The Fourth Quarter Quell

The Reaping

I dropped the plate I was holding and it fell into the sink, splashing me with water. This was not what I was hoping for. I thought it would be extremely cruel, yes, but not like this. Parents choosing between their children? No volunteers nor sponsors? They crossed the line.

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1 month later

I am standing alone on the square of District Seven. The Justice Building looks much bigger than it usually is. A storm is on its way, I can see by the howling wind and the dark, cloudy sky. Everything seems so grim... and then I see her. My mother stands at a five-foot distance from where I am, her back turned to me. It seems almost unnatural, seeing her stand so stiffly.

I call her, only to find that my voice is missing. I try running towards her, but my feet just keep sinking into the pavement that suddenly turned liquid. Still, I thrash and scream soundlessly, desperately trying to reach her. The more I struggle, the more I get sucked into the ground.

Just as the asphalt reaches my neck and I am gasping for air, my mother turns sideways. I notice a Peacekeeper had materialised. He draws a gun and puts it against her head, but her facial expression is indifferent and her wide grey eyes are staring into nothingness, seeming almost inhuman.

He pulls the trigger. My mother falls down and an insanely large pool of blood emerges from her head. I scream one last ''NO!'' and this time, I can actually hear my voice. It's so loud, my ears start ringing.

And then I feel the liquid pavement fill my mouth.

I wake with a start. My head is throbbing and my mouth feels as dry as sandpaper. I take a minute to slow down my breathing and then realize I'm soaking wet. It's the middle of the night, but I figure there's no more sleep for me tonight, so I go and take a long, exhilarating shower. When I'm done, I change into fresh, clean clothes and prepare breakfast, then lay back down, even though I know I'll never manage to fall asleep, as today's Reaping Day.

When my brother and father wake up, I serve the breakfast I prepared earlier - stale tessarae bread and groosling leftovers. I don't feel like eating at all, but I force myself to take small bites of the bread and give my take of the groosling to Jonah.

I get my baby pink reaping dress out of the dusty old wardrobe and put it on. I walk to the cracked mirror in my room and look at my reflection - I look exactly the same as I did last year. But, when I take a closer look at my face, I realize that it looks less chubby and that it's a bit elongated. My ashy blonde hair is in perfect corresponding with my grey eyes, and yet it all looks too average. Certainly, if I get chosen, I won't wow the Capitol with my appearance. I try and get the thought of being reaped out of my mind. After the reaping, I'll be at home, safe and sound. I'll go off hunting with Jonah and bring home food. We will celebrate with a feast and everything will be back to as it was before.

When it's time to go to the Reaping, I clutch my brother's hand and we go to the square. He looks presentable today, his brown hair pushed back and sleek, his suit clean and fresh. We walk slowly, taking small steps, as if that's going to slow time down. A woman takes our blood sample and tells us where to go stand. I hug him and feel him shaking. I console him, tell him everything's going to be fine. I am not lying to him, because even if our father gets picked, he will choose me, as the older one, to go into the Hunger Games. And besides, Jonah has always been his favorite.

We separate and I go stand into the 17-year-old section, whilst he stands with the 15-year-olds. I search for him through the crowd, and he catches my eye. I lift a thumbs-up for reassurance and he nods and smiles feebly at me, looking as pale as ever.

''Welcome, welcome, welcome!'', says our cheerful escort Petunia. ''Isn't it a lovely day?'', she grins at us and I imagine I am burning holes in her stupid hairless head. She seems to notice the grimness and stiffens a bit. Her hands move upward and I see her trying to reduce the awkwardness as she adjusts her gold wig and clears her throat.

''As President Hutt announced, this year we will have a special kind of the Games called the Quarter Quell, held every twenty-five years. This year, the tributes' parents will be reaped and will have to choose what eligible child they want in the Games. If a child has a single parent, the parent's name will be in the reaping bowl twice. No volunteers or sponsors will be allowed.'', said Petunia.

I clench my jaw and ball my hands into fists. My palms are sweating and I feel my heart skip a beat as Petunia draws a piece of paper from the huge glass bowl. All I can hope for is that it's not my father. The crowd draws a collective breath as she unfolds it.

''Ednan Canoris!'', shouts our escort, smiling from ear to ear.

I turn my head in the direction of the adult section and watch as my father makes his way onto the stage.