The 544th Annual Hunger Games

[3] DISTRICT 3 REAPINGS

Sparks Fuse's POV

I rummaged desperately through the rough wooden chest that held the entire contents of my wardrobe, searching for an outfit that would be appropriate for the reapings. If I looked tacky, then my parents would probably be very disappointed in me, and that was something I really didn't want to happen. Thanks to my badly burnt shoulder and scarred back, I couldn't wear anything that had short sleeves or a low-cut back. Eventually, after finding my mother's chest of clothes, I found a gown that fell to slightly below my knee, and was a warm yellow at the top and gradually faded into a dark red. The sleeves were long, and the back was high-cut. It was perfect.

I slipped it on quickly and was vaguely disappointed to see that it was slightly too tight in some parts, as my mother had a decidedly wiry build, unlike my curvy figure. Oh well, those tight parts wouldn't actually be too much of a problem; my blemishes were covered up and that was all I cared about.

"Sparks, come on! Flame is getting impatient!" Ash called from the front door. I called out that I was on my way, before slipping into a pair of orange flats and jogging out the front, my long orange hair streaming out behind me.

"Sparks, your hair!" Flame cried in distress. I ran my fingers through the soft, frizzy orange strands and shrugged. I'd prefer to be on time than fix a little hair problem. "Stay still, this won't take long." As I obligingly stood still, Flame came to stand behind me and deftly plucked my hair with her nimble fingers. In less than five minutes, my hair was in two neat plaits that screamed innocence. She used two rubber bands from her own auburn hair, instead choosing to let her wavy locks fall to her collar bone. She'd cut it short a few days ago, and the look suited her far more than long hair had.

"Come on, come on. If we're late, we'll be in trouble." Ash muttered, running a hand through his flaming red hair. I nodded my head and gave Flame a quick hug, before we all jogged towards the town square. Thankfully, because my father was a respected mechanic and popular among the peacekeepers, otherwise we would've gotten into much bigger trouble than we did. A friendly peacekeeper, a man in his mid-thirties called Hank, warned us about being late before ushering us into the small line of teenagers waiting to get checked in. We got our fingers pricked before jogging into our assigned places in line. Our District escort, Happy, had already started with the welcoming introductions.

He was probably the most terrifying person I'd ever seen in my life.

His dyed yellow hair stuck out in odd directions, and he had had his lips stretched into a permanent, ridiculously large smile that was scarier than just about everything I'd ever seen. He wore heavy electric blue eyeshadow that surrounded his pale yellow eyes, and he wore a thick layer of vibrant yellow lipstick. His costume was a skintight yellow bodysuit, that hugged every inch of his body and left little to the imagination. He wore bright yellow boots with heels bigger than Flame's, and the bright blue spikes all over them matched his eyeshadow.

"Now, time to reap the female for this year's Hunger Games," He said excitedly. His high voice reached an octave that was higher than most of the females standing in the town square, and I was sure that his lips weren't the only thing that was surgically altered. "And the female is... Sparks Fuse."

My mouth fell open in shock as I processed what Happy had said. My name. He'd called my name.

I was going to die.

Closing my mouth and strengthening my resolve, I began to slowly make my way towards the stage, searching the crowd for Flame and Ash. My parents were easy to spot; my father was balling his eyes out and my mother was a steady rock. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she was supporting my father and looking sadly after me. I felt tears prick at my eyes, but hurriedly rubbed my eyes. I would not cry; not in front of all of Panem. I was stronger than that.    

I mounted the stage and stared out over the crowd. I spotted Ash staring up at me, anguish in his eyes. He couldn't volunteer for me, and I wouldn't let him volunteer for the male tribute. I couldn't stand to see someone I loved died. District 3 didn't offer weapons training of any sort to it's young, so he had a slight advantage over me due to his strength, but he would be ridiculously outmatched by someone from District 1, 2 or 4.

After searching the crowd a second time, I finally spotted my sister. I was sure that she would've volunteered, but now I could see the reason she hadn't. Flame was unconscious. Her friends were holding her up, and her neat hair was in disarray. It seemed as if her messy hair was reflecting the horrible scene that had just occurred.

"Welcome, dearie," Happy screeched in my ear, jolting me back to where I was. On a stage, in front of District 3 and cameras that were broadcasting this. I scowled at Happy and ignored his outstretched hand. I breezed past him and sat down in one of the seats behind him. Looking slightly flabbergasted, Happy quickly regained his composure and went on to the next unfortunate tribute. "The male tribute that has the honour of representing District 3 is... Michael-"

"I volunteer!" A young voice said calmly from somewhere near the front. A boy strode out of the 14 year old section, and I squinted my eyes at him in confusion. Did he have a death wish? As the boy made his way towards the stage, I took the opportunity to study him. He had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, and his face was covered in freckles. The freckles gave him an innocent look, but his dark eyes showed that he was wise beyond his years, and had a slight manic look to them. This was someone to fear.

"My name is Felix James." He said simply, before coming to sit beside me. We sat silently through the rest of the reapings, before Happy ended by praising our illustrious leader, President Wynn Gallows. Peacekeepers surrounded Felix and I a few seconds after, and ushered us into the Justice Building. Usually I would've admired the architecture, but today I could only think that this might be the last building I see in District 3.

And boy, was that a depressingly enlightening thought. It showed that my situation was real, and dangerous. I might never see my loved ones after today, might never see my home. And the thought scared me, more than I cared to admit.