Deceived: The 500th Annual Hunger Games

Chapter 3 - District 9 Reapings

JED PAISLEY'S P.O.V

This is the worst day ever, I already know it. Usually, we worry about individually being reaped; there are no gender limits this year. Knowing that both of us could face the reaping causes me to shiver and panic inside. Sighing, I look at Maxwell and feel this sudden urge to cuddle hi,. He is curled in a ball on his bed, snoring slightly. He always has nightmares on reaping day; I don't blame him.

We own a book made from our ancestors that currently sits in front of me on my own bed. In this book, there are over fifty names of people from our family who have been entered into the Hunger Games. Our first family member was in the 9th Hunger Games. She was in the final two with a lady named Mags - who later died nobly in the 75th Hunger Games. Since then, we've had no luck at all in winning.

Our last family victim was our cousin Keith, who was forced into the 491th Games. He was kicked out of a tree in a fight with a District Eleven tribute, who later on became the Victor. Watching that on television was one of the most scarring things I've ever had to witness; I've seen gruesome deaths, but I didn't know the tributes personally. Seeing the guts of someone you love isn't easy to accept.

Maxwell stirs in his sleep; this grunting sound escape his parted lips. The poor kid loved Keith - loves Keith; the love never died. Keith was eighteen when he was reaped, and at the time, he was like our guardian, with our mother in the Capitol helping the victors in their recovery, and our dad working on the wheat fields for sixteen hours a day. It isn't an easy life for them or us.

"Jed," Maxwell whispers, turning his head at an awkward angle. Looking at him, I notice that there are tears in his eyes; they make me want to cry. "I can't go to the reaping today. I just can't," Maxwell's voice cracks at the end, a single tear flowing down his face in the process.

Mum isn't here to comfort us; Dad is working to help pay for the bills that we have to pay. After this reaping, I'm going to look for jobs for the two of us. Ushering Maxwell to change in the bedroom, I hand him his reaping clothes and disappear to the bathroom. He looks just like me. He is just like me.

In the end, I changed in the bathroom. Rebranding my hair and pulling on the outfit I had stolen from my dad's wardrobe,mI look in the mirror and smile at myself, for I could look ten times worse than I do. Simple grey trousers, white shirt and a red tie. What's the point of looking like a dog's dinner when you know there's a possibility you're about to die? Then again, making an effort can't hurt.

When Maxwell has finished crying to himself in the bedroom, he creeps quietly down the stairs and takes the plate of eggs and bacon that I had left for him. He silently chewed the meat as I poke at the eggs on my plate. My stomach is in knots, thinking about either one of us entering the arena.

My mind drifts as I think of the possible outcome of the games. We've already promised that we'd volunteer if we felt it was necessary; really, I'm saying that I'd volunteer for him but he only would for me if it was crucial. He's fifteen and I'm eighteen. I want to protect him. I have to protect him.

"C'mon Max," I say, looking at the clock above the cabinets lined up perfectly along the walls. "We best get going. We have to get there for ten in the morning; it's nine thirty now." Picking up my keys, I unlock the door before turning back to put the dishes in the sink. Just because I may not return it doesn't mean that I should help out before my death.

Maxwell just leaves the house without saying anything, his facial expression a blend between anxiety and agony.

IVORY FENNEL'S P.O.V

It was a battle trying to walk into the fifteen year old pen because Yohan refuse to let go of my hand. He was scared and it was obvious; his confidence was shrivelling away. He was taking tesserae for eight people, including himself - that's a lot of entries he's having. In fact, he may have the most names in the bowl throughout the District, you never know.