunger Games are just a cruel way of getting us to behave," my mother groans.

"I hate them," I lie.

My family had no idea I had trained for this year since age ten. I do not plan on them finding out either. Not until I volunteer, anyway.

"I'm just glad we've had some luck with them," my sister says, to no one in particular.

It is true. My sister was supposed to go in. Five times actually. There were volunteers each time. I was supposed to go in a few times but I had volunteers as well.

Our district has this tradition. On reaping day the victor families serve the district this buffet type thing. We've been doing it for 34 years now. Was it legal? Probably not. But do we care? Probably not.

Today, my breakfast is strawberry cake and a quart of orange juice to share with my family instead of my usual stale bread and dried up fruit.

"The river was flowing today. I got some water for you to take a shower," my mother says.

"I'm first!" I say. My sister has usually gone first, leaving me with just a few clean drops. It's only fair that I go first this year. And besides: I am going to the Capitol today; not her.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask grabbing a pen and pad. It is my turn to get the reaping day breakfast this year.

"Two muffins and a hot chocolate"

"Waffles with two sugar packs and syrup and coffee. Oh, and don't forget to get something for your brother."

With that, I tromp out the door to the Victor's Village.

***************

"What'll it be today," asks a waiter. His name is Trent and he won the 59th year. He was nice and helped our family out. Sometimes.

I pull out my list and read it: "Two muffins, two plates of waffles two sugars and tablespoon oh syrup, three slices of cake:chocolate and two strawberry, hot chocolate, a quart of orange juice and a coffee with two sugar cubes"

"Big appetite," he jokes. I shoot him a glare then he gets to work right away. I sit at a table waiting for my order.

Watching everyone is a little bit strange. They all run around like there won't be anything left for them. There hasn't been a year when that happened though. At least not in my 18 years.

I hear a ding and a 'order number 372'. I stand up and walk to the counter to grab the food.

I balance all the food and mutter a quick "Thanks," over my shoulder as I walk out.

On my way home I eat bits of my sister's food. Every year my sister went to get the food I always ended up with a half a slice of cake and no drink so I had to make it even between us.

At home my brother is still sleeping. He was always one of those 'wake me up and I will kill you' sleepers so I leave him to sleep in. I have knife marks up and down my body from past mistakes with him.

I call out, notifying my family I am back with their food. I stuff my face and dart to the bathroom to take a shower.

The water is not warm but it is not cold either. It is just a little under perfect. It is a quick, barely cleansing shower but it is still a shower. I'd take another in the Capitol to really wash out the stink of my district.

I'd saved up a small sum of money for a nice outfit to wear today. It is pretty. And brand new. Created just for me.

Better look my best on my way to the Capitol right?

***************

During the reaping I am antsy. The escort, Violetta, drags her words so instead of saying 'reaping' she says 'rreeaaapppiinnnggggg'. I hear a few words and the famous saying: "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever on your favour."

She clicks her heels to the first glass ball.

Her manicured hand whisks over the neatly folded white slips. Her thumb and forefinger clasp one of the slips and before the slip could leave the rim of the ball I was chanting "I volunteer as tribute."

The girls near me stifle a laugh. Of course they would. I'd shown myself as weak in training centres. I didn't even pretend to try. I missed the sword grip once and slit my toe. But my act was very good because no one suspected that weak, little Rosenna could kill.

Violetta chokes back a laugh as well.

I guess there are rumours about me. Happy to know.

I stand arrogantly on the stage giving my name: "My name is Rosenna Lloydas and I will win."

I throw in a quick smirk just for the fun of it.

Violetta's voice was shaky, still trying to choke back her laughter: "Now for the boys"

She clicks to the other side of the stage and picks a name.