fantasy | johanna mason

chapter five

I buy my family a nice meal from the market as I promised, a meal of rabbit and tree bark stew, fresh bakery bread, dandelion and elderberry salad, and a beautiful cake made from forest berries and the sweet inner bark of an apple tree. It's a special meal by District Seven's standards, though unlike the refined food the Capitol has to offer.

"Elowen? Rowan?" my father's voice says through the dense trees.

I yell back, "we're coming down!"

I start climbing down the tall elm tree, sliding down the thick trunk when the branches tapered off. Rowan, being quite a bit shorter than me, has trouble reaching the ground. I let her land on my shoulder and place her on the ground.

My father smiles and laughs. "You two are really something else."

Rowan shrugs. "Maybe."

"How's your hand, dad?" I ask.

Dad holds up his bandaged hand for Rowan and I to see. "Could've been way worse. I'm lucky the blade didn't do much major damage. It's all stitched up for the most part and the feeling in my hand is beginning to come back, but the doc told me to keep the bandage on so it doesn't get infected or open back up."

"I'm so sorry, dad," Rowan says.

Dad pats Rowan on the back. "It's fine, Row. It wasn't even your fault, I told you already."

I find a spot under the shade of a tree for our picnic and sit down on the dry dirt. "C'mon, I made a nice meal for us."

For a while, we just sit and savour the meal. Though we could eat the fanciest food Seven has to offer every day if we wanted to, we still save delicacies for special occasions.

Rowan is the first to speak during our meal, swallowing a spoonful of stew. "I'm sorry, but I feel we need to talk about the Games. All three of us. As a family."

I sigh, biting into a slice of bread. "It isn't the most pleasant of topics, but I guess you're right."

"I think you have every reason to be scared," Dad says. "But I don't think lingering on it will do much good."

I'm not sure if I agree more with Rowan or with Dad. "I think," I begin, finishing eating my bite of bread, "I think it could be a topic of conversation, but I don't know if it's good to linger on it too much."

"I thought you would understand, Low," Rowan says, maybe feeling misunderstood. "Don't you know how it feels to have all your friends be eligible for the reaping, too?"

I think back to before my Games, when all of my friends, the people I knew from school, were also sent to the reaping every year. On years when a kid from my class would go to the Games, all we did in class was stare at the empty seat belonging to a kid who was now dead.

"I know, Rowan," I console in a soft voice. "I know how scary it is."

Rowan just nods, and without saying anything, we decide it's best to keep quiet about the Games.

-

Sometime during the night, Rowan snuck into my bed, and the first thing I see when I wake up are her messy, red locks.

"Good morning, Row," I say gently.

"The rea-" Rowan begins, but I shush her.

I stroke my sister's head soothingly. "Don't even think about it, Row."

Rowan obeys, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes again. We stay like that until my father rouses us.

-

Rowan wears a forest green dress with lace accents, a reaping dress no other girl in District Seven could ever dream of affording.

I fix a pin in her half-up, half-down hairdo, and try to smile. "Ready?"

Rowan nods unsurely.

"Deep breaths, okay?"

"Okay."

We arrive at the Justice Building, which is teeming with miserable looking teenagers. I stay with Rowan as she signs in. The Peacekeeper signing the kids in looks at me expectingly after Rowan signs in, waiting for me to sign in as well. Eventually, the Peacekeeper just nods, realizing I'm a victor. I suppose I look different with simple clothes on and my face free of makeup.

I sigh, giving Rowan one last hug before she's forced to join the other fourteen-year-olds. "I love you, Rowan."

"I love you too, El."

"I'll see you soon," I say as Rowan is ushered off to her respected area by a Peacekeeper.

I stand behind all the kids, with the anxious-looking parents and the other citizens of District Seven who have no one to be worried for on Reaping Day. I don't see my father anywhere. Perhaps he's further back in the crowd.

"Hey," the high-pitched voice of Johanna Mason says beside me. "Don't worry. If they send the redhead to the Games, I'll put an axe in one of their faces."

"I- um, thanks, Johanna."

Our attention is redirected when District Seven's escort, a man named Aeneas Undergrove, comes on stage wearing an oversized smile. His bouncy curls are always dyed a blinding neon colour, and this year they're a neon yellow. I try not to look at his hair too much, as I'm scared looking at the colour for too long will actually blind me.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Aeneas pipes in his ridiculous Capitol accent. "And may the odds be ever  in your favour."

Though I'm not looking at her, I know Johanna rolled her eyes.

We watch the propaganda video by the Capitol about the Dark Days and how each defeated district must send a male and female youth each year to fight to the death in the Hunger Games.

"Ladies first!" Aeneas announces once the video is over.

I take a deep breath, like I told Rowan to, and pray for her safety.

Aeneas reaches into the girls' bowl, which has thousands of slips in it, three with my sister's name on it.

"The female tribute from District Seven is..."