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A Whole New Game- Chapter 1 -A Hunger Games Story

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Chapter 1: The Reaping


"Athena? Can you watch Samantha tonight? Your father and I are going out for a bit."

"Yeah, sure mom." I reply.

I don't know where exactly they go, I only pray that they are safe. My parents are part of a secret organization who's goal is to overthrow the Capitol. What my parents do is dangerous and we have to be careful, everyone is a potential predator, everywhere could potentially be the last place they ever see.

I sigh as I turn toward my little sister in her cradle. Only two months old, and still I would do anything for her. She sighs in her sleep.

Something about her gives me chills. The way something can be so small and fragile, but still so alive, so young and full of life...it's baffling.


Slam.

I peer out the window, I see my parents get out of the car. Something is very wrong. I see a Peacekeeper come out of the backseat, holding a gun to their heads. I freeze, stuck, as if the entire universe put on pause. They are arguing. I know I should move, do something, help them, but I cannot.  I am motionless.

He pulls the trigger once, twice, and they are dead.

They are dead. They are dead. They are-he sees me. He starts towards the house. I run, snatching my sister from her cradle, and fleeing out the back door. I fly up the hill, gliding through the thick forest like a shadow in the night, firey hair whipping behind me. Once I reach the top, I turn around, only to find our home engulfed in flames.

I run and never look back...


I jolt up from my bed. I look around frantically, but find Samantha sleeping peaceful next to me, curled into the think blankets. I look around the muggy storage room, shaking myself awake.

This place used to be a power plant, but now, it is abandoned. District 5 had closed down many of the old plants because they had come up with new, more efficient ways of creating power. I remember the day I found this place, just a few months after my parents had been shot. I was searching for somewhere to stay for Samantha and I, and this had been the one place I had found that was not crawling with Peacekeepers. It wasn't much, but it covered from the weather and we didn't have to pay, so we have been living here ever since. Two years. Two years, we've been here; Samantha now three and I now sixteen. Two more years until I can start working in the District, finally start earning some money. Maybe even get us a real place to live.

I wake her, and we eat a small lunch of strawberries, picked from a patch near our little home. She smiles at me as she eats, so carefree and happy. I dread the day I have to tell her about our parents, the day that blissful child has to see the bad in the world.

I look at the old clock on the peeling, grey wall and see that it is almost time.

Today is the day of the reaping. Two more years to go for me, nine more until Sam starts being entered, her name clearly printed on a single strip of clean white paper. I will hate the day I have to stand and watch, my body sweating as I pray the escort's hand will pass over my sister's name. But today, the only person I have to worry about is myself.

Sammy and I get dressed, and make our way down to the District Square. As I sign at the small desk, I watch her run to Mrs. Dianan, an old woman who used to be friends with my parents. She lives only a little ways from the plant, and sometimes will say hello to us and share a meal with my sister and I. Since my parents died, Sammy goes to stand with her at the reapings, as if she is our makeshift mother.

I merge into the mass of teaming sixteen-year-olds. A new escort leaps onstage, though I don't bother remembering her name. I wonder what happened to our old one...

"May the 74th annual Hunger Games begin! Are you excited to find out you new District 5 champion? Because I am!" she trills. She is completely lying of course, we hardly ever have anyone who wins the games who come from District 5...

"Now let's let the ladies be chosen first, shall we?" she squeaks. She reminds me of an excessively excited squirrel, dressed in pink. For her it seems announcing the tributes is like finding a bunch of acorns in a-

"Athena Raze!"

My name. My name has just been called.



******************************************



I bury my bare feet in the warm sand, gazing off into the horizon. The beach is where I spend most of my time, curling in the warm rays of the sun and napping to the sound of thundering waves.  Everything is so peaceful, quite the contrast from the chaos of the training center, the only other place I seem to ever be. Not that I don't love the training, in fact I probably spend more time in the center than any other person in District 4. It's practically my other home. After all, I need to be prepared if I am to be a tribute in the 74th Hunger Games.

I smile, knowing that today is the day I am to volunteer. This is the year I am going to become a victor, this is the year the world will know me.

Eleanor Ruehler.

I stand up, brushing the sand off my clothes, and begin the short walk home. My father is the mayor of District 4, and our mansion stands right along the beach, blue wood faded from years of sun rays and salty sea spray. As I walk up the white porch, I take one last look out at the rolling waves. The last I will be looking at them as an average girl. The next time I look out over the maritime horizon, I will be an idol.

Of this, I am sure.

