Reaped

Chapter One

Chapter One

Celeste

“Celeste, if you’re late this year I’ll kill you.” I turned around from the gold framed mirror the brush still caught in my hair. Castiel grins from the couch, his teeth gleaming against his gold skin. District 1 was our home, Castiel’s house in the victor’s village specifically. He won 2 years ago at the age of 17 with nothing but a knife and his wits.

“This year is your year Celeste! Just think of it, you’ll be the 6th Victor from our genetics in the last ten years.” He punches his left fist into his right hand and stands up, ice blue eyes burning. “Are you ready yet?”

I roll my eyes and pull the brush through the full length of my white-blonde hair.

“No. The reaping isn’t for another 2 hours. Calm down, Cas.” I turn back to the mirror and flutter my eyelashes at myself. Beauty doesn’t win the games but it gets sponsors.

In District 1 we are trained. I guess we are what they say, Career Tributes. We don’t start our working lives until we’re 18, up till them we’re groomed and trained for the games. We don’t just start when we’re born though. The strongest among us are bred; the most beautiful, the most athletic and the smartest.

Cas and I are what the kids from the working families call ‘TTVs’, or Test Tube Victors, the derogatory term for children who are born from surrogates using only the best genetic material and raised in training centres.

We are raised like cattle, a boy and a girl are born every year so volunteering doesn’t get complicated in the future. Unfortunately some of us have problems, the boy from my year died. He just dropped one day in the training centre. Dead before he hit the ground. We all got checked after that, but he was an abnormality. I don’t know who will be my district partner this year.

Technically we’re all closely related, but Castiel has been my only brother for as long as I can remember. We were raised by the same trainer and when he won I was the only one he invited to live with him.

I finish brushing my hair and go get dressed in a sky blue dress that matches my eyes perfectly.

I walk out into the lounge room half an hour later to find Cas dressed nicely as well.

I smile and twirl, letting him admire me.

“If looks could kill you’d have won already.” He says clapping.

I roll my eyes but light up inside, I live for attention.

On our way to the reaping I notice people staring. Everyone keeps an eye on the TTVs, bets are made early on chances.

We walk past the mining trucks, still heaped with rocks from yesterday, even the process plant workers get today off.

We get to the town square and are sorted into our age groups. I’m right up the front, being 17 and a TTV.

I look around at the others. A few people I recognize from the training centre but most are foreign to me. For the first time I see, even though we’re all trained alot have gaunt faces, hollowed by hunger and sickness.

I turn back to the front and see Castiel mount the stage with the Mayor and our capitol escort Perry. Perry is a ridiculous looking woman who is never seen without a long metallic gold wig and enormous eyelashes. Her skin seems to be a strange almost translucent shade of white and her black clothes make her look sickly.

She struts up to the bowls on the stage and stands before the girl’s bowl.

“Ladies first!” Everyone in the vicinity turns to look at me as the name of the girl is called.

Jingle Evans barely clears the first step of the stage before I step out of the lineup.

“I volunteer as tribute!” I say loudly and clearly and a white faced Jingle turns to look at me. She looks like she might faint. Weakling.

I take my place on the stage and smile briefly at Cas before turning to the roar of the crowd. We have a good chance this year.

Perry walks over to the boy’s bowl. This drawing in tenser, there’s no TTV to volunteer for someone who doesn’t want to be in it.

“And the lucky man this year is… Harry Styles!” Perry calls and I turn to see my district partner. He looks shaken as he mounts the stage and I recognize him, he’s one of the sparring partners they bring in to the TTV training centre. He’s good with a sword.

We shake hands as the anthem plays and his green eyes bore into mine. He’s taller than me but his wildly curly dark hair could be adding a few inches too.

As we size each other up the crowd roars again. This is my year, I think as I turn to the front, this is the year I’m crowned.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor!"