Categories > Original > Sci-Fi > Breaking Waves
Chapter 4: The Reaping
0 reviewsAnnie Cresta and Finnick Odair have been best friends for ever. After Finnick goes into the games, they silently vow never to speak of it. Until, five years later, Annie is reaped for the 70th game...
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Every day for the past couple weeks has been the same. Wake up, visit Finn at the beach, learn to swim. And every day there's a new lesson. Back float. Breast stroke. And sometimes, when Finn runs out of ideas, he lets me freestyle. It's not as fun to watch me splash around like a fish out of water, but I like watching him better. His even strokes, the way he can jump and dive perfectly. But by the time I was finished learning, Finn told me I'm as perfect a swimmer as he is.
And now we're in a day I dread. Reaping day. There are no more lessons to learn. We have to put all the fun away for this one, retched day. You can't laugh. You can't even smile without assuring yourself a place on the stage. Who would want to, anyway? On this depressing day streaked with black, where the next lonesome soul walks straight into the arena. But, of course, District Four being a Career district, there are some people who volunteer for fun.
I roll out of bed in my usual groggy sense and await my brother and father in the kitchen. We eat soggy oatmeal and drink fresh-squeezed lemonade. No one talks. No one laughs. Reaping day might be a thing of fun for some of the District Four Careers, but here in the Cresta house, it is not a laughing matter.
When breakfast is done, I thank my father for breakfast and head to my room. I pull out a baby pink dress and carefully slip it on. I accompany it with some flats and pull my hair back into a French braid. I turn to myself in the mirror. Even if I could smile, I wouldn't want to. Not on this day.
It's always weird- this day for the past five years, watching Finnick take his place on the stage as mentor. He's only nineteen now, so it's honestly hard to believe that he only won his games at the age of fourteen. I wonder how it feels- training the kids that most likely die every year. I mean, even with these bloodthirsty Careers, we haven't had a Victor since Finn. No one could kill like him.
The bell rings and that tells us it's time to make our way to the square. I lock hands with my brother and father until we're broken apart to form a line to draw blood. I always hate this part. When it's my turn, I put my finger out but am not aware of the prick of pain I feel- I'm too busy searching for Finnick.
I take my place in the seventeen year old section and continue to look for Finnick. And then I see him, mounting the stage. I wonder if he can see me. Is he hoping for my safety? Or is it strictly just business- what he does. I have no time to think, though, because that's when our District Four Escort, Genevieve Castable takes her place at the microphone.
Curly red hair perfectly tied in a ponytail, sparkling skin with gemstones the size of grapes inlaid all over her body, and topped off with a golden dress- Genevieve Castable probably has to be the wackiest looking Escort in all of Panem. Still, she's ditsy and shallow, so she doesn't know much.
I watch as she grabs the microphone and her bright blue lips spread into a smile. ''Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds, be ever in your favor!" The Mayor reads a passage from the Treaty of Treason then we watch a quick video about blah blah blah war blah blah making of the Hunger Games. And, then, it's time for the real fun to begin. Capitol fun, that is.
Genevieve voice rings throughout the whole square. ''And now, the time has come to select one young man and woman for the honor of representing District Four in the Seventieth Annual Hunger Games!'' She snaps on her perfectly bedazzled gloves and continues speaking. ''As usual, Ladies First!''
As she makes her way to the glass fishbowl and drops her perfect fingers inside, looking for the certain-death slip of paper, I get a look from Finnick. That says he hopes it's not me. And all he can do is hope. But that won't change the name on the paper.
So when Genevieve reads the name from the girls slip, I know it all to well. And I'm starting to resent that look from Finnick.
''Annie Cresta!''
And now we're in a day I dread. Reaping day. There are no more lessons to learn. We have to put all the fun away for this one, retched day. You can't laugh. You can't even smile without assuring yourself a place on the stage. Who would want to, anyway? On this depressing day streaked with black, where the next lonesome soul walks straight into the arena. But, of course, District Four being a Career district, there are some people who volunteer for fun.
I roll out of bed in my usual groggy sense and await my brother and father in the kitchen. We eat soggy oatmeal and drink fresh-squeezed lemonade. No one talks. No one laughs. Reaping day might be a thing of fun for some of the District Four Careers, but here in the Cresta house, it is not a laughing matter.
When breakfast is done, I thank my father for breakfast and head to my room. I pull out a baby pink dress and carefully slip it on. I accompany it with some flats and pull my hair back into a French braid. I turn to myself in the mirror. Even if I could smile, I wouldn't want to. Not on this day.
It's always weird- this day for the past five years, watching Finnick take his place on the stage as mentor. He's only nineteen now, so it's honestly hard to believe that he only won his games at the age of fourteen. I wonder how it feels- training the kids that most likely die every year. I mean, even with these bloodthirsty Careers, we haven't had a Victor since Finn. No one could kill like him.
The bell rings and that tells us it's time to make our way to the square. I lock hands with my brother and father until we're broken apart to form a line to draw blood. I always hate this part. When it's my turn, I put my finger out but am not aware of the prick of pain I feel- I'm too busy searching for Finnick.
I take my place in the seventeen year old section and continue to look for Finnick. And then I see him, mounting the stage. I wonder if he can see me. Is he hoping for my safety? Or is it strictly just business- what he does. I have no time to think, though, because that's when our District Four Escort, Genevieve Castable takes her place at the microphone.
Curly red hair perfectly tied in a ponytail, sparkling skin with gemstones the size of grapes inlaid all over her body, and topped off with a golden dress- Genevieve Castable probably has to be the wackiest looking Escort in all of Panem. Still, she's ditsy and shallow, so she doesn't know much.
I watch as she grabs the microphone and her bright blue lips spread into a smile. ''Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds, be ever in your favor!" The Mayor reads a passage from the Treaty of Treason then we watch a quick video about blah blah blah war blah blah making of the Hunger Games. And, then, it's time for the real fun to begin. Capitol fun, that is.
Genevieve voice rings throughout the whole square. ''And now, the time has come to select one young man and woman for the honor of representing District Four in the Seventieth Annual Hunger Games!'' She snaps on her perfectly bedazzled gloves and continues speaking. ''As usual, Ladies First!''
As she makes her way to the glass fishbowl and drops her perfect fingers inside, looking for the certain-death slip of paper, I get a look from Finnick. That says he hopes it's not me. And all he can do is hope. But that won't change the name on the paper.
So when Genevieve reads the name from the girls slip, I know it all to well. And I'm starting to resent that look from Finnick.
''Annie Cresta!''
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