Forever Foxface: My Writers Games Pieces

1. The Reaping Day

Dedicated to mycastleofbooks
Total word count: 4416
'Any second now.' The thought circles repeatedly through my mind as I stare attentively out my bedroom window. My forearms spread across the ledge and my chin rests on my hands. "Any second now, the sun will climb high enough in the sky for its radiant glowing rays to spread across District Three. Yep, shouldn't be long now." I whisper to myself. It's one of the most beautiful sights here, in factory filled District Three. There's little time or place for things like the sunrise to be appreciated. The sunrise is one of the only things that comes close to natural beauty here. It's all metal, wires and stone. I can't imagine the other districts are like this. There's fishing, lumber, livestock, agriculture, I bet the people there don't have to wake up this early just to get a glimpse at the beauty in nature. I love it here, but I often wonder why I was born in Three. But if I was born in one of those other districts, I'd be used to all the natural beauty that's there and would take it for granted. I don't wanna let it all slip away from me. Then again, there's probably so many people who would trade their life of poverty and labour for someone here. We (most of us) have a nice roof over our heads, (usually) don't go hungry, and don't have to slave away in the hot sun to get by. Instead, we spend our lives working in factories on things like biotech, holograms, computer programming, manufacturing, engineering and more. One day, that'll be my life. So I better savour all the sunrises I can.
Speaking of sunrise, here it comes! The sun's rays peak over the horizon (which is the factories in the distance), and the darkness slowly lifts as the last of the stars fade into the lightening sky. The rays slowly spread across the Manufacturing Settlement Area (MSA) where most District Three citizens live. Within a few minutes, they reach my window. The room fills with a golden glow, and my face looks like it's radiant. The only thing that could make this any more perfect would be if the sun were rising over a nice grassy hill that I fantasise in my head instead of factories. I close my eyes and inhale, then exhale, lingering by the window for longer than usual. There's another reason why I need to savour this particular sunrise. It could be the last time I get this chance again. For today is the reaping for the 75th hunger games. And like every 25 years, this is a quarter quell, which means there's a catch.
Like everyone in District Three, I hate the hunger games. So. Much. But I have a special hatred for quarter quells. The games are bad enough as is. The last thing it needs are more sickening twists to make it 'interesting'. And this quarter quell is definitely the worst so far. I remember when President Snow announced this year's twist:
"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the the rebels that even the weakest among them are not exempt from the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from the ill and disabled of the districts."
It hurts just thinking about it. Especially since I'm among those who can be reaped this year. I've had dyslexia since I was six years old. Academics and speech has never come easy to me. I don't know who was crushed more by the diagnosis; me or my parents. In science-and-technology-orientated District Three, academics are everything. And in my parents eyes, all hope of me having a bright future came crashing down. They definitely still love me, but ever since, my dad is distant towards me, and I'm pretty sure my mum thinks I'm a lost cause. They argue a lot, probably because they blame themselves for my dyslexia since they're the ones who 'made' me, and countless times I thought they'd divorce, but they never have.
Giving one last sullen sigh, I shut the window, close the almost see through curtains and slip out of my nightie. Pulling open my wardrobe, I grab a pair of grey leggings and a purple striped cardigan over a blue shirt. Even if it's Summer, the early mornings are still freezing. After quickly straightening the blanket on my tiny wooden framed bed, I look in the vanity mirror that's opposite the foot of my bed. Good thing I'm short for my age, otherwise I'd never fit. I don't look like most other people in Three, who all have the dark hair and ashen skin the district is known for. Instead, I have pale blonde hair and porcelain skin. The only blemish on my face is a freckle on the bridge of my small nose. My hair is short, just below my chin, and is naturally curly, so it doesn't require a whole lot of brushing. Still, I do anyway. I stare at my reflection as I run the tacky pink brush through my hair. My eyes are a deep ocean blue that fade to an almost green colour where the iris meets the pupil. My lips are pale and thin, and I have a square jawline. This combined with my 5 foot 2 (158 cm) height and slim build makes me look younger, few believing I'm 16. The boys in the district are all attracted to me, and the girls are all envious and want to be my friend. But not when they know about my dyslexia. Then they either bully me, abandon me as a 'lost cause' or treat me like a baby. I hate it even more than quarter quells. And that's saying something.
