Thirteen-year-old Octavia Meyer, a warrior from District 2, is unexpectedly reaped for the Hunger Games. During the Games, she meets Kai Sanders, a sixteen-year-old from District 4, and gradually falls for him despite the deadly stakes. However, for...
The rhythmic clang of hammers echoes through the district forge, the familiar melody of District 2's heartbeat. I weave between burly figures, twice my size, dodging sparks and sweat as I make my way home from The Training Academy after a grueling day. My muscles ache pleasantly, a reminder of the progress I've made with my sword.
Although District 2 is one of the richest, its streets still bear the mark of poverty. Homeless people linger, their lives unfolding on the periphery of our opulence. My family isn't Capitol-rich, but we aren't starving either. We're somewhere in between—comfortable, but always aware of how quickly things can change.
I have two ten-year-old siblings, Lilith and Vulcan. They're twins, though they might as well be opposites—Lilith with her wild imagination and Vulcan with his stubborn, mischievous streak. Then there's my seventeen-year-old brother, Rowan. Since my dad passed when I was just a child, Mom's been raising us alone, balancing two jobs and keeping the family afloat.
As I walk home, the usual buzz of the forge feels different today. Usually, the clang of metal is like music to my ears, a reminder of the strength we forge here. But today, it feels hollow. And I know why. Tomorrow is Reaping Day.
I wake to the sound of my younger siblings arguing.
"Mom!" Lilith shrieks. "Vulcan stole my shoe!"
"It's mine!" Vulcan retorts, his voice defiant.
Groaning, I drag my sore body out of bed, my limbs stiff from training, and sneak downstairs. I grab the shoe from Vulcan's hand and hand it to Lilith, ignoring his protests.
"Hey!" he yells, chasing after me. "That's mine!"
"No, it's not," I say calmly, placing Lilith's shoe back into her hands.
"Yes, it is!" Vulcan insists, lunging at me.
I'm taller and stronger than him, so I easily pin him against the wall. Just then, Rowan trudges down the stairs, his hair a mess, eyes still half-lidded with sleep.
"What's going on here?" he asks, his voice thick with a yawn.
"He stole my shoe, and Octavia got it back for me," Lilith explains, sounding unusually calm for a girl who was just in a battle over footwear.
Rowan just grunts, not even bothering to look closely. "Oh."
Our mother enters, her usual brisk energy filling the room.
"Breakfast is ready," she announces, and we all scatter to get dressed.
"I've still got to change!" I call out, racing back upstairs, Rowan not far behind me.
In my closet, I sort through the pile of clothes before finding the one thing my mother insisted I wear—a dress for the Reaping. I don't wear dresses often. They're uncomfortable, and I prefer the freedom of pants. But Mom insists it will make me look less fierce. Perhaps she's right. And perhaps I just don't have the heart to argue. She's already working two jobs and caring for the twins. The least I can do is make her happy.
I pull out a simple dress that falls just below my knees. The sleeves are short and a bit ruffly, softening my silhouette. It makes me look more innocent, less like the trained fighter I am. I brush through my wavy hair, curling the front strands just enough to soften the harsh edges. Although I'm not much of a dress person, I'm definitely not a makeup person. So, I just put a hint of lip gloss on and call it a day. Grabbing a matching pair of flats, I join the rest of my family for breakfast.
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I join the family downstairs.
"Well, well, well," Rowan comments, wiggling his eyebrows. "You look nice. Now tell me, which boy are you trying to impress? Apollo? Gaius? Or—"
"Your sister is not trying to impress a boy, right, Octavia?" Mom cuts him off sharply.
I nod quickly, grateful for her intervention.
"Wait, so it's a girl?" Rowan asks, his teasing smile widening.
Vulcan giggles, and I feel my face flush with warmth. I quickly stuff a forkful of scrambled eggs in my mouth to avoid answering. The truth is, I don't have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, for that matter. Most boys my age are obsessed with blood and violence, focused on the training for the Games, and I'd rather not become one of their victims. Besides, they all think romance is overrated.
We eat in silence for the most part.
After breakfast, I help Mom clear the dishes, then take Lilith to her room to help her get ready. I dress her in a version of my own outfit, a puffier dress covered in sequins. Her excitement makes the task easier. I braid her hair into a crown, leaving the front strands loose to frame her face. By 9 o'clock, she's ready. We head downstairs, where Rowan and Vulcan are already waiting.
Rowan looks handsome in a black dress shirt and dress pants, the sleeves casually rolled up. Vulcan, on the other hand, has already wrinkled his dress shirt from running around. Mom rushes in, her brow furrowed.
"We're going to be late!" she says, pulling Vulcan along.
The Reaping is at 10, and we live just five minutes from The Square, but Mom's panic is infectious. Rowan and I exchange a look of confusion before following her.
When we arrive, many families have already gathered, chatting in small groups. Rowan and I sign in and head toward our sections. The 13-year-old area is near the front, where I spot Artemis waving excitedly.
"Tavia!" she calls.
I look up to see her in a short pink dress and stilettos, hanging off the arm of a handsome older guy. I can't help but smirk. Artemis is a District 2 girl, but she might as well be from District 1. She's already had multiple boyfriends this year, wears makeup, and she's only thirteen.
"Hey, Missy, how's it going?" I ask, walking toward her.
"This," she says, gesturing to the guy beside her, "is my boyfriend, Julian. Julian, meet my best friend, Octavia."
I extend my hand, and Julian shakes it firmly, sizing me up with a glance. He looks like the type who would become a victor. I don't think Missy is quite his type though, and I doubt this relationship will last.
Before I can say anything else, Missy grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me to a quiet corner, where she launches into an endless stream of gossip. I nod along, half-listening, my mind occupied with thoughts of the Reaping.
"Are you even listening?" Missy interrupts, waving a hand in front of my face.
"No, sorry," I mutter, snapping back to attention. "I've just been thinking about the Reaping. Can we talk later?"
"Of course, Tavia!"
I smile at her. "You're my best friend, you know that?"
"You're not going to get reaped," she says with a wink.
"Yes," I repeat to myself, though it sounds more like a prayer. "I'm not going to get reaped."
We continue chatting for a while, the weight of the upcoming ceremony hanging over my head like a cloud. At 10 o'clock sharp, District 2's escort, Arachne Jesper, steps onto the stage in a ridiculous neon blue dress, her heels clicking sharply against the stage.
"Welcome, welcome!" she announces, her voice almost manic. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
After the Capitol's 'very special' film, Arachne grins widely and announces, "Now, it's time to select one young man and one young woman for the honor of representing District 2 in the 76th Hunger Games. Ladies first!"
She struts to the reaping bowl and draws out a slip of paper. Unfolding it, she reads the name.
"Octavia Meyer!"
The world goes quiet. My heart drops into my stomach, my legs heavy as I slowly make my way to the platform.
I jinxed myself.
Thanks for reading the first chapter of my new story! Please give me feedback, comment, and vote! As for the pictures, the one at the very top is Octavia, our main character. The second one is her dress. Thanks again!