I run up the stairs and into my room. As I close the door, I immediately notice a gorgeous dress, the maritime green color of sea foam, lying on my bed. I pick it up, gazing at the wondrous silk, the smooth fabric falling between my fingers like seawater. Without a doubt, a gift from my father. I think he feels bad, being busy all the time and having to leave me on my own, so he makes up for it in gift giving. It's his way of trying to tell me he loves me. Quite frankly I don't really give a damn if he loves me or not. Relationships can only get in the way of focus, and that is not something I can afford to lose.

I quickly shower and slip on the dress. I walk up to my mirror, examining the glorious result. My blond hair falls in soft waves around my face, golden strips like seaweed curling at the ends. They are the suns rays, bouncing and reflecting on the green ocean of silk that caresses my body. Boys might consider me beautiful in it, but I mainly hope it would get the attention of sponsors on the recaps of the reaping tonight. I look quickly around my room for something I can use as a district token, but find nothing. Better to not have anything anyway. The focus should be on the tribute, not some worthless prize. I walk out of my house and head to the reaping, wincing as the sound of the waves begs me back.

The town square is packed full of people like sardines in a can. I walk over to the seventeen-year-old section and survey the crowd. Friends stand together and talk amongst themselves. Mothers hug their children, cooing heartfelt assurances before walking over to where other adults stand. I tap my foot impatiently, anxious for the reaping to begin. I have practiced volunteering in my head over and over again, I am sure I could do it in my sleep.

Me, I volunteer. Eleanor Ruehler. Your future victor.

Finally, after what feels like a century, our escort strides onto the stage.

I can't even listen to my father read the annual speech-I am too distracted by our escort, Domina Pullus. Everything about her is utterly ridiculous. Her hair is dyed a hideous shade of red, her dress is made up of white feathers, and her gigantic heels are a neon yellow. A chicken, she looks like a chicken, though if that was the intention I am unsure. I never have been one to understand Capitol fashion. At last the speech and film are over, and Domina walks over to the reaping globes.

"Welcome, welcome," she trills in her Capitol accent. "The time has come to select our tributes for District 4, may the odds be ever in your favor!" I take a deep breath, her hands gliding to the bowl. I prepare my voice. No one is about to steal my chance.

"I volunteer!" I yell, while striding up to the stage, Domina's hand not even selecting a name yet.

The look on her face is priceless, obviously offended that I interrupted her.

"Well, come on up," she says, a twinge of irritation lingering in her mousy reply.

I don't need any further encouragement, and I stride up onto the stage, teaming with pure bliss and confidence.

"What is your name?" she asks.

"Ruehler. Eleanor, Ruehler. " I reply.

"Eleanor Ruehler, everyone! This year's female tribute of District 4!" The applause, oh the applause. What will be the first of so many cheers and shrieks of delight, all in my name.

Domina walks to the boy's bowl, and I smirk at crowd like I had practiced. Intimidation from the start, that's what I was taught. That is my strategy, terrify. As Domina cheers the next name, a boy volunteers, and strides onto the stage. He's introduced, though I don't remember his name. I don't care. Domina has us both shake hands, and I stare at him and try to determine his worth. He is handsome, could probably acquire some sponsors, but other than that he doesn't look like any kind of a threat. He smiles at me and winks, and I roll my eyes in response. He won't be smiling when I rip his throat out in the arena.




*********************************





As I sit and wait for it to start, my sweaty hands fold together, secretly praying that they will call his name.  Maybe it would teach that son of a bitch a lesson. Then again, I feel that small twinge of doubt telling me that it was my fault he ended up the way he did, that I was the one that released his inner monster.

My fingers fiddle with the edge of my grey dress, going over the outline of the small, dark-blue swirls near the bottom of it. Carver said this dress in particular always made my startling blue eyes look like tiny diamonds, and I guess I would have to agree with him. It really does make them pop, shimmering in the shallow sockets of my freckled face. If only he could see it now, flowing in the crisp, cool wind, brushing my thighs as it swirls.

If only Carver were here. But I shouldn't worry. He'll return by the end of the month, and all those years of Career training will have finally paid off. By the end of the month, I can at last escape this hellhole and finally join Carver at work.

       And get away from him. For good.

