Amber Scott- District 3 Tribute

The Reaping

I walk down to the town square with three of my sisters, Tessa, Reyna, and Robyn. My other sisters, Gemma, Abbie, and Posy are not old enough to qualify for the reaping, and they will wait with my parents in the family section.
Tessa is trembling; it is her first reaping and she is convinced that she will be picked. My parents have told her repeatedly that it won't happen, but she has looked in the old public records and found out that 15 twelve year olds from District 3 have been reaped.
She has told us in a tearful voice, "I will be the 16th, I just know it!"
Reyna is 18, and she is staring stoically ahead, not saying a word. She has always kept her emotions inside. If she is nervous, I can't tell.
Robyn is 13, and she is sobbing and wailing, "WHAT IF I GET PICKED!!!??? I'LL DIE BEFORE I'VE HAD A CHANCE TO LIVE!!"
I hiss into her ear, "Be quiet! You will scare Tessa even more!" I gesture to Tessa, whose face is white and eyes are wide and tear-filled. Robyn stops wailing, but continues to sob loudly.
I am trying to remain calm. If I show how nervous I really am, Robyn and Tessa will surely go to pieces. Reyna is not trying to comfort them, she's just trying to ignore them. I can't say I blame her, things are stressful enough as it is.
We arrive at the town square. We file into line with the other children. Everybody is supposed to go up to a huge table, where women wait to prick our fingers and get our fingerprints.
When Tessa sees that she has to get her finger pricked, she begins to mutter, "Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no."
I give her a hug and tell her, "Tess, it's okay. It will only hurt for a minute." She nods and sniffles.
Robyn has stopped crying by this point, and is shuffling along bleakly next to me. Reyna is walking along silently. She hasn't said a word since we left the house.
We reach the front of the line, and I get my finger pricked by a young woman with a cherry smile.
She says, "Hi sweetie! I'm just going to need to see your finger for just a second!"
I hate people that are happy on Reaping Day. We are about to lose two of our children to the Hunger Games, and she is smiling. I glare at her and put my finger in the machine, then I press it to the paper next to my name. I go and wait next to the table to wait for my sisters.
Reyna goes next, and she stares straight ahead, not paying any attention to the woman pricking her finger. She then walks resolutely to the section for 18 year olds.
Tessa goes next, and she is trembling badly.
The grumpy looking woman pricking finger barks, "Hold still. It will hurt more if you don't."
Tessa bites her lip and steadies her hand. When she is done, she walks and stands mutely next to me.
Robyn goes next, and she is breathing heavily, practically hyperventilating. She gives a little gasp when her finger is pricked, and when she is done, she runs over to me.
I walk Tessa over to the other 12 year olds. She looks up at me with desperate eyes.
I tell her, "It will be okay. They will draw the names, and we can go home when it is over and have supper, okay?"
She nods shakily at me. I give her one last hug, and walk Robyn over to the 13 year olds.
She lets out a wail, and flings her arms around my neck. "I'm so scared, Amber!" she says.
"I know." I say sternly. "But you went through this last year. They call two names, which will not be yours, and then we go home."
She gives a tremulous sniff, and nods. I give her a little nudge, and say,
"Go on. I'll see you after the reaping." She turns and walks away.
I make my way over to the 14 year olds. I stand next to my friend, Kassie.
She says, "This is our 3rd year, and it is no less frightening than the first time." She's right. I still feel the same sense of terror and dread that I felt at my first reaping.
"I know. I'm so nervous, but I've been having to put on a brave face for Robyn and Tessa. It's Tessa's first time, and she is convinced she'll be picked."
"My brother is the same way. He's been hysterical all week!" she says.
Her brother, Jonas, is 12. He is very emotional and sensitive. I shudder to think of what will happen if he is reaped. Hopefully someone would volunteer, but I doubt it. Nobody wants to condemn themselves to such a terrible fate.
Suddenly, a hush falls over the crowd. The escort, who has short, green hair that is spiked up all over her head, walks over to the microphone that is situated in between the two huge bowls. Her clothes are elaborate, just like all of the Capitol clothes. Maybe it's a crime to dress mundanely. Her dress is a vibrant shade of green, like a lime, and it is puffed out from neck to ankle like an oversized tutu. It has emeralds woven into the tulle.
"Attention!" she says. "Today we will draw the names of two, brave, brave tributes who will represent District 3 in the 74th Hunger Games!"
She pauses, looking around the crowds for any applause or sign of joy. She won't find any. The districts, aside from District 1 and 2, do not find the Hunger Games something to be celebrated. Neither would the Capitol if they lost two children every year and watched them die.
"Look at her," mutters Kassie. "She thinks this is some kind of game, or something to be happy about." Kassie looks scornfully at the escort's wide smile.
"First, we will view the video that explains how the Hunger Games began!" announces the escort proudly.
The video begins to play, and it's the same as it is every year. Prattling on about the Capitol's greatness, how they provide for the ungrateful districts that rebelled against them. How the Hunger Games was made to keep the districts in check. Then it shows clips from past Hunger Games, of children brutally murdering each other, and of the victors standing on a pedestal. It ends with the words "Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever."
The escort looks proudly at the screen, as if she orchestrated the entire video, then turns back to the crowd.
"Now for the reaping of our lady!" she says with a flourish towards the bowl where my name, along with all of the other girls' in our district, lies.
She gracefully walks over to it, and drops her hand in the bowl. She rustles around, and finally her fingers close on a slip. She brings it out and unfolds it. There is a moment of tense silence. All eyes are trained on the strange, green-haired woman. She holds one of our fates in her hand.
She takes a breath and says clearly, "Amber Scott."