Sparks Fly

Azalea can only stare blankly as Herne Skywick, the Capitol escort for District 12, mounts the steps up onto the temporary stage. Though Azalea's expression is blank her thoughts are spinning and spinning around with no end. She closes her eyes for a moment and imagines what the world would be like if there were no Hunger Games.

First of all, she won't be standing in the crowd with all the others who are eligible for the Games. Eligible isn't really the right word for it. It is more like mandatory. She stands in line with all the other seventeen year girls and prays that she will last two more years without her name being drawn from the glass bowl.

Second; the world would be a better place. Though she isn't sure if that is one hundred percent true, she knows that it is partially true. The Capitol wouldn't hold its' barbarous rulings and Games. They would be free. She would be free.

The girl beside her gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. Their eyes meet; blue and hazel eyes. They are so different in appearance that their roles should be switched. Azalea is a merchant's daughter. Yet, she has the appearance as someone from the poorer community in District 12—the Seam. Azalea's hair is a dark colour and her eyes are hazel, the appearance of a typical Seam girl. The other girl, Daisy, has light blonde hair with blue eyes, the appearance of a typical merchant's daughter. Yet their roles are switched and Azalea is the merchant's daughter and Daisy is the Seam girl.

Azalea gives what she hopes to be a reassuring smile to Daisy. It doesn't help that her heart is pounding quickly and she's trying to make her breaths steady.

“We'll be fine,” Daisy says, though her quiet voice is full of doubt. “Just two more times.”

The problem is that District 12 is a small district with around eight thousand people. The risk of being chosen is much, much higher than if you lived in District 11 with their numerous inhabitants. Azalea closes her eyes and hopes that no twelve year old will be chosen for this year's Game.

She knows that she can't stand it if her younger sister is chosen. Laurel is only fourteen this year. And she's lucky to have made it to her fourteenth birthday. Azalea knows that she's lucky too because she's seventeen. She only has to survive one more reaping after this before the Games part of her life is over. But then if she ever has children, she'll suffer every year thinking they may be reaped into the horrendous Games.

Herne sits on one of the chair and beams at them cheerily as if it is not such a horrible thing—as if he cannot hear the chagrin in the mayor's voice as he begins to read them the history of Panem and the Treaty of Treason. In a land once called North America, the Capitol rose into power. The Capitol controlled thirteen districts at the time. Then the first Dark Days came. The thirteen districts rose against the Capitol only to be suppressed again. The thirteenth district was said to be destroyed but in truth they actually signed a peace treaty with the Capitol. District 13 broke the peace treaty and rebelled after the 74th Hunger Games. Led by the legendary Katniss Everdeen, the second Dark Days came. And once again, the Capitol destroyed the rebellious group. The Treaty of Treason still stands—it is to remind the districts that the Dark Days are never to be repeated and the Hunger Games will remind them of that. And just to be extra careful, they pulled District 13 back into the rule of the Capitol and now they must obey them too.

The rules of the Hunger Games are simple: survive or be killed. In punishment for the Dark Days, each district must send two of their people, a boy and a girl ranging from aged twelve to eighteen, who will be called “tributes” to participate in the Hunger Games. They will be thrown into an arena of outdoors and told to fight to death. The last one standing wins.

Azalea still remembers the first time her name was written on a white piece of paper in the glass ball with other scraps carrying names to be decided for death. The name drawn was not hers though it was a girl who was also twelve. Unlike many tributes drawn for the Games who stood silently or cried, the girl started screaming absurdities. She was hysterical and sobbing. That was the last that Azalea saw of the girl in person. She died the first day in the bloodbath.

Azalea prays that no twelve year old will be chosen. Azalea would volunteer—if she had the courage to do so. Volunteering is a rare feat in District 12. No one ever wants to take the place of the tribute in the poorer districts. Every night before the reapings, she would imagine brave Katniss, standing up for her sister Primrose. She tells herself that she should do so just like Katniss did but she can never bring herself to. Not when the screaming twelve year old girl was taken away. Not during the other reapings. She wants to be brave but maybe this isn't the time to be brave.

Maybe being brave means being silent.

But if Laurel is chosen, would Azalea really volunteer? She's not sure and she's afraid of the answer. No, she's afraid that the answer will be no, she will not be selfless enough to volunteer. Instead, she may be selfish.

Don't be selfish, Azalea tells herself.

The mayor reads off the list of previous District 12 victors. District 12 only has five of them in all of the one hundred and seventy-three years so far. Azalea hopes that this year, the one hundredth and seventhy-fourth year, it will be different. The entire square is silent as the names “Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark” are read. Today is the one hundred year anniversary of their Games. Luckily, the Capitol did not decide to do any twist to commemorate this day. And why should they, thinks Azalea, they were the ones who sparked the fire to the second Dark Days.

Only one victor is still alive and she is around fifty. Her name is Bathilda Downing and she may as well be from the Capitol. Azalea hates her classy attitude and how she treats everyone around her like filth. She acts like she never was part of District 12. She acts like she never was a starving Seam girl.

