Quarter Past the Hour, Every Hour (Briknope)

Korey Jondrow

It was one of those unseasonably warm days in District Two that made Korey feel really alive. There was something about a warm day in winter that had an effect on him that nothing else could. The warmth of the sun had mostly melted the snow, and he swore that he could smell the sun. For just a moment he turned his head back to it, letting himself soak up its rays like a flower that was blooming for the first time. Content, he raised his hands over his head and stretched them as high as he could, letting out one of those low groans that came out of true happiness. The reaping was over and he was safe for another year. His mother could relax and stop with her worrying. For the next eight months at least she would cease her pacing across the floor and gripping her clothing in her hands, wringing them as she fretted over the possibility of her son going to his death the way that she had nearly gone to her own death so many years ago. She never got over the guilt of allowing somebody else to die in her place. And I guess I understand that, but come on! The people in this district live to die maybe more than anywhere else in Panem! And isn't that what we're supposed to be doing? Living to die? That's what the Capitol wants, and don't we give it to them? But Korey was determined that nobody would ever have to die in his place. If he was called up for the reaping, he'd never allow it. And not because he was eager to die, but because he didn't think he could live with himself knowing that somebody else had died for him. It would be different if he ever made it into the Arena and then killed someone. After all, that's what they were meant to do. It wasn't something he understood, just something that he felt.

Warm enough to whistle. The tune was a light one as Korey wielded his sledge hammer, working the stones into place and lining them up appropriately. He enjoyed the masonry work, but sometimes he wished that he worked in the mines. For sure it was a richer business than putting together the short walls and Cornish hedges in District Two. But most of the time Korey loved working alongside his father if for no other reason than it pleased his mother, who was the center of his universe. It wasn't until he was twelve that she'd ever let him out of her sight, and there was a time that he thought she'd already given him up to the Games and his death when he'd become old enough for the reaping, but over time things improved, and they were more settled. But year after year, the time leading up to the reaping got worse instead of better while they waited to find out if they would hear his name. As he got closer to nineteen, he also knew that his name was in the reaping ball more times, and that put his entire family on edge. He'd told his mother that it would be okay, and of course, it was. This year.

For a brief moment, Korey thought of Julian Bryze. He knew the boy, but not well. It was more the boy's story that hit a spot in his mind that he couldn't let go of. Last year, Julian's boyfriend had been taken in the games. Korey could even remember Midas's face, the same way that he could remember every one of the fallen. But for some reason, he could never quite bring to mind the faces or even the names of the victors. That's strange, isn't it? You'd think that we'd remember the ones who won. Goodness knows they flash their faces in front of us often enough. But the ones I remember are the ones who died. I mean somebody needs to remember them. All the focus goes to the victors, but what about those who die to prove the Capitol's point? It could have been his mother, before he was born. He'd never forget that, not as long as he lived. It doesn't matter. Julian's as good as dead now anyway, Korey thought with a strange contentment as he sat down on the wall he'd been working on and tipped his head back. Even the cooler breezes couldn't destroy his good mood. How could one be content thinking about the death of another person?

Simple. You stop thinking of them as humans. Isn't that how anybody would survive the games? It's how I'd survive the games if I got reaped. And for all of the Games hate in his family, he was training the way that the others trained, learning to wield that sledge hammer as though it was a weapon and not an instrument or building walls or breaking up stone. He was strong, he was skilled and he was proud, all things that marked him as a resident of an upper district, even if he was poor compared to others who lived here. Even Korey knew that his family had it good compared to, say, district ten. Just thinking about it made him shudder. He could remember a girl from ten several years ago who had really caught his attention, but he didn't dwell on her long enough to remember her name. It was stored back there in his mind, but he didn't want to think about it. It was too nice a day, and he had once more walked away from a reaping with his life intact. I'll accept tributeship if I am chosen, but I'm not eager for it. And I don't want to see Mommy cry. That would... That would be the hardest part. But Goodness knows I'd love to see the Capitol. All that light? I'd love to see the Capitol. Who wouldn't?

"You'd be stupid to live the rest of your life in the districts. Or stupid to want it anyway, when there's so much out there in the Capitol. Who wouldn't want to go there? And all those lower districts would rather stay where they are. I'd hate to live in one of those awful places. Thank Goodness for District Two!" Not realizing that he had company, Korey stood up and picked up his hammer again.