60th Reaping [D4]

[Lulu]

The escort of the district stepped out onto the stage, a smile plastered across his face as he stared into the cameras that surrounded it. It was time once again to choose two children to compete in the Hunger Games, and it was his job to do so.

"It is time," he said as he stood over the impatient people of the District, "To once again send two of our own children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. Let us begin the Reaping!"

He did not look to see the reaction of his district before reaching into the glass ball that held the names of the female children. "Ladies first," he announced, pulling out a slip of paper. He unfolded it and read out to the crowd, "Baylee Spencer!"

[/color] He then reached into the other ball. "Fledger Rells!"

OOC- RPing is allowed. If you wish to volunteer, let the tribute post first either accepting or stepping down from their place for volunteers, and then post. If the tribute doesn't reply by Tuesday, January 17th, a staff member will post saying that volunteering is open. Please do not post until you see this staff message. FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE.

Tributes, please do not make your acceptance or denial of your spot in character; instead, please leave an ooc note at the end of your post stating whether they accept or are stepping down for volunteers.

Also, and this is really important: If you have been selected as a tribute and plan on going into the arena, we HIGHLY SUGGEST you take some RP Tutoring lessons ASAP. It doesn't matter what level RPer you are; everyone can use a little help. RPing a tribute is a PRIVILEGE; if you're not going to put the time and effort into making your posts the best they can be then you can count yourself among the dead...-evil laugh- It's not a requirement, but please please please just consider the lessons. They'll help even the most advanced RPer. [/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Marky]

I woke up with Cynthia in my face. My eyes fluttered open against my my will to see her smiling face only a few inches away from mine. I smiled at her before pushing her off of me. I rubbed my eyes groggily and looked at the clock. 7:10. I turned to the girl that was jumping up off the ground."Why did you wake me up so early?" As I looked at her, I began to notice the "Well, don't you remember?" Look on her face. It took me a minute, but eventually, I realized why my resting had been interrupted. They were here again. The Hunger Games. They were back to take more of us into one of those Arenas. It gave me the chills just thinking about it. If I were to be sent into the games, I know without a doubt I'd die. Unless I could sleep my way into things for a while. Yes, I am aware that I am a tad bit promiscuous. You'd be surprised at how many people will let their guard down when they think that you are interested in them. The point is, I wouldn't last very long unless the Arena is filled with a bunch of perverted morons.

Cynthia was sitting next to me again. She must have known what I was thinking about, because she spoke with a quietness that made me have to pay extra attention to her just to hear."You know, Danielle has the same amount of slips in there as you. She has the exact same odds as you." She was right, of course, but I still felt uneasy. In all forms of the word, Danielle was stronger than me, without a doubt. She wasn't just physically stronger than me, but her mental strength was stronger than most of the people I know. I looked around for her, and she was nowhere to be found. I turned to Cynthia, and as my mouth formed the first word, she cut me off."She left about fifteen minutes ago. She seems pretty upset."I huffed out a sarcastic breath as I opened my closet."Shouldn't we all be?"

I awaited a reply, but never received one. As I dug into my closet, looking for the one thing I still had left of Mom, I spared a second to glance over my shoulder at the girl sitting on my bed. She darted her head away from me, so I just rolled my eyes and kept searching."Trust me Cici, you'll be fine." Pet names always work. This one sure did, because Cynthia turned toward me with a smile spread across her face. I was about to tell her that even if she were in the Games she'd make it through no problem when I found what I was looking for."Aha! I found it!" I smiled as I pulled the blue gown off of it's hook. I had it on in seconds, and grabbed some of Cynthia's heels on my way to the bathroom, where I applied only the basic make ups. (Blush, mascara and lip gloss) I ran a brush through my wavy blonde hair, and was downstairs in seconds.

