Filed To Story: Sunrise on the Reaping Book PDF Free
Caesar descends from the ceiling perched on a crescent moon, stars shooting behind him. He’s a young guy wearing a suit so dark blue it’s almost black, embedded with tiny light bulbs that make it twinkle. The suit never changes, but every year he dyes his hair a different color, tonight a deep pine-forest green, and paints his eyelids and lips the same color. Maybe you could make an argument for the hair and eyes, but green lips suggest a man in the process of decomposition. He just looks ghoulish. The gleam of his overly white teeth as he flashes the audience a knowing smile only reminds you that he’s got a skull under all that glop. As he deftly dismounts the moon, he opens his arms and says, “Hello, Panem! Shall we get this party started?” The audience roars in approval.
Here in the green room, a young Gamemaker lines up Districts 1 and 2, reading out their order of appearance. They file out the door after her to wait in the wings.
On-screen, Caesar launches into a brief retrospective of the other forty-nine Games, starting with the no-frills version of the early years directly after the war, when the tributes were thrown into an old, bombed-out sports arena with weapons and little else. I watch carefully when he talks about the Tenth Games being a turning point, as that was the year District 12 had a victor, but they only feature the introduction of betting, the sponsors, and the rickety drones that dropped food and water to the tributes.
From this point on, the Games evolved from pure punishment to unapologetic entertainment. The original sports venue was abandoned as the Gamemakers began to use existing settings in the wild or bombed-out towns and such, introducing an assortment of mutts and a variety of weapons.
The Twenty-fifth Games, the first Quarter Quell, proved particularly heinous, as the districts were forced to choose their own tributes rather than relying on the reaping. Another Flickerman named Lucky hosted with commentary from a relic of a woman named Gaul, who was credited with coining the phrase “May the odds be EVER in your favor” for the anniversary. That phrase has caught on as a way to wish someone good luck, but if you think about it, it’s a sadistic thing to say to a tribute, given that survival’s an impossibility for twenty-three of the twenty-four kids.
For this first Quell, the Gamemakers had the tributes kick off the Capitol portion by riding chariots through the streets in district-flavored costumes. Rather than scout a location for the Games, they built an arena for a single use. Also, the Cornucopia made its first appearance, loaded with weapons and supplies, triggering a heated bloodbath when the opening gong sounded.
For the last twenty-four years, they’ve unveiled a brand-new arena each year based on a different environment or theme, from a desert to a frigid landscape to Wiress’s reflective puzzle, which they called the Nest of Mirrors. Caesar teases the audience about the second Quarter Quell arena. He’s heard a rumor it puts all the previous arenas to shame. Can they imagine it? No, they can’t. Will it be fabulous? Yes, it will.
My stomach feels sick and I’m glad I don’t have to go first. I’m also glad District 1 does. When Caesar introduces Silka, she strides onstage dragging fifteen feet of a snot-green train behind her.
“Ugh. Just like a snail,” comments Maysilee loudly, getting a round of nervous laughter in the green room. What everybody’s really thinking is about how Silka’s over six feet tall without the heels and can throw an ax into a dummy’s heart at fifteen feet. And that is not something you can laugh off.
Since there are so many of us this year, we’re limited to two-minute interviews and after every four districts, there will be some sort of break that Caesar calls a “palate cleanser.”
Silka wastes no time in bragging about her size, her strength, her ax-handling, and her scoring a ten. She doesn’t even bother mentioning her alliance with the Careers, and when Caesar brings them up, she just says, “Sure, it helps to have someone to clear the field.”
Panache swaggers onstage next, stopping three different times to pose and flex his muscles for the audience.
“Panache from District One!” Caesar bellows. Then asks him, “So, Panache, in addition to your obvious assets, why should our audience back you?”
“Because I’m the biggest, the beefiest, and the best!” Panache hits another pose.
“My word, it sounds like we should barbeque you!” quips Caesar.
“That’s right. I’m all meat, little man,” says Panache, giving Caesar a patronizing pat on the head.
He’s just so easy to loathe. You can see the cut landing with Caesar, but he lives for this stuff. “Even your brain?” he asks in wonder.
The audience titters. Confusion crosses Panache’s face, then anger at the teasing. “Not my brain! Obviously, it’s . . . gray stuff.”
Caesar nods, straight-faced, as if digesting this, while the audience cracks up. Panache begins to burn and I remember the train window, which was only an innocent bystander. For a minute I think he might destroy Caesar, but he catches himself and just shouts at the audience, “What does it matter?”
“Matter?” Caesar sputters. “I think brain matter . . . matters quite a bit!”
