two survivors of previous Hunger Games, with nothing but a similar past in common, find comfort in each other through the worst of it all. and it works, until the 75th games, when they are forced to return to the things they had long left behind.
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The morning of the reaping of the 72nd Hunger Games, the Alexander family gathers in the kitchen to eat breakfast together. It's one of the few family traditions they've managed to maintain over the years, and one that their mother especially values.
Julius is the first at the table, his brother close on his heels. As always. The two boisterous teenage boys struggle to claim their seat at the table, with Julius quickly reaching for a fork and threatening to stab it through Cato's hand. The other only laughs, launching himself full-force at his brother in an attempt to make the chair topple over. They both go down, squirming on the kitchen floor until their father's boots come into view. The two are back in their seats before their father can even clear his throat.
Cassius Alexander is a former peacekeeper and a brick of a man. Cato looks like him, with golden blond hair and broad shoulders. Julius is a wisp of a boy next to his father and brother, inheriting more of his mother's slight stature.
"Settle down!" Their mother coos from the kitchen, despite the fact that they're already effectively settled. The day of the reaping is one of the rare days where their mother is happy—or, at the least, pretends to be—and her two sons always set out to make the most of it. When they were younger, and not yet eligible for the games themselves, the boys would spend the day of the reaping begging for candy and music and running around the house like a pair of wild animals. When Julius turned twelve, he spent most of the morning convincing Cato to put on a play for their parents, in which Julius demonstrated just how he would win the Hunger Games, if given the chance. His mother had laughed and cheered, elated with the display of pretend-violence. His father had watched on from a distance, only commenting at times when Julius's described kill was particularly anatomically inaccurate. He didn't have the stature of someone capable of ripping a man's spine right out of his back, after all.
The family sits and eats in silence for the most part. Julius limits himself to only a few pieces of bread, watching as Cato shoves fistfuls of berries into his mouth. Expecting Julius to take them from him, no doubt. The quiet is only occasionally broken when one of their parents comments on who they feel might be chosen to volunteer this year. Their father prefers the oldest daughter of the Hoggard family, who is known for being downright ruthless during training. Last week, she crushed the arm of Victor Parry, who will age out of the reaping now without ever getting the chance to volunteer. Julius's mother had taken the opportunity to rub it in Mrs. Parry's face at the market, and the woman had only hung her head in acceptance.
There are only two real shames in District 2: a child who never volunteers, and a child who loses. Though, most parents would prefer a dead child over a cowardly one.
"What if one of us gets reaped?" Cato asks.
"You won't."
"But what if?" Cato is fourteen, and while some people might think he's old enough to not ask questions like that, he is quite like their father in that regard as well; headstrong and stupid.
