58th Reaping D9

Aaden Gorozine

Have you ever had an odd premonition about something? Like you have this weird feeling that your home is in danger, but you disregard it, and go on with the day. You see your friends, you laugh, you have a great time, and you completely forget the feeling. However, as you're heading home, that earlier feeling draws over you again like some sort of shroud, and your heart begins to race, palms sweaty. You try not to think about it as your house grows larger, but then you see that the door is hanging off its hinges. Eyes wide, you run to it, yank the door aside and enter your home to see it in shambles. Someone has robbed your house! Suddenly, you curse yourself for being so stupid. You should've stayed home. Hadn't you felt different? Felt nervous? But, you ignored it, simply because you hadn't expected anything bad to happen. So, in truth, it wasn't your fault, you just felt-

I'm boring you, aren't I? Sorry about that. I just felt a good ramble might clear my mind a bit, won't happen again...anyway, so bottom line of that little speech was that when I woke up on Reaping day, I had an odd feeling. Not that my house would be robbed, of course. No, that something was to go wrong...but, I suppose that's how everyone feels on Reaping day. The sun was hardly up when these worries woke me up. I opened my eyes to see James in the bed opposite me, staring off into space, obviously lost in thought.

"You worried too?" I chanced. Normally, James and I weren't on speaking terms, but I figured today was the exception. He paused a moment before nodding. Then, we both fell silent in anxious anticipation of the new day that was slowly creeping across the carpet in the form of sunlight. Finally, we heard the tell-tale groan that my stepfather, Harold and my mother were rising from their old, lumpy bed. Without a word, James and I stood and drew the curtain across the room so we could dress...quite honestly, sometimes I wished the curtain wasn't there...

I dressed in my nicest shirt and dress pants, but shoes would be a problem. I wasn't the best at keeping shoes in order and nice-looking and my only two pairs were proof of that. I chose the ones without any holes and left my hair as is. If one thing on my body that always remained tidy, it was my hair.

I could feel the fear bouncing around my body as I studied my face in the cracked mirror. My fingers traced the raised red dots on my nose and forehead, most likely caused by stress. This happened every year. The Reaping never lost its charm, no matter how old you go. My first Reaping was horrifying enough and it really just got worse from there as more and more slips of paper bearing my name were added. It was the Capitol's cruel trick that even as you got closer to 19, away from the Reaping, the stakes were raised even higher for you.

I looked up, torn away from my thoughts, as my mother shuffled into the room, yawning. Deborah Gorozine had always been beautiful with her long, flowing brown hair, huge brown eyes, a perfect ski-slope nose, and a white-toothed smile. No amount of worry lines on her forehead, gray streaks in her hair or purple bags underneath her eyes could rob her of that beauty. And although I was polite towards Harold, not going as far as to call him "dad," or anything like that, I was thankful he saw my mother for what she was.

"You guys ready to go?" she whispered, as if speaking any louder would bring misfortune upon us. James, who'd come around the curtain, (to my disappointment) fully dressed, nodded.

"Yeah, mom," I told her. She stared at me for a moment, her eyebrows knit, before she folded me into one of her warm hugs. She even gripped James's arm and pulled him in, too. Despite the fact that I craved closeness with James for a long time, and now I was, half of his chest on my back, his arm around my shoulders, my thoughts were elsewhere. The odd feeling hung over me again, a dark cloud. My nerves were running wild, dancing all over the place, pushing hot bile up my throat and down again. Like I was a child again, I buried my head in my mother's chest. And then, I felt safe. Finally. We stayed there, comfortable and warm for a moment, before we heard the door open, and all jumped apart, hearts racing.

Harold stood in the doorway, mouth open in confusion. We stared all at eachother for a moment, but then, Harold gave a small smile. "Who left me out of the family hug?" he asked, good-naturedly and then we were back together as one, sharing in eachother's warmth and love.

Yeah, I know. I'm not one for deep, warm moments like that either, but you gotta understand the situation here. The Reaping day...James and I might be going to die...kind of changes things, now doesn't it? You see, I liked Harold enough, and James...my feelings for him were a lot deeper...but, as far as this whole family stuff went, we were cool to eachother. I mean, mom and Harold, they're in love, and James and I kind of...did it...but, Harold and I treat each other like aqcauntances. James is kind to my mother. And James and I? We hardly ever speak to each other. But, now, all else is aside. We are a family, as cheesy as it sounds. And tomorrow if we all make it, we can go back to acting like we normally.

So, finally, that little pool of love dried up, we pulled away, and resumed our previous somber, nervous expressions. "It's just about time," my mom said and we all nodded and followed her, slowly, out of the house. We moved like zombies, a slow and painful march, our neighbors coming out their houses joining us. We were like some kind of funeral procession. There were no words, only fearful looks. Sorrowful looks, hoping to reassure one another that they were all going through the same thing. They were looks that secretly said, I hope it's you. I hope it's your child. Not me. Not mine.

There was no noise in the sqaure we were arrived. Who needs noise when you have fear? James and I didn't even look at each other as we joined the other teenagers. My friend, Wilbur, nodded at me, looking a sick-green color. I tried to give him a reassuring look, but instead, my face formed a grimace. That dark cloud hung low over me again, hardly giving me time away from the awful nerves. I swallowed hard as the mayor began, praying his speech would last forever, so that we'd never get to the names. Perhaps it was my internal wishes or the man just spoke fast, because it was time to pick the names in no time at all.

I tuned out the girl's name and didn't look for her. I didn't want to. I didn't want to know her. I didn't want to see her. I just couldn't. And then, it was the boy's turn...this time, painstakingly slow, the mayor reached into the glass ball, sifted around, and picked one. Then, he held it to his lips, paused, and then spoke.

"Aaden Gorozine."

My stomach turned over. Me? Me?! It had to be me because the others nodded towards me to go, so I did. Shuffling forward, automatically, I studied the ground. It's funny how many people have walked over these worn bricks. So many people going about their lives, unaware of how quickly they could change. Bam! In a second, you could be basically walking to your death, a death you didn't choose or want at all. The very death you feared.

I'm not sure how I made it up the stairs, but I did and took my place next to her the girl picked. My heart was pounding loudly against my chest, and I easily found my mother's tearful face in the crowd, her beauty seeming to leak away with each tear. Harold had his arm around her and was staring up at me, in shock. Even James looked awful. Oh gosh...

I couldn't do this. I'm not tough. I couldn't kill someone. I couldn't leave my mother behind. I couldn't leave James...I just couldn't. I was lurching forward the second the word "volunteers" left the mayor's mouth.

"Please," I begged, the voice emitting from my lips not my own. The voice belonged to someone just younger, someone not ready, "please, I can't do this. Don't make me go. I can't. Please, I don't want to do this!" I hadn't realized I was shouting until now. I took a deep breath, and stumbled back a little. "I can't do this. I'm not going..." My next word was whimpered, so softly, yet so loud. "Please."

(Aaden Gorozone has stepped down)