Firecracker: The 99th Games Book One

The Reaping, Districts 7-9

District 7, Lumber

Another year, another Reaping. Kikue would be a lot less nervous if her uncle had let her practice combat in public.

Instead, she'd had to hide all this time, learning how to use a bow in the back room of her home, sneaking knife training in when she hid in the thick groves of trees, studying poisons in books she'd snuck from the underground market...even though she hadn't needed to use this knowledge yet, having it just made her feel safer. The ironically-named "Peacekeepers" caused enough trouble even without the Games.

"Kikue," her uncle called, cutting into her thoughts. "The Reaping begins in five minutes. It's time to go."

Kikue sighed heavily to herself. Nodding, she slid on a headband, smoothed out her dress, and followed her uncle out the door. All this knowledge and nothing to use it on. A tiny piece of her almost wanted to volunteer. But she still had three Reapings to go before she lost her shot--two after this year's--so there was no rush, per se.

Besides, District 7 wasn't exactly known for volunteers. She would draw attention to herself if she wasn't careful.

She separated from her uncle to go through the line for girls. The prick to her finger caused a tiny pinch, but it wasn't bad.

"Ow!"

Jumping, Kikue looked over at the boys' line, where a boy with dirty blond hair looked down at his finger, expression a mix of resigned acceptance and genuine fear. For some reason, his fingertip was leaking blood, from where the needle used to collect the tribute's blood had somehow managed to dig in so deep and so hard that it ripped off some of his skin.

Kikue recognized him after a moment, but only from stories. This poor boy had been banned from just about every location in District 7 because every time he did anything, something horrible happened to him. It was a miracle he was still alive, and a bigger miracle he'd not been reaped yet.

"I-it's fine, it's okay!" he insisted cheerfully as the Peacekeeper taking his blood tried to figure out what the heck just happened. "That just happens to me sometimes. I'll just wrap it in my shirt to stop the blood. Thank you!"

Kikue smiled bitterly to herself as she took her place in the crowd. His cheerfulness was...stupid. Incredibly stupid. What was there to be happy about today? But at the same time, it was almost contagious. She couldn't tell if she wanted to laugh or scoff at him.

Boys were strange.

Kikue watched the mayor attentively as he gave his speech. Panem used to be called America, a big Civil War broke out, now the Capitol was in charge because they were the best. She was almost impressed the mayor could get those same wrong details correct every year, but it also made sense to imagine the speech was completely scripted by the Capitol. The mayor didn't even seem to believe what he was saying.

Their Escort took the stage next. He was tall, fairly well-muscled, and the douchiest shade of blond imaginable. Kikue had always thought District 7 had the scummiest Escort...but then again, when she watched the Reapings on television, District 6's Escort clearly was not better.

"Now that the boring speech is over, let's get to the important part," the Escort declared, lazily shoving a hand in the bowl for the women and pulling out a name. "Our lucky winner is...Kick-oo Nagachi? What the f*ck kind of name is that?"

The mayor reached for the paper, reading it instead. "...That would be Kikue Noguchi."

"Whatever," the Escort muttered, snatching the paper back. "It's a weird name."