The 25th Hunger Games

The Reaping

The sounds of announcers and cries woke me up that morning. Just how I want to wake up. Must be Reaping Day, I thought bitterly, rolling out of bed.

I could already hear my little brother asking a million questions. It had been an endless stream ever since we found out what the theme of the Quarter Quell would be. First, he wanted to know what Quarter meant. Then he needed a whole recap on what President Snow was saying.

"It means we get to vote on who we want in the games," I told JT.

"But why?" he asked.

"To remind the districts that all this is their fault!" That shut him up quick. Or at least, he moved on to pestering my dad after that.

I tossed on my nicest and only dress, knowing that after District One was reaped, it would be our turn. I had worn the blue dress the last three years for the reaping and now it was starting to get tight on me. It wasn't like I planned on being noticed. And anyway, it sort of went with my pale complexion.

"Noah," my dad greeted me, surprisingly cheery for the Reaping Day. Ever since I became eligible for the Games five years ago, Dad's hated everything about it. I tried to explain to him countless times that it didn't matter anyway, that we were the Career District, that we always had a volunteer. It could never shake his nerves entirely. Until today, when it seemed like nothing could kill his mood.

"Hey," I greeted my father. He was one of the few people in the district I managed to tolerate, with the exception of JT on most days. Everyone else was either to be ignored or forcibly moved out of the way. Dad always insisted I would get more out of life if I was just a little friendly, but I didn't see the point.

"Reapings are today," he said as if I could forget. He was already blasting it on the TV. "They already got some good ones from District One. This whole voting thing's really a twist. Kids never saw it coming. Oh, we have a volunteer, too." A tall boy with dark hair held his chin high on the screen. Clearly he was the one who volunteered for his fate. The girl next to him looked like she was either about to hit something or cry. Maybe both.

"Do you know who you're voting for?" I asked, mostly out of curiosity. And because I had no idea who I was going to vote for. I had just barely been able to come to terms with this whole idea, that we would get to pick who went in. Now that I understood it, I knew I didn't like it.

"I'm thinking about that Noah Albedo kid. She's pretty annoying," he joked. "I just wish her little brother were old enough for the Games. Then I'd definitely vote for him," he said loud enough for JT to hear. Then he laughed, but I couldn't help but get nervous. Of course he wasn't serious, but still...

"That's not funny!" JT whined. He was only ten and could hardly carry his school books. He would never be cut out for the Games. I was a sharp contrast with my long arms and legs. I also had all the training the Capitol could buy us, but that didn't mean I wanted to be in that arena anymore than JT.

"ALL CITIZENS REPORT TO THE TOWN SQUARE," a loud announcement told us. I guess I would never get a real answer from Dad. He was probably going to vote for a coworker's kid. He always went on and on about how they were all snobs, everyone that worked in the Nut. They all thought they were Capitol citizens. I couldn't disagree. Even their children dressed like this was the Capitol.

I had never been good with other kids, especially the ones my age. They all either wanted to grow up to be Hunger Games victor's or to be Peacekeepers, occupations that most of them had no chance in. Still, we were all forced to go to the same academy, learn school stuff and politics, but mostly learn how to fight. It was all too much for me to handle. How come no one ever dreamed of a peaceful life?