Post by Jules on Feb 25, 2009 23:24:01 GMT -5
The past year had been the best District Twelve had seen since Haymitch had won the Hunger Games for them. Not only had the Capitol showered them with gifts and foods, but their sense of pride in being from District Twelve, and having two tributes so amazing as Katniss Everdeen and Petra Mellark. They were the makers of history, and would be the stuff of legends for ages to come.
But the year long celebration that seemed to have taken a firm grip of District Twelve, the Seam included, was beginning to finally sober up as the next Reaping Day approached with cruel swiftness. Now the dream had to end, now people had to remember that this year had been a fluke amongst a dynasty of failure, like Haymitch had been a fluke, and they would be stupid to expect another this year. They were reminded that this year they'd have to watch the names roll around and pray that it wasn't them or theirs. And that all the gifts and shared wealth would come to an abrupt halt and people would return to their starvation.
All year Fitz had been thinking this, sitting back while other people acted as if District Twelve had suddenly become Heaven on earth. She had nursed contempt for them, who seemed to use Katniss and Petra's victory to escape the fact that life was just as hard as ever, that people were still dying, that the Capitol was still a bunch of flaming tyrants pitting children against each other and making a profit while they ripped themselves to shreds for entertainment value. She hated how easily everyone had been bought off. Some people would be excited now, for a Reaping, hoping that District Twleve would win again, that children would slaughter more children so they could have another year of reprieve. Fitz refused to be happy about any of it, and had continued her life like she always had.
But today life had to stop it's normal course, today was the Reaping day. She let her mother fiddle with her hair and dress her up like a doll, it wouldn't help Fitz's permanent scowl, hollow cheeks, or jutting hipbones. But her mother seemed soothed by her fussing, as if if Fitz didn't look like her normal self, she couldn't possibly be chosen. But she knew the odds, and at seventeen with so many tessarae taken, they were against her.
Fitz attempted to take her own sweet time getting to the square, but her father pinched her firmly on the arm and told her to get a move on, so she did. Her and her four brothers, one of which was her twin. The younger ones fell away to fit into their proper rows, but Fitz and Mica held hands all the way, and made sure they stood next to each other.
People, in the past, had made fun of how close the Petrarch twins were. Some called Mica queer, others thought it was unnatural, unhealthy, incestuous, but not in front of Fitz because she was well know for having fierce resemblance to a hissing cat when mad, right down to the clawing. But it was all heresy, it had just happened that way. Their father worked in the coal mines as long as they would let him, their mother ran off her feet with three boys twelve and over, and two girls that were under and so the oldest, Fitz and Mica had often been left on their own.
The normal opening ceremonies commenced, but they went by in a blur. The air was tense with excitement, which sickened Fitz, and then it was happening, the names were being rolled around and Effie Trinket was reach her hand into the one containing all the girl's names.
"Fitz Petrarch."
The only thing that kept Fitz from screaming her head off at the unfairness of it all was her brother's firm grasp on her hand. This could not be happening, it just couldn't. There was absolutely no end to how much Fitz did not want to go. Even taking one step towards that stage seemed impossible. She was frozen, mouth clamped shut, lips white, and she knew the nation was watching her, that she'd be seen as weak and defenseless, but that's only because she was! She had no real skills that would help her when it came to survival, nothing, nothing at all. Her scratching wasn't going to kill anyone. She couldn't do this, couldn't do this, couldn't do this....
Apparently she'd taken too long just standing there, because when she snapped back to reality, she was on stage and Effie Trinket was fluttering around her attempting to figure out how to congratulate someone who seemed to have gone into a coma while standing. All Fitz could register was that her hand ached for the lack of Mica's and that she had no idea who had put her up on stage. She cracked a horribly stiff smile that looked more like a broken twig, and then they decided that they best just sit her down, get her a glass of water and hope the boy was a little less retarded. People were clapping, the thunder she'd thought she'd heard was clapping. Fitz stared at the crowd congratulating her absolutely stunned, Stunned until she found her brother's eyes, staring back at her in horror. She saw him move, saw him twitch, saw him look towards the ball, and she stood up and screamed "NO!" At him.
