The Story of Rue (A Hunger Games short story)

The Story of Rue (a Hunger Games fanfic)

Hello! I hope you enjoy this story...The Hunger Games and the characters in it all belong to Suzanne Collins...I'm just having fun with the story. If you haven't already, please go check out my Dramione fanfic, Everything Changes. Please leave a comment with your thoughts...enjoy! -jazzyjstar*

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If you know the story of Katniss Everdeen, you know Rue. Her life was to short, but her story deserves to be told. We all know how this ends.

As I brushed my hair out with my fingers, my mother walked into the room and placed a yellow dress for me to wear to the reaping. Through the reflection in the small mirror, I could see my mother was biting her lip. This was something she only did when she was trying not to cry. I didn't want to see my mother cry, so I looked away. My mother left the room and I got dressed, losing myself in my own thoughts as I had always done. It was my way of entertaining myself, mostly while working outside, picking fruit from the trees. I did my best not to worry. I was only twelve, my name had only been put in once, the odds were in my favor.

"Never cloud your mind with worry, it only wastes space meant for great ideas." My grandfather told me this when I was seven. I suppose he was trying to keep me from worrying about Delilah, who had been in that years Hunger Games. Delilah was only my cousin, but she was much more like a sister to me. However, at seven years old, I didn't see much to worry about. This was just a game I was watching after all. I remember wondering what the big deal was about The Hunger Games. Maybe The Hunger Games was about food. Delilah was the best at making whatever little food she could, so there was a great chance she would win. I will always remember that day as the day I understood. I watched the screen with a smile on my face. "Look Mom! Delilah is famous!" I exclaimed. My mother gave me a weak smile, but I didn't understand why she wasn't as excited like me. An hour later, I watched as a member of District 2 pulled out a dagger and threw it at Delilah. My mother screamed, and I heard my grandfather sobbing behind me, as Delilah fell to the ground, and I heard the booming of a cannon, or maybe it was my heart,thumping hard in my chest, I didn't know. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything. I stared at the screen, why was Delilah on the floor? Why was she bleeding? "Get up, Delilah." I said. My mothers cries grew louder behind me, she came to my side, trying to embrace me, but I wouldn't take my eyes of the screen. Why isn't she moving? She needed to win the game. "Get up, Delilah!" I said louder. My mother was tugging at me now. I felt the tears streaming down my face. "Get up!" I screamed once more. Delilah is dead. My grandfather came to me then. He picked me up, as my mother let me go. He took me to my bed, and set me onto it, I don't know how long I stayed there crying, but the whole time my grandfather stayed by my side, with a sad look on his face. I must have cried myself to sleep, because I woke up the next day wearing the clothes from the evening before.

It was that day that I realized how scary these games were. I knew my life would never be the same after today, and it didn't matter if I got chosen or not. If it wasn't this Hunger Games it could be the next, or it could be the year after that, until I was eighteen and no longer could participate. Today just determined if I had years of fear ahead of me, or if I only had now. There was a knock at the door. I tied the small bow on the back of my dress quickly before going to the door and opening up to find my brother. He walked in and sat on his side of the room that we shared with my mother.

"Mama is crying" he said. I put my face in my hands. I didn't want to be the reason my mother was crying. When I found my Mama on the couch, she had a napkin crumpled up in her hand and tears streaming down her face. When she saw me she wiped them away quickly and gave me a smile. "Hey there pretty girl!" her voice cracked. "I'm sorry Mama." I said quietly. Her eyes became more wet with tears, but she got up right away and rushed over to me. "No baby, you aren't making me cry. Don't you ever think that.The Capitol makes me cry, not you." My mama hugged me so tight I began to wonder if she was ever going to let me go. I didn't want her to let go, and I don't know how long the two of us stood there. Why did this feel like goodbye? "Mama, I think it's time to go." I whispered. I felt her stiffen. "Yeah, time to go." She replied in a soft voice.

Soon enough, I was out the door, and heading to the reaping with my family. I was the only one in the family with a name in this year. We walked past the fruit trees on the way over. I picked oranges there everyday. I wanted to run and hide in the high branches in one of the trees, and never come down. I could just stay there in the shade, sleep in the branches, live off the oranges. Okay maybe not possible, if a peace keeper caught me I would be whipped. I watched members of District 11 get whipped almost every day. Before I knew it, we were at the reaping. My stomach was twisting and turning. My mother hugged me one last time. "I love you so much." She said, her voce coming out high pitched, I didn't have to look at her to know she was crying. "It's going to be fine." I said, but I was scared. When did I become the reassuring one instead of the one being reassured?

I saw some girls my age and followed them, I was led to a table where people dressed all in white held out there hands. "Give me your hand." demanded a girl. "What?" she grabbed my arm and held it tightly, she pricked my finger and red blossomed out of it like a rose in the spring. She forced my finger onto a paper and let me go forward. My finger throbbed and I headed forward, trying to focus on the pain instead of the two glass bowls on the small stage ahead. I stood with a group of girls my own age. None of us really knew each other, I'm sure there would be a few in my class, if we were allowed in school more often, but we weren't because we had to work. Suzanne Jones walked in, wearing crazy shoes that made her appear taller, her eyelashes of the day were a bright glittering green, that matched the tips of her dark brown curly hair, and sequin outfit. Capitol people always looked so strange.

She stood in front of the microphone, center stage. "Hello, and welcome to the reaping of our 74th annual Hunger Games. Before we begin, a message from the Capitol." she said, her voice rang in my ears. The anthem of The Capitol began, and I closed my eyes, trying hard to steady my breathing. Soon, too soon, the message was over, I didn't need to listen, I knew it by memory, it was repeated each year. The message sent trying to justify what the Capitol was doing . As if anyone ever believed a word. "Alright! We shall begin," she said brightly. "It is of course tradition for ladies to go first." Suzanne walked slowly to the right, and waved her hand over the bowl dramatically, before sticking her hand in. A folded sheet came out with her hand, the tribute had already been chosen. Suzanne approached the microphone, as I closed my eyes. She cleared her throat, and opened up the folded sheet.

"Rue Stenberg."