It seemed like only seconds, at least, and the two of us were out the door. Surprisingly, I lived on one of th only places in District Four that wasn't beach side. In times like these, it was a good thing. We were closer to town this way, so it didn't take us very long to get to the Square. There were already a ton of people gathered around the stage, so I figured it would be hard to find Danielle. I grabbed Cynthia by the forearm and smiled."Remember, you'll be fine, okay?" Just to reassure her a bit more, I grabbed her up in a hug. Then we parted ways, and she was off to stand by the other sixteen year olds.

Finding Danielle was a lot easier than I'd expected. She was standing at the back, right where I assumed she'd be, and she had her usual "I hate you all!" glare on anybody who dared look at her. I crept up to her and smiled."Good to see you this morning!" I laughed. I could almost instantly tell she was upset, like Cynthia had thought. I tugged at her shoulder, and again gave the whole "You'll be fine" line again. She smirked and then popped off to me and rolled her eyes."If I'm safe, so are you. Got it?" I smiled. "Got it."

I almost had a heart attack when Mayor Perch walked up onto the stage with the escort. After a few boring lines about the History of Panem, he went over to the girls bowl. "Baylee Spencer!" He stated clearly into the microphone. My knees gave into me, and I heard a loud shriek that could only belong to Cynthia. I didn't understand what was going on! I couldn't move. My entire body was tingling, as if It had fallen asleep. Danielle helped me up and walked me to the stage. It wasn't until we were at the steps when I realized I was crying, and it was so bad that I couldn't breath. Then something hit me. I was being watched! By everybody! I couldn't go into the Hunger Games with everybody prepared for me to die, I just couldn't. I tried my best, which wasn't very much, to stand up straight and control the tears that fell off my cheeks.

Danielle was whispering something to me, but I couldn't hear because of all the applause. I looked at her in a daze and smiled, regardless of how I felt."I'll be fine." I said before walking to the center of the stage. Another eruption of applause went off, and I knew that they had picked my partner. No, partner wasn't the right word. The had picked my fellow tribute. I watched as a boy came up next to me with the same expression I was certain I was wearing. I gave him the same fake smile I gave to Danielle and turned my attention to the audience. Well, Cynthia. I had difficulty finding her, not only because of my tear filled eyes, but because of the fact that she was on her knees in a fetal position. I had to look away. I couldn't watch her, it would be my tipping point. All I could do was stare at the cold floor of the stage I had just been forced upon.

ooc: Baylee accepts the position of the District Four Female Tribute!

[Morgana]

Fledger Rells

Those who enter here never leave.

My heart pounds in my chest. This is it. My last year, my last Reaping. After this is over, I can live in peace. River and I will finally be able to get married. Maybe we'll be able to move into a bigger house, a place where Theron doesn't have to sleep on the couch, and where Brooke doesn't have to share a room with her parents. It's not that I don't love Brooke, because I do. With all of my heart, and more than I ever thought I could love a person. But it would be nice not to get woken up by every little sound she makes. She's nearly a year old now. She's grown up so fast, I can hardly believe it.

I feel like I only met River a few months ago, but it's been more like a couple of years. I knew I loved her from the day I met her. Knew I wanted to marry her someday. It's been a long road, and a lot of waiting, but we're finally here. We're almost safe. Just one more Reaping, and after that, two for Theron. Then I won't have to worry for a long time, not until Brooke is old enough.

As they often do these days, my thoughts turn towards my mother. It's been over a year since the last time I saw her. I have to keep reminding myself it was for the best, but sometimes I feel guilty about it. She should be here to see her two sons grow up, and her granddaughter. She doesn't even know Theron's home. He was gone for four long years, until he was dumped at our door by a crabby Peacekeeper. I've never asked him about what happened in all those years, but I can't assume there was much good. I hear him screaming in the night sometimes, or tossing and turning as much as possible when you're sleeping on a narrow couch. I wish I could ask him about it, but the truth is that we're not that close anymore. I can only hope he'll tell me someday.

