The 122nd Annual Hunger Games: The Anti-Careers

District 9 Reaping

IX - Fearcher Triggs

I lifted my head out of the field of winter wheat, wiping the sweat from my forehead and gazing to the sun on my left heading towards the evening. It's almost time, I thought with dread. I continued to scythe through the wheat, grabbing bundles and shoving them into the woven basket at my side. For another few minutes, I continued this and focused on trying to not think about the upcoming reaping.

"Brother!" I hear someone call out. I checked my surroundings, searching for my brother; he was the only person who didn't call his sibling by their name. Fletcher, my little brother, popped his head out from the field of wheat wiping his forehead from sweat as well. Our eyes caught each other's. "Brother, I think it's time to go in. Dad said we needed to go in early tonight."

I looked back to the direction of the sun, positioning the scythe in front of my view. "Yeah," I began. "I guess it's time."

We ran our baskets of wheat back inside and I got dressed for the reaping ceremony. Fletcher never seemed to understand what it meant to be reaped or what The Hunger Games was; mother always found some way to distract him or confuse what he knew about the event. It was already really hard for him to find out, luckily, because District 9 children hardly went to school because of harvest season.

Before leaving the house for the town square, he tugged on my shirt, asking me, "where are we going, brother?"

I looked down to him, my words playing innocence. "It's just a district meeting," I replied with ease, patting down on his medium blonde hair. "Don't worry Fletchey," I added with a feigned smile.

We walked for ten minutes, me trying to not act worried or concerned around my brother. Upon arriving at the reaping ceremony, we found ourselves to be one of the earliest people to arrive; what a way to prolong such a tense event. Slowly, more kids my age filed into their sections until it seemed everyone had arrived. Soon, the lottery would begin. Fletcher and my parents stood near outside the ropes that close me off from them.

"Welcome, welcome!" a voice boomed, snapping my attention towards the stage. "It is I, your District 9 escort here to select this year's tributes for the 122nd Annual Hunger Games! It is my pleasure to draw today's lucky participants.

"Lucky," I scoffed gently to myself.

"Ladies first!" she said as she delicately reached inside of the girls' reaping bowl. Her hand surfed on the many cards until she decided she had found the one she really liked. For what seemed like an eternity she opened up the card, reading the name and mouthing it to herself. She looked out to us, her silver hair catching everyone's attention. "Saffie Hearth."

At first, the girl didn't reveal herself.

"Come on out, Saffie! Don't be afraid, this is your time!"

From the corner of my eye, I could see the girls in the fourteen-year-old section stepping out of the way to reveal the chosen tribute, Saffie, to everyone. She was then forced to walk up to the stage where the District 9 escort was. The escort held out her hands towards Saffie as if she was presenting her.

"And now, to pick a boy to join you in the games!" she cheered, heading over to the boys' bowl. Our escort wasn't like the others; she dug her hand into the names sifted through all of the names, to give everyone a fair chance at being picked. "Aha!" she exclaimed as she held up the card she chose to the crowd. "Fearcher Triggs."

I felt myself cave in on the inside. Me, in The Hunger Games? My heartbeat raced as my arms trembled in place.

"Brother, that's you!" I heard. "What does that mean?"

"Oh gosh" was the only thing in my mind. What was I supposed to tell Fletcher? That I was leaving, for good? Never to return, like a mean older brother instead of being good to him? I didn't know what to say, didn't know what to think or do or how to act. My head crooked to him, only a few meters from me outside the ropes. "I'll see you in a minute, you just hold on."

I had to leave and go up to the stage like anybody else would have to. I looked down to the thirteen-year-old section where my friends stood, solemn and still.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your District 9 tributes, Saffie Hearth and Fearcher Triggs!" was blasted through the microphone; however, the escort didn't seem too pleased that her two tributes were fourteen and thirteen.

We entered the District 9 justice building and went to separate rooms for a minute of goodbyes, Saffie and I. My family entered the room soon enough.

"I don't really know what to say, son" my father said uncertain. Mother hugged me tight, followed by my father. In the background was a confused nine-year-old.

"Brother, where are you going?"

"Somewhere else," I replied after a brief pause.

"When are you coming back?"

I crouched down slightly to hug Fletcher tight, my grip not ceasing for a while. The pause this time was much longer until I figured out something to say that wasn't misleading. "Fletchey, goodbye." His young arms tried to copy my strength.

"Alright," a peacekeeper said stern. "It's time for you to go, kid."

I was ripped away by my arm when Fletcher realized I meant I'd never be returning.