Hunger Games: The Second Quarter Quell - The Story of Haymitch Abernathy

Chapter 1: The Reaping

Slivers of dawn seeped through the worn, makeshift curtain in the Abernathy bedroom long before Haymitch would've like to rise, though he knew there was no getting back to sleep now.

It was reaping day, of course, so it was likely half of District 12 was already bustling in restlessness by this hour of the morning. And though Haymitch's odds weren't usually low, this year marked the Second Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games – it's 50th annual showing, meaning the reaping was to be somewhat out of the ordinary.

This year's alterations had been announced weeks before, which Haymitch paused to recall.

The Capitol channel had been broadcast across the country early in the morning, and the familiar, unsmiling face of President Snow appeared, large and taunting, on every screen in Panem. The districts knew what to expect: Snow was there to announce this year's change in the reaping.

It had happened once before, on the 25th Hunger Games, where the districts had been required to select their own tributes, yet it felt as if every person watching this much-anticipated broadcast was just as unbeknownst to the information as the next.

Haymitch's heart had begun to hasten as President Snow cleared his throat, beginning his spiel.  

'Ladies and gentleman, as you all know, this is the fiftieth year of the Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of the Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol.'

Haymitch and his younger brother, Elden, had used to bet on how long President Snow would flirt on the outskirts of situations before finally elaborating, as he did this plenty on national television, and on this particular occasion more than ever. But they hadn't laid money on this. The air was too heavy to even crack a smile.

'Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. And now, on this, the fiftieth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the second Quarter Quell as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol.'

A dead, heavy sense of mystery still hovered in the air as Snow rambled on, and Haymitch recalled the drop of his stomach just as the final words slipped the President's mouth.

'On this, the second Quarter Quell Games, the amount of tributes reaped will be doubled, as a reminder to the districts that for every Capitol citizen who died during the first rebellion, two rebels gave their lives.'

Despite the few-thousand other possible tributes that inhabited District 12, the thought of this year's doubled reapings had haunted Haymitch since it had been announced.

Shivering in some invisible draught, Haymitch rose from his sheets, attempting to keep the squeak of the floorboards to a minimum as he crept to the kitchen. His mother had never been quite the cook, leaving Haymitch to acquire somewhat of a knack in making supper, at the least, edible.

Slowly and cautiously, he drew open the cabinet above the grimy, blackened sink, quietly retrieving a deteriorating, wooden chopping board, before placing it gently on the countertop behind him and grabbing a knife from the rack beside the sink.

His weakest skill, when it came to mornings, however, was attempting to open the ancient fridge without a groan, or a squeak, or some exhale of discomfort. The thing was practically crying for a replacement, though the Abernathys knew not to expect to afford such a luxury for a while, yet.

Haymitch's hand gripped the cold metal of the refrigerator handle, and with one anxious movement, he yanked it open, hastily gathering the small container of berries, the raw rabbit a neighbour had brought in the previous day, and the oatmeal, which he had repeatedly – with no apparent response – reminded his little brother not to keep in the cold. Not that it would hurt, just that the small, brittle shelves of the Abernathy refrigerator barely held yesterday's gatherings, let alone a large portion of oatmeal, and were honestly weeks away from clattering down entirely.