"Johanna! Get down from there right now!" My step-mother's shrill voice pierces the air, and sharp intake of breath keeps me from losing my balance. "Johanna!"
I curse under my breath and swing down from the power line, my feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. "What?" I snap.
She looks appalled. "Don't take that tone with me, young lady. Get yourself inside right now and wash up for the reaping. I won't have you making us late again." Acacia jabs her hand inside.
I reluctantly head inside the house. I didn't make us late last year. She made me run back to the house for her purse, and then lied straight to the Peacekeeper's face when asked why we were late. I had that bruise on my chin for weeks.
I pull on reaping clothes, a dark green dress and new shoes. I'd wear my work clothes if I could, but Acacia threatened to wring my neck the first time I tried. I pull the comb through the tangles of my short hair. I usually just wear a hat over it, but I leave it down for today.
I head downstairs, debating whether I could sneak back to the power line. I've never gotten hurt while doing it, no matter what Acacia thinks. Not that she cares about my health, but apparently it's rude to walk on power lines. Last I checked, it wasn't technically illegal, but peacekeepers don't need a valid reason.
I stop dead in my tracks when I see Willow sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal, her hair nearly as short as mine. "What the hell did you do to your hair?"
"Acacia cut it," she says.
Why the hell would she do that? Willow's hair was long and curly, and I'd seen the looks she got from the boys in her class. Now it hung limply from the sides of her head.
I bet Cypress didn't get a haircut. Of course not. Acacia would target Willow for humiliation on reaping day, knowing I couldn't do anything to fix it.
I take Willow by the arm and lead her out of the house and over to our neighbor's door. The streets are crowded with people trying to get to the square, but I weave through. "Mrs. Allston! I need help!" She better answer. I fixed the side of her porch last week. She owes me.
She opens the door. "Child, what's wrong? The reaping hasn't started yet."
"Acacia cut Willow's hair, and I don't have time to fix it. Can you please help?" I plead. I even put on a smile. It's illegal to not dress nicely for the reaping, and I doubt the state of Willow's hair counts as nice. She's only fourteen, and the peacekeepers here aren't exactly lenient.
Her crinkled face turns into a smile. "Of course. Leave her with me, and I'll fix it. She'll meet you at the reaping." Mrs. Allston takes Willow by the hand and leads her inside.
"Thank you so much. Willow, wait by the big oak tree for me when she's done, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks, Johanna."
"See you later." I flee back to the house. Cypress and Conrad are likely to have forgotten something, and I'll be the one sent out to get it. Acacia prides her twins, giving them their own bedrooms despite having Willow and I share the smallest. They get the best portions during dinner, the new clothes that Willow will wear when they're outgrown. It's likely because we aren't her real children. Father would never have allowed it, but the dead can't do much.
The reaping isn't until eleven, but I hurry back to the house and wolf down a meal. Soon enough, I hear a cry of "Mother!"
I slip out of the house, not in the mood to deal with Cypress's lost hair ribbon or whatever shit it is. She can deal with it.
I pull myself up to the roof, using loose bricks as handholds. It's harder to climb in a dress, but I don't care. I approach the power line, wondering how long it'll take me to get to the oak tree. There's no point in waiting around here, and I'd rather not get lost in the crowd below.
Out of habit, I throw my arms out to help with balance. But halfway across, I drop them to my sides, figuring I can make it across on my own. I'm light-footed enough to make it across the power lines and roofs without drawing attention from those below. I scale down the bakery when I get near the square. Willow isn't at the tree yet, so I lean against it to wait.
The boys pass, and a few of them look my way. I'm used to a few glances, but I don't return them. I don't have time for a romance now. Once I've gotten myself and Willow out of that damned house, I'll be able to have my own life.
Willow arrives a few minutes later, the choppy locks of hair fixed into pigtails. She has a smile on her face. "Mrs. Allston fixed it."
"Good. It'll last for today, anyway. Then you can cut it like mine," I joke.
Willow smirks. "Like I'd want my hair to look like that rat's nest."
"Hey!" I playfully hit her.
"Hey!" she says back, smacking me.
"Let's get going. I don't care if Acacia is here yet, she'll make us all late."
Willow winces in memory of last year. "Sure. What do you think the arena will be like this year?"
"I don't care, as long as I'm not in it."