I stand on the tips of my toes, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Theron stands in a crowd of boys not far away, his hand jerking. It's been twitching since he got home, but never as bad as it is now. This is his first Reaping, even though he's sixteen. He ran away before the Reaping when he was twelve. But I've already gone through this six times. I haven't been chosen yet, and I don't think my odds a re that great. I've gotten tessera in the past, but only a minimal amount. I'm more worried about River. She stands much further away, but I can pick her out easily because of her red hair. Before River met me, she'd signed up for a lot of tessera. More than anyone I've ever known. She hasn't been Reaped yet, but there's still time There's still reason to worry.

A man takes the stage. I draw in a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I won't be Reaped. It's too close to the end, and I'm too close to safety. To dreams of a happy, simple life. No worries. Just me, River, and Brooke. Theron, too, at least until he either finds himself a girl or decides to move out. I want that life so badly, I know I will have it. You don't have dreams like that only to have them crushed in the end. You find a way to make them happen.

The girl is chosen first. It's an unfamiliar name. The breath whooshes out of my lungs. We're safe. River and I are safe. I can't help the smile that spreads fast across my lips. All those dreams are safe now. A few weeks, and River and I will get married. We're young, but we know we love each other. We'll make it work. It won't be like my parent's marriage, which fell apart when my father died of a heart attack. I'm going to take care of myself, and live a long life. I won't let anything bad happen to Brooke.

"Fledger Rells!" My heart seizes up in my chest. That's not my name. It can't be. My legs won't move me forward. They're jelly. I'm surprised they still hold my up. Any trace of a smile has been wiped from my face. No. My feet move of their own accord, taking me forward, up the steps, next to this girl I don't know. A girl that isn't River. A boy that isn't me. My thoughts have frozen fast in their tracks. I can't think. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, what I'm supposed to say. My fingers and legs tremble. I pray that I won't get sick, pray that tears won't fall from my eyes. I have to be strong. I don't know if I can, but I have to try.

No matter what happens, I will never stop fighting. When I come home, I won't let it be in a coffin.

((Fledger has accepted his role as District Four Tribute))

[Marky]

Speaking
Main
Outsiders

I was in a nightmare. I was living yet another nightmare. They seemed to have made up my life! I just went from one to the other! No matter how happy I made myself appear, bad luck always found me! I didn't understand. Why was it me who that always had bad luck whisked upon her? Why was it me? That was the only thing that was on my mind, and I couldn't get it off. I didn't need to have it in for myself. I needed confidence, but right now, that wasn't something I had. There was another tug on my arm, and this time it wasn't from Danielle. It was from the godly escort who had just pulled my name out of the stupid ball. " I am your escort, Plato." He said as he yanked me and the boy into the training center. As he took me away from the only two people that knew about me, and about my past."Come on now" He said in an annoyed voice. I turned my face into one of disgust as we walked away. I at least deserved to be treated like a human, and if he didn't have the decency to give me that respect, I certainly wasn't going to give it to him.

I wasn't willing to go, but somehow my feet kept moving, and it wasn't away from where I was supposed to go. Regardless of the fact that I didn't want to be, I was walking straight for the Justice Building. I was whisked onto one of the elevators with a few peacekeepers to make sure I didn't do anything stupid. The boy was forced into the other one. I didn't know why, but I didn't want them to separate us. I felt as if I was too vulnerable without him there. I hadn't even gotten a good look at him yet! As soon as the doors opened they were yanking me toward the room where I had to say my goodbyes. I was absolutely terrified to go in there. I sat in the seat and awaited one of my cousins to walk in and tell me that I was strong enough to make it, even when we all knew I probably wasn't. I didn't really want to hear it, but I needed to hear them tell me it would be okay. I needed the pep talk from Danielle. Cynthia would probably need a pep talk from me. Danielle is good in these types of situations, though. She was calm under pressure. I needed her advice on things, really badly. Then, the door creaked open to reveal the girl I'd arrived at the square with."Cynthia!" I moaned as we collapsed on each other. She was worse than I was right now. three years of living together was enough to make us feel more like sisters than cousins by far. She opened my hand and slipped something into my hand. I opened it to find our grandmother's necklace. The one she had given to Cynthia the night she died. The silver heart was outlined in red jewels. The chain was silver as well, with a silky feel to it. It resembled a chain more than a ribbon, really, but it was perfect if you asked me. I hugged her, and told her I loved her as the Peacekeepers came in and brought Danielle in to me. Watching Cynthia was hard, really hard, but I had to stay focused right now.

