Little Flower-The Hunger Games from Rue's Point of View

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games! However, I do own some of the characters. The characters which I do own are Aurelia, Arcto, Rue's prep team, and Rue's sisters.   I am tangled. Hopelessly tangled in a net. And I’m  screaming, screaming in the hope that someone, anyone can save me. And then I see the spear and its coming down so fast, ever so fast and-

And my three-year old sister is poking my nose.

“Rue, Rue, Rue!” she sings. “You’re gonna be late for the reaping!”

Oh. It’s morning. The morning of the reaping. Great. Even though I was having nightmares about it all night, hearing it sends a shock through my body, because, even though I knew that the reaping was today, and that there was no way ever that I could escape them, there was still a small part of me that was hoping that they were canceled. I don’t know why. They don’t ever cancel a reaping. Not even the time that it was raining so hard that Aurelia Staria, the freakish lady who had been assigned the task of choosing which of us would have to fight to the death, had to search long and hard before she finally found a slip of paper where the ink wasn’t so blobbed that you could actually read the name. Not even when it was so hot that the slips all melted together, and she had to peel them apart. Never. But I did, and now I feel terribly let down.

I look outside at the black sky, and then I look at my sister.

“Daisy, sweetie, it’s not even light yet. The reaping starts at 2:00 PM.”

“Oopsies. Okay then. Back to bed, sleepyhead!”

And on any regular day, that’s what I would do.  But, today is no regular day, and once I have been woken up, I can’t fall back asleep. Don’t want to anyway. I’d just have more nightmares. So I climb out of the small bed that me and my five sisters share, and walk out the door to my favorite willow tree. I climb the branches, catching my hair on quite a few of them, since I’m still groggy. Finally, I make it up to my favorite spot, the spot where my mockingjays have their nest. They’re not actually mine, of course. We’re not allowed to have pets here in District Eleven. But I like to pretend. When there aren’t any peacekeepers around, I pretend that the tree is my home, and that the birds are my pets. I pretend that we live far away. Somewhere where the Capitol doesn’t control us all. Somewhere safe. Not here.

Anyway, I start to sing to the mockingjays. Unlike me, they are wide awake, and they have no trouble humming back to me, even when I sing all the verses of “Life in May”. I am having so much fun singing to them that my mother has to call me six times before I hear her telling me to get ready for the reaping. Shoot. I had almost forgotten about that.

 A half an hour later, I have donned an airy yellow dress, and my long dark hair is brushed so that is falls down my back in waves. My sister Ella strokes the fabric.

“Pretty dress, Rue,” she says in her quiet little voice.

“Thanks, Ella,” I say, bending down so that I am eye level with her.

Suddenly, the bells of the justice building toll, reminding us to hurry up.

“Now we have to go!” crows Daisy. Unlike the rest of my family, she’s excited. Aurelia Staria makes her laugh, and she hasn’t quite figured out why the two people whose names she call almost never come back. We usually go along with her excitement, but this year it’s hard to. Probably because this year it’s me that probably won’t come back, if I am chosen.

We rush over to the town square. I’d rather not hurry for obvious reasons, but being late is punishable by death. Like lots of things around here.

When we get there, Aurelia Staria is standing on the podium, with her yellow-not blonde, yellow- hair, and her genetically “improved” fuchsia eyes. She’s been alive since the beginning of time, but she still looks twenty. Or at least like a twenty-year-old space alien.

“Come on, come on! We’ve got things to do! Would you stop mingling!” she chirps, ridiculously peppy. I walk over to the roped out place reserved for those who are 12-18. Lots of the kids give me sympathetic smiles. They know how hard it is on your first reaping. “Let’s give a big hand to our mayor, Sattirus Sneep! Right now he is going to tell us all about the Treaty of Treason!” Aurelia exclaims. While Mr. Sneep is blabbing on and on about how thankful we should be to the Capitol, I am trying to figure out my chances of being picked with my less than competent math brain. I have my name in there eight times. Once for me and then seven tesserae for my parents and younger siblings, Joeille, Isa, Arianah, Ella and Daisy. The population of kids in District 11 is about 500,000. So that means that I have an eight out of 500,000 chance of getting picked. Even though I am still nervous, it makes me feel better.

Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, Mr. Sneep finally knocks it off.

“And now we shall hand the microphone to Ms. Staria.” Unlike Aurelia Staria, Mr. Sneep uses absolutely no expression to his voice. Not even when he is asking a question. Not ever. Aurelia, who adds too much expression, hates him.

                “Well, let’s not have any more delay! We’ll begin with the ladies!” She stirs her hand around in the bowl for the while. I wish she wouldn’t. I just want to find out who it is.

“Come on,” I think “Come on, don’t pick me, please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me!”

Aurelia finally fishes out a slip of paper. She looks at the name, and reads it, very slowly.

 And guess what? I shouldn’t have trusted my math brain. Because when she finally calls the name, it’s not some starving eighteen- year- old with 70 slips in there. No. It’s me.

Author's note: Hi! Thanks for taking the time to read this :) I just wanted to say that the flower on the front is a rue flower :) :)