[AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is over three years old. It has not been edited. Consequently, it is not of the best quality. There are major flaws in plot, character and world-building. I have left it up mostly as a reminder to myself of how I used to write and how much I have improved since. By all means read it, but please don't expect it to be any good xD
~ Lizzie, 2015.
Everything about District One seemed to glitter alluringly. It was the first reaping of the day, and therefore it was also early morning, the sun poking tentatively over the horizon as if it was worried what the day might bring.
The same could not be said for District One. Everyone was buzzing, especially those who knew their names were in the final pot. Because there were always so many volunteers, a new system had been devised, in which people put their names forwards; from them fifty were randomly selected for the final pot. To make things a bit more authentic, some other names were slipped in too, to give people the chance to volunteer; the 'volunteer' was preselected. This complex process was the main reason why the District One tributes saw it as an honour to compete in the Games.
Even though the sun was only just risen, nobody looked tired. The possible tributes had been up for hours making themselves look good, even the ones who knew they hadn't volunteered their names for the final pot. There were only about four in the whole district, and three of them were only twelve. The adults had been assembled early, bragging in brash voices about the training their offspring had done. Last year's tributes families were always the first to arrive, mingling and chatting and hugging each other. In fact, the female tribute's brother and male tribute's sister were planning on being married soon and they stood with their arms around each other, relieving their little siblings' best moments. The clear marble buildings had been polished until they gleamed, the stage frames were encrusted with glittering jewels and the people were dressed in the brightest colours they could find. The richest showed off with outlandish jewellery worthy of the Capitol and fake flowers in their hair. The square was a bustle of activity, cameramen weaving among the crowd and soaking up the atmosphere. The kids stuck their fingers out proudly, taking a shade of pride from barely even feeling the pinprick. Most of them had been through worse in their training.
The Capitol escort, a vivid and enthusiastic woman called Georgina, paced around the stage, reading out names of past Victors and where they were now, or leaning down to chat to some of the children in the cage. She had dyed her hair bright red, the colour of District One, and was wearing a simple red dress that emphasised her slim figure but didn't draw any attention; the main focus of District One was always the tributes.
Once everyone had assembled in the square, they had to wait from the signal from the cameramen to indicate that they were live. Everyone was so eager that they were half an hour early, and a girl was hauled up from the tribute pens to sing, just to kick-start the already brimming atmosphere. She had clearly put a lot into her appearance; her blonde hair was twisted into flawless curls around her head, her deep blue eyes had been carefully rimmed with charcoal liner so that they flickered with hidden depths, and her white dress was neither too showy nor too dull. Garnets glimmered on her hands.
First she sang the Capitol anthem, her voice strong and clear, and then repeated it without being asked so that everyone could sing along. The whole district, right down to the bottom of the gem mines, throbbed with the sound of every inhabitant singing the same words, perfectly in pitch and perfectly in unison. Then, because they still had time left to fill, she sang a couple of songs that were popular in the Capitol, love songs that had only a few lyrics and a simple and catchy tune, the sort of songs that stuck in your head for days afterwards. Her voice was powerful even without the microphone and she hit every note straight on the head, the sound resonating from the smooth buildings and around the square.
"Give the girl a huge hand, folks!" urged Georgiana, noticing the orange light starting to blink on one of the cameras out to her left. The people roared appreciatively as the girl bowed and tripped down the stage, muscles in her legs bulging, and her friends whooped as she vaulted the fence into the pen. The voice of Franco, her assistant, chirped in her ear, "Okay, they're playing the anthem...President's face...clip of the moment Sanchey won last year...introduction...montage...and Georgie we are live!"
"Hello, people of Panem, and welcome to this year's Hunger Games reapings!" she cheered, and the crowd responded enthusiastically, waving their arms around and generally going mental. She winked at them, imagining the people watching live in Capitol square doing the same. "I am here in District One and let me tell you, we've never had an atmosphere like it!" she continued, and the crowd went mad again, never mind that she said this every year. The roars were almost deafening. She wiggled a finger teasingly at them. "Now now, calm down! We know you're all very excited, but first I have to remind you of the reason we are here today; the history of our glorious Panem and the story of the Hunger Games!"