"Danielle, what the hell am I supposed to do?" I asked.I didn't know if her reply angered me or not, but it did affect me."Live. No matter what, don't give up." I spoke as soon as she was finished."It's not that simple. I can't just go in and win and everything be perfectly fine, Danielle!" Towards the end, I decided she has definitely pissed me off. She always made things seem so simple, and this was, perhaps the most complex of them all. She hadn't given me any advice that I couldn't have told myself! I almost expected her to get up and leave when she spoke again."Why not? If you go in with the right attitude, anything is possible. Stop being such a baby and grow up!" She stood and walked to the door. Her words were filled with hate, that much I knew. Was she right? Was I making this harder than it had to be? Maybe, but did I have a reason to? Yes. "I didn't ask to be here." I said more to myself than anybody else, and with that, she was out the door.

My last hope, gone. I was all by myself now. I almost instantly felt lonely, but it was a feeling I needed to get used to because I'd be alone for a while now, and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it.

[Kheft]

It had been a cold, gray morning, the kind of morning that rolls in off the
sea like a haunted specter. Fitting in a way, Sam thought, as though the ocean
was already preparing a funeral for the two kids whose names would be read
out…their death sentences only waiting to be officiated by a fatal blow in the
arena.

As she dressed in the frigid first light of day, the air licked the nape of her
neck with an icy tongue of fear, trickling in small frisians of nervousness
down her spine. It felt as though a bony hand hand wrapped around her
ribcage from behind and was slowly squeezing all of the air from her lungs.
Thud thud….thud thud….the distant echoing of her heartbeat seemed to
swell in her ears, muffling any other sounds the morning might bring. The
rhythm was punctuated every fourth second by the gasping whoosh of her
body trying to catch its breath.

Sam recalled a near-drowning experience she'd had once. The water
closed over her head as the steel grip of an undertow dragged her beneath
its surface. The silence more desperate and chaotic than any sound in the
world as she struggled to find one more bit of air for her body to survive on.
It was the same feeling now. Only that day in the water, she'd had Brooke's
strong arms to drag her back onto the safety of the sandy beach. There was
no Brooke today… but maybe it was a blessing. She had only her own
name to listen for.




The day warmed by only a few degrees as the town's scruffy population
crowded reluctantly into the meeting square. Huddles of kids, segregated
by age and gender, were staggered around the cleared space. Many of
them leaned against one-another, as much for warmth as comfort. The
white, strained faces of their parents rimmed in the edges of the gathering…
mothers and fathers terrified of what the day might bring.

Sam stamped her feet and puffed into her folded hands, rubbing them
briskly over her sides in an attempt to stimulate some warmth. It seemed the
waiting was at an end, when District Four's escort took the stage. He didn't
prevaricate but immediately spoke the ritual opening to every reaping since
Sam could recall. His fist disappeared into the jar holding the fate of every
girl gathered there, and then… "Baylee Spencer." With that, it was over. The
dread and anticipation escaped her body in a small explosion of misty
breath and a dizzying relief. She registered the horrified face of the girl who
climbed the stage, and then the boy who answered the name that followed,
but it was distant…and not her problem. Her first reaping was passed.

[Deleted]

Spare me your judgments and spare me your dreams
'Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams
I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind
Alone in the wind and the rain you left me
It's getting dark, darling, too dark to see

"Good morning, pretty girl," River coos to the bright-eyed bundle of crimson curls and heartwarming smiles that giggles at her in response even though her demeanor is little more somber than she'd like it to be. She doesn't feel the weight of an insurmountable number of tesserae hanging over her head for the first time in years, but something uneasy and not quite right thrums little electric currents through her veins and makes her eyebrows draw together slightly. As the sole daughter from a proud line of sailors she knows things that others don't. She knows to trust her gut above anything, knows how to feel change come in on the wind, knows how to read the future in the stars and sky.

