The Second Quarter Quell

Chapter One-The Reaping

Chapter One- The Reaping

    When I wake up, I feel an unusual sense of fear. The first thing that hits my mind is that this year, there's an even greater chance of my name being drawn in the reaping.

    I force myself to get out of bed and open the drawer of my family's old wooden dresser. Today's the one day people in District 12 clean themseleves up and put on their pricey clothes. The one day you cant see the black streaks on the men's faces from working in the coal mines. The one day all of District Twelve gathers together to hear the names of this years tributes being drawn.

    The day where fear lingers in the air like an unpleasent stench. The day where two teenagers, or in this case four, have to come to the realization that they have a chance of 1 out of (in this case) 47 that they wont die. The day wear 46 teenagers are basically sentenced to death.

    This is the day of the Reaping.

    I find my reaping clothes, a white button-down shirt and dark pants, and put them on. Its hours before the reaping at 2:00, but I have nothing to pass the time. To be honest, I dont feel like talking to anyone right now. I usually prefer to be left alone.

    After a special lunch of fresh bread, my mother, little brother and I leave our small, clumsily built house and head for the Square, where all of District Twelve will hear the names of their tributes being called.

    A crowd of people is already there, but we're early enough that my mom and my brother have a decent view of the stage. We part ways and I start to walk over to the designated area for the 16 year old boys, when someone runs past me, bumping me hard in the shoulder. Its a girl, with long blonde hair, and, like most of us, grey seam eyes. She turns around quickly and mutters a "Sorry." before dissapearing into the rest of the 15 year old girls.

     I continue on and take my place with the rest of the 16 year old boys. I cant get rid of the fear that my name will be drawn, but unlike most of the others I dont let it show on my face.

    More and more people take their place in the Square, until the late-commers are pushed into the close by streets. When it seems as if everyone is  there, Valerie Clemments, the woman chosen to be the organizer of the Games for District 12, walks onto the stage, wearing a ridiculous frilly pink dress, her skin an unusual pale, while her curyly hair is jet-black and done up in a bun. 

    Everyone quiets as she starts to speak, telling the story of the Dark Days and how the Hunger Games came to be. I pretend to listen, but really just tune it out. I've heard it enought time in school and previous reapings already.

   When she finishes is when people really start to pay attention to her. It's when some of the twelve year olds start shaking in fear and the mothers start weaping for fear of their children. Its when my heart beats so hard it almost hurts.

    "This year, " Valerie starts in her strong Capitol accent, "In celebration of the Quarter Quell, there will not only be two but four tributes from this district that will have the honour of participating in the anual Hunger Games! So, let the names be drawn! Ladies first! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

    The way she makes it sound like a celebration makes me sick. She reaches her hand into a clear ball, swirling with the names of the teens of District 12. She pulls out a yellowed peice of paper and calls "HESTIA BROOK!"

    A fourteen year-old shakily makes her way towards the stage, lower lip trembling, about to cry.

    "MAYSILEE DONNER!"

    Its the girl who bumped into me earlier, the one with the blonde hair. Before she can start to walk to the stage two girls, both with blonde hair as well, pull her into a hug. When they finally let go of her, they're all in tears. Maysilee walks onto the stage with a pale face, wiping the tears from her eyes.

    "On to the boys!" Valerie Clemments calls. Once again she reaches her hand in the clear ball and pulls out the two names. 

   It feels like I can hardly breathe, and the fear in me grows even stronger, but I cant let it show on my face.

    Then she shouts, "HAYMITCH ABERNANTHY!"

     No, no, no. I couldn't have heard her right. She couldn't have said my name.

    Then one of the boys says "Haymitch, go up."

    So it is me.

    I'm now a trribute of the 50th Hunger Games, of the Second Quarter Quell.  I now have a very, very slim chance to live to my 17th birthday. 

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Sorry there's not alot of diologue, i promise there wont be this many narrative paragraphs in the upcoming chapters. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!