TWO

Chapter Sixteen

A/N: Thank you to everyone who created a reaping outfit for both Clove and Paris! You all have beautiful minds and creations. Much love to you all! Enjoy reading! -Gracie xo 

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When I was twelve, my mother dressed me in a red dress and nude flats. My black hair was curled; long enough to touch my waist. My father had told me to stay quiet and pay close attention to the way things worked.

It was reaping day and that year, District One took the title.

Now I stand in the front with the same black dress on I wore last year and a pair of black shoes. Paris is next to me in a gold dress and black heels. I didn't bother looking beautiful or eye-catching like the girls that surround me. Most of them are in colorful bright dresses and skirts, one of the few days you see real color in the district. On our left is the boys, most of them are in black tux's, others in nice dress shirts and ties. I haven't seen Cato or Marcus yet, but I know they are somewhere up front.

Our Justice building is decorated in an array of beautifully bloomed flowers, a plush red carpet covers the white marble, and some of the past victors sit on the stage, looking down at us; smirks plastered across their faces. Next to the victors, Mr. Thomson sits next to our Mayor and Venus, District Two's escort, is sitting next to him in a scandalous gold dress and wig. Above the stage, a large screen has been mounted and right now it's flashing pictures of past victors. I recognize Enobaria and Brutus since they are usually the mentors. Enobaria is my favorite, with her shark like teeth, it's not hard to fear her. Brutus is a strongly built man, whose bald head glistens in the sunlight. He reminds me a lot like Nixon back at the academy.

Around us, older men and some women start placing their bets as to who they think will be reaped. The girls behind Paris and I giggle at some inside joke, the boys are rowdy and loud on the other side of us. This is usually how it always goes here, even when I was twelve the teenagers never took this seriously, because so many of them knew their lives weren't in danger.

The more girls that file in, the more cramped I am next to Paris. My ears are buzzing from the amount of conversation that surround us. When the clock finally strikes two, the mayor rises to his feet and the area around us grows quiet. I start fidgeting with the bracelet on my wrist as the mayor starts to talk. It's the same thing every year; the history of Panem and District Two, the storms, droughts, wars. He mentions the Dark Days, about how thirteen districts rebelled, but only twelve were defeated and the thirteenth was obliterated. Next, he reads the Treaty of Treason, to remind us of why we are to never rebel again, and then thanks us all, especially the kids, for their sacrifices.

There are a couple of hurrah's around us, the victors on the stage whistle and cheer, Venus giggles in excitement, but I remain still, eyes trained on the glass bowl.

Rules of The Hunger Games are quite simple. Because of the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one male and female, called tributes, to participate. Most of them are reaped from their names being drawn, ages twelve to eighteen, making this my last eligible year. Other's volunteer, but you normally only see that in Districts One, Two, and Four since we train our whole lives to be the most qualified tributes. After they have their twenty-four tributes, we are all pitted into an arena to fight to the death. The last standing, is crowned victor. Their district receives rewards and the victor gets to live a lavish life of not having to worry about mostly anything for the rest of their lives. During the two weeks leading up to the games, the tributes are led through a series of training, parades, interviews, and for districts one, two and four, meetings with sponsors. For the capitol, this event is more of a festivity than it is murder.