The stage at the District 7 Reaping was unusually higher than the venues of the other districts. It was as though the Capitol itself was standing on its toes to seem taller than the canopy of oaks that surrounded the residents of the district. Even the escort, Emanuel Arts, who stood only three feet tall, looked below at the candidates for the Reaping like they were beneath him. Undeserving of his time.
"Let's see which of you miscreants will...get the chop."
He chortled over the cleverness of his joke, but no one joined him in laughter.
"Get it?" he said. "Because 7 is the lumber District?"
Silence. Emanuel scowled and proceeded with the Reaping, drawing a name from the girls' bowl that rested on the floor of the stage rather than on a pedestal like in previous Reapings.
"Peachie Keene."
"No!" she cried out. She began to sob. She was 17, but she had been babied all of her life by her parents and older siblings, all of whom were too old to volunteer and protect her in the Games. She had no sisters who could take her place like that young girl from 6. She was stuck.
"Pull yourself together!" Emanuel shouted.
A Peacekeeper yanked her upward by the collar of her blouse and dragged her to the stage, her stomach and lower back bare. Since the stage was raised, Peachie had to stand in front of the crowd of tributes in front of the stage instead. Her lips quivered, overwhelmed with the shock. Only moments ago, she was living the best and most carefree life a girl from 7 could ask for. Now she was all on her own.
Emanuel continued with the boys. "Oakley Windburg."
Just like Peachie, Oakley was 17 years old and the youngest of the family. Too young to have ever beared much responsibility as an adult, and yet he was still too old to be saved by any of his elder brothers, who always mocked him growing up for being weak. Upon looking back and seeing the collective worry painted on his brothers' faces, he felt a pang of guilt for resenting them.
At the base of the stage stood the tributes for District 7, the first pair comprised of a boy and a girl who did not volunteer for the Games. Ironically, they were probably the two that needed it the most. Neither of them believed in themself or knew the paths they could take to win. Peachie, who had the charisma to win sponsors, nor Oakley, who was master of evasion, had no clue that there was more to victory than just brute strength. Of course, how would they know, being from District 7 where one's value was measured in their efficiency in cutting down trees?
Their only hope was to grow up quickly like the saplings dispersed after the summer harvest, in time to face the Games with bravery and conviction. Only time would tell if their potential would come into fruition.
