Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Fountain - Onyx

Onyx

Fireworks.

Why won't they shut up?

I roll over on my makeshift bed and squeeze my eyes closed, trying to sleep. I've slept on worse. I suppose I'm lucky to be indoors tonight, but with the bone-bracing chill starting to wash over the hills, sleeping outdoors is no longer an option. The others can take it, they even take pride in striding over the crags in bare sleeves and shorts, but I just don't seem to be able to get used to cold, no matter how much of it I suffer.

A loud bang and a flash of vivid purple light bursts through my frame, shaking the roof, and as my ears stop ringing I can make out rough, boyish laughter. They probably don't know I'm in here, but just to make sure I huddle closer into the corner. The bang has lit up the room for a second, and it illuminates the lack of anything. No furniture, nothing. Just me and my faded blanket, hiding from the celebrations.

Why do they celebrate? Every year I ask myself this. It rings particularly brightly now that Ami is gone. Once upon a time she'd have been here with me, laughing at the fireworks and making me dance, but now I don't even have that. Automatically, my fingers dip into my pocket and find the cold hard stone there, her last gift. If I had the heart to sell it I could guarantee somewhere to stay for a few weeks - everything here is so expensive when you have nothing but tesserae - but I can't imagine letting it go.

Once I turn eighteen I can get a job. Now I should be training; that should be my sole focus. But what's the point? I came out wrong and I'll never be fit for the Games no matter how hard I try. My leg will always be a welcome barrier. 

I shift position to get comfortable again, having to haul my leg into position where it has gone stiff. It's better than it hurting, anyway. With a sigh that I'm glad the excitable killing machines outside can't hear, I pull the blanket up over my ears and try to block out the revelry, letting the dread in my own mind keep me from sleeping.

I am woken by a white boot colliding with my ribs, and a tall bright shape ripping the blanket from my arms. Even then I can't wake up properly. My whole body is numb and not responding. Weak, early morning light seeps in through the windows. Outside sounds quiet compared to last night, though in the distance, someone is obviously speaking into a microphone. They sound excited and it makes my stomach turn.

Closer to me, the two white shapes are talking.

"...the lame one. Doesn't attend training..."

"Never thought I'd find myself having to do this, here of all places."

"This'll be a story for them back home, won't it?"

"Come on, up you get!"

I find myself being hauled to my feet as my brain catches up. Peacekeepers, on patrol to make sure we're all at the reaping. Not that it's much of a reaping anyway. My arm feels heavy as I brush my hair away from my eyes. The Peacekeepers try and set me on my feet, still holding on tightly to my shoulders, but my leg, still stiff with cold and lack of movement, won't take my weight.

"Lemme go," I mumble half-heartedly. My voice sounds cracked; I haven't heard it in a while.

"You know the rules!" the Peacekeeper on my right declares proudly. "Attendance at the Reaping is compulsory for everybody."

"How many times you in there, kid?" asks the other. He smells faintly of a woman's perfume, floral but sickly. Ami never smelt like that.

Ami never got to be a woman.

"Dunno."

I genuinely don't. I've taken a lot of tesserae - it can't provide me with any more shame than I already have - but there's no point in counting. It makes no difference, not like it does in the other districts. That doesn't seem right, knowing that if it is me, somebody else will volunteer just to go and earn their own fame, not because they actually care about me. They actually want to go out and kill.