Slipping on a pair of worn leather shoes, I slowly open my bedroom door and tiptoe as best I can across the creaky oak floorboards down the hall and into the kitchen. I pass by Mio, curled up in his basket. Mio's our 8 year old King Charles. Mum got him as a puppy to study the neuroscience behind training a dog, or something. Even though he's technically Mum's, I'm pretty sure I'm his favourite. He's a great jogging companion, and gives the best doggy cuddles ever. Careful not to wake him, I take a look at the small circular clock the sits on the windowsill. Clocks are really tricky. The numbers all have different values than they usually have. And the two hands look really similar. Then there's the clocks without the hands. They're a whole different story. But this is a clock with hands. Hmm, let's see. A whole lap of the clock is one hour, and there's sixty minutes in one hour. There's twelve numbers, which means the clock is divided into twelve parts. Sixty divided by twelve is... Er... Five! The answer is five! That means you times whatever number the big hand is on by five to get what minute it is. The big hand is on the eleven. Eleven times five is... Um... 55! That means it's only five minutes until the next o'clock. The little hand is almost on the six, which means it's five to six! My parents always sleep in on reaping day, so breakfast will be served later, which means I can come home later. The reaping's not until nine o'clock. Slipping out of the kitchen, I continue tiptoeing through the house until I reach the front door. My hands are on the doorknob when I hear a light squeaking from the kitchen. I know who it is. It's not long until Mio's at my feet, begging me with his big brown eyes to take me with him. I bend down and give him belly rubs for a few minutes as he licks my hand. Once I stand up, Mio's instantly on his feet, yapping quietly. I put my finger to my lips and he instantly stops. "Good boy Mio." I whisper with a smile as I quietly close the door behind me.
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I jog roughly a block down the empty street, past the almost identical houses that are common in District Three. They look more like building blocks than houses, each one being almost completely rectangular with a flat roof and small front and back yard. I love sport, especially running, the feeling of the air rushing past as my strong legs propel me forward until I stop in front of a house. After bounding up to the front door, I knock. A tall, middle aged woman with olive skin and long dark hair peeks her head around the door. Realising who I am, she smiles kindly at me. "Good morning, Mrs Baxwoll." I chirp. "Oh, hello Addilyn. I had a feeling you'd arrive sooner or later. Come in." Mrs Baxwoll stands aside, holding the door for me. "Thanks." I step inside and walk down the hall into a small yet cavernous kitchen. "Corki should be awake, you know where her room is. I'm going to make scrambled eggs later, if you're hungry." She offers as I walk up the passageway to Corki's room. She's 19, and my best friend. She, unlike me, was accepted into the Panem Advanced Technical Training system (PATT). When a child here turns three, they're tested and ranked according to their intelligence. This ranking determines what class the child'll be in at school. I, of course, was down the bottom of the scale. Those up the top, like Corki, are taken to the PATT system, which is exactly what the name suggests. Corki left PATT at the age of 15 to move back in with her parents and started a tutoring business. I was one of her only clients. Turns out, we both share a love for art, music and animals. Four years on, we see each other every day and she has a job in computer coding.
