25th Hunger Games: First Quarter Quell

Twelve year old Clarice Adner is thrown into the chaos and terror of the 25th Hunger Games.

Chapter One

My hands are shaking and my stomach feels like a weight has been dropped in it. I took eight tesserae with out telling Rosemary, and now my name is in the bowl nine times. And next year will be double that. Or more. 

She sits on the old brass bed with the faded mauve quilt. That bed used to be Willow's. Before she was Chosen in the reaping at twelve years old. My age. Now, it has become my bed. 

My parents had gone crazy with grief after my sister was chosen for the twentieth hunger games. She was fifteen years old when she was called on to the stage. Madeleine was one of the last tributes in the arena, there were only two others, career tributes from one and two. My parents were watching when the girl from District One attacked her with a knife. They told me to run, and when I had gone safely out of sight, they ran into the streets screaming at the peacekeepers violently. they were taken to the Capitol immeadeately and exectuted. No one ever spoke of my sister after that, or my parents. Rosemary took me in. She knew what was going to happen. When my mother told me to run, I ran here. Of course I did. And Rosemary was ready for me, waiting with tears in her eyes for confirmation. .   

I look at the clothes lying on the floor. Brown, gray, tattered and patched clothes. I look down at the only pair of shoes I own, old brown leather boots with thin brown laces. 

"I have nothing to wear to a reaping." I tell Rosemary. 

"You were too young when your mother made Madeleine's"

Rosemary strides over to the old mahogany chest and pulls open the bottom drawer. 

"This was Madeleine's first reaping dress, I found it in your old home. The peacekeepers had left it behind." She says, holding it up.  

I walk over to her to get a better look. The dress is more pretty than any other piece of clothing that I have ever worn. A simple blue dress with a white lace collar. Rosemary leaves the room, closing the door behind her. 

"Come downstairs when you are ready and I will do your hair." She calls from the kitchen. 

I quickly put the dress on and realize that it's a bit too big for me. Of course, because when my mother made this dress, times were better, and we weren't usually hungry. Now, there is not a single person in the seam who is full from a meal. Ever. Even with only Rosemary and I, it's hard to get food on the table. Which is why I took the tesserae with out telling her. 

I lace up my boots and stand infront of the mirror for a moment. I look at my eyes. Scared, worried eyes. They are the same shade of dark brown as my father's. A few pieces of hair hang over my right eye, and I try to brush them back but they just fall back into place. Most people living in the seam have dark hair and olive toned skin. But my hair is different. I have light blonde hair that falls right at chin length. My skin tone isn't the normal seam olive tone, it's just pale, no matter how long I spend in the sun, it is always pale. Looking at my reflection, I wonder what would happen to Rosemary if I am picked in the reaping today. I wonder what would happen to me, how long I would live. The thought of the quarter quell addition makes me sick. What will it be? I back away from the mirror, more nervous than before. With shaking hands, I open the bedroom door and stumble down the steps. Rosemary is waiting for me in the kitchen. I sit down and she gets to work on my hair. Her fingers know exactly what they're doing. And we are silent until she finishes. 

"Clarice... You look so beautiful."

I look at my reflection in the wooden hand mirror she hands me. Two small braids go along each side of my head, meeting at the middle. The braids are held together by a single strand of white lace ribbon. 

"Where did you get the ribbon?" I ask. 

"I bought it at the market yesterday, I wanted you to have something special of your own, and I couldn't afford a dress."

"Oh Rosemary, you shouldn't have spent your money on me."

"I thought that you deserved something nice."

I throw my arms around her, about to cry out of nervousness, fear, despair, and all the emotions that fill me to the very top, about to spill out. 

"Thank you,"

Rosemary pats my hand and looks at the small clock hanging on the wall.

"It's time to go." She whispers.

My breathing begins to take on a panicked pace and my heart refuses to slow it's beat. As we leave, I try to appear calm and not worry Rosemary anymore than she already is, when really all I want to do is cling onto her forever and cry like a little child would. She seems to know what I'm thinking when she suddenly takes my hand in hers and says,

"Clarice, don't worry too much child, your name is only in the bowl once, you are twelve years old. Your chances of being chosen are very slim."

I so badly wanted to tell her that my name was in the bowl more than once, but I couldn't bear to hurt her like that. So I bit my tongue and nodded. 

Author's Note

Ignore gramatical errors fourteen year olds would probably make.

Let me know what you think of this story!