If anyone ever tells you that war is worth it in the end, turn around and run in the other direction. Believe me, I know firsthand that war is not in fact worth it. Wow, shocking, I know.
Actually, I'd go as far as to say that war only makes everything worse for everyone.
Especially the side that doesn't win.
I sighed and stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom. My eye twitched slightly in frustration. Today was the reaping for the tenth annual Hunger Games.
Yay.
If people weren't so goddamn stupid, then I wouldn't have to worry about possibly dying in two days, give or take. From what I hear, life before the war sucked, but I can guarantee that it's no match for what us kids go through once a year now.
I let out an irritated sigh and threw myself out of bed. At least I had an excuse to dress up for it I guess. That was the only thing I didn't really mind. I liked looking pretty. Or at least trying to.
Then again, maybe that wasn't the best since these were the clothes we'd be fighting to death in assuming we get chosen.
My older cousin, Kyla, walked into the room. She'd just turned nineteen a few weeks ago, so she was safe and sound. I'd grown up with her around my whole life, so she was essentially just my sister.
"Excited for the reaping?" She asked sarcastically.
"Fuck off." I said back monotonously, sounding bored and unbothered. I really loved Kyla, and I would do anything for her.
"Come on, Coley. Don't let Aunt Juni hear you say that." Kyla chuckled jokingly. I didn't find it funny.
"Shouldn't you be working or something? Be out contributing to society in some way instead of bothering your cousin who could be on death row right now?" I asked coldly.
"Now don't be so pessimistic, Colette. It would be a privilege to see the Capitol." She said in a posh voice.
God, does she always have to be this annoying? I thought to myself exasperatedly.
I didn't respond, only sifted through our shared closet for something to wear.
"You're little boyfriend stopped by today." Kyla said absentmindedly. "The Kenton kid." She added.
I hated when she said that. I never wanted to get married to a guy, especially not him. He was like my brother.
"You mean Brooke? Brooke Kentwell?" It always appalled me how easily she forgot his name. It wasn't exactly hard to remember.
"Yeah, that kid." She nodded.
"Well, what did he say?" I asked expectantly.
"I don't remember. He's your friend." She shrugged.
I groaned and rolled my eyes. "You are so useless." I muttered. I continued moving the clothes we had in the closet around.
I pulled out a cream colored blouse that appeared it would be a bit too big on me. I couldn't for the life of me find a skirt, and I actually tried. I eventually settled on a pair of dark gray pants and a black belt.
The top stopped just above the middle of my thighs. I put the belt on over it, fastening it around the dip of my waist. I rolled up the sleeves before I decided that was good enough.
I exited the room and did a small spin for Kyla. She pursed her lips at me. "You need to tie up your hair." She decided.
"No." I replied instinctively.
She just shrugged and walked out of the room. I stood there for a bit, thinking. She'd gotten into my head, the sneaky bitch.
I sighed in defeat and searched the bathroom for a hair tie. When I finally found one, I put my hair up in a simple ponytail.
"Why do I always listen to her?" I murmured to myself, though I could hardly come up with an answer.
Feeling confident enough that this wouldn't be a horrible outfit to die in, I walked out of the little shack we called a home. I hoped I'd get to see Aunt Juni before the reaping at least. If I didn't and I was chosen, I probably wouldn't see her again.
I was taking my time on my walk to the reaping. I was in no rush to die, that was a given. That was when I ran into Brooke Kentwell, my best friend.
"Hey, Clove." He grinned boyishly at me. Clove was a stupid nickname he gave me that I don't even know how he came up with. He won't tell me.
"That's still not my name." I told him.
"Fine, Colette." He glared playfully at me, his smile giving away his facade. I had no idea how he was so happy all the time.
I looked at his clothes. For once, he hadn't dressed completely horrible. Probably the work of his grandmother. "Don't you look dapper." I said sarcastically, referring to his white dress shirt and black vest.
"Thanks." He said, adjusting his collar. "I wanted to wear something else, but my grandma wouldn't let me leave the house in it." He sighed. He looked hot, and was sweating. It was particularly humid, but what else to expect on July fourth, the worst day of the year?
"We kind of match." I observed, looking between our two outfits, drawing some similarities.
He followed my eyes as I looked down at my blouse. "Kind of." He said. "Same colors and... general style of the clothes." He added. "Your shirt's cream though, mine's white." He pointed out.
I looked down at both of our shirts, not seeing much of a difference. "Why are we talking about this again?" I asked. "We could both die in a few days and you're worried about the color of my shirt?"
"It goes with your complexion." He shrugged, looking back ahead. I squinted my eyes at him, confused.
"What does that even mean?" I questioned. I expected no less of Brooke though. His grandmother was a seamstress, so I assumed he picked it up from being around her so much.
"The color of your skin." He said, poking my cheek. "The cream goes good with it."
A blinked a few times, a bemused look on my face. He made no sense to me half the time.
