The Mockingjay Died: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Reapings: District 1

(Julian Carter's POV)

I wake up with a strange sense of dread in my stomach. At first, I can't remember why. I sit up, and see my best suit hanging on a hook on the door. Of course, it's the reaping. Greyson already told me he's going to volunteer this year, despite the Quarter Quell twist.

I slowly get dressed, as if that will make time go slower. Before I know it, I'm sitting in the kitchen downstairs, watching my little sister Annabelle eat her pancakes, but not having the appetite to touch my own.

Annabelle is only five. She doesn't understand what's going on. She looks up at me and smiles. "Eat your pancakes, silly! And why are you so dressed up?"

I glance at my mother, by the stove. She smiles sadly at Annabelle as she flips another pancake. "He's going to the reaping, sweetheart."

"The reaping?" She must not remember from last year. Our family certainly has been avoiding the subject recently.

"It's like a game," I say quickly. "They'll pull some names out of a bowl, and those people will get a special prize." She stares up at me, her brown eyes wide with awe. How I wish Greyson would wait till next year.

Unfortunately, Greyson and my father both agree that this is about honor, not personal loss. And being in a Quarter Quell is the highest honor, apparently. My father told me he would give anything to have won a Quarter Quell, instead of the 78th Games.

I don't agree with them. I'm more like my mother. She would never tell my father this, but she hates the Games. It's one of the only things they disagree on. Every year, 23 kids die. And not just die, but get brutally slaughtered by other kids. It's despicable. And this year, it will be double that amount. And siblings. A great show for the Capitol, of course. Sickening.

Annabelle accidentally drops her up of milk, splattering it all over the table. She stares at the mess for a minute, her bottom lip trembling. I jump up and grab a towel.

"Hey, it's ok, Annabelle!" She looks up at me. I force a laugh, and start wiping up the mess. "Look! That looks like a bird!" I point at a small milk puddle.

She giggles. "That one looks like a bow!" We spend a few minutes pointing out shapes as I clean up.

Greyson and my father come down a few minutes later. To my surprise, Greyson looks incredibly nervous. Even my father looks more somber than normal. For a moment I wonder if they've rethought volunteering, to spare my life. But when my father sits down, he says, "Well, today's the big day. You two will make us proud, I know it." All my hope flys away.

Greyson barely touches his food. We both keep glancing at the clock. I'm dreading the moment when I have to leave. The reaping starts at 10:00, but we'll need to leave at 9:30. Right now it's 9:15. I wonder, if I made myself sick, would my father make Greyson wait till next year?

Before I know it, it's 9:30 and Greyson is tugging me out the door. "Come on, Lian." That's his name for me. He couldn't say "Julian" when I was born, so he called me "Lian" instead.

We arrive at the square in front of the Justice Building, and Greyson smiles at me. "See you on stage," he says, then joins the other fifteen year olds. I walk over to my friends in the twelve year old section.

My friends are talking excitedly about who will volunteer. Only Greyson's trainers and my family know he's volunteering. I don't know who else is volunteering.

Someone waves at me from the girls' side on the other side of the square. Gracelyn Porter is waving at... me? I'm not sure. I look around, and no one else seems to be paying attention. I look back, and she's staring right at me, smiling. I've liked her for a couple of years, but I didn't think she knew... I smile and wave back, and her smile gets bigger, excited.

I'm debating going over and saying hello when District One's escort, Sebastian Salenta, steps up to the mic. He starts his annual speech about the war, the start of the Hunger Games, the Treaty of Treason, and the recent rebellion, and how pointless it was.

Finally, he starts toward the large reaping bowl. Instead of two, there is only one this year, and each slip has two names. Sebastian takes a slip, then walks back to the mic.

"And the first set of tributes are..." He opens the slip. "Joshua and Gracelyn Porter."

My stomach drops like a stone. Before I know what I'm doing, I've run into the aisle, blocking Gracelyn. "I volunteer! I volunteer myself and my brother Greyson!" I turn around and see my shocked brother, making his way toward the stage.

Gracelyn hugs me. "Thank you, thank you so much," she whispers. She quickly kisses my cheek before pulling away, shyly.

Greyson and I walk up the steps together. He smiles proudly at me as I give our names and ages. I look out over the crowd and spot my parents, Father smiling proudly, Mother with tears in her eyes, Annabelle on Father's shoulders.

Sebastian walks back to the reaping bowl. "The next tributes are... Spark and Hudson Bennett!" Spark and Hudson walk up the stairs, and wait patiently as Sebastian asks for volunteers. Immediately, a boy in the seventeen year old section volunteers, and his brother in the thirteen year old section literally lunges toward the stairs.

"And what are your names?" Sebastian asks.

"My name is Rocco Balla. I am seventeen. This is my brother, Han. He is thirteen." The two brothers are standing as far apart as possible. I don't know either of them.

We are ushered inside the justice building.