The story of the young heroine is common among District 12, after all, it was said she was from that very district.
Angus thought about her story as he got ready for his very own Reaping. He wasn't worried about it though, this was his last year. Then he was done. Maybe he could escape. Maybe.
He of course knew that the Games were unethical but they were normal to the once American people. People in the higher districts thought it was a celebration. But they didn't have anything to lose from the Games. For God's sake, they were trained for it, despite training being illegal.
Angus looked at himself in the cracked mirror, clad in mostly washed out blues and browns. Not unlike his very own district, it was a very snowy place and cold.
Angus' thoughts turned to his family, which were from the northeast across the ocean. He got here by accident and he desperately wished he could leave. Memories flooded back to him by just staring in the mirror but he blinked it away and turned away from the cracked mirror that held so many tales yet to be told.
He walked towards the front door ignoring the TV that was turned on telling families to be ready at exactly ten a.m. sharp. It was currently 10:50. Angus calculated how much time it would take him to get to the town square. He should have four minutes to line up.
When Angus finally got there, people were pouring into the town square like a waterfall. Angus went to his designated spot. He wasn't worried about it until he realized that his name was in seven times. He started to look around knowing that there was a plentiful amount of other people that had their names in the bowl seven times.
It was finally time, everyone was dead silent, the only sounds came from the ravens cawing almost in a mocking manner. The stage set right in front of the town hall, various shades of gray made up of the building, including the stage. Two glass bowls filled with the names of children ranging from 12 to 18. A woman walked out onto the stage in heels; her forest green sparkly pantsuit matching her hair, eyebrows, lipstick, and eyelashes. Her heels clicked with every step. People were glaring at her but she smiled as if this was the biggest welcome she could get.
"Today we are here to select one courageous man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 88th annual Hunger Games. As usual ladies first!" She announced to the silent group of people with an accent that could only be paired with the Capitol. The woman turned and walked over to the glass bowl full of all the girls from ages 12 to 18 in District 12.
She reached in slowly, moving her hand around until she dug her hand in and pulled a slip from the bottom. She held up the folded slip as she walked back to the microphone. She held out the slip in front of the microphone and gently tore at the tape. She paused before announcing the name, "Orla Reeds!"
Orla stood in shock, her school friends looking at her with wide eyes, but Angus knew they were glad it wasn't them. The girl was 13, she looked like everyone else in the district. Orla took a moment before walking up towards to stage, her shoulders shaking as if she was trying to hold in a sob.
Everyone could hear to muffled cries of her mother and father as they watched their only child walk up slowly to her death surrounded by Peacekeepers clad in all white. The crunch of gravel seemed to echo louder and louder, a steady beat that the ravens seemed to pick up and were croaking at. Louder and louder.
It was drowning out the wails of a heartbroken mother and father. Angus was starting to feel claustrophobic. Was this normal? No. It wasn't. Angus looked around frantically, the poor girl was too young. Unlike the story of the young heroine, no one volunteered for the young girl.
The ravens croaking pattered out and the Capitol woman was gesturing for Orla to come up and join her; calling out to her like a siren as the young girl walked towards her doom that was disguised in forest green and gold. The young girl took the woman's hand sealing her fate. Orla was placed next to the microphone so that all the cameras could see. Every district was watching, eating it up like the entertainment it was supposed to be.
"Now for the boys!" The woman announced walking over to a second glass bowl. The feeling that you know the teacher is just going to call you so you desperately don't make eye contact with them is the feeling that washed over Angus. He felt the minutes freezing as he watched the woman pulled out the slip of paper and walked over to the microphone.
Two slips of paper were pulled out of the bowl. One of the slips was tucked into the other. Angus let out a sigh of relief; what are the chances that out of those two slips of paper that his name was written on one of them?
The woman leaned into the microphone and laughed, "Well, it seems this slip of paper has volunteered for whoever's name is on it."
She opened the paper slowly, gently ripping at the tape. She called out a name. All eyes turned to Angus as he stood in shock after hearing the words.
What are the chances?
Very high apparently.
And so came back the ravens. Mocking him. Mocking the district. Mocking the green siren. He was walking up towards the stage. The crushing of gravel pounded in his ears. He was surrounded by Peacekeepers as he walked to the stage; just as the young girl did, he took the woman's hand sealing his fate, because no one would volunteer for a boy with no family to come home to. It would be a waste, thought all the boys that could volunteer for the usually joyful and comedic tribute before them.
He was hurried over to the other side of the microphone, to the left of the crying girl. They were facing the cameras. The woman took both of their hands and hers and held them up, "Here are the tributes from District twelve!"
She backed up, and let go of their hands, and told the two to shake hands. It made the girl cry harder. Angus turned to the small girl and held out his hand. She took it and shook hands still sobbing. The woman walked back up to the microphone, "Happy Hunger Games! May the Fates forever hold you in their hearts!"
The woman patted them on the back and steered them inside. It was for final goodbyes but no one came to visit the male tribute. Although, he could hear the sobbing of the girl and her parents from a room away and something inside him wanted the comfort of his family that he hadn't had in a long time.
He knew it was finally time to go when he heard the wailing of the girl's parents after being told it was time for them to get onto the train. The Peacekeepers entered the door like they were expecting him to be doing something wrong. As he got up he wondered if just now, before the Peacekeepers entered, he could have escaped. But he also knew everyone in Panem had already seen his face. As Angus walked out of the room, he was boxed in and lead to the train.
He thought about how there were once mentors for the games but they were removed. Now there were managers but they didn't train you; all they did was help you in the games by sending you packages. He only was reminded of this when he saw his new task manager which happened to be the green-haired woman in front of him. Orla was sat next to him in a lounge chair.
The woman finally introduced herself as Clio, it came from ancient mythology apparently and Clio was very happy about it. She told them about how happy she was to be their manager and she vowed to do all that she could to help them. Clio told them they were free to explore the train as long as they didn't break anything but would be shown to their rooms first to get cleaned up.
Clio watched the pair get up and walk to their rooms, once again boxed in my Peacekeepers. You never know with the lower districts, or at least, that's what they said in the Capitol. Clio was excited, this was her first time being a manager, and if these kids could win, well, she could help her family. Clio wasn't much older than the district 12 boy. Perhaps by a year or a couple of months. She couldn't be sure since the districts didn't follow the same celebrations as the Capitol. Clio didn't realize how much time had passed while she sat in the chair stuck in her thoughts. An Avox walked up and signaled that it was time for dinner.
Clio stood up and followed the Avox to the dining car; the tributes were already staring at the table filled with almost any food imaginable. Clio took a seat at the head of the table. The table was polished mahogany, porcelain plates in front of the seats that would be occupied. Clio noticed their hungry stares at the food, which made her slightly uncomfortable but faked a smile and scolded lightheartedly, "Now, don't eat too much; you'll make yourself sick."
The two tributes paid her no mind and dug in as soon as Clio took a roll of bread. Clio wanted to start a conversation with them, but they seemed too focused on other things rather than answering how they were today. She finally cleared her throat as they settled, "You two are welcomed to join me in watching the Reaping for District 11 tomorrow morning."
Orla looked at Angus, who stared at Clio, trying to make up his mind. Orla had been following him around the train for hours. He understood that he should probably say something to her about the Games, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He pretended he didn't notice Orla for the sake of her embarrassment. Chewing slowly, he swallowed then nodded, "Yeah, uh, sure, I'll watch it with you."
Orla piped up too, but in a small quiet voice, she said, "Me too."
And so in the morning, the two tributed would see who else had sealed their fate.