The Trubute

2

I watch as the birds take flight. My arrow shoots down one, and I pick it up. It is fat, and after adding it to my haul, it should be enough to barter for liquor. Of all the times to run out, it had to be today.Today is reaping day, and I know from experience Haymitch needs to be drunk before facing the stage, facing the next two victims. He doesn't just need to be mildly tipsy; he needs to be falling down, laughing in the face of the Peacekeepers inebriated.And I so I add the pigeon to my cache of three squirrels and a pheasant before slinging them over my shoulders. I settle into my strong, loping run, faster than a lot of other people I know. Climbing trees scares me, I can hardly swim, but I can run. I fly all the way to the Hob, the black-market of the Seam. A few people notice when I walk inside and nod to me. I've gained a bit of a reputation the past two years. Living in Haymitch's house, I never wanted for anything, but plenty of others did. I dole out food to the hungriest families and try to help the sick and injured with the medicine that's available, which is little. I've become the Seam's caregiver, but even I can only do so much. There are still sick people, and hungry people, and I still trade meat even though I could pay with coins because I know someone else will benefit.I go to Greasy Sae first. She greets me with an appraising nod."Not a bad haul." She says."Pheasant's pretty good. Nice and fat." I say, slapping the meat down on the counter. "And I know you're a whiz with squirrel.""Hmm." Is all she says, but she's grinning. I sit down at her counter as she appraises the meat. Finally, she slaps some coins down on the counter and pulls the meat over."How's the old drunkard?" She asks me as I pocket the coins."Sobering up." I say and she grimaces."The reaping's today." She tells me."Thanks, I hadn't noticed." I say sarcastically, and she waves her fingers at me dismissively."You're even beginning to sound like him.""Sae, how could you? I'm much more charming than Haymitch could ever be." I tease, and she points toward Ripper, the woman who sells liquor."Get a move on!" She says, pretending to chase me out of my seat with her knife. I can't help but notice it's ancient and dull.I hurry to Ripper's, quickly bartering for a bottle or two of white liquor, and stash the bottles in my bag.The way home to the Village is quick. When I walk inside, the first thing I hear is a shout of anger. I take a deep breath to brace myself and walk inside.Haymitch brandishes a knife at me as I walk through the door. His eyes are red and his mouth twisted into a snarl.I set down the bag, letting the bottle clink together. His face brightens instantly."Good girl." He says, opening the bag and taking out a bottle."Try not to pass out. We have somewhere to be later." I say, and his eyes darken. He twists the top off the bottle and takes a deep draught."There's something for you upstairs." He says, and I look at him, puzzled. His face tells me nothing.I walk up the stairs to my bedroom, messy but homey. The bed is huge and unmade, but right now there is a dress laid out messily on top of the covers. I recognize it immediately.It was my mother's, her one nice dress, all cream and lace and ladylike, with long sleeves. It is the nicest thing she ever had. Despite our wealth, Haymitch and I don't spend more than what we need: repairing the occasional window, medicine, liquor, and food. I don't want more than that. But this dress…I slip into it, feeling the stiff fabric settle against my skin. It smells like my mother still, the faint trace of wildflowers and flour. I take a deep sniff, feeling the scent of ash fill my nostrils as well. I nearly gag. The smell is in my head. There is no smoke on the dress, or none in my bedroom. But my memories are resurfacing, coming into the waking world. I look at myself in the mirror, trying to ignore the faint sadness prickling up my bare arms.I have changed in the last two years. My hollow cheeks have filled out. I have hardly grown, and despite having plentiful food, I've stayed thin. The too-big dress fits me but hides the curves that have appeared in the last few years. The effect of living with Haymitch is apparent: I am strong now, my arms and legs filled out with muscle, my lungs built for endurance. My hair is healthy and shiny, though I still cut it with scissors, and my eyes are bright. My skin has remained fair despite the sun I get, and I have faint freckles scattered on my shoulders and nose. I can't help thinking that if I was chosen in the reaping today, at least I would be strong. And I can fight.Maybe the seed was planted right there, staring at myself in