The 4th Quarter Quell (A Hunger Games FanFic)

District 5 Reaping

5

Darren and Sam Tate both could only pick at their breakfast. Ellen couldn't even pick at hers. They were all nervous. They'd all already seen District

1's reaping, as well as District 2. They had every reason to be scared.

Sam and Ellen had already made a plan for if their family was called. The girl called as tribute would be the tribute, and the other would be the mutt. That simple, and basic and fair.

It was a fifty-fifty chance that way. Either way you were likely to die.

Ellen scooped out most of her food into her sibling's bowls, and went upstairs to get dressed. Her eyes had huge circles under them. But she knew it wasn't without reason.

She wouldn't cover those circles. All of Panem could see them.

District 5 was a small district. It didn't take a lot of people to produce electricity for the other districts. This always seemed to make Ellen mad. They had such a tiny population that they only had a matching pool of about five hundred. And because of the mutts, the pool would be even smaller this year.

Ellen started twisting her crimson hair into a bun on top of her head. In case she was chosen to go to the capitol. But she had promised herself that she would fight. If they shipped her off to be a part of the games, she would fight. She would fight until the very end.

Sam cleared her dishes away. She hadn't been very hungry. Neither had Darren or Ellen. They were all very connected, even besides their looks. The three of them seemed to always have the same thoughts and feelings. Today at breakfast had once again shown that.

Sam shook her head a little. She wanted to fight. They were a strong district with too few victors. From a young age, it had been grilled into her. Fight. You are strong enough to win.

And all of them had promised to. They were all strong. They could prove District 5 was the best.

Sam was strong. She felt it to her core. If she were tossed into the games, she would win. Regardless of the fact that her brother and sister would also join her.

She could not let any feelings for her siblings cloud her mind, no matter how close to them she was. No matter that they were all connected, all one. Emotion was weakness in the arena. She knew that better than anyone else.

She knew weakness. And she would never feel it again.

She went into her and Ellen's room. The walls were plain gray stone, like the rest of the house and the rest of the district. She sighed as she saw her sister's hair pinned up upon her head. Ellen always looked so gorgous. Even though they looked percisly the same, Ellen carried more poise and grace than Sam. Even her name was prettier.

They were exactly alike, and both knew it. Only a few tiny things split them apart. Like Ellen's refinement.

Sam walked over to their wardrobe and pulled out a gorgous white dress. It was pretty enough for Sam. She slipped it on and tied the sash in the back. Then she looked at Ellen. She looked like an angel. She had on a silky blue dress that fluffed out around her waist and fell to her ankles. Her arms were bare, and only the thin straps of the dress kept her body covered.

Sam heaved a mental sigh. She had thought she was gorgous, and here was Ellen outstaging her. Again.

Darren stepped in the room to see what they were wearing. He smiled when he saw Sam, in her white bell dress and with her curly red hair, and gasped when he saw Ellen. Sam had to admit she looked gasp worthy, than scolded herself. She was thinking such horrible, shallow thoughts on reaping day. Her sister could be reaped with her, and she might never have a chance to say goodbye. The least she could do was think pleasant, unvain thoughts about her.

Darren looked at his sisters. They both looked pretty. Reaping day was the only day where they really dressed up. It was nice to see them out of their black plainclothes. They always looked nice in dresses, unlike some of the nastier looking girls in the district.

Darren readjusted his tie and walked to the door. "Are you two coming or not?" he hollered up the stairs. He could count on them to make him late to reaping. He was only twenty minutes younger than Ellen, but because of those twenty minutes, he was born in another month. Ellen and Sam relentlessly teased him about how he was a month younger than them.

Darren hated that. He hated how they teased him. He protected them, shielded them from bullies like Michal Tay, a big brunette idiot who lived next door and who hated the Tates. He watched over them, and was repayed with his own bitterness.

Ellen and Sam pranced over to the door. "Let's go, Darren!" Ellen giggled. "We're going to be late!" And her and Sam doubled over laughing.

Darren looked at his sisters as though they were aliens from some other planet. How could they possibly be laughing on reaping day?

His throat like sandpaper, Darren stepped outside with his sisters and started walking towards the district square. They had about an hour before reaping started, but there was no harm in showing up early and talking to a few friends before the reaping started. It always calmed the girls down.

Sam smirked at Darren as he held open the door for her. Ellen shot him a smile. "Thamk you, sir." she said.

"Your welcome, m'lady." And then he too broke down into laughter. And that was how they made their way down to the reaping square, a laughing beacon to all those families in the pool.

They weaved their way into the fourteen's section, trying their best to ignore the bit of drizzle that had started up.

Ellen and Sam weaved their way through the crowd to stand by their two friends, Emma and Falcony. The girls began to chat, complaining about the rain and their itchy dresses. But they knew they were being false. They loved wearing the dresses, they didn't mind the rain, and they did not, by any costs, want to discuss reaping.

About five minutes before reaping was to begin, Sam and Ellen left to find Darren and to stand next to him. He hugged them both, afraid of what might happen. They quickly scanned the crowd for their parents, but did not see then, and instead focused on the History of Panem. They all listened intently to it's reciting, of the first and second uprising. Then they watched the showing. It was the same every year, and was always only shown in Districts 5 and 12. They watched as a bomb exploded, as a blond haired girl screamed in pain, her white nurse's uniform being torn to bits, as were the other children around her. All three grimaced. No one wanted to see that. Ever. That was why no uprising would ever originate in District 5 or 12.

Then the three listened to the treaty of Treason, dreading what came after, but stealing themselves. Darren had promised himself he would not be weak. And Ellen and Sam had promised each other they would not cry. No crying was allowed.

They watched as the District 5 mentor, a frail old man, and the escort stepped on stage. The escort smiled, all chirpy and happy, glad to be there. Sam instantly hated him, and she was sure Darren and Ellen felt the same way.

"Hello, District 5! It's such a wonderful day for a reaping, isn't it?" he said. The question was obviously meant to be rehtorical, since the escort just kept talking, barely pausing. "A bit of rain never hurt anyone. Well, let's pick out our tributes and our mutt! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Ellen was disturbed by his strange accent. The way everything sounded like a question.

The escort dug his hand into the reaping ball, which contained black envelopes. One of them had their name written in white ink, and contained all their slips inside. All sixty-two, forty-five from tesserae.

Ellen and Sam and Darren all gripped each others hands. And steeled themselves.

"Would the Tate family please step up on stage?" the escort asked. They were steel, Sam thought. I am steel.

The stood, waiting for someone to call the names. Ellen was breathless for the need to know.

The people below them, around the stage, seemed so small, so distant. So many slips of paper. One single slip could decide it all.

"Sam Tate!" the escort roared. And they knew their places, with chilling certainty. They knew their fates.