The Capitol citizens lose it and so do I, until I remember the joke’s not just on Panache. It’s on all of us stupid, clawed district piglets. Animals for their entertainment. Expendable for their pleasure. Too dumb to deserve to live.
Caesar settles the audience and tries to get back to the interview. “All in good fun, Panache, all in good fun. Personally, I failed biology. So tell us, what’s your weapon of choice?”
“My fists,” says Panache, holding one right up to Caesar’s nose.
Caesar takes a delicate step back, turns his head to the audience, and stage-whispers, “Also meaty.”
It’s all over then for Panache. They show shots of people overcome with hilarity, tears streaming down their cheeks, gasping for breath. Caesar pretends he’s trying to continue his questions, then jumps back every time Panache looks at him, mugging in terror for the cameras. I can’t stand Panache, but it’s unfair. A bell signals his time’s up, and he has no choice but to leave the stage, steaming and humiliated.
The rest of the tributes from Districts 1 and 2 seem to realize they’re in danger of being classified as stupid beasts, too, so they make an effort to play up their prowess with weapons and the benefits of the Career pack. But Panache has done some damage, and any attempt to boast about muscle comes with a comic side-eye from Caesar that tickles the audience. I remember my pa saying, if you can get people to laugh at someone, it makes them look weak. He meant the heavies in the Capitol, but it seems to be true here as well.
Up until this point, no mention has been made of the Newcomers, but Dio kicks off the District 3 interviews with news of our alliance, generously laying out the entire team by name, every one of us, and touting our skills. Ampert follows with his whole theory of previous tributes being brainwashed, the disproportionate number of Career wins, and how it will only take numbers to bring a different result. He doesn’t even mention his own attributes, but he doesn’t need to, because he’s clearly so whip-smart that Caesar remarks on it with approval. In fact, all of District 3 comes off as brainy, collaborative, and composed, in high contrast to the Careers, and they get plenty of applause.
District 4 came prepared to showcase their trident and netting skills, not to strategize about the Newcomers. They fumble when confronted with Caesar’s line of questioning. “Those kids seem pretty bright, don’t you think?” “What else do you think they have up their sleeves?” “What about their numbers?” “What plans have the Careers discussed to counter the Newcomers?”
By the first palate cleanser, the Capitol’s buzzing about the Newcomers. While the audience is treated to highlights of fashion through the Games, District 5 calls an emergency meeting in the green room. As the sole remaining Career district, this will be their alliance’s last chance to present their case against the Newcomers. The rest of the evening will belong to us.
District 9, despite their commitment to the Newcomers, tends to remain exclusive. Shy, maybe, or just not very social. I go over to say hey, which also gives me an opportunity to covertly examine their sunflower tokens. I see the replicas have been approached just as seriously as Ampert’s token. The little cracks in Kerna’s flower look so convincing I worry they haven’t actually replaced it. I don’t want to go to the trouble of getting to that tank only to be caught trying to detonate a lump of salt flour dough. But either I trust Beetee or I don’t. He’s certainly going out on a limb trusting me.
After the break, District 5 does their best to highlight our shortcomings. They focus on our size and dearth of training, but they lack a cohesive plan to eliminate us, probably because the smugness of Careers made this seem unnecessary, and they end up contradicting each other. Will they stay in one pack or break up? Will they share food and water? Who is the leader of the Careers and will they follow them? Basic questions clearly never discussed. And when they’re not sure of the answers, the temptation to promote themselves wins out.
I’m a little worried since my doves are next, swimming in chiffon ruffles, but once Wellie steps up to Caesar’s mic, it’s pure Newcomers for the rest of the night. Her diminutive size becomes secondary as she assuredly answers the same questions that tripped up District 5 without hesitation:
“We’ll always be one pack, as you call it. But we’ll divide up as necessary to defeat the Careers.”
“Oh, we’re going to share our provisions. It just makes sense.”
“We don’t have one leader, as such. The Newcomers are more committed to the alliance itself, which is better, you know, because we will lose kids. But Ampert came up with the idea and brought us all together, and we’ve all sworn to follow his plan and protect one another to the end.”
I don’t know, maybe Ampert left me out of the loop when it came to our interview strategy because he knew I’d be pre-occupied with sabotage, but the Newcomers have their ducks in a row. Nobody talks too much about themselves, they stress the power of the group and the advantages the Newcomers will exploit in the arena. How small size can be a plus for climbing trees or hiding or needing less food, how being able to trust your teammates means you’ll get better sleep – so the Careers won’t be catching any zzz’s – and how brain power, which we have in spades, comes in handy for everything from strategy to building things to catching food. In the brief moments when they pitch their personal skills, it’s about how they’ll use them to help one another.
Maybe we’ll lose, but we’re sure making a lot of people proud back home.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.