The Blue Games | Hunger Games

Chapter 1

The day had begun unlike all others. Usually every one gets up from bed before the sun rises, especially during harvest time. But I awoke before dawn to see my family crowded into our tiny shack hut, sleeping the morning away. At first I worried, then my realization hit me, followed by more worry. Reaping Day. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and hide until the day was over, but of course, I couldn't.

The Reaping takes place at noon, so the citizens of 11 get the morning could sleep in, although I doubt most of them are. I sigh, get up and set out the two small bread roles we have for the five of us. I push aside the thin sheet that is our door, and shiver as I step out into the sleeping village.

I walk with silent bare feet, afraid to wake those that still sleep peacefully, not yet worrying about the day to come. I look around the dark village, and see that I'm the only one out and about. I glance at the east, see the sun peek over fields of cotton, and run north towards the orchards.

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In the orchards we grow every kind of citrus, peach and pecan. It's my and my siblings' job to collect the ripe fruits. During the Harvest, each family is given a crate with their name on it. Each crate is weighed at the end of Harvest, and the family is payed according to how many crates they fill and how heavy it is. So every morning I get there early, only to stay until the sun hits the horizon.
My Mamma works out in the peanut fields, and sometimes cotton if she's needed. Out there in the fields, the Peacekeepers are more strict, so that means my mamma stays until the sun completely sets. It's also harder for the field workers to earn money, seeing as whenever people steal, the Peacekeepers feel the need to punish everyone, which means withholding the day's pay. So it falls on me to do any extra work I can. I have three other siblings, darling Ruth, Catrina, and Chip. We only call Chip by his real name, Dale, when he's acting up.
When I arrive at my designated area in the citrus trees, I find that I am not alone in the orchard. I hurriedly climb up a tree to avoid conversation with another worker. I'm not very good with talking, especially when it come to things like Reaping day. I can't think of what would happen if Ruth or Chip or Catrina were chosen. You see, the way it works out here in district 11 is that every one 12 through 18 years old puts their name into the Reaping Bowl. Each village has their own Reaping ball, and the village with the most names has to be the one present for the reaping. With my village being the poorest, it generally had the most names because children are signing up for tesserae.
As I squat on a branch near the top of the tree line, I rearrange my satchel, a large bag that hangs about hip-high that I used to collect fruit.

"Hey, lil' Blue, don't chu' gotta be home by now?" Startled, I slip backwards on by branch and catch myself by my elbows, dropping a few oranges and limes in the process. Wrapping my arms around the branch, I look down and find Henry looking up, laughing at my situation. He holds my fallen orange in his hand, standing on the ground below my tree.

"Unlike you, Henry, I've gotta family to feed, so you better give that orange back." He only laughs, pulls himself onto the branch below me and tickles my hanging foot. Still dangling, I jerk my foot away and kick against Henry's head to help pull myself up. Back on my branch, I bend down, snatch the orange from Henry's hand, and scramble quickly up the trunk of the tree. I could hear Henry's laughter echo in the empty orchard. I'm lucky that I didn't fall.

Henry was a boy that was only a year or two older than me, but he lived alone with his Mamma. He likes to take an orange or two from your bag, a number that wouldn't matter to many people, but means the world to me. A good orange or a large peach could be the difference between having enough bread for breakfast or no breakfast at all.

For the next half hour I spend my time harvesting oranges. I was hoping to get at least a pound and a half before I had to go back to the hut, but at least I was able to fill my bag. While I work, my mind continuously wanders back to the Hunger Games. What if my siblings were chosen today, sent away on a train to never return?

What if I were chosen?

No, Blue, I chided myself. The Games are bad enough without your ugly thoughts. And it was true, the Games were cruel enough to refrain is from even thinking about it. Until Reaping Day, that is.

The worst part about the Hunger Games is that the Capital makes us celebrate them. They make us watch two dozen children fight to the death and kill each other, then we celebrate. Celebrate what? Celebrate that 23 children don't have to suffer in this world anymore? It makes me sick.

The sun beats down on my back as I walk back to the village. I would normally call this type of day beautiful, but not today; I'm too upset. Last year was the worst harvest I can remember; it rained and rained until the path to the orchard became a small river. It was cold too, and the citruses didn't like that. So everyone that could signed up for tesserae, including me. My name is in the Reaping Bowl more times than I care to count. After me, Lil' Ruth is the oldest, but she's still only eleven, so we still got one year until she can sign up for tesserae. I wish she wouldn't, but what can I do? Watch my family starve? I can't.

When I get home I find that all my siblings have their best clothes on. For Chip that means a white shirt and overalls, but for me and my sisters we have old wool dresses that were my gramama's. They're itchy and make me sweat twice as hard, but my momma refuses to get rid of them. I guess she's right, and we wouldn't be able to afford new ones, but I still want to throw them into the fire.

"Blue!"

I see little Catrina toddling up to me, stretching out her tiny arms to give me a hug. I laugh. She always acts like it a miracle that I come home. I think she's afraid of the orchard, but I can't blame her. The Peacekeepers are harsh and unnerving. I just pretend they aren't there.
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Everyone in my village crowds in front of the Justice Building, the only public building in the area. As we wait for the dreaded reaping, I stand in a group of other 14 year olds. Nobody's saying a word. Mother Nature seems to knows what day it is, and the air is silent and unmoving. A dark cloud hangs above us, forecasting imminent rain.

On the steps of the Justice Building, a woman wearing an awful oversized gold wig walks on stage. She stands in front of the microphone, clears her throat, (an ugly 'ahem'), and announces,

"Welcome to the 73rd annual Hunger Games!"

She waits for applause, but none is given. Her eyes scan the crowd.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

She walks to one of the Reaping Bowl, her hand hovering in air before she picks the next victim. In some districts, they do girls first then boys; not this year. Maybe it's because there are less girls and they want to keep the suspense brewing. She digs her hand deep into the boys' bowl, and her hand closes around a small envelope.

"Asher Glen!"

Heads turn, feet shift, but I'm too short to see him. I can see the group of Peacekeepers leading him, however. As he walks to the Justice Building, the rain starts to fall. The raindrops are large and few. I think Mother Nature is sad to see another child walking to death.

The woman asks for applause, but it's pointless now. She shakes Asher's hand, then walks to the other Reaping Bowl. Asher's eyes burn into the crowd. I look down at my feet. I continue to stare at the cracked concrete until I hear the next name called out. I stop breathing.

It's my own.

EDITED BY MockingjayGranger
( my thanks to AllytheGryffindor)