Everyone went mute. Not quiet, because people still chuckled and whispered and shifted, but quiet enough for it to be seen as respectful. So she began on the history; the revolution, the anger, the introduction of the Games. The crowd played along helpfully, cheering in all the right places (from a Capitol point of view, anyway), and generally being good.
"And now, for the moments I know you've all been waiting for..." she began, raking up the tension, talking both to the crowd and the Capitol, "It's the reapings!"
It took a few minutes for the crowd to calm down. The teenagers leant in eagerly, muscles bulging and eyes gleaming.
"And the girl who will represent your wonderful district at this year's Games is...Amber Bullit!" She drew the name out dramatically as a girl leapt to the air and punched at the sky with some real enthusiasm. Several girls around her threw their arms in the air in anger at not being chosen to go and fight to the death. Amber bounced up onto the stage, throwing her arms around Georgiana and shrieking thanks in her ear. Georgiana winced as she pushed the girl away, massaging her ribs with a theatrical wince. Part of this was for show, for the Capitol and the sponsors, but a larger part was because it actually did hurt.
Amber had hair like her name, a kind of dull orange colour piled messily on top of her head, and it looked like she'd sprinkled glitter dust in it because it twinkled slightly in the light. Her makeup was subtle yet effective and Georgina knew she'd already won many male hearts in the Capitol. Her dress was, like many, white, but she'd added a suggestive slit down one side and grinned cheekily at the audience.
"Well, Amber, tell me a bit about yourself," Georgiana encouraged, "Why did you put your name forward?"
"My dad," she replied instantly, and her voice was smooth and silky, "He's going to bankrupt the family if he doesn't stop drinking..."
As if to prove her point, a voice slurred, "Tha's my be- my beby girl up there up on tha' stage!"
Amber flinched, gesturing with her hands. "I hoped to embarrass him up here, but I guess now I'm just going to have to go and win, aren't I?" she explained, and everyone laughed for her, the noise bubbling in the air. Then they cheered. She laughed at them, but Georgiana detected the faintest stirrings of fear in the girl's eyes. Hopefully the Capitol didn't.
"Well, Amber, we're absolutely thrilled to see you up here, and we're sure you'll do the district proud, aren't we folks?" she chirped. The crowd roared their approval.
"And now, the boys! Isn't this exciting?"
The crowd roared their agreement.
"Dark Mousy!" she announced, waving the slip in the air. Many boys huffed angrily, but Dark hurled himself up over the fence and onto the stage, flipping his hair and waving to the crowd. He was, unusually for District One, purple haired (he'd clearly stolen some hair dye; it was one of the luxuries they produced here) and with deep brown eyes. His hair flopped in front of his face, flickering around his eyes teasingly. Compared to the others he was slim, but he moved with such energy that nobody doubted his strength for a second. He blew a kiss to someone in the crowd; they went mad, whistling and whooping.
Amber's eyes lit up, just a little.
"So, Dark, how are you feeling?" Georgina asked.
"Good, very good!" he answered, giving her a quick hug and kissing her cheek quickly. She blushed delicately, her Capitol eye drawn to his ring, blacker than black though she hadn't thought that was possible. It still managed to glitter menacingly.
"Dark Mousy, your male tribute!"
"Winner," he interjected, throwing a glance at Amber and adding casually, "No offense!"
"None taken," she replied, a smile playing around her mouth, "I think this'll be interesting, don't you?"
A brief pause.
"Well, I think it'll be very interesting indeed! But there are eleven other reapings to be done today, so if you don't mind we'll move it along!" exclaimed Georgiana, noticing the cameraman wheeling his hand desperately. The crowd cheered and generally made as much noise as they humanly could.
The two tributes stared at each other, amusement glinting in Amber's deep blue eyes.
"Shake hands, you two!" Georgina insisted, clapping enthusiastically. Slowly, Dark presented his slender hand to Amber, a challenge playing about his eyes and mouth. She raised her eyebrows and took it, just as slowly. He was expecting her to try his strength, but she just squeezed gently.
She winked at him. Only minutely, but it was there.
Unsettled for once, he dropped her hand like a hot potato, frowning at her. She wasn't meant to come after him; he was meant to chase her.
While they sized each other up, Georgiana grabbed their shoulders and led them into the gleaming Justice Building, raving about how well they'd handled the crowd and how many sponsors she was going to be able to get them.
The crowd cheered and roared for their tributes, certain that there was a winner in them somewhere.