The Eighty First Hunger Games «MAJOR REWRITING, REEDITING, AND REVISION»

:1: The Reaping

I bit into the ripe apple, savoring the juices for a second before passing it down to my little sister, June. She took a bite, a fairly large one for a seven year old, then passed it down to Frankie, our four year brother. He but into it twice -the greedy little cutie- and passed it down to Ellie, the three year old who has a love for throws things- including apples. She takes a deep bite, then chucks it into the open air. I sigh as it hits the floor and rolls away. I've gotten used to my little siblings' antics ever since I had to start 'babysitting' them. Look how well that ended up.

Seriously, the reaping was in an hour, and I was at home, unprepared, babysitting. Where was she? My mom should be back by now! I groaned as I walked over to the apple and tossed it outside for the pig the choke down. He doesn't mind the dirt; he lives in it. Wish everyone else would learn that. The front door suddenly burst open, and I jumped out of my skin. My mother stood there, holding a covered something.

"Close your eyes!" she squealed excitedly, rushing into the small kitchen. I did so, and felt something slip over my head. When she said I could, I popped my eyes open and looked in the mirror that my mother had stood in front of me. Over my slightly starved frame was a boatneck dress with short shoulder sleeves. The bottom was down at my knees. There was a medium waist, and it was generally plain. And white. A top layer of cream lace coated it with a spring-type look. I gaped at myself, at the dress my mother had made me. I knew she was good at making clothing.. but I didn't know she was this good. It was beautiful. I spun around and practically squeezed my mother to death. When I released her, her initial reply was a teary "You look so beautiful, Issi." I couldn't believe my mother had sewed me something so.. so.. so perfect.

"I think she looks ugly." Frankie put in, sticking his tongue out at me. My mother smacked his knee in a non-mean way, and he ran off into a different room. Ellie squealed in delight from her place on the table as she happened to find a strawberry on the table, and she flung it. I felt it squish against my forehead, and she broke into a fit of giggles.

"Really, Elleyah?" I ask, and she shuts up, staring at me at the sound of her full name. Honestly, I have no idea what my mom was thinking at the time of each of our births with the names. I turned back to my mother and voiced the one thing that was itching me in the back. "Mom, why did you sew me a new dress for the reaping? why couldn't I have just worn lay years? I don't want you wasting any material you need for someone else on me. After all, it's just a reaping."

She pats me on the cheek and blushes. "I may have used your old dress for material, and I had some of this left over anyway. So I figured, why not make you a new one?"

"Well, the reaping is in half an hour. I've got to go." I kiss her on the cheek and kiss each of the siblings. They'll be at the reaping, of course. But I still kiss them each year for good luck.

"Wait, Issie, I have something else for you." Before I could protest, my mother takes her locket off from around her neck and places it around mine. It's golden, and really old, from before the rebellion. I rub it with my thumb and hug her again, before slipping on old flats and running out the door.

I've left my hair down; I'm more of one for simplicities. Why take ten minutes when you can take five?

Along the way, I see my half friend/half acquaintance Reil. We walk next to each other in comfortable silence as we proceed through the line of everyone else from the district. Reil is wearing a dark red high necked dress with elbow sleeves a skirt that goes down to her knees. She's also wearing flats. Her hair is up in a bun, and she looks beautiful. She's always stunning. She should live in District 1. They always have the best looking people. In line, we get our fingers pricked and scanned before we can continue into the clearing. The large stage is up front, like every year. The screen next to it. The three seats set up on stage, the microphone, everything is the same. Reil and I stand in the middle of the female group. All the other fifteen year olds are in this area. Haymitch Abernathy, a really old victor who's a drunk, has no family, and doesn't go out much except for buying alcohol, is occupying one of the seats. He's drooling and probably asleep, along with the alcohol intoxication he always has. The second seat is filled by Harper Fedgings, the 76th Games victor. She won with a single knife and a whole lot of camouflage. That's why you don't trust lumpy trees.

The third seat has the mayor in it, and he's looking extremely bored. He has to come every year and make the same small speech.

When the stream of people filing into the area slows to a stop, Effie Trinket, dressed and wigged in a clean white, comes out onto the stage and up to the microphone. "Hello! Well, it's this time of the year again! And you have a very special message all the way from the Capitol!"

A video plays on the large screen to the side of the stage. The downfall of District 13. The ruins. People dying. The same video we're forced to get used to year after year.

When it's over, Effie clasps her bony hands together, getting teary eyed. "I just love that video! Enough of that, it's time to see who will be this year's tributes for the 81st Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.

"As usual," she starts, heading over to the left of the stage to the female bowl where my name is put in twenty two times, "Ladies first!"

Effie Trinket dipped her long, white fingers into the bowl and swirled them around before picking one slip of paper. "Sarah Fursiato!" She chirped.

A girl, maybe sixteen, attracted all eyes from the clearing. She's tall, a dirty blonde, and extremely pretty. I remember seeing her around some places. The girl next to her nudges her and whispers in her ear, but Sarah doesn't move an inch, her face still completely masked in shock.

In the blink of an eye, she's no longer there. She's sprinting in the direction of the sun, east. The peacekeepers are chasing after her, outnumbering her, but not keeping up with her. When it looks like she's about to get away, one of the peacekeepers aim their gun and *bam* she's down. And probably dead.

A woman in the crowd breaks out in loud sobs, audible in the silent area. I can't help but feel pity for her. Her daughter had just been killed rebelling and trying to escape a more painful death.

Effie clears her throat in the microphone. "Well then, I guess we will just have to choose a new tribute, then," she starts, waving her hand in the female bowl again. She selects one slip from the side o the bowl, her manicured white nail shining as she pulled it out. "Our female tribute is.." booms over the loud speakers.

"Illissa Wilcox!"

I guess the odds aren't in my favor this year.

•

•

•

I'm guessing this is short, the majority of my mobile updates are. Sorry if it is.

Eeek! Finally a THG fanfic! Yay!

Uhhh, you can vote, comment, fan, anything, just don't feel pressured. :D Hopefully I'll update soon! Tomorrow, if I'm lucky! Yippeeeeeeeeeee!