Dedicated to Max. Thanks for your help :)
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The first thing everyone knows about District 7 is that it's loud. Most days, there are lumber mills in use, and there are people sawing in the tree farms. Almost everyone in our District is partially deaf because of this.
Today, however, everything is unaturally quiet. People are moving around solemnly, with the occasion outbreak of a hysterical twelve year old. That's because today is the day of the reaping.
Being in the middle of the districts, we don't have to get up particularly early for our reaping ceremony. Instead, we have only a few hours to sleep in before we head to the main square.
That's where I am now, waiting in a line to register myself. The other girls around me are wearing dresses, or something pretty, but the best my family has ever been able to afford for reaping day is a cleaner shirt. I move forward in the line, and give my name to the official register person. He sounds extremely bored as he tells he where to stand, and to be honest all I can think is, who wouldn't be bored?
At fifteen years old, this is the fourth reaping I have been eligible for. One of my sisters is in her last year of eligibility, and another is just twelve, in her first year. Then there are the younger ones, who are simply mouths to feed. My family gets by alive though, with three of us taking tesserae. The rule is that if you are poor, or need the food, you can opt to enter your name more times in the reaping for a small supply of grain each year. And, since I have a family of eight, with the tesserae entries being cumulative, my name will be in the draw 36 times. Four because I had to, and four for each of my family members plus myself. It might sound like a lot, but my eldest sister has 63 entries, which is much worse.
Anyway, it takes a long time before everyone is registered. The cameras are set up and we are ready to air. Sitting on the stage in front of our cracked and rusty Justice Building are the mayor, a stout man with a lopsided mustache, our past victors, only one of which is actually alive, and our escort. The escorts are from the Capitol, and this year we have a new one. Actually, this year, everyone does. After the catastrophic quarter quell last year, all the escorts, prep teams, and stylists were either fired or have just disappeared.
The mayor stands up and begins to read about the history of Panem. I am uninterested since he says the exact same thing every year. Instead, I glance around at the boys, who are whispering to each other, and when they see me staring, they make faces at me. I turn red and look back towards the front. The mayor is just reading out our list of past Victors. In District 7, we've had five. First, Wendy Pastel, who won the second ever Hunger Games and is now dead. Second, Dean Frake, who is also dead and I have no idea when he won. The next three are more recent. There is Blight, who died in the quarter quell last year. Then there's Johanna and Matt.
Johanna Mason is something of a legend in District 7. She won her games by playing weak to other tributes, but playing vicious to the sponsors in the Capitol. She was a no nonsense kind of woman, and many who didn't know her mourned when she died last year in that quarter quell, when the tributes were pulled out of the victors. I met her once, and all I can really say about her is that she deserves her reputation in our District.
Matt is the only surviving Victor, and is rarely seen in public. He won the games with sponsors, but now as a middle aged man, he is no longer beautiful. Time and nightmares have taken their toll on him, and I don't think anyone will even care if he dies.
Well, apart from the tributes who would end up with no mentor, that is.
Now the mayor introduces Orchestria. She is the new District 7 escort, and seems almost as crazy as the last. Her hair is dark green, and styled into a long side braid. Her painted face breaks into a smile and she cheerily speaks.
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" She gives a somewhat freaky smile, exposing her vivid green teeth. "I must say what an honour it is to be here in District 7 with you all today for the reaping of our 76th Hunger Games!" She doesn't seem disheartened by the looks people are giving her, but instead she carries on with the drawing.
As in every District, Orchestria starts with a "Ladies first!", before walking tediously towards the glass ball containing all the girls names. 36 of those slips have my name on. That makes over one hundred if you combine my sisters' slips with my own. The odds are certainly not in our favour. Orchestria waddles back to the centre, and reads out the name in her silly Capitol accent.
"Viviane Stone."
Stone. That's... That's my surname, that's...
Me.
The girls around me have moved away slightly, and I find my legs making stiff steps towards the stage.
It's me.
I'm in the Hunger Games. My breaths are short and rapid, and Orchestria gives me an unexpected quick hug before calling out to everyone again.
"Are there any volunteers?"
The wind whistles past my ear, ruffling my hair, and there is a moment of complete silence. Not as if I expected anything else.
"Well then," Orchestria continues, "Let's have a round of applause for our female tribute, Viviane Stone!"
She starts clapping, and I vaguely notice people joining in. None of them know me, but it is standard to clap. The silly woman beside me pats my shoulder before going to the boy's glass ball.
"Time to pick a boy tribute!" She calls excitedly, and whips out a name from the boy's glass ball. She reads out, "Max Miller."
I don't know him, but my eyes find him easily as he walks to the stage. His face is expressionless, but up close I can see his eyes are emotional. He acknowledges his applause with a confident but fixed smile, and I don't miss the concerned glance he sends my way. There are no volunteers for him, either.
The mayor is reading out the Treaty of Treason, which is one of the reasons we have a Hunger Games, and when he finishes, me and Max shake hands. His hands are warm and solid, contrast to my cold small ones.
The anthem of Panem plays, and the cameras shut off their feed. A group of officials, Peacekeepers, marches us into the Justice Building. Rusty and old on the outside, it's actually rather nice on the inside. Max and I are escorted into separate rooms and left alone. The room I'm in has more colour than everything in my whole street combined. I fiddle with my shirt, wondering what my parents will say to me in the next hour. This is the only time I am allowed to say goodbye to my loved ones. I'm not expecting to cry.
My parents and my sisters are let in. My sisters stare at the richness of the room while my father walks over to me and sits opposite me.
"Most useful thing you've ever done girl," He grunts. He is right. If I lose, I'll be dead which means one less mouth to feed. If I live, we will be rich and much better off than we have ever been.
My youngest sister, Petra, runs over to me and hugs me. I hug her back, and whisper in her ear a load of nothingness like "It's okay."
Eventually, Father pulls her off roughly, and rounds my family out of the room. I am alone again, and it hurts inside. I can feel an emptiness in my chest, that longs for a friend.
I don't have any more visitors, and I don't expect any, so I spend the rest of the hour trying to plan my angle to the audience. If I want to stand a chance in these Games then I need to get ahead.
Inside, I know the whole thing is futile.
YOU ARE READING
Roughened Bark
Fanfiction"Don't look at me like that." "Like what?" "Like your world is falling apart and it's my fault." Katniss shot Peeta. Twenty-three victors were wiped out in the 75th Hunger Games, and people are angry. Talk of rebellion is everywhere, but Viviane, am...