This morning, the sun rose red on the horizon. The breeze from the ocean blew in so stiff and cold as she sat on the porch with her coffee that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she felt something twist ominously in the pit of her stomach. She's never been all that superstitious, but River still can't shake the feeling that she can feel the cold breath of Fate down the back of the soft warmth of her bathrobe as she undoes the stubborn latches on the sides of Brooke's crib.

Brooke finally picked up on how to walk last month and has been an unholy terror ever since (no one will deny that she has her mother's independent streak any more than they'll deny that they share the same fiery locks and dimples on their cheeks when they smile), shrieking happily when her mother picks her up from her rickety crib and wrapping a plump little fist around a dangling tendril of red hair, yanking with all the strength her tiny arms allow her. River laughs, forgetting her trepidation for a few seconds as the freckled skin of her nose wrinkles and she gently pries Brooke's hands away. "Mommy needs her hair, honey. C'mon, let's get you all prettied up."

Brooke looks so mutinous when she's put into a tiny, gauzy white sundress that River laughs again - there's no doubt whose daughter she is, although the petulant glare shot in her direction from grey-blue eyes reminds her more of Fledger than herself - humming a low melody to keep the wriggling toddler relatively still on the surface of the bed as she pulls her nest of downy-soft curls into two tiny pigtails with white ribbons. River had never been one for dressing up dolls or playing house in her childhood, but she can't deny that there's a certain sense of serenity that comes with putting Brooke in cute outfits and doing all of those Mommy-things that remind her so much of her own mother sometimes that it physically aches in a pang of loss that reverberates through her chest.

Getting herself ready doesn't take all that long - she's learned over the last year how to manage her time so most of it can be devoted to Brooke, laying her own clothes out the night before and making sure everything in the house is ready to go from the moment she wakes up in the morning. In the space of five minutes she shimmies into a dress of her own, brushes her hair until it shines in beachy scarlet waves down her back and even applies a bit of makeup, scowling in the mirror as she does so. The Reaping is enough of a horrid thing on its own, but having to trade in her sailing clothes and ponytails for skirts and mascara takes it all to a whole new level of unpleasantry. Still, she contemplates as the soft caress of a blush brush tickles her freckled cheeks, she at least looks pretty for once, chocolate eyes smoldering in contrast to her pale skin thanks to the smoky liner and the forgiving high waist of her dress skirting over the baby weight she hasn't quite been able to work completely off yet. She smiles.

Fledger tells her she's beautiful even when she comes in all windblown and haphazard from days on the water, and his is the only opinion in the world she's ever given a damn about.

"You two look nice," she says to Fledger and Theron when they meet in the kitchen, her voice tight and the words forced because she will never say Happy Hunger Games like it's something to be celebrated, not when that icy terror jolts through her body again when her eyes meet Fledger's as she puts Brooke into her high chair and scrambles through the cabinets for the box of baby cereal. "We ought to be going soon. Don't want to get caught in the crowds."

The walk to the square carries with it an oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing and Brooke's occasional babbling as she plays with River's necklace and giggles, oblivious to the tension in the air. She purses her lips and thinks for the umpteenth time that maybe they should have gotten a sitter, but money is tight as-is and River's never been one to trust even herself, much less her daughter into the hands of others. But the crowd presses tight, too close for comfort as her hand tightens to a white knuckled grip around Fledger's when they reach the point where they'll have to separate, all three of them splitting into their respective age groups behind velvet ropes to await the tragic gamble of Fate that will have two families (Ripred no, not hers, please not hers, please please please...) forever rent apart at the seams, irreparable and eternally broken. Glassy brown meets stormy bluish gray, like the sky on a rainy day, both sets of eyes unblinking as the frantic clench of their hands say all the words their mouths can't.

