Chapter Text
Vanya White shrank away from the Capitol cameras as they filmed her district in all its soot covered glory. It was nothing special. District 12 was one of the poorest districts. The poor camera people were new and this place had probably not been their hope when they chose their profession. They had other things they probably wanted to do, filming District 1 probably.
Besides, hardly anyone cared about the footage from District 12.
Tomorrow the Reaping would happen and, after, Vanya wouldn’t have to worry any more. Her seven slips of paper in the giant glass bowl would be removed and she wouldn’t have to be afraid of being picked ever again.
She shook her head and continued on her way to work. The bakery was her only solace. The owner and his wife had taken pity on her just after her older brother, Aiden, had disappeared five years ago. They had only noticed Vanya because she asked for the same sandwich every day and noticeably did not eat it. They asked what she was doing and she simply told them it had been her brother’s favorite and she was worried that he would be hungry whenever he got home.
They had taken her in as much as they were able. They gave her a job and the leftovers or mess ups at the end of the day. Since they had no children of their own (they had had a daughter but she had died from the same fever that had taken Vanya’s parents), Vanya was going to be given the bakery once they weren’t able to run it anymore.
Vanya set herself to work as soon as she stepped into the store. Some bread was already baking and now she just had to manage the counter.
For a little while, the Reaping could be forgotten.
—
“The usual,” a voice came from the opened door. Vanya didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Diego Kraken, one of the two victors from her district.
She glanced up at him briefly before hopping down from her stool to get his order, which was prepared for him at the beginning of the day since he came to the bakery every morning. His tanned skin was flushed slightly and Vanya was certain he was already drunk. His short black hair was ruffled and it made the large scar, one he had gotten in his Games, that ran from below his right eye and over behind his ear all that more prominent.
“Here you go,” Vanya said, whispered really, as she handed him his order.
He usually walked away (he didn’t pay until later when he was sober), but this time he leaned on the counter and glared at her. Vanya leaned back slightly, looking anywhere but toward him, not wanting to anger the victor.
“How old are you this year?” He asked.
What an odd question. “Eighteen.”
“Last year to be entered then,” he said dryly. “Lucky you.”
Vanya winced. “I suppose so.”
“How many slips do you have this year?”
“Seven.”
He nodded, but Vanya noticed his slight surprise. “I’ll see you after these wretched Games are over then.”
Vanya nodded, realizing she hadn’t been breathing. She let go of her now stale breath after he had left.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Diego, she didn’t know him. He was five years older than her, he had been a poacher, and he had won his games six years ago. Now, he was a victor that’d rather drink himself to oblivion. He wasn’t cruel, but he wasn’t kind. Vanya was quite sure that had been the longest conversation she had ever had with him.
“Vanya!” Grace, the baker’s wife, came from the back. “I found an old dress of mine for you tomorrow. I thought you might like to wear it.” The blonde woman held out a pretty white dress. “It’s your last Reaping. I want you to wear something special.”
“I don’t know, Grace…” Vanya fiddled with her sleeve. “I’m not…” She was going to say ‘pretty,’ but Grace was sure to argue with that. “Our body types are different,” was what she ended up saying.
“That’s why I need you to try it on real quick. It will just need to be taken in a little bit.” Grace sighed. “We need to get more meat on those bones.”
Vanya smiled. Wearing that dress would make Grace so happy. “Okay
Grace’s lips parted into a thrilled smile. “Pogo!” She called to her husband. “Watch the counter for a bit, I’m going to help Vanya with her dress!”
Pogo, stepped out from the kitchen and smiled. “Off you go.”
Grace pulled Vanya along to their bedroom and helped Vanya out of her regular clothes and into the dress. “Now, you come here early tomorrow morning and I’ll help get you ready. Then, you’re having a nice lunch with us to celebrate after the Reaping is finished. We’ll be where we usually are.”
Vanya simply nodded as Grace began to mark where the dress needed to be taken in. She glanced at her reflection and was a little surprised about how nice she looked. She looked almost pretty.
“Once this is all over we can finally put everything behind us.”
Vanya nodded. She wished Aiden were here. At least she had Grace and Pogo Sapien. After tomorrow, Vanya could have a little bit of peace.