Fitz would not have him volunteering for her place. No matter how much she didn't want this, she could not have him taking her place. The crowd had stopped their happy clapping to look at her like maybe she would be another Haymitch when they'd been hoping for a Katniss. She frowned again and crossed her arms over her chest, thinking what a disappointment she must seem.
But the year long celebration that seemed to have taken a firm grip of District Twelve, the Seam included, was beginning to finally sober up as the next Reaping Day approached with cruel swiftness. Now the dream had to end, now people had to remember that this year had been a fluke amongst a dynasty of failure, like Haymitch had been a fluke, and they would be stupid to expect another this year. They were reminded that this year they'd have to watch the names roll around and pray that it wasn't them or theirs. And that all the gifts and shared wealth would come to an abrupt halt and people would return to their starvation.
All year Fitz had been thinking this, sitting back while other people acted as if District Twelve had suddenly become Heaven on earth. She had nursed contempt for them, who seemed to use Katniss and Petra's victory to escape the fact that life was just as hard as ever, that people were still dying, that the Capitol was still a bunch of flaming tyrants pitting children against each other and making a profit while they ripped themselves to shreds for entertainment value. She hated how easily everyone had been bought off. Some people would be excited now, for a Reaping, hoping that District Twleve would win again, that children would slaughter more children so they could have another year of reprieve. Fitz refused to be happy about any of it, and had continued her life like she always had.
But today life had to stop it's normal course, today was the Reaping day. She let her mother fiddle with her hair and dress her up like a doll, it wouldn't help Fitz's permanent scowl, hollow cheeks, or jutting hipbones. But her mother seemed soothed by her fussing, as if if Fitz didn't look like her normal self, she couldn't possibly be chosen. But she knew the odds, and at seventeen with so many tessarae taken, they were against her.
Fitz attempted to take her own sweet time getting to the square, but her father pinched her firmly on the arm and told her to get a move on, so she did. Her and her four brothers, one of which was her twin. The younger ones fell away to fit into their proper rows, but Fitz and Mica held hands all the way, and made sure they stood next to each other.
People, in the past, had made fun of how close the Petrarch twins were. Some called Mica queer, others thought it was unnatural, unhealthy, incestuous, but not in front of Fitz because she was well know for having fierce resemblance to a hissing cat when mad, right down to the clawing. But it was all heresy, it had just happened that way. Their father worked in the coal mines as long as they would let him, their mother ran off her feet with three boys twelve and over, and two girls that were under and so the oldest, Fitz and Mica had often been left on their own.
The normal opening ceremonies commenced, but they went by in a blur. The air was tense with excitement, which sickened Fitz, and then it was happening, the names were being rolled around and Effie Trinket was reach her hand into the one containing all the girl's names.
"Fitz Petrarch."
The only thing that kept Fitz from screaming her head off at the unfairness of it all was her brother's firm grasp on her hand. This could not be happening, it just couldn't. There was absolutely no end to how much Fitz did not want to go. Even taking one step towards that stage seemed impossible. She was frozen, mouth clamped shut, lips white, and she knew the nation was watching her, that she'd be seen as weak and defenseless, but that's only because she was! She had no real skills that would help her when it came to survival, nothing, nothing at all. Her scratching wasn't going to kill anyone. She couldn't do this, couldn't do this, couldn't do this....
Apparently she'd taken too long just standing there, because when she snapped back to reality, she was on stage and Effie Trinket was fluttering around her attempting to figure out how to congratulate someone who seemed to have gone into a coma while standing. All Fitz could register was that her hand ached for the lack of Mica's and that she had no idea who had put her up on stage. She cracked a horribly stiff smile that looked more like a broken twig, and then they decided that they best just sit her down, get her a glass of water and hope the boy was a little less retarded. People were clapping, the thunder she'd thought she'd heard was clapping. Fitz stared at the crowd congratulating her absolutely stunned, Stunned until she found her brother's eyes, staring back at her in horror. She saw him move, saw him twitch, saw him look towards the ball, and she stood up and screamed "NO!" At him.
Fitz would not have him volunteering for her place. No matter how much she didn't want this, she could not have him taking her place. The crowd had stopped their happy clapping to look at her like maybe she would be another Haymitch when they'd been hoping for a Katniss. She frowned again and crossed her arms over her chest, thinking what a disappointment she must seem.