She kisses him then, hard and unyielding like the world is ending, the delicate structure and work-roughened texture of her fingers curling into dark strands and pressing the two of them so close that she forgets for the millionth time where Fledger ends and she begins. The adults around glare and grumble about how teen parents are undermining society but River can't bring herself to care, breaths heavy and this horrible icy thing still breathing whispers of doom into her ear as she pulls away and presses her forehead against his, the hand that isn't holding Brooke against her hip curling into the front of his shirt. "I love you. So much. See you in a bit."

River doesn't let her eyes leave him as he walks with graceful the gait she's come to memorize over to the group of eighteen year olds a few yards away. The anthem plays and the talking starts, but all of a sudden River isn't able to hear it, amplified words reduced to a dull mumble over the way her heartbeat roars hot and heavy against her eardrums, her arms wrapped around Brooke so tightly that the little girl wriggles and mutters uncomfortably in response. The Escort's hand disappears in a snowstorm of paper slips and her breath hitches in her throat, the world all of a sudden agonizingly clear when a name rings out over the heads of the audience.

It's not hers.

Even though she wants to kick herself for smiling as another girl ascends the steps to her doom she does it anyway, lips curved upwards in giddy relief as she presses her face into Brooke's hair, calming her raging pulse in the soothing scent of baby powder and sea wind. The baby girl babbles out her discontent again at being clutched so tightly and River laughs, loosening her hold and brushing the bridge of her daughter's nose, callused fingers tracing the smattering of freckles already forming there from her one year spent under the District Four sun. The chill that sat so heavy on her shoulders seems to dissipate, replaced with a relived weightlessness that makes her feel almost like she could fly with the gulls that circle overhead, at peace and happy and-

"Fledger Rells!"

And her whole world comes crashing down.

She looks owlishly at the Escort as if she's not quite sure what's just happened, liquid chocolate eyes saucer-round and blinking in sluggish confusion. Fledger? In the Games? It can't be. It can't. But it is. It hits her as soon as she sees him slowly ascending the steps with his expression just as dazed as hers. River wills herself to do something, to run, to scream, to breathe, but she only stands in stiff paralysis, trembling and rooted to the spot as the anthem plays again and Brooke whimpers at the loud noise so harsh on her tiny ears.

She can't, she can't, she can't do this alone and the knowledge that she's standing here watching the one who holds her heart, her forever, the father of her child being escorted off the stage into a place where she can't follow completely consumes her from the inside out, icy heat and freezing torridity eating through the core of her being as the square gradually empties of people and she's still left standing on the worn cobblestones, lithe dancer's frame shuddering violently and Brooke finally registers the confusion and agony in the air and starts to cry. It's that sound that saps the last of her strength, shatters her composure and sends her to her knees that connect with a painful crack against the uneven pavement.

She's always been strong. Always unyielding in the face of life's storms as she dares them to take her if they can, always the one to be depended upon, all fierce loyalty and a temper to match. She's always been tough, enduring everything from rope burn to broken bones to broken hearts on the deck of a whaling boat and gritting her teeth, pushing through it, never, ever giving into the liquid fire that had the nerve to lap at the backs of her eyes. Except for the one time she does.

There, shivering in the middle of the abandoned square with her daughter clutched to her chest, River lets herself cry.

[Morgana]

Theron Rells

I still hear the screams, pounding over and over in my ears, as relentless as the waves as they hit the shore. I still see the blood. Pouring from slit throats, staining the ground. Dead eyes. Dead fingers. People I loved and care about, dead because of me. Death has a way of following me, I've noticed. I've learned not to let people close, not to let them near at all. I am a solitary creature, and that is fact I am fully content with.

Sleep does not come to the night before my first Reaping. I am sixteen years old, and I have always managed to run away from this day in the past. I don't know what it is that keeps my up. Not my arm, twitching like it does so often. It's not the nightmares. It's just a feeling, settled tight in my gut, holding my lungs captive. I spend most of the night alternating between staring at the ceiling and clutching at my sheets, my fingers curled so tightly around the fabric that my knuckles turn white. Breathing has been hard for a long time now. Tonight, it's almost impossible. I watch the sun rise, slowly chasing shadows up the walls until it hits my in the face. It's then that I know it's inevitable. There's no way to run from the Reaping this time.

