single-handedly feeding a family of five for seven years,
will have his name in forty-two times.You can see why
someone like Madge, who has never been at risk of needing
a tessera, can set him off. The chance of her name being
drawn3 is very slim compared to those of us who live in the
Seam. Not impossible, but slim. And even though the rules
were set up by the Capitol, not the districts, certainly not
Madge’s family, it’s hard not to resent those who don’t
have to sign up for tesserae.
Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other
days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him
rant4 about how
the tesserae are just another tool to cause
misery5 in our district.
A way to plant
hatred6 between the starving workers of
the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and
thereby7 ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the
Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he
might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn’t
reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not
made what I’m sure she thought was a harmless comment.
his
stony10 expression. His rages seem pointless to me,
although I never say so. It’s not that I don’t agree with him. I
do. But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of
the woods? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make things
fair. It doesn’t fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby
game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than
in the district.
Gale and I divide our spoils, leaving two fish, a couple of
loaves of good bread, greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin,
and a bit of money for each.
“See you in the square,” I say.
“Wear something pretty,” he says flatly.
At home, I find my mother and sister are ready to go. My
big on her, but my mother has made it stay with pins. Even so,
she’s having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in at the back.
A tub of warm water waits for me. I scrub off the dirt and
sweat from the woods and even wash my hair. To my surprise,
my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me.
A soft blue thing with matching shoes.
“Are you sure?” I ask. I’m trying to get past rejecting offers
of help from her. For a while, I was so angry, I wouldn’t allow
her to do anything for me. And this is something special. Her
clothes from her past are very precious to her.
“Of course. Let’s put your hair up, too,” she says. I let her
towel-dry it and braid it up on my head. I can hardly recognize
myself in the cracked mirror that leans against the wall.
“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice.
“And nothing like myself,” I say. I hug her, because I know
these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first reaping.
She’s about as safe as you can get, since she’s only entered
once. I wouldn’t let her take out any tesserae. But she’s worried
about me. That the unthinkable might happen.
I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against
the reaping. The
anguish15 I always feel when she’s in pain wells
up in my chest and threatens to register on my face. I notice
her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and
force myself to stay calm. “Tuck your tail in, little duck,” I say,
smoothing the blouse back in place.
“Quack yourself,” I say with a light laugh. The kind only
Prim can draw out of me. “Come on, let’s eat,” I say and plant a
quick kiss on the top of her head.
The fish and greens are already cooking in a
stew17, but that
will be for supper. We decide to save the strawberries and bakery
bread for this evening’s meal, to make it special we say.
Instead we drink milk from Prim’s goat, Lady, and eat the
rough bread made from the tessera grain, although no one has
much appetite anyway.
At one o’clock, we head for the square. Attendance is
mandatory18unless you are on death’s door. This evening, officials
will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not,
It’s too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square
— one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant.
The square’s surrounded by shops, and on public market days,
especially if there’s good weather, it has a holiday feel to it.
But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings,
there’s an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched
like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.
People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity
for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as
well. Twelve- through eighteen-year-olds are
herded20 into
roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the
young ones, like Prim, toward the back. Family members line
up around the
perimeter21, holding tightly to one another’s
hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at
stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking
bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn.
Odds22 are
given on their ages, whether they’re Seam or merchant, if they
will break down and weep. Most refuse
dealing23 with the racketeers
but carefully, carefully. These same people tend to be
informers, and who hasn’t broken the law? I could be shot on
a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge
protect me. Not everyone can claim the same.
Anyway, Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between
dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be
much quicker.
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