Brutus

The reaping

ESTELLA'S POV

I sat at the white light-up vanity as my father put my hair into a ballerina bun to prepare me for my third reaping. I look at myself, admiring the sliver accents that were put in my hair as a way to "represent my district." Although I thought it was pretty stupid, he wanted to show respect even though he didn't agree with the way of the capitol. He could tell by the look on my face that I was a nervous wreck. Once we were done with my hair and makeup, I was taken to the den, where the rest of my family sat waiting for my arrival. It was tradition for us to sit and talk before the reaping started, but this year I would be the only person to do the reaping, as my older brothers turned 19 in May and my younger brother was just now 11. For 30 minutes, we sat and talked until it was time for me to go get pricked. I've done it for 3 years now, and it never hurts any less than before. You'd think I'd get used to it by now, but somehow it never gets easier.

As I am pushed into the crowd, waiting for the announcer to finish his big speech I begin to start feeling lightheaded at the sheer lack of names in the female bowl this year you could practically see over half of the bowl. "Happy Hunger Games to those young and old! I am extremely excited to be escorting our lucky District 6 tributes! Per usual, ladies first." My chest begins to heave as he mixes through the names. It feels as though he's looking for a certain name (my name), and he finally pulls out the name, "Estella Barns!" My heart stops. It feels as though I'm going to pass out, but instead of showing, I walk up the stairs with a capitol smile, just as I had practiced all this time, even though I was not prepared to use it. I stand next to him, smiling sweetly at the cameras. "Well, let's move on to the gentlemen, shall we?" Instead of mixing through the bowl, this time he digs deep and takes a name out of the bottom of the bowl: "Bishop Rhine!" Everyone's heads immediately turn to the little blonde boy who looks no more than 14 years old, maybe not even that he looks terrified, but nonetheless he makes his way up to the stage slowly but surely. "Wait, wait, wait, I volunteer as tribute!" A sickly familiar voice says from the far end of the male crowd, "Fuck no, no, no." I whisper under my breath as the curly-haired boy makes his way up the stage. "Well, this makes for a very interesting turn of events. What's your name, son?" says Ryder Payne, the escort. "Carnation Flank," he says proudly, but I can see the fear and desperation in his face. "Well, then shake hands!" We turn almost instantly and do our handshake while smiling at each other, a moment of joy that only lasts momentarily due to being interrupted by the upbeat voice of Ryder. Ryder says, "Well, there you have it, folks, district 6's tributes for the 74th Hunger Games!

I sit in the cart and wait for my family to come visit me. I fought back tears, trying not to ruin the pretty makeup I had on. "Save your tears for the pillow," I repeat over and over in my head until the tears stop.

I sit and wait for what feels like an eternity, but when the door opens, I don't see anyone in my family. I'm met with a peacekeeper grabbing me by the arm. He walks me into a bright white train. I am sitting down at a big table filled with tons of food, "Oh, thank God because I am starving!" My thoughts are interrupted by someone clearing their throat. "So, are you going to thank me?" Carnation says in a condescending tone, "For what? I didn't ask you for anything; we haven't talked in 3 weeks!" I say back, looking up from my plate, "Oh, please, those big brown eyes were practically begging for me to volunteer." "Mm, and what are you going to do then, huh? Because I assume you have intent to win, you're going to kill me when it comes down to just you and me? You have to be the most idiotic person in the world to not have thought this through." "QUIET!"