Fledger gives me an old suit of Dad's, which fits surprisingly well. Fledger wears another of Dad's suits, an identical piece to mine, but he looks vastly different in it. I look rigid and wrong, like a child playing dress-up. Fledger looks cool and calm, and somehow even manages to look casual. Even River, I have to admit, looks nice. But we all pale in comparison to Brooke. The little girl looks beautiful. I can tell she'll break a lot of hearts when she's older. She'll be the kind of girl all the boys chase after. Even now, you can't help but love her. She has Fledger's eyes, something I've always liked, but today, it gives me an unsettling feeling. Almost as if Brooke is a reminder of who her parents are, and not a real person herself. Like she's just a picture, left behind so one parent will never have to forget another. That would mean Fledger or River is going to be Reaped today, something that I don't want to think about. I tell myself it doesn't mean a thing, that I'm just being strange. I pretend that it works.

When we get to the District Square, there is already a sizable crowd. I can't help but watch as River kisses Fledger, pressing herself into him as if she's just part of a whole, incomplete without him. My heart screams for them. Rips itself into two symmetrical pieces. There's something so desperate and impossible about this moment, this kiss. For their sake, I don't want it to end. As we all part ways, my arm begins to twitch. Not just a little twitch, something I'd be able to cover up easily. It's big, violent, my arm nearly leaping into the air with each jerk. I grab onto it with my other hand, begging it to calm down. It's then that I realize how fast my heart thunders in my chest. The anthem plays, matching the volume of the thumping in my chest. A hand is reached into a clear plastic ball. Two names are read. One, and then the other, in an almost too-quick succession. Too quick to fully comprehend the names until I see the faces.

My arm stops twitching. My heart stops beating. My mouth goes dry. I know that face. It's a face I lived with the first twelve years of my life. A face I envied and sometimes went so far as to hate. It's the face I ran from when I couldn't stand the perfection anymore. It's the face of my brother. At first, my brain doesn't understand what it means. Fledger is standing up there, eyes blank. My eyes are mirrors of his. A weak thump sounds from my chest. He's been Reaped. He's going into the Hunger Games. He's going to die.

Death follows me around the way hungry puppies follow people with food.

Too late, it occurs to me that I could stop this. I could do something good for once, and keep together a family that already knows how to function without me. I wouldn't be missed. Fledger and River could be happy, Brooke wouldn't be fatherless. But my brain works too slowly. When I finally realize I can say two words, four simple syllables, to end all this, it's too late. My vision doubles, and I can see the ground tilting towards me. I catch myself, palms ripped open by the hard ground. It doesn't matter. The blood doesn't matter, because it isn't mine. It's Fledger's blood, pouring from his throat. It's all my fault. I've ruined his life and River's. I didn't save him. It was the one thing I could have done to make up for it all, for all the trouble I've caused.

I hazard a glance through the thinning, spinning crowd. River is on her knees, Brooke clutched close to her chest. Tears rip themselves from her eyes. In that moment, I stop seeing her as the reason my mother is gone, the reason why I sleep on the couch. I stop thinking of her as a pain in my ass, as a part of my life I never wanted, and didn't ask for. She's just a person now. A girl in love with a boy. She's River, and she loves my brother more than I ever could have. She's half of a broken whole. Tears clog my throat. I blink fast, trying to get them away. I don't cry. Definitely not in front of other people. I'm stronger than that, aren't I? But all the strength in the world couldn't stop these drops of salt water, so much like the sea. I'm not grieving for Fledger. I'm grieving for River, and all that she's lost. For the first time since I met her, I understand the full depth of her love for Fledger, or at least I understand it better.

On my knees, hands pressed to the ground and bleeding, I cry for all the moments they'll never have.