"Anyway." He cleared his throat. "Do you think you could ask Kyla to remember my name? She keeps calling me Becky." He said quietly.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. "She-" I almost laughed. "She calls you Becky?" I asked with a smile on my face. I couldn't help it.
"Yes. Is it that hard to remember the name Brooke? It's not a complicated name, it should be fairly easy to remember." He huffed.
I covered my mouth in a successful attempt to keep myself from laughing. It wasn't that funny in and of itself, it was just how much it bugged Brooke that was funny to me.
"Don't worry, Becky. I'm sure she'll remember someday." I pat his shoulder and nodded my head.
"That's not my name." He said, looking at me.
"And Clove isn't my name. That doesn't seem to stop you." I countered.
He paused for a moment. "Touché." He responded. "Just tell Kyla to at least try and remember my name."
"Deal... Becky." I snorted. He lightly punched my shoulder as we finally approached the corrals of boys and girls, twelve to eighteen. My smile disappeared at the sight. This was the part where Brooke and I had to separate since he was a boy and I was a girl.
"Hey," Brooke began. I turned to look at him. He had a boyish grin on his face that almost made my nerves disappear. "Don't die, Clove." He smiled at me playfully.
"Whatever, Becky." I snorted, walking away from him, slightly more confident than before.
There was no Kyla to comfort me, no one. I joined the rest of the fifteen year old girls who I knew few of.
I felt really alone in that moment.
I watched as Mayor Cyprian approached the stage. He reached into the bowl of girl's names from District 2 and pulled out a small card with someone's name on it. It was folded neatly as he walked over to the microphone with a somber look on his face.
"And the female tribute from District 2 is..." He sighed as he unfolded the card and read the name aloud. I inspected my nailbeds uninterestedly. I was sure that out of hundreds, maybe thousands of names, mine wouldn't be called.
"Colette Cass."
I froze and my eyes shot up. I think I might have jinxed it with how confident I was that my name wouldn't be called. All of the girls stared at me, alienating me from the group.
I saw one peacekeeper take a step forward, probably to retrieve me, so I moved first. One thing I knew, Peacekeepers weren't friendly. Maybe when they weren't on duty one or two were pretty cool, but not during the reaping. Never during the reaping.
I hastily stepped out of the group, avoiding the peacekeeper. I slowly made my way to the stage, still in shock.
The mayor gave me a sympathetic look, but I didn't even spare him a glance. I just stared ahead, trying to keep myself from bursting into tears. The mayor slowly approached the bowl with the names of the boys inside.
He pulled out another piece of paper that was neatly folded and walked back to the microphone. "And as for the male tribute," he paused to unfold the paper, "Marcus Orieus." He read.
I looked up finally to the boys to see who I'd be going into the games with. It was one of the eighteen year olds. He was big and tall and looked quite strong. He was extremely intimidating.
I knew that I'd never win the games if I eventually had to fight him. He could snap my neck in two seconds before I even knew what was going on.
I racked my brain for any memory of him. Surely I'd seen him around at least once. I was positive that I'd seen him making small talk with Kyla maybe twice before. They barely knew each other and it was when I was younger, but any sort of tie was better, right?
He trudged up to the stage next to me. He was a whole head above me and I was very scared. Who wouldn't be? I was supposed to fight twenty three other people to the death and one of them was this giant who could kill me with his bare hands.
Maybe us being district partners would help? I silently prayed he'd pity a fifteen year old girl from his district. Before my thoughts could continue, we were roughly shoved away by peacekeepers.
I looked back to Kyla, to Brooke. I hadn't given a proper goodbye to either of them. I just assumed that I wouldn't get picked. I also assumed that Brooke wouldn't get picked.
That was the only thing I was actually right about though. I glanced over at Marcus, who was also scanning the boys section of the onlooking crowd. I didn't know who or what he was looking for, and I really didn't care in the moment.
I desperately looked through the crowd of nontributes. I searched for those kind green eyes that had raised me for the past ten years. I had to at least see Aunt Juni, if anyone.
I continued looking back. I scanned each face in the crowd as fast as I could, but I didn't see her familiar face. Then, I was shoved into a dark hallway next to Marcus.
I desperately fought any oncoming tears. Moisture filled my eyes, but I refused to let a single tear fall.
But in my mind I was sobbing. I was freaking out. I was so lonely. I was so, so alone. Why didn't they let us even say goodbye? It was the least they could do. The bare minimum couldn't even be accomplished for us.
The fact was, I'd never told Kyla how I did actually love her. I never told Brooke that I did care about him. And the absolute worst thing of all, I hadn't seen the woman who played the biggest part in my life since I was four years old. I didn't say goodbye to any of them, which hit hard on its own. But not saying goodbye to her was the worst of all.
Hello. I'm kinda bad at this if you can't tell. I don't exactly have a way with words from what I've been told, so some stuff might not make sense in the way I describe it. I apologize in advance.
But I'm having fun with this, and I was kinda hoping you are too.