"It's going to be all right, you survived your first reaping, you can survive
this one, too", my older sister Aspen tells me assuringly. She smooths back my slick ginger hair and smiles in the way my father used to when a thunder storm occurred. He would look at me with his gentle features and all my fears would suddenly disappear. The smile wouldn't work this time, it's the reaping, everyone's terrified on this specific day.
"What about Honora Floren? She was only twelve and got selected last year", I whisper anxiously, tugging on my scruffy reaping dress collar.
'It won't happen is all she says' and kisses me lightly on my forehead. A prayer, blessing me for I won't get chosen. She goes to get dressed into her own reaping clothes. If only reaping day could be as beautiful as the dresses were.
• • •
We leave the house with Mother after our hair's up, stockings are pulled tight, and faces are scrubbed till they're the shade of a well-cooked lobster. I can't help but glance back at the raggedy old thing made of dead wood. It might be the last time I ever see it. Last night might have been the last time I slept in there. Aspen tugs my hand and I scramble after Mother and her.
• • •
We reach the town square filled with over thousands of citizens; the youngest in the front, the eldest in the back, and the remaining family members and friends at the side lines. The square is dressed for the dreadful occasion as well, draped with the customary red Capitol banners, cameras in every angle possible, and a long wooden table with two giant balls. In one of those reaping balls hold two slips signed Finch Garland.
I suddenly realize something and curse silently at my selfish self. For the past three days, all I've been thinking was about myself. I should've been looking out not only for my own life, but for Aspen's as well. She's been reassuring me, taking care of me, and she's never complained a single time when I snapped meanly at her. Besides, she's got four more slips in the ball than I do. I sigh when I realize it's too late to head over to the back where the older kids are and apologize as Mayor Thorne comes up on the stage. He croaks on about the absurd Treaty Treason and the unintelligible Dark Days. As suspected, nobody pays close attention to what the beefy man is babbling about, but enough to show the cameras we are scared of the Capitol as we don't want results in punishment. I make sure not stare at the peering cameras. Mayor Thorne finally finishes the necessary speeches and calls up the escort.
This year, we have a new escort. The old one- Lupheya Pompin, was ferociously cheerful and I was surprised that the past District 5 tributes didn't already die from her high-pitched voice and bright luminous green hair. I wonder if Lupheya simply retired, or pestered the Capitol in return of execution. It wouldn't be hard for anyone to hate that unusual being.
The new woman- or is she even supposed to be called that. She's altered so heavily, I'm not even sure if she's human anymore. Her hair is dyed a sickly shade of aqua and her eyelashes are thicker and longer than my pinky finger. The escort's face is stretched back so tight and her lips appear to be coloured permanently white and circled like an "oh" needs to escape.
She teeters over to the microphone and announces, just like Lupheya Pompin used to, " Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour". It's probably essential for all the escorts to say so, but it seems as if she can repeat the ridiculous sentence for eternity and never bore.
"My name is Opal Curian! I hope to be with this district for a long, long, long time!" Opal Curian exclaims with a giggle.
Stares are her only answer.
Opal struts over to the first reaping ball and says, "Ladies first", without the microphone, but everyone hears anyways.
Her long and nimble fingers play around with the scraps of paper for a while and then finally selects one. Opal Curian opens it dramatically and walks back to the microphone.
She clears her throat and speaks out clearly to District 5, "The female tribute of District 5 is Finch Garland".
My heart races.
My breath stops.
A blonde boy behind me helps me up and I realize I fell.
Finch Garland.
Finch Garland. My name.
But it's not me that fearfully walks across the people of District 5 and up the stage.
It's Aspen.
YOU ARE READING
Nightlock, Nightlock
FanfictionThe red-haired girl has a tragic past, one that nobody ever discusses in her household. The girl almost never speaks- some say she's a tortured Avox placed in District 5 by the Capitol as a punishment. But she unsuspectedly gets reaped for the Capi...
