Filed To Story: Sunrise on the Reaping Book PDF Free
“Oh, yeah,” I say, like it’s been the farthest thing from my mind. “A bunch of us are teaming up. Calling ourselves the Newcomers.” I don’t reissue the invitation to join. Let them come to us.
“He asked us, too,” Kerna says. “We said we didn’t want to.”
“I said the same at first, then I thought, many hands make light work.” Okay, thanks for that homey aphorism, Mamaw. I’m worried it sounds idiotic given the circumstances, but they all think it over.
“There,” says Maysilee, fitting the last piece in place. Looks good as new. She reknots the grass braid and carefully places it around Kerna’s neck. “Remember, see if they can get you some real glue at the apartment and reinforce it.”
“Thank you, Maysilee,” says Kerna.
The instructor tells us we have to make room for a new group. We’re running out of conversation anyway. I know if they’re reconsidering, they’ll have to discuss it before they accept.
Maysilee and I join District 11 at the knot-tying booth, where I struggle with my square knot while she replicates everything they show her on the first try, even the snares. “Now you’re just showing off,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure the Careers are quaking in their boots at my clove hitch. Let’s go throw some axes.”
At lunchtime, without another word, the four baby chicks from District 9 sit among us. Ampert has brought in 11 as well. We’re now eight districts strong. At the far end of the bleachers, the orange-clad District 5 has teamed up with the Careers. The lines are drawn. They’ve got more trained fighters, but we outnumber them two to one. Wyatt can barely contain himself as he calculates the odds. The Gamemakers buzz with this new development, gesturing at us, deep in conference, factoring the dual alliances into the Games.
When we’ve finished our sandwiches, District 12 reunites at the edible-food section, which seems heavy on the poisonous mushrooms. Lou Lou keeps sticking them in her mouth, confounding the trainer.
“I don’t know what she’s going to do in her private session with the Gamemakers,” Wyatt says. “But I guess they won’t be expecting much. Not sure what I’m doing either.”
“You’re an expert on the Games, what with your oddsmaking and all. You could talk about that,” Maysilee suggests. “It’s more impressive than anything I’ve got.”
“You should show them all the things you can do with a piece of cord,” I tell her. “You underrate it because it’s easy for you, but I think it’s pretty impressive.”
“Hm, it’s a thought. At least it would make me unique. What are you going to do, Haymitch? Throw knives?”
“I could, I guess. Or axes.”
Everyone’s sent back to their respective locker rooms while the Gamemakers begin the private sessions. This will be our last chance to influence how they score us for the general public. Heavy Peacekeeper presence monitors the tension between the Careers and the Newcomers, but I have to say I feel a lot more secure with my alliance than I did in the shower.
Lucky I’m slated to go last, because I have no idea how to handle the Gamemakers. Surely, they have footage of what went down at the reaping. Me “attacking” the Peacekeeper and being punished with a trip to the Games. And they witnessed my subversive act at the opening ceremonies live. No telling if they know about President Snow’s ultimatum in Plutarch’s library. I’ve avoided thinking about that encounter and how he threatened me with a slow and agonizing death for my loved ones to witness at the Games opening. I’m not planning to do anything else to call him out before the Games begin, now that I’m part of the plot to break the machine, and I can only hope that will keep me alive long enough to carry out my part of the plan.
So, what can I show the Gamemakers that will reassure them that I’m now harmless to the Capitol? A dramatic shift to being a compliant tribute will be hard to sell. Another wrinkle is Lou Lou. They must know that I know she’s a fake. Especially since Louella mattered enough for me to carry her lifeless body to the president.
Maybe she’s the key. Maybe I can say that Louella was the one thing I cared about protecting in the Games and now I’m all about myself . . . that I’m using the alliance for one purpose and one purpose only . . . that I’m determined to win these Games and get back to the girl I risked everything for and the family I had a touching good-bye with. I’ll convince them I want to be the first tribute from 12 to live in the Victor’s Village. I’m just a punk kid who tried to escape the Peacekeepers, confronted Snow, and spat on the audience for good measure. A guy who’s only out for himself. This is the one way I might be able to sell myself to the Gamemakers without rousing suspicions about my greater ambitions. To paint myself as a selfish troublemaker who’s determined to get home and live out his life as a rich and famous victor.