I knock on a white wooden door, which opens almost instantly. A younger version of Mrs Baxwoll sits on her bed deep in a book. She's still in her pyjamas, but her hair is brushed and it looks like she's wearing makeup. "I had a feeling you'd show up soon." Corki closes her book and smiles. "Hey Corki." I flash a nervous smile back. I'm suddenly freaking out about today. She can read me like a book, because she comes up and gives me a hug. "Don't worry. You'll be fine." She whispers in my ear. I wish I could believe her. But because it's only the ill and disabled, it's narrowed down a lot more. I grab her shoulders and look into her rich brown eyes. "Corki," I begin. "I'm freaking out." I say bluntly. "It's okay. The odds are in your favour today." It's true, I haven't taken tesserae, and even if there are fewer names, there's still lots of other people besides me, since Three has a large population. "Come here, I have to show you something." She turns around and pulls out her trusty drawing pad, grinning from ear to ear. I know where this is going. We spend the next forty minutes or so chatting, singing, dancing, drawing and laughing, just like any normal day. One fit of laughter is interrupted by a knock on the door. Mrs Baxwoll sticks her head in after our laughter dies down. "Sorry to barge in, ladies, but breakfast is ready. Addilyn, if you want anything, there's plenty. Also Corki, Otis is on his way over." And with that, she's gone. Otis is Corki's twenty year old boyfriend, who works with her in computer coding. I stand up, my sides still aching, and open the bedroom door. "You coming Corki?" I hold the door open for her. "Actually, I'd like to get dressed before breakfast. You can go down and start without me." She states, opening a chest of drawers. "Oh, okay. Hurry." I point my finger at her, closing the door behind me and rushing into the kitchen. "I won't have a lot, want to save room for breakfast at home." I tell Mrs Baxwoll. "That's fine dear." She places a small serving of eggs and a bread roll onto a plate and hands it to me. Each district has their own type of bread, and the bread from Three is square, bite-sized rolls, so toast isn't much of an option.
"Thanks." I sit down and start eating when a tall young man walks in. He has hazel eyes, fluffy-looking dark hair and ashen skin. "Hey Otis." I wave awkwardly. "Hey Addilyn." He waves back. Two seconds later, Corki emerges, now wearing blue jeans with an apricot t-shirt and black vest. The couple exchange a quick kiss and promptly sit down to eat, along with Mr Baxwoll, who looks quite a bit like Otis. We eat in silence, none of us wanting to address what's most on our minds; the reaping. I'm the first to finish, and put my plate away. "I'd better get going, Mum and Dad will be up by now." I push in my chair and both Corki and Mrs Baxwoll give me a hug. "You'll be fine today, I'll be with you." Corki reassures as I leave. I try to convince myself that same thing as I jog back home. As I step in the door, I'm knocked off my feet by my 13 year old brother Kenji, speeding around the house. He has ADHD, so he's in the reaping today as well. He's always hyper, and can be really annoying. He teases me constantly, which has resulted in many fights, many broken items, and many injuries.
"KENJI!" I shriek, getting up angrily. A short boy with pale skin, ashy blonde hair and mischievous turquoise eyes smiles evilly at me. "Be quiet, you'll wake up Mum and Dad." He warns before speeding off again. "Wait, they're not up yet?!" I easily catch up to Kenji. I hear shuffling from another room. "They are now. And you're gonna be in trouble." He sings tauntingly and sprints away. "Addilyn, what was that about? What's with the yelling?" Dad asks grumpily. Mum follows him. "You know we sleep in on reaping day. Just because you're awake doesn't mean you can make as much noise as you like." She exasperates. Kenji enters a moment later. "What's going on?" He yawns groggily. "You woke your brother?! How disrespectful of you!" Mum snaps. "I didn't wake him! He was running around the house and knocked me over!" I retaliate. "No I didn't!" Soon we're screaming at each other. I hate lying almost as much as quarter quells. "ENOUGH!" Mum yells. "I don't want to hear it. This is not a day for arguing, and you both know it. Now, who wants breakfast?" Mum pulls a large pack of bread rolls and a variety of spreads out of a cupboard. "I won't have much, I had eggs over at Corki's." I say, grabbing only two rolls. Not that I have much of an appetite anyway. I cut them in half and cover them with strawberry jam. "Yeah, how is Corki?" Mum asks. "She's good. Her job's going well." I sit down at the simple wooden table, where Kenji's stuffing his face with two rolls at once. I doubt the reaping's affecting him much. "That's nice. She's a computer coder, right?" I nod as she and Dad grab their rolls and sit down. There's usually little conversation around the table, but like at Corki's, there's awkwardness because no one wants to admit they're thinking about the reaping. Everyone eating, Mio's whimpering and Kenji's fidgeting are the only sounds. I quickly scoff down my breakfast just to escape the awkwardness. I stare hard at the clock to try and work out what the time is. "It's five past seven, for crying out loud!" Kenji exclaims as he puts his plate in the sink. I glare at him, retreat to my room and think about how to spend the next hour before I have to get ready for the reaping. I look around my rectangular room, attempting to memorise it in case it's the last time I see it. The oak floorboards are mostly covered by a creamy white rug that matches the walls. My tiny wooden framed bed only has a woollen blanket with bluebirds (at least that's what I'm told they are) on it, and is pushed into the corner. Hanging above it is a canvas with a butterfly I painted on it. Next to my bed is a walk-in wardrobe, and next to that is a vanity with a mirror above it. Opposite that is a set of bookshelves, covered in drawings and sculptures, and a desk. The small window is opposite the door. I grab my own drawing pad, scoop up Mio and head outside, running my fingers along the wall the whole way.