the mirror.Then it is time for the reaping and I must prepare myself for the worst; watching two kids get picked. It is my fourth year, and I should be used to it, but every year I feel the same pang of helplessness watching them walk up there, knowing and living with the fact that I can do nothing.I meet Haymitch downstairs. He is wearing a suit, but his face is bright red and he smells of drink."Ready to go, Pigeon?" He asks, his words slurring oh-so-slightly. I nod and we walk outside. We try to joke all the way to the square, trying to guess what crazy get-up Effie Trinket, the woman the Capitol sends to escort the tributes, will be wearing today, but it's forced. We both know what may happen to me, to someone we know. My own thoughts are on Peeta. If he goes, I'll die. Anyone but him.When we get to the square, we are separated. Haymitch is required to make an appearance onstage as a mentor, and I am herded in with others my age like cattle. I catch sight of a blond head and I put a hand on Peeta's shoulder. He spins anxiously."Calm down, kid, it's just me." I say with a smile, trying to appear okay. Fear flickers like flames in his eyes."I know." He's trying to be brave, but his thirteen-year-old self is too young to truly be calm in the face of this danger. I can see his eyes darting around."Peeta, you're not going to get called up. Not now, not ever." I tell him. "The odds are in your favor." As they are in mine.The corner of his mouth turns up slightly with hope, and I hug him to my chest."Hey!" He pushes back half-heartedly, but allows me to hug him."I'll find you after." I tell him, kissing him on the forehead, and he heads off into the crowd to find his age group. I go to find my own.The crowd is silent, but the air seems to whisper with both terror and optimism. Terror that you will be chosen. Optimism that there are dozens of others and only one will be picked. I wait calmly for Effie to come onstage. When she finally does, I have to smile at her getup. Why am I not more afraid?She wears such high heels I wonder how she cannot fall, a florid pink dress and cardigan, matching lipstick and eyes that can only be modeled after a peacock. Her curls must be part of a wig, because no one's hair can change from shimmery green to blue the way hers does. She sits down next to the mayor and Haymitch.The moment the town clock strikes two, the mayor stands. He moves to the podium and begins to speak. I know the story he tells. He speaks of the history of Panem, how it began from the destruction that used to be named North America. He emphasizes the natural and manmade disasters that led to the rise of Panem, which by contrast sounds perfect. A Capitol ringed by thirteen Districts; the flawless society. But the Dark Days came, a time when the Districts rose up against the Capitol. Twelve were beat down, the thirteenth obliterated. And so, the Hunger Games were created.He goes on to explain the rules of the Hunger Games, but all I can hear is, "we are above you," spoken by the Capitol through their puppet mayor."It is a time for repentance and also a time for thanks." The mayor says, and I have to keep a smirk from spreading over my face. How could anyone be thankful? How can anyone be pleased at watching twenty-four children fight to the death? How can anyone stand looking at the victor, which is never from our district, not since Haymitch himself? How can the victors stand themselves?The mayor reads a list of our past victors. There have been two in 71 years, and only Haymitch is alive. He is staggering drunk, but he keeps his mouth shut, thankfully. I clap along with everyone else, and the mayor, perhaps seizing the opportunity of Haymitch's silence, quickly introduces Effie Trinket.She walks up to the podium with her too-high shoes and peacock eyes and begins speaking, and I cringe at the happiness in her voice."Happy Hunger Games!" She chirps in her Capitol accent. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."There is silence at her words. I doubt she realizes that those words are simply another wound. The odds aren't in District 12's favor, and they never have been."It is such an honor to be here, as always. I just love visiting District 12 year after year." Effie Trinket says, and suddenly, everything's dark and solemn, because she's getting closer to moving towards that massive, clear ball filled with slips of paper."Ladies first!" She finally says, and her high heels tap over to the reaping ball. The crowd seems to hold a breath of anticipation, and it is so quiet so can hear the rustle of paper as Effie draws out a single slip of paper. She looks at all of us, building the suspense, and then unfolds