The Girl from the Seam Book One: Costs

Chapter 5- The Reaping

The morning of the reaping dawned cloudy and gray. Two days after the peacekeepers shot Haymitch's loved ones through the head, I started out the day with a long hug from my grandma before walking to Haymitch's house. I had spent the last two days at his house. Either just sitting in silence or making food, too scared that if I tried to talk he would lash out in anger.

I pushed open the door of the quiet house. Haymitch was in the kitchen, a bowl of something in front of him. His head lifted at my quiet arrival. "Oh, hi." "Hi". I slipped onto a stool in front of the counter. "I thought you were going head straight to the square?" I shook my head, "No. I needed to remind you of somethings." He put his spoon down and dropped his elbows in the table. "What do I need a reminder of?"

"This is your first year as a mentor. And Snow obviously did what he did to ruin you before you went to the Capitol. So remember, don't show it. Even if it means you don't show emotion; than do that." Haymitch nodded.

"Ok, I'll remember. You didn't put any terrese in, right."

"Nope, I'm good. The odds are more in my favor than some others, being my first year."

"Ok, well. You should head to the Square. Just so your Grandmother doesn't get worried." I nodded and stood up. "I'll see you in the square." Haymitch turned his attention back on the food and mumbled something at me.

I didn't blame him ignoring me. He was going through a lot of pain. It just felt strange for him not to tease me like he usually did. Like a big brother.

The walk to the square didn't take long. When I arrived, I was ushered into a a long line of kids, 12 to 16. Everyone was dead silent. Everyone was terrified, knowing that in only a few minutes two young kids would be sent to their doom. When I reached the front of the line, a  peacekeeper at a small table asked for my name and my hand. They pricked my finger to identify me. After this, I was ushered into a small roped of area marked with a big, black number 12. Each age group was bunched together in a ropes of area. Onlookers surrounded the "penned" areas, pressing closer to their children.

As I waited, I inspected the stage set up in front of the stone Justice Building. There chairs sat in one corner. Up front, there was a microphone and two stools with glass balls filled with the names of all the children for the reaping. There was a sense of doom around the stage. Especially knowing that two names chosen from the glass balls would be sent to their death. In the chairs sat our Mayor, Mayor Ficklebach(Yes that is his name everyone makes fun of him). After a few minutes, Haymitch and the escort, Cainly Woolworth entered the make-shift stage from the Justice building. Haymitch kept his eyes straight ahead and his eyes dull. He appeared almost bored. Good for him. I thought. He looks like he doesn't care. But deep inside, I knew it was taking all his will-power not to scream obscenities into the camera. I turned my attention to our escort. Her hair was long and straight, a strange teal color. She had light rosy pink vine tattoos framing her face and twisting down her neck. It look freakish. She looked like a typical Capitol, Hunger Game freak.

Then pain hit me hard in the chest, and I suddenly realized it. I hated the games. I never paid much attention to the Hunger Games. I kept my head down and went about my business, I didn't care. I never discussed them at dinner. I never asked questions. The first time I ever really talked about them was to my mother. And after she put her word in, I didn't care anymore. I only just now realized how terrible they were. Which sounds strange to think, considering for the last 51 years the Capitol has forced children to murder each other. But now, having the issue of being old enough for the reaping, I realized how much they mattered. How much hate was pushed through them. How the Capitol has the upper hand. And how much I hated President Snow. Thinking things like this could get you a bulge through the head.