One Fire: A One Direction Fan Fiction

12

12

   I’d spoken with Caroline over the phone a few times in the months leading up to the next reaping day, and she’d updated me on the Capitol’s current state. There were shortages on district exports – no lumber from Seven, no decent materials from Eight, no meat from Ten – and their lives were just getting worse and worse. Of course, ours were just peachy. It wasn’t like young children were dropping dead all over the district from the malnutrition which came from the inability to hunt and forage in the woods.

   Eventually the snow melted and the day was approaching where I’d get into the final duties of a victor. I awoke on the reaping day and, again, dressed in a familiar navy blazer, white shirt and pressed trousers. But, this year would be different. This year I wasn’t part of the crowd waiting to hear which two children would be sent to their deaths. I would be up on the stage standing beside Simon waiting to see who I would be coaching this year.

   Simon and I had already dealt with the question of who would be mentoring whom. He said I should take the boy because, typically, they were easier to guide. Well, the only two victors from Twelve had been males, so he probably wasn’t lying.

   I’d met him at the gates to the Victor’s Village before the reaping and we’d walked through the empty streets to the square, where we were met with people in white uniforms. Amongst the crowd, on the stage, was the mayor of District Twelve, and Katy, dressed in her familiar dark purple apparel. The both of us were greeted by them and brought to our places on the stage, where we would stand and survey our crowd.

   We watched children – ages twelve to eighteen – as they lined up for their census and fell into crowds; boys on my right and girls on my left. When this was done, Katy took the microphone and introduced the mayor, who reads through a history of Panem as he did every year, and then read off the names of District Twelve’s past victors; Simon Cowell and Harry Styles. Then Katy spoke again. She gave a small spiel about what an “honour” is was to be here in the district again before she purred out, “Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

   For once in my life, these words didn’t scare me. I had nobody to worry about. Ed, Robin, my mum and Gemma were safe. Nick and Will were too old to be reaped. Simon and I were both victors.

   “Ladies first,” Katy says with a large grin. She steps over to the large glass ball full of slips of paper to her right; the one which contains the names of every girl ages twelve to eighteen in the district. Her slim hand swirls above the papers and she plucks but one, and steps back to the microphone.

   I turn my attention away from her and let my gaze skim over the crowd of girls. I found myself wondering which of them would have their name on the slip of paper Katy was unfolding.

   But it seems I’ve forgotten one person I have to worry about, like last year when I’d been scared for everybody except myself. My heart stops when I see familiar young eyes in my skimming. Blue eyes accompanied by a porcelain face and white-blonde hair. I see exactly who I must be worried for just as Katy’s voice says the name.

   “Leah Brady.”

   I can feel it. No heartbeat, no breaths, wide eyes and a pale face for the both of us. It’s the same reaction I remembered having a year ago when, unexpectedly, Katy had spoken my name.

   The crowd of juvenile girls parts around Leah, leaving her standing there alone, in shock for the longest time before Peacekeepers in white uniforms appear at her sides and back and prod her to make her move forward, slowly, up to the stage.

   As she approaches, I look passed the possible tributes to where the parents and friends are standing. Gemma, my mum, Ed’s family and Leah’s parents are already in tears. Ed gives me a look attempting sympathy, which barely breaks through his shock.