In Your Hands: The Thirtieth Hunger Games SYOT

Chapter 9

James Gray POV

The Hunger Games were the most exciting thing that happened in a year. Of course, we were all required to watch them. My parents always stared at the screen with sad, mourning eyes as they watched other parents losing their children. My brothers and I tried to root the Tributes on and called out unheard suggestions. Deep in my heart, I watched them with feelings I'd never tell anyone. I knew they were wrong and all, but secretly, I thought they were tremendously exciting. I loved the mystery as we found out the latest Victor, and the suspense when we wondered if a Tribute would elude another or lose the Games. I had shameful fantasies about what I would do if I was Reaped, and how I would kill the other Tributes and rise to be a Victor. Those were the darkest parts of me, and I hated them.

Kevin and Patch were too old to get Reaped, so it was just me and Chase. Mom and Dad were kneeling in another room as we left. They always tried to tell us that we wouldn't get picked, since we didn't take tesserae and there were so many kids, but every year I could see how scared they were. There's nothing scarier than seeing your father try not to cry.

I split off from Chase pretty quick and found some of my friends. Even though we have to move sometimes for Dad's job, I always make friends quick. They were wide-eyed and quiet. I tried to cheer them up, since I never really got scared at Reapings. I only got excited. I poined out Remus' skintight snakeskin jumpsuit and a few of them smiled. Remus picked out the ladies' name.

"Keisha Lytton!" he called. My heart lurched when I heard the name. Keisha was my friend. She'd never win the Games. She was so gentle, helping the teacher clean up after class and bringing her flowers. My friend was going to die in the Bloodbath. Keisha's dark eyes cut into us all as she stood onstage, too scared to scream.

"Now the boys," Remus continued. He didn't even look at the terrified girl. "James Gray!"

My stomach fluttered like I was giving a speech in front of the class. My heart started thudding like I'd just run a race, and I felt weightless as I walked onstage. For all my terrible dreams about going to the Games, I never thought I actually would. I didn't really want to die. Those were stupid fantasies.

Maybe that's why you got picked, I thought. It's because you wanted it. What kind of terrible person would want to go to the Hunger Games?

I felt the old excitement creeping up. Even in my real terror, I remembered how much I'd enjoyed watching the Games. It really was exciting to be part of it. I should have been glad a more innocent kid didn't go. I took Keisha's hand.

"It'll be okay. I'll stay with you," I said. She gripped my hand like a life preserver.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Remus asked. Before I could stop myself, I looked at Chase. I didn't hold out any hope that he'd volunteer, and he didn't.

"I volunteer as Tribute!" a voice startled us all. I knew the voice was Tillo's, even though she hardly ever talked. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her pinned-back hair and long skirt as she walked to us. Tillo was a mouse. I was delighted when Keisha dropped my hand and ran offstage with a huge smile, but Tillo wasn't any better off. She never spoke in class unless the teacher made her. None of us knew much about her, but we knew from her old-fashioned clothes and reserved attitude that something was odd in her family. She announced her name with a boldness I never expected of her, and she pulled my hand up into the air.

What happened when my family came to see me won't leave me. My father's hoarse screams mingled with my mother's siren cries. I'd never heard such noise. They stayed like that until the Peacekeepers dragged them away, while my brothers tried to hold them upright. Patch hardly managed to toss a family picture over his shoulder. That was the moment I started to realize what the Games meant.

Tillo Peters POV

My skirt drifted up my calf as I sat, and I didn't pull it down. At home that would mean a lecture from my father about feminine modesty. I wasn't at home. I was sitting on a bench waiting for the Reaping to start. I always left early, claiming that I wanted to make sure I could make myself presentable. Really I just wanted to be away from them.

Ladies never get dirty. I liked my skirt grass-stained and my hands muddy. Ladies never speak out of turn. Every time the teacher asked a question I burned to show everyone what I knew. Ladies marry men twelve years older than they are and stay at home like good little wives. I'm no lady. I'm Tillo, and I decide what I will do.

For all that I disagreed with my family's archaic practices, I knew they loved me. They really believed I'd be happy as a housewife. They weren't marrying me off to any old man, either- our families went way back. He did happen to be rich, but people make sacrifices when they can't feed their children.

As I watched Keisha facing death on the stage, it felt good to know she would be safe. I felt like a brave hero when I volunteered, like I was the valiant knight from one of my father's old books. In his books, the knight was always a man, but I never did follow his footsteps. I'd been planning to volunteer for a few weeks, ever since heard that my wedding date was set for four months away. If I won, my family wouldn't need to marry off their daughters for money. If I lost, at least I finally got to be who I was.

James looked at me like he'd never seen me before. We were never close. We might have been friends if every word I said to him wasn't discouraged. Even though I didn't feel the same as my family, it was hard to defy them all the time. I found myself smiling at him. I felt so free and independent, and it was obvious he had no idea what was hiding underneath my dowdy exterior. I raised both fists in the air and beamed at the crowd.

My father looked like he was going to slap me. His face was actually vibrating with rage. My mother was torn between trying to talk him down and fear that talking would make it worse.

"Tillo, why would you do this?" Mother asked. My father was still too angry to speak.

"I won't be his wife," I said. At that point, I had nothing else to lose. I could finally be defiant. "If I win, you won't need me to get married. I can provide for us all."

"I am the man. I provide," my father spat. "If you do come back, I'll take what you provide for my family. If you don't, you're not a Peters. Puridee will take your place as Alonzo's bride." My little sister looked up at that with childish eyes. Mother gasped and held her close.

I couldn't let that happen to Puridee. She wasn't strong like I was. She'd do what her parents said out of love and submission. She deserved so much more. I squeezed in with her and Mother and kissed her cheek.

"Don't worry. I won't let that happen," I said. Her innocent face was filled with more terror and loss than I could bear. I turned to my father and glared back at him.

"I don't want to be a Peters. Now get out," I said. His anger crumpled into anguish, and I was astonished to see him crying. Under all that tradition, he really did love me. I wished he could see the freedom I loved. I didn't call him back as he walked out of the door. I sat with Mother and Puridee and let them say their goodbyes. No matter what, I would never be back.

That was a long one! Tillo had such a short description that I took it as a license to flesh her out. We certainly have a lot of volunteers this year.

I don't know what the state of religion is in Panem. It wasn't present in the books, and most dictatorships, like the USSR, Mao's China, and North Korea forbid it. All through history, there's always been a little religion, so I decided it didn't die out but it's pretty rare. That seems a little off-topic, but I wanted to explain why James' parents were praying when he and his brother left. As for me, I'm a Christian, so Cornflower is too, but it's not important for the story.