Before the Rebellion

“How much time does he have?” I ask, biting my dirty nails. I steal a glance at the pale, skinny boy lying on the cot near the fireplace. He’s shivering under the various blankets strewn across his body. It looks more like a skeleton is lying under the covers rather than a person, though. The bags under his eyes are deep purple, making it look as if someone’s beaten him terribly. My eyes water at the sight of him. He’s deathly ill.

It hadn’t always been this way, though. He used to be healthy and strong – probably the strongest boy in town. After all, from the age of two he’d been taught how to swing an axe with just enough strength to fall a tree in under a minute and a half. He held the record for the fastest chopping time in the whole district, and our district was one of the larger ones. His hair once shined, but now it lied limp and overgrown on his feverish forehead. Along with his deep tan from spending hours and hours outside and his blonde hair, it was almost as if he were golden. Even his brown eyes had a hint of gold in them.

Cat, the local medicine lady, gave a sympathetic look. “Not much if we can’t get the medicine soon.” I sighed and crossed over to his bed and sat down next to him, holding his shaking hand.
“I’ve got half the money saved. Can you just cut me a break?” I plead with her.
She shakes her head, but I see she looks sorry. “I’ve been letting him stay here for free for the past few months, Brighid. This medicine is expensive...,” her voice trials off, because we both know what her final answer is. I feel my eyes brimming over with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. I’ve already spent too many nights crying.

I stand straight with confidence and say, “I’ll find a way. He’s not going to die.” Cat just nods her head, smiling sadly at me. A weak laugh startles the two of us.

“Funny how you two talk as if I’m deaf, when really I’m just on my death bed,” he pauses to gesture to the cot with his hands. “Literally.” I shake my head and smile as he winks at me.

“Morning, Thom!” I bend down and kiss him on the cheek. “Ready for the reaping today?” Even though he was incredibly sick, Thom still had to attend the reaping and there was still a chance of him being picked as tribute.

Struggling to sit himself up in the bed, he says, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I help Thom out of bed, and sling his arm around my neck, helping him walk over to Cat. She had a small tub full of water waiting for him to get a bath in. Cat began stripping him down, leading Thom to his daily protests.

“At least leave me the dignity to undress my self,” he told her, adding, “And to not have to be completely naked in front of my girlfriend.”

Cat just shook her head, her gray hair falling a bit out of her loose bun. “You’ll kill yourself, boy.”

“Come on, Kitten!” he protests, calling her by his own nickname for her. She smiles at his silly ways.

Ignoring him, she begins to further undress him and I turn to leave the little cabin, calling out behind me, “I’ll be back for him in about twenty minutes!”

I take a path that I’ve taken thousands of times in these past few months. It leads me to a spot in the forest that overlooks the lumber yard. I like to sit and try and spot the people I know. Sometimes I’ll see my dad or brother, Jonathan, working out there. But most times I just sit in the silence and think, petting Feather absent-mindedly. The first time I had come out to the spot, when I had first found out that Thom’s illness was fatal, I was sobbing and screaming. I threw myself down into the grass and just cried. I must have been there for hours just crying, and I looked up and saw this big pair of eyes looking at me. Turns out a young deer had been injured, and couldn’t move to run away from me. I walked over to her and she didn’t jump. She didn’t seem startled at all.

I ran back to Cat’s cabin and got some supplies. Then I went home and stole some of mother’s fresh milk from her cow. I ran as fast as I could back to the spot. I wrapped up the fawn’s leg and then fed gave her some milk. I took care of her everyday until she was healed. Now that she’s better, she still sticks around. She’s quiet, and I can tell her anything and never have to worry about her giving my secrets away. In a way, she’s my best friend.

Today, I just sit and watch the empty lumber yard. I sing a bit to myself, weaving a flower chain for my hair out of some wildflowers nearby. I realize Feather’s sleeping beside me, and so I give her a pat on the back goodbye before making my way back down the little path to Cat’s house.
I walk into the darkened, somewhat cluttered little house and see Thom sitting in an old, wooden chair. He’s dressed in his best clothes – a buttoned up, blue shirt and a pair of brown trousers. His hair is falling freely around his face. His clothes are falling off of his barely there body. When he sees me, he smiles, his brown eyes glittering.

“There’s my sweetheart!” He says, coughing heavily afterwards. I smile at him and grab his hands.

“Ready to go, Mr. Big Shot?” I ask, smoothing his hair a bit. He nods and I sling his arm over my shoulder, supporting must of his body weight.

“Bye, Cat!” I call out to her from the doorway.

She waves, saying, “See you kids later!”

“Hopefully..,” I quietly add, shutting the door behind me and heading towards the center of town. It’s a difficult walk there, having to basically carry Thom, but we get there on time. I find my brother Jonathan in the crowd of boys and bring Thom over to him.

Jonathan must notice my nervousness, because he kisses my forehead and says, “Everything will be fine, Brig.” Oh, if only he knew. I just nod and skip over to the crowd of girls.

A woman with dark brown skin and electric yellow hair walks up to the microphone on the stage. Her name is Penelope Rain. I feel the whole crowd tense along with me. She picks a square of paper from the pile of other papers and clears her throat.

“Let’s get on with this, shall we?” She smiles at a crowd of people who don’t return it. “Well, District Seven, your female tribute is... Veronica Yemmings!” A girl with fiery red hair, who I’d only seen around school once before, steps forward. My heart beats fast and before I can process what I’m about to do, I feel my voice calling out.

“I’d like to volunteer! I volunteer, ma’am!” I shout out. I feel everyone looking at me, but I stare straight ahead. I walk up to the stage and stand next to Penelope. She smiles hugely at me.

“Oh, a volunteer! Interesting, isn’t it? Well, let’s have your name, please.”

“I’m Brighid Peelar.”

“And how old are you, Brighid?”

“Fifteen.”

“How interesting... very interesting, indeed.” She says to herself more than the crowd. “Well, how about that! Let’s see who our male tribute is.”

I barely pay attention to what she says or does next. I feel a million thoughts running through my head. Why did I do it? To win to save Thom’s life, of course. So, I’m surprised when I see the crowd look incredibly shocked.

“Jonathan Peelar... Jonathan Peelar is our male tribute.” Penelope says into the microphone, seeming to be quite shocked herself.

“No...", I mumble to myself under my breath, tears welling up in my eyes and threatening to blur my vision as I see Jonathan walk up to the stage. “No! Please, someone, please volunteer!” I beg everyone. I wait for a moment, hoping that someone will step up. Nobody does.

My brother is the other tribute. I’m going to have to kill him. Or he’s going to have to kill me. I exchange a look with Jonathan as he stands beside me on the stage. I grab his hand, gripping onto it tightly. He looks at me and wipes away a tear. Then we both turn away and face the crowd. I look for Thom in the sea of grim faced boys, and find him leaned up against a boy named Dag’s shoulders, sobbing.

Penelope clears her throat, steps up to the microphone and says. “Happy Hunger Games, everyone! May the odds be ever in your favor!”

I look once more at Jonathan and know that the odds are anything but in my favor.