Rebellion Along The Shoreline

1

Stormy. The sea was stormy. There was no doubt. Old Mack, an elderly fisherman, was gabbling on about how this was one of the most horrific storms in history. Boats were bobbing along, tipping alarmingly. Sails were torn, planks snapped; ships sank as fishers yelled. The fleet of fishing boats arrived at shore once again, there occupants shaken, horrified.
'Don't just stand there, help me,' Old Mack snapped at me, nudging my ankle with a cane. 'The sooner things are sorted the better, ai?' He added with a toothless grin.
'S'pose,' I responded, quickly sorting tuna into piles; Large, Normal, Small. It was a tedious but easy job. I didn't get paid much though, a little tuna steak every time I did it. This was good. Although I lived in a slightly more privileged District, being one of the Capitols mainstream suppliers of their most awaited things, this didn't benefit my family. We struggled for money, determined to scrap up some cash to buy food and provision and to repair the house. We lived on the seafront and does the wind blow. Storms were common, sadly.
The rain made it more awkward to distinguish the sizes of the tuna, but I powered on. I was finished quickly. I put the piles into separate bags and lugged them up to the stall where my employer was based.
'That was...fast enough,' Derry, my boss, lightheartedly gushed. She was a fake.
'Thanks,' Was my quick response as I nabbed my tuna fillet. I dumped the bags behind the counter, ready to be butchered. I turned on my heel to walk away.
'Good luck, by the way. You're a nice girl, to nice to be a tribute. I pray you won't get reaped,' Derry suddenly said, clasping me, choking back tears. This surprised me, Derry was usually so stiff and robotic, but this is what the Hunger Games does. I gave her a small smile, to nervous to talk, then skulked away, back home.
**
'Back so soon? I thought someone would request your help because of that storm,' My mother exclaimed as I came through the front door.
'Glad I'm at home. Too stormy. It's horrible conditions out, but its calmed right down. They are saying that it'll be flooded but sunny tonorrow' I told her, as I glanced into the mirror. I looked disgusting. My hair was wet and windswept; it would take ages to dry and brush it. My little nose was rosy from the cold and so were my cheeks, eyebrows naturally quite sleek and neat. My lips were not too thin, nor too thick. Long eyelashes. I was quite tall, not really, and very skinny due to malnourishment. I was not a pretty sight.
'What's up?' Mum asked me. 'Worried about tomorrow?' She gave me a weak smile.
I ignored her questions and placed down the tuna.
'Jess...' Mum trailed off. She knew I was terrified. Tomorrow, I could be whisked of to the Capitol, to fight in the Hunger Games. But..no. I can't be picked. Someone could volunteer. If only.
'I'm fine, really,' I insisted, reassuring my worried mother. But I wasn't. I was far from fine.