Hidden | HG

☾1☽

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ━━━━┑
we all hate hearing
the awful sound of
Effie Trinket's voice
ringing out
over the plaza
-Tini
┕━━━━ ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

Everyone knows Reaping Day is the worst. Whether your name is in the bowl or your child's name is. It's a little bit better when you've aged out of it or haven't aged into it, so you know you're safe, but it's still awful to watch.

Terrified children walking up those concrete steps, not knowing if they'll ever see them again. Horror-struck parents, watching from the sidelines, knowing that when they see their babies again, they will not be the same. All the other children, full of relief that they've survived yet another year of Reaping.

And everyone knows, deep down into the very core of our beings, we all hate hearing the awful sound of Effie Trinket's voice ringing out over the plaza.

I've learned to tune her out, but I'll have to listen this year. This year, my name is on a single slip of paper in that glass bowl. And I'm trembling at the thought of it. There's a slim chance that I'll get picked, but it's terrifying nonetheless.

"Tini. Stand up straight." My mother mouths at me from where the adults are standing.

I force my back into a straight line and clench my hands into fists. I can act my way out of this.

"As always, ladies first." Effie's voice chimes out after our mayor goes through his speech. Her dainty little hands put on a show as she reaches into the first bowl. 

"Tini Lemlit." She looks into the crowd.

I'm looking around to find a Tini Lemlit before I realize that everyone around me is backing up, trying to get away like I have an infectious disease like I might take them into the Arena with me.

Oh.

Oh no.

"No! Not my baby!" Mother's voice is as sharp as a knife, cutting through my sudden realization.

She's not supposed to break. No one in my family is supposed to break.

Father is trying to calm her, but nothing will calm a mother whose child is being taken away—nothing in this entire world.

I take deep, shuddering breaths as I try to piece my mask back together. My mind is working in overdrive, trying to create the newest Tini I will wear up those awful concrete steps. Whispers are all around me, but nothing is getting to my head.

I smile at Mother; I can't stand to look at Tim, to tell her it's alright. I'm fine. The crowd makes a pathway to the stage. I follow it, my head held high. I walk the concrete steps like many other children before me. But none of them wore a smile.

"That's a good girl. Come along now." Effie reaches out a hand. I take it and walk to my designated spot.

I see everyone from the stage. Mother, crying in Father's arms. My brother Tim, who stands next to the adults, having aged out of this whole thing last year. He's pale, face stony. I give a slight wave to let them know it will be okay. They all know that I'm a very good hider. I'll have at least a fighting chance. At least.

"And now, the boys." Another minute, another show of her hands.

Looking around the male group, I see if anyone could have a chance in the Games. None of the ladies do. I might not have a chance.

No. The Tini you created does have a chance. A mixture of my family's voices swirls around in my head, making sure I do not tell myself lies.

Back to the male group.