I held Rain's hand tight amidst the confusion and crowds that the Reaping caused in District 10. You think from herding sheep and cows and chickens all our lives, we would be better at herding ourselves to our proper place in the town square, but that wasn't the case. I weaved my way easily through the shuffling crowds, no one eager to begin the reaping, everyone stalling. I knew Rain would follow just as easily behind be, latched onto my hand like a lifeline. I passed under the rope that encircled the large group of seventeen year old boys. We all were ashened face, all of us reviewing our poor odds and walking home after the reapings. I didn't know a single person my age who wasn't side up for terrasae. Even the riches of our district were too poor not to.
I stood beside the rope, Rain on the other side in the crowd. We kept holding hands, kept getting that sudden jolt of fear that made us check to see the other one was there. Gradually, we squeezed hands tighter and tigher as the mere sight of th other one there wasn't enough to bring of reassurance.
A man waddled up onto the stage. He was a fat as a cow ready for slaughter, maybe even more so, with a cow-patterned tuxedo and hair the shade of grass that poked up in an odd fashion, making it look even more like grass. Yes, if there was one escort who was exceedingly proud of their district, it was Philanthrop Sparkle, District 10's escort. But why wouldn't he be proud? He gorges himself on our meat almost twenty four-seven.
He cleared his throat into the microphone and announced in his squeaky voice that reminded me of the clucking of a spooked chicken.
"Happy, happy, happy Hunger Games, District 10! Who's ready to get out there and slaughter the competition?" He makes his annual joke that only he and some drunk old man in the back of the crowd laugh at.
He continues on with his pompous speech, endlessly making puns about our District being the livestock district. About halfway through, Rain glances at me as if to ask if this was it, if we only had to endure his dreary speech and that'll be it. I give my head a little shake. The worse hasn't even begun.
The mayor steps up and gives his required talk about why we have the Hunger Games. He's a slim man with oily black hair about his mid-30s. He really is nice. A family friend, even. I remember he used to come over for dinner quite often, and vice versa. For a mayor, he wasn't at all pompous or lofty. He was very down to earth and always apologetic before defensive. \
Before I know it, Philanthrop's hand is squeezing through the opening in one of the crystal balls and plucking out a boy's name. I don't even have time to hold me breath.
"Farren Black!" He rolls the 'r' in a fashion that makes my eye twitch a bit. And then the weight of his words hit me like a stampede of cattle.
My hand hurts something fierce. Rain's gripping it with all the force her little body has, which is quite a lot, and is screaming with tears in her eyes. I don't even hear her. I scoop her up and old her tightly with her head buried in my shoulder, crying, and walk up to the stage.
I set her down as the Peacekeepers block my way up the stage. She clings to my shirt, the obvious effort she's giving to stop crying visible on her face. I give her forehead one last kiss before mounting the stage. She stays put for a second before immediately trying to get to me again. She's blocked by the Peacekeepers who she fights and beats. I barely notice when some lady appears from the crowd and scoops her up as I did, taking her back into the confinement of the crowds. It's the mayor's wife.
I just then think of the mayor, and glance his way. There's pan on his face, obvious pain. He's not one to appear tough in front of the cameras. I feel completely numb. I know my expression reflects this. At least I'm not crying, I think. Until I feel the hot tears start to drop off my face onto the cold stage below.
Philanthrop is already trying to squeeze his meaty hand into the other crystal ball. Somehow, he manages to pluck another name from it.
"Hannah Cooper!" He squeaks.
My insides turn to ice. In fear and in hate. Hannah Cooper. The girl who continuously bullied Rain even though she is my age. The girl with the unforgiving eyes and venomous words. I want to sink a knife into her black heart here and now, but I'm without a weapon. Not for long, I think, and I shudder. They've already got me thinking in terms of the Games.
The audience gives a half-hearted applause. I'm guessing its because most of them are happy to see Hannah go, and that really no one knows me as more than the serious faced boy from the sheep farm.
I'm escorted away with Hannah. I try to catch a glance of Rain as the crowd disperses, but I don't see her at all. My stomach does a back-flip that threatens my breakfast to come back up. I fear I've seen my last of her. I vow not to let it be true.
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