—
She did as she promised and Vanya made her way to the bakery the morning of the Reaping. Grace prepared a nice, simple breakfast for her. The three are with little gusto, but they talked about this and that.
“I suppose that you’ll be looking at dating now that you’re out of your Reaping years,” Pogo teases at one point.
Vanya felt her cheeks flush. Most kids didn’t date too seriously until after their Reaping years. Some did, but most were too scared to. How would one feel if the love of their life got murdered on live television? Vanya couldn’t imagine it. She wasn’t popular with any of the boys around her age–she wasn’t pretty. She doubted many boys would line up to ask her on a date.
“Maybe eventually,” was the neutral answer she went with.
After breakfast, Grace helped Vanya into her dress. It fit much better than it had the previous day. Grace then helped comb Vanya’s hair and style it into a simple braid with a ribbon of white running through it. The woman put her hands on Vanya’s shoulders and smiled at their reflection in the mirror. “You look beautiful, Vanya. Your parents would be so proud.”
Vanya smiled gently.
—
At one o’clock, the three made their way to the square.
The square was one of the few places in District 12 that could be pleasant. On market days, the surrounding shops and good weather made the square have a holiday feel about it. But l, even with the Capitol’s bright banners, there are no holiday fuzzies, only an air of grimness. The camera crews perched like buzzards on the rooftops.
People filed in silently to sign in–a good way for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population. Twelve to thirteen-year-olds were herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front and the young ones toward the back. Vanya wondered if it was to protect the younger ones from the view of the camera. Didn’t want all those Capitol people to see all those children in mass. They might get a heart. Family members, or those that cared, lined up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another.
Then, there were some who didn’t care, taking bets on who will get Reaped. Canya would never (could never) show it, but she hated those people. They were worse than the Capitol people. At least people in the Capitol could feign ignorance. Those placing bets watched the families these Games tore a part and yet they sought to profit from it.
The space got tighter and more claustrophobic as people continued to arrive. The square wasn’t large enough to hold District 12’s population.
Vanya turned her focus onto the Justice Building and the temporary stage that had been set up for the Reaping. There were four chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for boys and one for girls. I only had seven slips of paper in the girl’s bowl. Seven. It was more than younger kids had but it was less than what kids who live in the slums had. Seven. A safe number.
Two of the chairs were filled. One was filled by Mayor Undersee and the other was Allison Rumor, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her curly purple hair, her dark skin that somehow looked muted and a deep blue velvet dress. Vanya only knew it was velvet because she had seen the fabric once eight years ago. The two remaining seats were for District 12’s victors, who would come in when called for.
When the clock struck two, the mayor stepped up to the podium and began to read the same thing he did every year: the history of Panem. Considering it was the same thing every year, Vanya would have thought that the mayor would have had it memorized by now. Then he went into the Dark Days, the uprising against the Capitol, the defeat of 12 and the obliteration of 13. Then, the beginning of the Hunger Games.
Vanya could understand punishment. She could understand wanting to squash rebellion, no matter how justified it was. What she didn’t understand was making the districts treat the Hunger Games as a festival. They made the districts view the murder of children as fun. It made Vanya’s stomach twist.
“It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks,” the mayor finished.
Then, he read off the lift of past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, there had only been two. Diego Kraken and, before him, Luther Space. When they came in, they didn’t raise their hands or even acknowledge the hesitantly clapping crowd. It was well known that they didn’t like each other. The two were as different as night and day. At least Diego wasn’t drunk this time.
The mayor (re)introduced Allison Rumor to the crowd to begin the Reaping. As bright and bubbly as ever, Allison Rumor strutted to the podium and gave her signature, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your fair!” She went on about how honored she was to be there, although everyone knew she was hoping to get bumped up to a better district, just as the camera people were.
“Ladies first!” Allison Rumor went to the glass ball with the girls’ names. She reached in, dug her hand deep into the ball, and pulled out a slip of paper. The crowd drew in a collective breath. Allison Rumor crosses back to the podium, smother the slip of paper, and read out the name in a clear voice. “Vanya White.”