The Starvation Diet

This was not an ordinary reaping for me. Not because it was my first one. Or because of Effie Trinket's spectacular ensemble she was wearing. This was more than that. I woke up in the morning solemnly. There was my family at the table. Josie the youngest, with her dark hair, rosy cheeks, and sparkling silver eyes was only three. Angus had shorter dark hair, and a crooked smile. He was five. Jocelyn had the longest dark hair, and I always used to brush it. She was seven, Amanda was eight, and very mature for that age, with her ponytail and glasses. Fisher was eleven, one year younger than me, and always found a way to make us all laugh. Then there was me. But it doesn't stop there. Brian was fifteen, and a good big brother to lean your head on. He was always there for me. Karey was seventeen, and she was very popular. It's not hard to imagine. Her grey eyes and curly brown hair worked for her. She was pretty, tall, smart, and athletic. Jake was eighteen, and he never really had a definite personality since my father left. He was definitely impulsive, though. It was his last reaping. We would have been celebrating tomorrow if his name didn't get called. The probability of that was very small. He put his name in for the tesserae nine times every year. None of us had put ours in yet. We made a family agreement. The oldest puts their name in once for every child in this family. It's the only fair way. Brian, Karey, and Jake have never had their names called. Yet. The odds of me being called this year were even less. My name is in the glass bowl only once. But who knows? Primrose Everdeen's name got called last year on her first reaping. Truly, the odds are in no one's favor. But do you think anyone dares to point that out to the scary Effie Trinket? With her white face and long nails with different objects attatched, and her shoulder pads so pointy they could kill someone, you really think anyone would want to talk to her? I didn't even want to look at her. But it's alright. I only have to see her once a year. Once a year when she's laughing and joking with the Peacekeepers on a day where she is fully aware that she is basically killing two people and their families. But the Capitol doesn't see it like that. They see it like a game. Something to watch on TV while drinking a soda and eating some popcorn. A joke. Shivers ran down my spine because of the combination of that thought and the icy temperature of the oatmeal. 

No one in my family can cook but me, And they didn't want to make me cook on the worst day of my life. Well, the first one. After breakfast, if you can call it that, I ran along and got dressed in my reaping clothes. This year, it was a tattered gray skirt and a pale yellow button up shirt. I wore my matching socks with the lace trim, my most valuable possession. On top of them, I slipped on some beat up black and white oxfords that are two sizes too small. They pinched my toes, but that was all right. I know Karey's shoes hurt worse. My light brown hair had been lightened by the sun lately, leaving some wispy pieces in the front a dark blonde.

 I wouldn't say that I'm pretty. I'm quite plain. More pale than the others in the seam. My eyes take on a brownish grey instead of the uniform bluish one. My hair is a bit lighter because of where I go all day. But that's a secret. I have a very thin, angular face. My eyebrows are thin and shaped, and I'm very small: about four foot eight, and I weigh sixty pounds. I always joked to my younger brothers and sisters, "Do you know how many fat people there are in the Capitol who would love to be as skinny as us? It's not malnutrition. It's called the Starvation Diet." And they laughed lightly along with me, even though I knew I was just being stupid. I would've love to be fat. A fat girl is a happy girl, is what my mother used to say. She didn't have to say it any more because I'm skinny as a rail and lord knows I have depression problems worse than the man selling tiles at the Hob.

My mother is thin, too. Her black eyelashes compete with the color of the dark circles under her eyes. They've been there ever since my father left. He got her pregnant nine times and then disappeared. Sometimes when my mother got angry, she said she wishes it were her who left. I know she didn't mean it. But I would. I don't want to go through all those reapings and watch my beautiful children cry at the loss of their friends or worse, be crying for the loss of my child. If I ever had this many children, I would train them to be killers. To fight. My mother doesn't believe in that. She says that no one should be trained to kill. "It's inhumane." 