the paper."Robin Pyrmont." She says, and my first reaction is relief. My second is guilt, because the girl next to me lets out a gasp before breaking down in loud sobs.I don't know the Pyrmonts well. Not at all. It is a family of four: a mother and three daughters. I know because their father died in the same accident that took mine. The oldest, sixteen, has collapsed into weeping next to me. The second oldest is trembling as she walks up to the stage, moving past shocked yet relieved people. She looks nearly identical to the girl beside me, just a few years apart. Rose and Robin Pyrmont. Sixteen and thirteen.And suddenly I am furious. I don't know why. Maybe it is because the mines claimed a loved one of theirs as well. Maybe it is because her sister is now screaming for Robin, desperately but futilely. Maybe it is because when I look at Robin, I see her tears and her shaking and I realize that she is Peeta's age.She is almost to the stage, walking up the stairs. The crowd seems to be waiting for something to happen, murmuring among themselves, but it is almost too late for anyone to save poor, little Robin."Wait!"The murmurs fade immediately. Robin freezes in place on the stage, and Rose looks up at me with confusion in her gray eyes."Wait." I repeat, quieter, though there's no point. Everyone's eyes are on me. Haymitch's face has gone white underneath the ruddiness of drink, and for the first time, I think of him. But I know exactly what I'm doing."I volunteer." I say loudly, so all of Panem can hear me, and I hope that they are all watching and gasping at what I've done.Rose is still looking at me, dumbfounded, and I pull her to her feet."She's going to live, Rose, can you hear me? She's going to live." I tell her gently, and she nods, still sobbing, but clinging to me like a lifeline."Well, perfect!" Effie says brightly. It's easy to see that she is happy for some excitement. I begin walking to the stage, watching as Robin is helped down by the other possible tributes and passed through the crowd to her sister."I think there is the small matter of asking for volunteers after we announce the tribute-" Effie rambles as I move through the parting crowd."Does it matter?" The mayor asks, looking down at me with an expression of pain. I hope he remembers me as the orphan girl with an alcoholic by her side as she accepted not one, but two medals of honor for her dead parents. I hope he remembers me as the girl who helps the sick people in the Seam. As I climb, I avoid Haymitch's eyes, boring a hole in my head."Come on up, dear." Effie reaches for my hand, and I let her guide me, my head raised high."What's your name?" Effie asks me as we reach the podium."Pidge."The sound of my nickname in that tortured voice makes my hand clench in pain. I don't want to leave him."My name is-""Pidge, don't! Go back!" He cries behind me, and now I feel like I can't keep going, but I can't let someone else take the fall for this. I can't look back or I will burst into tears. I can't do anything."My name is Piper Lockly." I tell Effie, and I am proud that my voice doesn't shake. She looks confused at Haymitch's reaction, but she's an expert on handling situations like this."Isn't that lovely! Now, everybody, let's give Piper Lockly a big round of applause."There is scattered clapping, but only from those with betting slips in their hands who don't give a damn who lives and who dies. Because these people know me. I'm the one who brings medicine to their sick, food to their starving. I'm the one who can put up with Haymitch. They stare at me with goodbyes in their eyes. I can't find Peeta in the crowd, and I don't try, because if I see him I will break apart and Effie will have to wobble around the shattered pieces in her heels."That's very nice!" Effie beams at me, and I move away from her, staring the camera right in the face."And now for the boys!"Before I can register how fast things are moving, she has drawn a slip from the boy's reaping ball.Please, not Peeta. Not Peeta."Leif Wayland."I let out a sigh of relief. Peeta is safe for another year. I do not know Leif Wayland, do not even know what he looks like. There will be no one I love in the arena.Effie asks for volunteers, but of course no one steps up. I sneak a glance at Leif. He looks as if he's struggling to control a calm expression. He is older than me too, probably eighteen. He was so close to escaping.The mayor reads the long Treaty of Treason, and then motions for me and Leif to shake hands. His covers all of mine. He is as large as I am small. I give him a small reassuring smile, because his eyes are large and worried. I don't want to kill him.But it won't come down to that.