The mayor introduces Herne Skywick, District 12's Capitol escort. His unnatural golden eyes scan over them in his cheerful manner. His hair is a deep shade of green and his skin appears to be a little golden. His suit is bright blue and it's an even darker shade of blue than the sky in District 12 on good days.

“Happy Hunger Games,” Herne begins in his clipped, Capitol accent, “and may the odds be ever in your favour!” Daisy and Azalea have always found this line to be offensive.

Herne goes on about what an honour it is to be in District 12 and Azalea catches a grimace on Daisy's face. This is all pretence. District 12 is the least desirable district for the Capitol escorts. It had only been slightly desirable during Katniss's two years but otherwise, District 12 is almost filfth to them. It's a wonder why they had even rebuilt District 12 after the second Dark Days.

“The gentlemen will be first!” Herne says, a wide smile on his face. He reaches into the glass ball which contains the names of the boys eligible for the Games. Azalea doesn't have any close friends who are boys so unlike the rest of District 12, she does not hold her breath

Herne snatches the first paper his fingers touch. He holds it up and smiles at them knowingly. If only he knows how deadly that smile is to Azalea. She feels like she wants to hurt him by put him through the same thing many District 12 inhabitants face. How can they be so blind to their own barbarous acts?

Herne pauses for dramatic effect and then says, “Chaise Hart!”

The name is quite foreign to Azalea's ears and she feels relieved and then guilty for feeling relieved. This is Chaise's death that she's feeling relieved for. Meanwhile, Daisy is as motionless as stone beside her.

Chaise steps out from the same section as Azalea is in. A seventeen year old. His blonde hair is messy and his green eyes show no emotion as he walks towards the stage. He mounts the steps and Herne asks for volunteers. It's all very silent. No one rushes forward to volunteer in his spot. No one wants to suffer the death of the Hunger Games.

Azalea watches the boy on the stage with interest. Unlike many, his expression betrays no emotion. His green eyes are notable because not many in District 12 have green eyes. Also, they're an unnatural green shade. The green is too vibrant and deep. But unlike Herne's eyes, Azalea finds that it suits him well.

“And now... for the ladies,” Herne says as he walks over to the other glass ball. Now Azalea really does hold her breath. Her heart is thumping so loud that she's afraid everyone will hear how fearful she is. She hopes that it won't be her name that he picks out of the glass ball. She hopes that it won't be Laurel either. Or—

“Daisy Hart!” Herne says before Azalea can finish her train of thoughts, his voice sounding too cheerful on the dreary occasion.

Azalea starts shaking all over. Daisy, her best friend was chosen for the Hunger Games. And... Daisy Hart... Of course...

The other tribute's name is Chaise Hart.

She vaguely remembers Daisy telling her that she has a fraternal twin brother though Azalea doesn't think that she's ever met him. Azalea looks from Chaise to Daisy and she realizes that anyone could see them as siblings even if they weren't identical. Both children of the Seam having a merchant's look.

Daisy begins to step forward towards the stage and the sight of Daisy's clenched fists, Azalea wakes up. She pushes pass the other seventeen year old girls and boys and run towards Daisy. Then she finds her voice.

“I volunteer!” Azalea cries, not thinking of the consequences for herself. She cannot bear watching Daisy in that arena—pinning against her twin. She cannot bear watching that kind of injustice and know that she could have done something. She knows it will eat away at her forever until she remains an empty husk like those who have lost their family in the Games. “I volunteer as tribute!”

The crowd of District 12 inhabitants are silent. Herne breaks the silence, “Oh wonderful! Not many volunteers these days,” he says as if he doesn't know the reason. “And your name is?”

“Azalea Ever,” she says monotonously. Then her eyes widen as she realized what she has done. In that moment of weakness, she had volunteered. She hadn't meant to volunteer for her death. It was a moment of weakness, she curses inwardly at herself. She can't turn back now. It will be a grave act of cowardice and she will be a pariah if she backs down now that she has told her name to the world. Azalea stares into the distance and pretends that she's not there. She pretends that the quick beating of her heart isn't there. She pretends that she hasn't just volunteered for the Hunger Games—her death.

The mayor finishes the Treaty of Treason and Chaise and Azalea are motioned to shake hands. Azalea is slightly reluctant but she complies. Their hands reach out to grasp onto each other and Azalea makes the mistake of looking at him in the eyes.

Chaise glares straight at her and emotion finally shows in them. Azalea is shocked to find anger and hatred as the main emotion being projected. And the emotion is being projected towards her. Shouldn't he be grateful that he's not fighting against his sister? But maybe... maybe he really does want to slit Daisy's throat. The thought makes Azalea horrified.

His cold, callous fingers are tight around Azalea's and they hold onto her in a way that is beginning to hurt. She can't help but thinking that he's trying to tell her something. Trying to tell her that he will be the one to kill her.

She doesn't know what she's done to him; she can only stare almost incredulously at him. The emotion in his eyes seem much too violent and bitter to be contained in his lanky figure. Azalea imagines what will happen if she removes the hatred and anger from his eyes and he begins to look... familiar. Desperate.

On the verge of death.

Azalea is about to place where she's gotten those impressions from but he lets go. Then he turns away and doesn't look at her again.