I brushed out my hair, and my mother pulled it into a French braid. The only thing I like about myself is my hair. It is long and thick, unlike my brothers' and sisters' hair, which is thin and dark. Karey put on one of my mother's old lipsticks. It was a very pale pink. She held my chin still in her hands and put some on me. That was the first time she acknowledged me the whole day. We didn't speak to each other, just a quick nod. Today was not a day for speaking. I slipped  into the back room of our house. This belongs to the baby that lives in it. She is not my mother's baby. I kissed Rosie on the forehead, even though I know my mother has sedated her with sleeping syrup from Mrs. Everdeen. It broke my heart to not give any further affection to Rosie, my favorite person in the world. I raced up to my room again, shocked that I let myself forget my silver. My silver is a charm bracelet that I've always had. There are many charms on it, including a mocking jay. I acquired this one last year at the Hob when Katniss was competing in the Games. It is my lucky charm. I tucked it under my shirt sleeve so no one would see. Jake explained the process of the reaping to me last night so I would know what to do as a candidate for tribute. 

We left the house early, just so we could see the faint signs of life in the village like little kids playing in the front yards, and animals in the back. If you go too late, it looks abandoned and sad. We went to the town square of District 12, where all official business is held if it's not on TV. Hundreds of small children scrambled around. All of their faces were streaked with tears and worry. The older kids, or the candidates, were all looking solemn like me. I didn't bother to cry. Why should I make anyone more sad than we already are? I gave my mother a hug goodbye, there was no time to hug all my siblings. We all separated, parents and siblings are in a special section, and candidates are split by gender and age, the younger ones in the front.  I was in the very front since I am young and small. 

Things were getting into order slowly. I made out where Karey was so I could go with her after the names are called. She was in the back, because she is tall for her age, so she settled in with some girls she knows from school. Girls I know were all around me, but I did not dare to look into their eyes. It would be too embarrassing. It is always a bit humiliating to let your schoolmates see you cry. Or almost cry. So I didn't look. Effie Trinket took the stage, and my heart stopped. Her outfit consisted of a puffy white wig, a green hair flower, and a big green dress with different color accents. She introduced herself, as though we didn't know who she was, and played the same video clip we always saw. I didn't have to watch to know what they are saying. I already knew. We should be ashamed for what we did and how we ruined Panem, blah blah blah. We've heard it before. Effie cleared her throat. 

"As usual, ladies first," she rang from the large stage and plunged her white hand into the glass bowl. Out came a small, folded paper. My hands were sweaty and shaking. She slowly brought her fingers to the paper to unfold it. My ears went numb as a ringing completely took over my hearing. Effie said a name. I didn't hear it. All of the sudden, Karey came around the corner, tears flew out of her eyes, and she managed to carry herself up the stairs of the stage... 

"I volunteer as tribute," a voice said. I looked all around. Who would volunteer for my sister other than myself? As everyone turned to stare at me, I realized. No one. The voice was me. I seemed to float up the stage steps when I didn't feel my feet touch the ground. Effie beamed at me. 

"Isn't that nice? What's your name sweetheart?" She held the microphone up to me. 

"Catarina Sanders," a voice said, and it was me again. I didn't understand how I kept talking without myself. 

"Very well. Take your place in the crowd, Karey," Effie said sternly, seeing the protest in my sister's eyes. She stalked off stage, her tears dripped down as she went. I didn't want her to go. Effie pointed me toward a chair to sit on. I was relieved. I thought I was going to faint if I didn't. Effie called the boy, which I didn't hear again, but I saw a thin, nervous looking boy rise. I didn't know him. Good. But he was significantly older than me. Not good. I sat and stared at Josie, who was crying. Maybe Angus? No, he was crying, too. They were so young. I felt sorry that I had to be up on this stage. I felt like I owed them an apology. But I knew it was for the better. Karey is strong. She is very good at hunting, and the people of District 12 like her. She helped my mom mother my siblings. If any of us should die, it should be me. I am the runt. The weak one that they wanted to get rid of from the start. Just one more mouth to feed. I looked at Jake. Surely he was not crying. But he was. He was supposed to be the strong one. Supposed to take the place of our 'daddy' and be a better one. Suddenly, I was very angry with my family. I wanted to cry to make them feel even worse, but I knew that if were to cry, I would probably get ill. Then they would call Karey back up. She's strong. She could win. Another reason I couldn't cry is because I'd had one glass of water in the past three days. Maybe I would faint. I heard the audience gasp as if on cue, and suddenly, before I was aware of the thud I'd made, I was on the ground. My eyes fluttered shut. I really had got to stop doing that.