The 35th Hunger Games -- SYOT (WRITER'S GAMES) {Semi-Closed}

Reaping Day -- District Seven Female

Daphne Ametza, District seven's female XD! Enjoy :)

The ice-cold water chills me to the core as I pour it over my head. I scrub my hair with soap, trying to get out the stench of sweat mixed with wood chips. I grab the rag and drag it over my body, furiously digging at certain spots covered in dirt that doesn't seem to come off. Eventually, I get myself as clean as I can, and I dry my hair with a ratty towel.
Walking into my bedroom, I instantly spot the clothing my mother has laid out for me. I pick up the brown shirt dress and matching leggings. I slip both articles of clothing on, and I lace up my tan boots. I clip back a part of my hair and tie the rest into a ponytail. I put on my army green coat and go to the kitchen.
My mom is a victor, so she's not here. She's already at the Justice Building with the other victors, knowing I'll get by just fine on my own this morning. I serve myself a small breakfast of toast, berries, and a fried egg before leaving the house. I pull my jacket tighter around me as a cool breeze sweeps through the district.
"Daphne! Hey," Hazel, my cousin, cheers as she jogs to catch up to me.
She's dressed in a pale lavender skirt, white frilly blouse, and white flats. Her long, wavy blonde hair is pulled back in a messy braid, and her cheeks are darkened a bit with powder made from flowers. She's gone all-out for this occasion, despite the travesty of it all. I notice a small pin on her lapel- it's silver, a round ring with three flowers and a small fox on it.
"You look nice," I say simply, knowing it'll delight her.
"Thanks!" she beams. "So do you. Are you nervous for the Reaping?"
We continue walking down the street, passing various stores and houses. I shrug.
"I am, and I'm not," I reply.
I am because I don't know how well I would fare, and I'm not because I know there's no use in being nervous. Fate will go in whichever way it wants. Me being nervous will do nothing to change it.
We approach the town square and sign in. After smearing our blood onto the paper to prove we're who we say we are, Hazel and I walk to our section. I notice we found our spots only three minutes away from noon, making us some of the last to arrive. I peer over at my cousin, deep in thought. I hope Hazel doesn't get picked. She's my best friend, and I'd do anything for her.Hazel's the closest thing I have to a sibling. My dad died in the Games; he knew my mom was pregnant with me, and he wanted his child to survive. Once they were the last tributes remaining, he killed himself by shoving a knife through his chest. With his dying breath, he told my mother that he loved both of us. I watched the tape of that year's Games. I was rather astonished by how much I look like my father.
Our escort, Leola Laverne, walks onstage in her vinyl ankle boots with spiked heels. She wears tight calf-length leather leggings underneath a flouncy skirt and frilly blouse. Her pastel green hair is tied back in a large bun, a pearl fastener around the base.
"Hello dearies!" she grins, showing off her gem-tipped canines. "My, my, what a lovely day it is for a Reaping! In fact, let's begin! Ladies first."
She reaches her lace glove-clad hand into the bowl of names. She swirls her hand around, picking up an envelope, then dropping it, repeating the process precisely six times. Finally, on the seventh time, she finally opens the miniature envelope. Hazel grips my hand, though I'm sure my grip on her is far tighter than hers on me.
"Hazel Ametza!" she announces.
Her nasally voice echos due to the microphone. Hazel's grip goes limp, and she slowly pulls away. She starts a few steps toward the stage before I can finally think straight. Or maybe I can't, because I call out, "I volunteer as tribute," in a firm, confident voice.
Hazel turns, looking at me in shock. Before she can run to me, Peacekeepers grab both of us. The one holding her shoves her back into her age group, while the one gripping me leads me to the stage. I climb the stairs and face the district. In the corner of my eye, I see my mother trying to hold back tears."My, my," Leola gasps in delight. "A volunteer! What's your name, dear?"
"Daphne Ametza," I answer blankly, my tone void of emotion. What have I gotten myself into?
The rest of the Reaping passes in no time, and I barely pay attention to who is chosen to be my district partner. I'm led into the Justice Building and placed in a room.
"You have three minutes," a Peacekeeper says a few seconds later, when Hazel runs in.
"Daphne, I can't believe you did that," she gasps, tearing falling down her cheeks. Her fingers fumble at her lapel before holding out the pin she had worn. "You have to take this. Wear it into the arena. You're clever, Daph. Cunning and resourceful, too. Just like a fox."
She doesn't wait for me to accept the gift. Instead, she just pins it on my dress.
"Time's up," the same Peacekeeper announces, opening the door. He grabs Hazel, pulling her out.
"You can win, Daphne! Don't give up- no matter what!" she yells as she's yanked through the doorway.
The heavy wooden door slams shut, and I'm left alone with my thoughts.