The sound of heeled clicks demands my attention, and I glance up at the broad stage of District 2's Justice Building. The speaker takes their place on stage, a man as short and stubby as a gumdrop and as green as the clover for which I am named. He introduces himself as Hypna. He gives the same speech that they have to do every year, the Capitol film's cheery music ringing in the background as he finishes. I don't listen. I am too busy looking through the audience, searching the ocean of anxious faces. I hope I might catch a glimpse of the familiar spiked blond hair of my best friend. As my eyes scan the 18-year-olds, I spot him, towering over everyone at about 6'2. I mouth his name, a futile hope that he might dart a glance my way. As if he will notice. This is the day he has been waiting for his whole life. He needs complete focus. Even if he didn't, he'd be too ignorant and oblivious anyway, he always has been.

"Cato," I whisper. As if it will help. "Cato."

The film ends, and all goes silent. I stop my useless attempt at getting Cato's attention and look up at Hypna. He shuffles back to the microphone, tripping over his feet along the way.

"Well, since everyone looks so anxious, I think we should get started. Let's find out who our lovely lady will be, shall we?"

As if we have any other options.

He strides over to the bowl with the names of every girl in our District in it, auburn heels clicking as he walks. I will not be chosen. My name is in the bowl four times, considering my age of  fifteen, but that is slim odds compared to most, and there is no way I will be raising my hand to volunteer. This year, no girl in their right mind would. Not even the other Careers. Not when everyone knows the boy tribute who is volunteering.

Hypna selects a piece of paper, orange-painted nails brushing the names of all the people who no longer have to worry about a violent, televised death. He reads the name printed with his chipmunk voice, accented with the Capitol's foreign tones. Somebody's death sentence has just been issued. I have no idea whose. I don't care. I just can't wait to get out of here.

It's not until I realize everyone is starting at me-my face looking down from the screens-that I know it is my name that has just been called.

I slowly make my way on stage, shock holding my heart as I numbly move my feet forward. I can see him, his face coated in disbelief. Cato, please. Please. Don't volunteer. It is useless though, he will anyway. He has always known that this was his destiny, he can't give up his dream. This is his last year to volunteer, and he can't miss his chance. I have always known he would come back home safe and sound when he did go, that he would win, and return home to me with open arms and a beaming smile, until now. Now that only one of us can come back.

Maybe, just maybe, this will change his mind.

"Come on darling, a bit quicker. Your holding everyone up."

I take my place on stage and look up and Hypna. I give him my famous "I could kill you here and now with nothing but my bare hands" look. He gets the point.

"Let's give our District 2 tribute, Miss Clove Jourdaire, a round of applause!" I hate the sound of my name in his mouth, the accented pronunciation foreign on his tongue.

He claps, but no one else does. They have no reason to. They are finally getting rid of me. Inwardly, I bet they're all celebrating.

He notices the silence and ends it. "All right then, let's go to the boys."

It becomes silent, quiet enough that I almost feel I can hear other people's hearts beating. Before Hpyna can even reach the globe of names, I hear a deep shout from the audience. Dammit.

Hypna turns, as though he had been waiting for someone to interrupt him, as if he could expect no less from District 2. I see a boy, shoving his way through the audience and gliding up onstage. He appears huge compared to our escort, his spiked blond hair sticking up over our Hypna's ridiculous green ponytail.

Hypna squeaks something else into the microphone and before I know it, Cato and I are shaking hands. We make eye contact for only a brief second, the world slowing around us, dulling into nothingness. My heart breaks within that moment, looking my best friend in his baffled green eyes, eyes that have seen me in every possible light, eyes that know every single secret. Well, not every one.

Because one of us is going to die, and it will be him.
This is the Hunger Games fanfiction that my friends and I currently writing together.

I don't know what happened to all my indenting and spacing, but I'm too lazy to go back and change it now. Sorry.

I am usually in charge of editing and of Clove's parts, but we all collaborate together. It's actually really fun. :happybounce:

Eleanor's parts written by: :iconponiesaremypassion:
Athena's part written by: :iconwirelessimagination:
Clove's parts written by: Me! :iconcrooked-letters:

For starter information:
-This is the 74th Hunger Games, the one with Katniss and Peeta.
We figured that since everyone can read Katniss's point of veiw of her own reaping from the book, that we could just leave that out for the first chapter. But she will be in later chapters, I promise.
-Athena Raze is actually Foxface. We just gave her a name.
-Carver will be explained in later chapters, as well as the mysterious him.
-**** symbolize a change in setting or perspective


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Well that's about it. Any other questions, just ask. Please let me know what you think!
© 2012 - 2024 crooked-letters
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skys12's avatar
I read this all and was sad when it was over xc
I LOVE THIS> XD>
>D