Deceived: The 500th Annual Hunger Games

Chapter 55 - District 4 Reapings

LIBO LAPWORTH'S P.O.V

"Eunia," I yelled across the the beach. "You got anything?"

Eunia, my twin sister, pulled in her fishing rod line, trying not to break the taped up stick.

After tugging for a good minute, a mackerel flew out of the sea and flopped on the sand. I picked it up and whacked the flailing fish on a rock to kill it. It went floppy in my hands after several whacks.

"What time is it?" Eunia asked.

I looked down at my rusting watch. "Just gone ten."

"Let's go home." Eunia skipped along the beach, the fishing rod and basket in her hands. I trudged behind her, the stinking fish still in my hand. My fingers were going wrinkly. Ew.

We walked along the streets of District 4, looking around at our possible competition today. Well, my possible competition. I'm volunteering.

Most people don't appreciate volunteers under the age of sixteen, but I feel it's my time.

Besides, it isn't like there's only two of us going. Eight of us are going. Not every tribute will be a volunteer. We aren't like District 1.

Once we got off of the streets of District 4 and into our house, mum called from upstairs.

"Libo, Eunia!" my mum trotted down the stairs. "The reaping is in two hours and you're not even dressed!"

I rolled my eyes. My mum is obsessed with fashion. District 4 isn't really for her. She would be a great Capitol citizen.

I put the stinking fish in the basket. Then I followed Eunia up the stairs to see what horrific outfit my mum had left out for me.

I'll see it after I've washed my hands.

I hate dressing up. Why can't I just wear something comfortable? I don't see the point in dressing up like you're about to have tea with the President if all that's happening is you're standing with thousands of other people in a town square.

I found a pair of grey formal trousers, a white button up shirt and a black waistcoat. God, I hate being formal.

I pulled the clothes on and buttoned up at least a dozens buttons before returning downstairs.

"You look lovely," my mum cooed at me from the doorway to the kitchen. I pushed past Eunia into the kitchen to grab two slices of bread and the butter.

I put the bread into the toaster and waited for the bread to fly out. "So, eh, Libo," Eunia said, trying to start up a conversation.

"What?" I reply.

"You volunteering?" She asked.

"Yeah," I say, the popping sound from the toaster filling my ears. I grab my knife and cut into the butter block. I smothered my toast in as much butter as the bread could hold without collapsing and bit into the buttery mess.

"You have to win," my mum said, "you have to come home, my baby boy."

"Mum," I mumbled, blushing. Eunia contained her giggles. "I'm fifteen."

"So c'mon," mum said. "What did you catch this morning?"

I opened the basket, the stench of fish filling the kitchen. I must be one of the very few District 4 citizens who hates the smell of fish.

A mackerel, a salmon and a haddock all lay dead inside the basket. My mum started smiling, knowing that catch would keep her, our little brother Vine and dad fed for a few days.

Vine is at school right now. He is so lucky he can't enter the games until next year. Today, anyone between twelve and eighteen gets to stay off of school.

I glanced at the clock. "Well mum," I say, hugging her. I may never see her again. "I love you. See you soon."

She started sobbing as Eunia and I walked out of the door to go to the reaping.

I wonder how my family will be tonight when I'm sleeping in the Capitol and they're not two rooms away from me.

OSTRO GREENLAW'S P.O.V

I lined up in the smallest queue at the town square. Why is my district so large?

"Finger," the lady said, grabbing my hand and yanking my clenched fist open. She pricked the end of my finger and rammed the weird needle into it.

I winced slightly as my blood was taken. The lady pressed my finger against the paper, scanned it and let me go.

I scampered into the 13-year-old pen and huddled with the other boys. Everyone at my age is scared. Give it three years and half will be willing to volunteer.

Our escort bounced onto the stage. For our district, the same family has been escorting our district since, well, before my great grandparents. His name is Oswald and this year, he has his hair and skin rainbow coloured. Freaky.

After the mayors' speech, Oswald starts prancing around the stage, trying to liven up the crowds of District 4. To be honest, he must be doing something right because the older kids start cheering.

"Our first tribute is," he plucks out a slip of paper by his fingernails. "Ba-"

"I volunteer!"

A 15-year-old girl makes her way up to the stage, smiling and waving to her friends. "I'm Hazil Whistlewart and I'm a winner!" She made her way to one of the chairs at the back of the stage and sat down.

"Soe-"

"I volunteer!"

That's Tule. A 16-year-old troublemaker who's always getting into fights. Everyone knows Tule.

"Who are you?" Oswald asked.

"I'm Tule Cronin," he said as he made his way to sit next to Hazil.

"Next up is Es-"

"I volunteer as tribute!"

Another 16-year-old boy makes his way to the stage. "I'm Trey Stalisbury, I'm sixteen and I will win."

"Great!" Oswald beckoned him to his seat. "Ora-"

"I volunteer!"

A 15-year-old boy make his way to the stage. "I'm Libo Lapworth," he yelled through the microphone.

"Next up is Al-" Oswald waited for someone to volunteer, but the district was silent. "Aloe Crest."

A small 13-year-old from my class walked to the stage, crying and sniffing.

"Eunia Lapworth."

Libo screamed as his twin sister left her pen and walked up to the stage. "I'm fifteen." She walked up to Libo and hugged him.

"Next up is May Frustlock!"

The 12-year-old left her pen, walked up to a boy in another pen and said "don't even think about it."

May sat next to a shivering Aloe and slapped her. "Grow up."

"Our last tribute is Ostro Greenlaw."

That's me.

I walk out of my pen, the other boys slowly stepping away from me as if I've become infected with a contagious disease. I make my way up to the stage, not really sure what to think. Am I happy? Annoyed? Angry? Sad?

"Here we have Hazil, Tule, Trey, Libo, Aloe, Eunia, May and Ostro," Owsald said, forcing us to march to the justice building. "District 4's tributes."

There we're several cries and cheers as the eight of us left, ready to face our deaths.