The gym’s deserted when I walk out, my footsteps echoing off the walls, except for the neat rows of Gamemakers in their bleachers. The Head Gamemaker, Faustina Gripper, a short, ample woman with close-cropped metallic silver and gold curls, is distinguished by the purple fur collar on her snowy robe. She appraises me, then commands, “Tell us about yourself.”
I cock my head, look her dead in the eye, and say, “I’m Haymitch Abernathy from District Twelve. I shouldn’t be here. I was reaped illegally, but no one cares. My neighbor, Louella McCoy, was the only person here I gave a hang about, but you killed her and brought in a body double. So, that kind of frees me up to win these Games.”
“And what makes you think you can do that? We haven’t noticed that you possess any outstanding skills,” the Head Gamemaker says.
“Really?” I smirk. “Because from where I’m standing, looks like I came up with thirty-one people who’ve promised to defend me. But maybe that strategy’s a little too subtle for you.”
Her mouth tightens. “And you’re willing to let them die?”
“Why not, lady? You are.”
They dismiss me. I’m hoping I pulled off unlikable but focused on winning the Games. If I can score in the midrange, maybe I can still get a handful of sponsors.
On the way out the door, the Peacekeepers collect my token for inspection. I run my fingers over the inscription and press my lips against the bird before placing it in a little basket marked with my name. It kills me having to let it go, knowing they may tag it as unfair and dispose of it. And besides the heartbreak, losing it means I will have to find another way to make fire to carry out Beetee’s plot. On the other hand, it’s the Capitol, and all they may see is a pretty necklace. Either way, my neck feels naked without it.
None of us talk much on the van ride home. After a dinner of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, we gather around the television in the living room for a special announcement of our individual scores. On a scale of one to twelve, the Careers mostly land in the eight-to-eleven range. With the exception of District 11, who bring in similar numbers, the Newcomers generally manage between four and seven. We’re announced last. Maysilee and Wyatt each get a six, Lou Lou pulls a three.
And me? I get a one.
I don’t remember anyone getting a one before. Ever. In fact, I’m hard-pressed to remember a two. Even threes are rare and reserved for extreme long shots like Lou Lou. How will the audience interpret this? That I’m weak? Friendless? A coward? Any way you slice it, it will not result in my getting sponsors. I’m going to be entirely on my own in the arena when it comes to supplies.
“You must have gotten to them,” Maysilee says with satisfaction. “Between the reaping and Louella and spitting on the crowd. You really caught their attention.”
“Well, that’s a sunny interpretation,” I reply.
“Perhaps she’s right,” says Mags. “If nothing else, it’s distinctive. People will be gossiping about it. With forty-eight tributes, just becoming recognizable is a plus.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “I don’t even know how to factor that into your odds. What’d you do anyway?”
Good question. “I guess . . . not in so many words but . . . I accused them of murdering us.”
“Yes!” says Lou Lou, her eyes boring through me. Then she winces and swipes at her ear. We can hear a faint but piercing tone that must be deafening in her head. When it eases, tears stream from her eyes and she’s gasping. Wyatt presses his finger against his lips and then hugs her tightly.
I take the first watch again at bedtime, my mind swimming with strategy. The Gamemakers, no doubt under Snow’s direction, have made an example of me, and that displeasure could follow me into the arena. I may have doomed myself to a gory opening death. My hand seeks my flint striker for comfort, but finds only bare skin. They couldn’t even leave me that last token of Lenore Dove’s love. What did she think when they announced my score tonight? Since she didn’t get to witness all my reckless behavior here, she probably blames herself for me getting called out in the reaping. But how will she ever know that was only a teaspoon of trouble in my river of wrong?
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.