"Me neither." Willow shudders, and behind her brave face I can see pure terror.
I wish I could reassure her that she won't get picked, but I can't. She has six entries. Three are mandatory, but Acacia forced her and I to get tesserae so our food costs would be lower. I can't support us both on my salary, otherwise I'd pay for everything myself. But when I turn eighteen, I'll move out and take Willow with me. I'll be able to afford it when I'm of age and my pay is raised. If the district will let me.
Would Willow even have a chance if she was picked? She's not particularly good at sports, so that crosses out the athletic department. She's fairly smart, but it wouldn't save her life. But she's pretty popular, so maybe charisma and allies could keep her alive.
If I was picked, I would trick the others. Act stupid, scared, and spineless, and see how long I'd last until I could take the offensive. I'm decent with an axe.
We approach the check in table, and I hold out my finger as they prick it for a blood sample. I barely notice the pain. I'm used to it by now. Willow closes her eyes, and no emotion crosses her face as the blood drips from her finger onto the booklet. We're herded into the pens, and I separate from Willow. I haven't seen Cypress and Conrad yet, but they'd be with the sixteen-year-olds. As long as I won't be held accountable, I don't care.
I'm near the front of my enclosure and have a good view of the stage. Six chairs sit up there, two for the mayor and our escort, Aurelia. The other four are for our victors. Blight, Mora, Jordan, and Aspen.
As my watch clicks into eleven, the mayor stands and begins to tell about the history. I've learned enough of it in school that I can afford to ignore it. The Districts rebelled against the tyrannical Capitol, and lost. In punishment, the Capitol murders twenty-three kids annually, except for the year where they killed forty-nine.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Aurelia chirps, and plucks a name out of the bowl. "Henry Normod!"
The boy who kissed me in third grade approaches the stage. I'm pretty sure it was on a dare, but he was okay. Took care of his little sister when his mom got sick. He doesn't deserve this. None of us deserve this.
We weren't the ones who rebelled against the Capitol, and yet we're being punished for it. The kids last year were barely fourteen. We haven't done anything but have the misfortune to be born.
There's forced applause, before Aurelia bounces over to the girls' bowl. She picks a name, and reads it out.
"Johanna Mason!"
I inhale sharply. My name was called.
My name was called.
Others are looking at me now, putting a face to the name. My supposed strategy from earlier flies into my head. Stupid, scared, spineless.
I trudge towards the stage, letting false tears stream down my cheeks. As I mount the steps, I catch Henry sneaking a look at me. He sees me crying, but I don't catch his expression in return.
After another round of unenthusiastic applause, the mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason. It explains the illogical reasons for these Games, and how the Capitol righteously rules over us. The propaganda is so thick I could throw an axe at it.
I shake hands with Henry, and we're directed into the Justice Building. The rooms where we are to say goodbye to our loved ones- Willow for me- are fancier than some of the richer families' homes. It's set up like a living room, with couches, armchairs, and a coffee table. A thin layer of dust covers some surfaces, and it comes with no surprise since the room was last used a year ago.
It's pointless to try and escape. Even if I could get past the swarms of peacekeepers, where would I go? Sure, they want me alive- they need a tribute. But they could hurt Willow.
I sit down and wait. Soon enough, Willow comes in the door, still dressed in her reaping clothes but mussed. She's been crying, and I hug her immediately.
"What are you going to do?" she whispers.
I want to tell her my plan, but I reject the idea immediately. Willow isn't known for keeping secrets, and I don't want anyone to know what I'm doing except possibly my mentor. Instead, I tell her not to worry. I'm killer with an axe (exaggerating some, but we both need reassurance), I'm smart, and I'm fast. All I have to do is get ahold of an axe and I'll see her in three weeks.
By reassuring Willow that I'll be fine, I'm well aware that I'm setting her up for crushing sadness if I don't make it. There's only one winner, and what are my chances against twenty-three others?
But I've also managed to calm myself some by talking. Maybe I do have a slight chance, enough to keep myself alive for a few days.
The sight of the peacekeeper leading Willow out gives me a fresh reason to break out in tears, although I'm not the crying type and Willow knows it. Maybe she'll put it down to fear. That's what I hope.
Maybe everyone will put my actions down to cowardice, weakness, and stupidity. I'll need to trick all of Panem. That's my only chance at winning this death match.
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Author's note:
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