I flop down in our small, bare backyard and take off my shoes, feeling the fresh Summer grass between my toes. The only thing in it is a washing line and a makeshift kennel for Mio, who right now has his black and tan head flopped on my stomach. The white, fluffy clouds are beautiful today. There's no work because of the reaping, so there's no smog in the sky from factories. I spend a while drawing them, trying to get the shading right. One of them looks like mockingjay, a bird I've only heard about in stories. I remember one of last year's tributes had a mockingjay pin as her token, but she was killed. I move on to another cloud shaped like Mio, which gives me the idea to draw him. I'm almost done when, all too soon, Kenji calls me in to get ready. I give a depressed sigh and head inside.
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I hold up the dress I have to wear in front of me. Having scrubbed myself from head to toe and thoroughly brushed my hair (which did nothing), all I need is the dress. It's fairly simple, a denim blue knee length dress with short, puffy sleeves and a collar. The skirt flares out at the hips, and a black ribbon tied into a bow sits around the waist. It's like a uniform, since almost all District three girls wear similar outfits to the reaping. I slip it on and look in the vanity mirror. It's missing something. I pull out a black headband and some crimson lipstick, the only makeup I own (and know how to use). Putting the headband and lipstick on, I almost don't recognise myself. The headband makes me look younger, but the lipstick makes me look older. It's weird, I love it.
I walk out of my room and almost run into Kenji. Again. He's wearing a blue collared shirt, black pants and brown leather shoes. "Aw, you look darling." I coo. Seriously, he looks so cute. "Which factory chimney did you get stuck in?" Is all he can say before walking off. My hands clench into fists, but I don't react. I just breathe and walk to the kitchen. Mum's wearing a neat saffron dress, with a gorgeous jewelled brooch in the shape of a rose that I've always wanted, and Dad's wearing a blue plaid shirt with black pants. My family all hug, even though we're going to the reaping together. As we walk down the street, Corki comes out of her house in a pretty white dress with green lace covering it. We stare at each other in a way equivalent to saying, 'You look gorgeous.' Saying nothing, the five of us, with the rest of Three, navigate our way through the MSA until we reach four large, dark tunnels, each a couple hundred feet long. Many people are streaming into each one, so we're careful to stick together. On the other side is the town square, with the stage and Justice Building up the front, and behind that is the Victor's Village. My parents and Corki wait over where all the parents/friends stand as Kenji and I line up in our gender groups. The pens are much smaller this year, but they're filling up fast. Most people have physical disabilities, like blindness, deafness, lung problems, missing limbs, that kind of thing. It's soon my turn. A peacekeeper grabs my finger and pricks it, causing blood to drip into a scanner. I flinch and turn away as soon as possible to find my spot in the pen. My spot is next to a broad shouldered girl with dark hair and a missing right leg. She glares at me, and looks like she could kill me with one punch. I shiver under her gaze, and turn to find Kenji, but he's lost amongst the crowd. Within a few minutes, the pens are full and the mayor comes up to do his standard protocol. I zone out from the minute he opens his mouth, but I do take in the escort's outfit. Her hair can only be described as blue cotton candy, and she's wearing white face powder with sky blue makeup on her eyes, lips and nails. Her too tight dress is a matching blue covered head to toe in sequins that mesmerisingly catch the sun's rays, and she has a feather boa that looks exactly like her hair. Her blue heels defy what few laws of gravity I know, and she's tapping her foot with a huge grin on her face. A video about the history of the games is played with a massive projector, and next thing I know is the escort is at the microphone. She does her standard 'happy hunger games, and may the odds be ever in your favour' and walks over to the