A.R.E.N.A. (A Hunger Games Story)

One

The cool water of the creek rushes past my feet as I sit on a big rock, waiting for more fish to come my way. My trousers fall back down to my ankles once more, and so I hike them back up to my thighs to avoid getting them wet. I sigh- it's been a long day already, and by my estimate it's only 10am. I clutch onto my fishing rod- one I crafted myself of course, since no one living in my area of District 7 could afford such a luxury. I use the word "luxury" lightly, since in the wealthier areas of my District, a fishing rod is an everyday household tool.

For a second, I wonder why no one in the wealthy area decides to fish, before reminding myself that they don't need to- they have enough money. A tug on my fishing line extracts me from my thoughts, and I sharply reel in the line to see a trout, decent in size, flapping wildly on my hook. I smile- bigger fish get more money, and feed more mouths. Swiftly, I remove the fish from the hook and lay it on the ground, smashing its head three times with blunt force in order to kill it. Once dead, I carefully add it to the fourteen other catches in my burlap sack.

I lie my fishing pole down on my lap and lean back on my elbows. The sun streams down on me, warming my bare legs and arms against the coolness of the rock I sit on. Normally, I'd now head to the market before making my way home, but there's nothing normal about today. Because once again, Reaping Day has rolled around way too soon.

The creek lies behind the electrified fence that surrounds District Seven, but I've known about the small gap in the fence since I was thirteen. The gap is perhaps a metre in diameter and concealed by a collection of small shrubbery, but to enter you have to lie on your front and pull yourself through, since the gap is not high at all. From there, it's just a small walk to the creek, which is also conveniently hidden by groups of trees. For this reason, I don't have to be worried about getting caught, since you wouldn't know the creek was here unless you already knew.

I'm not too worried anyway. Technically, any form of fishing and hunting is illegal, but the Peacekeepers in the district barely ever enforce this rule. Peacekeepers like to eat too, and will even pay for various catches at the marketplace. The Reaping doesn't start for another four hours, but I decide I may as well get all my trading done now in preparation for tonight's meal, when all but two households will be celebrating the fact that their children have been spared from the Hunger Games for another year.

Picking up my supplies and catches, I brush past the concealment of the trees and across a meadow to the fence, where I push my possessions through the hole in the fence before sliding under after them. I glance to my right, staring into the distance where the huge forest lies. It's odd to see it empty, most of the time it is filled with lumberjacks hauling axes over their shoulders, Peacekeepers stood at their posts, watching over them.

Eventually I arrive at the marketplace. The huge market is held inside an old, abandoned warehouse and is there all day, every day, for the poorer people to trade and sell their goods. Today, less than a half of its normal population are present- most of them will be taking advantage of rare spare time in the morning, or getting ready for the Reaping.

I make my way around the stalls, selling and trading my fish and leaving with three loaves of bread (one of them baked with fruit and nuts), a lump of cheese, a basket of strawberries, a handful of greens and two squirrels, leaving me with three fish to take home.

Arriving home, I dump my supply on the small wooden table in the kitchen, where my mother sits. She's small, smaller than me and my older brother, her blonde hair plaited down her back. She pulls her cardigan tight around her chest as she sorts through my foodstuffs.

"You cold?" I ask stiffly, taking off my father's leather jacket and draping it over the back of one of four wooden chairs.

"Maybe." She rubs her temple. "Probably just nervous for-" She trails off. I nod, I don't need her to finish. I know why she's terrified. "I filled the tub with hot water." She speaks over her shoulder as she washes the greens in a cold bowl of water.