The Hunger Games: Foxface

Chapter One

My alarm clock goes off three times before I wake up. I slowly rise up and wave my hand over the sensor to turn it off. The only way I'm able to really wake up is literally rolling off my bed onto the wood floor. Ouch. I slowly get up from the floor and rub my shoulder. I landed funny. This is the third time this week. I shuffle over to my vanity to brush out my amber hair. I glance into the mirror and shriek.

No, my face is not that scary.

Well, maybe.

I swear I look just like her. It can't be possible. She's not here anymore. She's gone, but you are here. You're here, she's not, I remind myself harshly. I shake my head to get rid of the memories that start pushing their way through my head and out through my eyes. I quickly turn away from the mirror and face my horrid dress. Today is the only day where I have to wear a dress. Today is the day that's the worst day of all.

Today is when one girl and one boy die, with a small chance of living. Yep, today is Reaping Day. The day where all 12 districts each say goodbye to two of their people, already mourning their deaths before they are killed. Unless you are the crazy districts (1, 2, and 4) where you love the Arena and you fight each other to go in. Even though it's considered illegal to train before being picked, they are so rich and have so many connections, no one even cares. That's our fricking failed government system.

I quickly change without looking in the mirror again. I crack open the door, careful not to wake my little sister, Ember (although I doubt it matters because I probably woke her and my father with my shriek - whoops). The sun's not even up, but I have to visit Phoebe before sunrise. Sunrises are her favorite - was.

"Was her favorite, Autumn. Get it right," I scold myself out loud.

I leave the house soundless and quick as a fox, and walk barefooted down the path. I don't even have to think where I'm going; my feet know the way. I walk in the dark sure-footed, avoiding obstacles that weren't there last time. I see why dawn was her favorite time. It's so peaceful but eerie at the same time. I love it.

It's a brisk five minute walk, but my feet don't feel the cold from the desert night. I don't feel the tiny pebbles in the sand, or the sticks of stiff tall desert grass. Most people find them annoying, but I feel like I belong here. What can I say - I hate shoes. I never wear them unless I have to. I feel clunky in them, I feel like my toes have lost all sense of what's around them. As I walk, I pick some wildflowers - I don't know what kind. I think they're pretty, and would go well with Phoebe's eyes. I stop near a cactus and replace the old wild flowers from yesterday with new ones.

"There. I'm pretty sure they match your eyes, Phoebe," I tell the ground. I see the sun rise over the rock formations and cacti. It truly is beautiful, just like what Phoebe always told me, "The desert sunrises are a new beginning. Everything looks different, and you notice the birds that usually stay out of sight from the heat. The desert is where we belong, Autumn. It's where people can start over." My eyes start to tear up as the sun gets higher, and I can see the birds take flight overhead, and dart and dive after the insects that fill the dawn sky. I miss her so much. Especially today.

Phoebe was reaped for the 70th Annual Hunger Games, four years ago. She was twelve, the youngest recipient able to partake in that death trap. All for some food for the orphanage, she put her name in more than ten times. The odds were definitely not in her favor. We are somewhat close to the Capitol because we provide energy for Panem, this ugly nation, so we aren't starving like District 10, 11, or 12. The Capitol creates an arena, and in order to come home you have to kill the other twenty-three tributes. Six of which have been training since they could walk. It's insane.

Phoebe was the last three left. She was so close. They made the Arena unbearably hot, and her having severe asthma, she couldn't breathe even though she was used to the heat of the desert. They dried up the few rivers and oases right when people arrived, so it seemed like a mirage. I like to think that she died not of being killed by a spear or a brick, but of natural causes, even if other people from the outside made it happen. Also, now that I look back, I'm glad she's not left with any scars - mental and physical - that could make her go crazy like the Victor of the 70th games from District 4.

I sit next to Phoebe for who knows how long. The sun is higher, and the heat is coming. I hear the insects start to buzz and I see the snakes come out of their burrows and bask in the sunlight. How easy their lives must be, finding food, sleeping in burrows, then basking in the warmth just to start all over again. It's a cruel life that takes a toll on you, sure, but it seems so much easier than trying to find new energy sources for our ruined nation. I get up and climb onto a rock to get a better view of my surroundings. I can tell the town has woken up, and the Peacekeepers (their name is really ironic, actually) are coming into District 5. They start to set up the scaffolding where the unfortunate two people are chosen in front of Town Hall. The sign that reads Panem Today, Panem Tomorrow, Panem Forever and the seal are so large I can see it from here. I know I have to get up at some point and wash my feet to get rid of the dirt, or else the Peacekeepers, with their clean, sterile white suits that look ridiculous and uncomfortable, will be more hostile towards me. As I walk into town, I hear the announcement the attendance will begin in ten minutes. I head into my house right at the edge of town to get ready and pick up my sister.

When I get inside, Ember is crying while my dad, being the awkward father he is, is trying to comfort her. He has no clue how to comfort a crying thirteen year old. Once he sees me, he looks so relieved its kinda funny. As I'm washing my feet in the kitchen, Ember is trying to control herself, but she can't.

"I'm scared I'll get picked!"

"Ember, you're thirteen, and you didn't put your name in for more rations. They won't pick you," I respond, saving my father the trouble. After Phoebe died, Dad wouldn't allow any daughter of his to put her name in the bowl more than the required one time in order to get more rations. But even as I say this to her, my mind immediately thinks, Yeah, they won't pick her. Just like they wouldn't pick Phoebe.

"But what if they do!" Ember cries, looking up at me with her bright green eyes, clearly frightened for, well, for her life.

"Ember, I will volunteer for you if you are picked."

"NO! Autumn, you can't! I won't let you!"

"Tough luck, kid," I reply. My dad puts his hand on my shoulder. He knows just as much as I do that I will volunteer to die for Ember. I never break my promises. The sound rings, telling us it's time to check in and see if I'm going into the Arena. Hand in hand, Ember and I walk into town.

As we walk silently, we keep holding hands. What I said was true. I may only be two years older, but I'm more athletic and know the difference of safe and poisonous berries, so I'd have more of a chance. We go through the procedure of finger pricking and being separated by age group. I squeeze Ember's hand as we part. I go over to the fifteen- and sixteen-year-old's section and stand next to my best friend, Lila. Did you visit Phoebe? Her eyes ask. I nod, as I do every single day.

A Capitol lady named Celeste Lani comes up onto the scaffolding and says her tidbit; The Capitol is amazing, and Panem is the greatest nation to have existed in the world, blah blah blah. I zone out.

"Ladies first!" Her words reach my mind. Darn, I missed the classic 'May the odds be ever in your favor'. I hold my breath. Please don't be Ember, please please please...

"Autumn Sillens!"

What?!

"Autumn Sillens? Where are you, my dear? Congratulations! Don't be shy! This is a great honor! Please join me up here!"

I must have heard that wrong. No, no, no, no, no! I hear my sister scream. Yep, I heard it right. Lila gently guides me forwards. "Don't be afraid, Autumn. They don't control you. You're as free as falling leaves," she whispers. Good, old classic Lila. Making fall jokes out of my name, without showing her fear for me. I finally find courage to walk up before the Peacekeepers lay their filthy, starched, sterile gloves on me.

"I VOL-" Ember starts to say.

"NO!" I bellow over her. She will not volunteer for me. No way. Now Ember is sobbing. She's trying to stay so strong, my heart aches. First Phoebe, now me. Why? What has my family done to deserve this?