girls bowl, stirring the paper slips around before selectively picking one and reading it out. "Addilyn Rivedelle." I can picture the look of horror on Corki's face. No, this can't be happening. Maybe the escort's crazy accent made the name sound like mine. A pathway is cleared for me to get to the stage. Guess it is happening. I walk up the steps, the only indication of my nerves are my shaking knees. This fear turns to anger when I must announce my disability to all of Panem. "Addilyn Rivedelle, I'm sixteen and have dyselxi- dyslaxe- dylexis-" I stammer. "Dyslexia, darling?" The escort sympathetically asks. I nod and step away from the microphone. She steps over to the boys bowl as I lock eyes with my parents. They're both good at hiding emotions, so I don't know what they're thinking. The pain is clearly etched on Corki's face, as I imagined it. I still can't see Kenji though. I'm so lost in thought I missed the male tribute being called. He's now walking up onstage. He's tall and broad shouldered, but aside from that, he's fairly scrawny. His scruffy dark hair falls into his electric green eyes. "Neon Green, I'm seventeen and deaf." He relents gruffly. We're ordered to shake before being herded into separate rooms in the Justice Building.
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I'm lying on a leather couch. All my energy seems to have disappeared. My family is fairly wealthy compared the the rest of Three, but it's nothing, compared to this room, with it's fancy leather seating, midnight blue walls and finely carved wooden furniture. I no longer care about the luxurious beauty. I'm angry, scared, mentally exhausted and going to die. I don't want to cry until after I'm on the train. I don't want to appear weak, or let my family lose hope, even though I'm gonna die. I wonder what's going through my fellow tribute's mind. Does he have friends or family to visit him, or is he all alone? As soon as this thought enters my mind, Corki enters the room and immediately envelopes me in her arms. I open my mouth, but she shushes me. "I know what you're thinking, and no, you're not gonna die." She asserts. "Don't make promises you can't keep." I say drearily. Corki ignores this. "You have skills. Useful skills. You have two feet, and can run, both with speed and endurance. You're amazing with rope. Your fights with Kenji have been excellent training. I've read about the training centre. Make sure to get to train in hand-to-hand combat, knot-tying, snare-setting, camouflage, maybe a bit of the gauntlet, if you're up to it. If you practise, you can hone the skills you already have. Work on your agility, and don't forget your survival skills." She hits me with so much information, I'm overwhelmed. No way I'll remember all this, I have a terrible short term memory. "Sorry, I've probably freaked you out even more. You'll figure things out. You're strong. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Peacekeepers come in signalling she has to leave. "Love you Addi." She calls out as the door slams in her face. Next my parents and Kenji enter. Kenji pulls something out of his pocket. A rainbow marble attached to a chain. Kenji's never shared his marbles. "Wait a minute, isn't this one of Mum's bracelets?" I question. "Do you want it or not?" He huffs. I consider it a moment, then slip it on his wrist. "I don't need it, you do. Consider it a peace offering. Besides, it technically belongs to Mum." He gives me a quick hug. "Try your best." He whispers. Mum's next. She gives me a hug. "I'm sorry." She whispers. "For what?" I ask. "Everything." Is all she can say. She takes off her brooch and pins it to my dress. "You're my rose in the desert. I'll always love you, no matter what." She says softly, resting her hand on my shoulder. "Oh come on, you take her gift but not mine?!" I glare at Kenji, who immediately shuts his mouth. Dad says nothing, but we nod at each other, which is more than any words could say. The peacekeepers return, and my family leaves. I know I'll have no more visitors. I rub the pin gently. The stem is made of Jade, and the petals are made of Rose Quartz. I've always wanted it, and now it's mine. I guess this'll be my token. I lie back on the couch to wait for the escort, but don't let my emotions take over.
Not yet, anyway.