𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

ONE

ONE - 

Tomorrow is the day of the Reaping, and so naturally the atmosphere in the Kentwell house is tense.

I spear another piece of chicken with my fork and try my best to keep my eyes downcast. The contents of my plate isn't all that interesting, but it's a better and far easier sight to comprehend than that of the figure sitting at the head of the table.

I haven't seen my father in almost two years, but when he showed up on the doorstep this afternoon with a bouquet of bright flowers for mother and new Reaping dresses from the tailors store in town for Loren and I, I didn't expect the arrival to go down well. I was right, of course.

Mother is still seething at the opposite end of the dinner table, probably regretting not tossing the bunch of roses and lilies into the trash as she glares murderously into space. Dad is engrossed in his meal, but the small turn of his nose with each bite suggests he's far too used to the luxurious Capitol food they give him in the Peacekeeper barracks to enjoy it much anymore.

The only break in the uneasy silence is the scrape of cutlery against plates, and Loren's terribly obvious coughs every time she stifles a laugh.

My sister has never had much tact.

I keep my gaze trained on my meal in an effort to avoid joining her. Without even looking, I know mom's eyes are as cold as ice, which never means anything good. My mother is a force of nature, even without provocation.

The end of the meal cannot come fast enough. As soon as the last bite is gone, I thank mom for dinner and take my plate into the kitchen to wash up. The silverware clatters in the sink as I run the tap, happy to have put the walls in between myself and the scene unfolding on the other side, when Loren bursts through the door in a whirlwind of barely disguised giggles and wide eyes. She dumps her plate on top of mine beneath the running water and hops up onto the counter beside me, rubbing her palms together.

"Mom's gonna kill him." She stage whispers, still laughing into her hands. Her dirty blonde bob is falling from its haphazard ponytail, and her hazel eyes are sparkling with the promise of drama. I huff and roll my identical darker ones back at her, but she's not wrong.

Our father has been stationed in the Capitol as a Peacekeeper for the past five years. Since I turned ten and Loren nine, he has only returned to District 2 three times. Twice for birthdays and once for Loren's first Reaping. He did not come back for mine. He knows I've never been scared of the Games.

He sends us a crop of his salary – which is thankfully sizeable, Peacekeepers are well paid by the state – every month to keep Loren and I dressed and fed. He also pays our Academy fees so we can continue to train alongside the teenage elite of our District. But that doesn't mean our mother was happy to see him go.

She practically hates him now, and every visit causes a tense atmosphere in the house. I have come to despise his unannounced arrivals too, over time. They make mother difficult and Loren restless. She hasn't learned to be wary of our father like I have.

I scrub our dishes in the sink and continue to listen for any shred of conversation in the dining room. Loren keeps giggling and I have to shut her up a couple of times, so I don't miss anything, but alas there is nothing to miss.

When mom stands from the table, leaving our father to polish off the last of his dinner, I pull Loren from her perch and into the hall. Mom always shouts at Loren when she sits on the counters, but today, with her wrath doubled, my sister is likely to find herself grounded for the week if she gets caught.