Quell

Justice Square is packed with people when we arrive. Eloise and Sanders get our parents and the younger kids situated, then join Susa, Caleb, and me in line. We sign in. After one last hug, Eloise, Sanders, and Caleb go to their assigned areas. Susa clings to my hand. This is her first Reaping, and she is terrified. I squat down and grip her shoulders.

"Susa, listen. It'll be okay. Your name's only in there once. There's no way you'll be the tribute." I hug her tightly. "It's gonna be okay." She nods and sniffles, then straightens her shoulders and marches to the horde of anxious-looking twelve-year-olds. I go and join the group of fifteens, then glance over at the sixteens. Theo meets my eyes and gives me a small thumbs-up. I smile back, then turn to the stage. A tall woman with absurdly yellow hair and a painfully pink dress is standing onstage, tapping a pointy-shoe-clad foot and looking impatient. Her name is Aphrodite Sunburst, and she is District 6's Capitol escort.

When everyone has filed into the square, she clears her throat and shoots a look at Mayor Ainsley, who steps up to the microphone and begins to speak. I tune him out, since I've heard Panem's history hundreds of times throughout my life. Finally, the mayor finishes by saying, "It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks." Then he reads the list of District 6 victors. We've only had one in the past twenty-four years, a woman named Moreen Eager, who is now in her early thirties. She is tall and thin, with long ash-blonde hair, prominent cheekbones, and intelligent hazel eyes. She nods at the cameras, then resumes staring at the District 6 banners hanging off of the surrounding buildings. Mayor Ainsley introduces Aphrodite Sunburst, who skips up to the podium in her absurdly high heels and squeaks, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Suddenly it registers in my mind that the reaping balls are missing. They are simply not there. And no one seems bothered.

Aphrodite Sunburst beams out at the crowd. Her teeth are blindingly white.

"Here is a message from our highly esteemed leader, President Raine!" She presses a button and the massive television screens begin to glow blue as they turn on. The anthem of Panem plays, and the seal of the Capitol flashes across the screens. Then President Raine fills the image, his surgically altered body looking scarily tall and thin on the massive televisions. A small boy in a white suit is holding a simple wooden box. What in the world is going on? The anthem of Panem plays again, and then President Raine begins to talk. He speaks of the Dark Days, which brought about the Hunger Games. When the laws for the Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. The Quells would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed in the games.

I exchange glances with Theo. A glorified version of the Games? This is not sounding good.

"We now honor our first Quarter Quell," announces the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box, which is now open. There are hundreds of yellowing envelopes inside. President Raine removes an envelope marked with the number 25. He runs his thin finger under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. There is a long moment of silence. Then the president opens his thin mouth and reads.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children are dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district will be made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who will represent it." The president looks up from the paper, and I swear his snake eyes lock with my own.

"You have three days."

The screens shut off. It is completely silent in Justice Square. Then the murmurs begin.

"A vote?"

"What does he mean?"

"I don't understand!"

"We have to elect our tributes?"

Aphrodite Sunburst coughs delicately into the microphone.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she chirps, then turns and darts into the Justice Building. The confused murmurs turn into shouts and arguments. Somewhere, a small child is wailing. I push my way through the crowd to the edge of the fifteens and call out to Theo, who joins me.

"They have t'vote?" I say incredulously.

"Yup," he replies, his voice grim.

"That's horrible," I whisper. Being turned over to fight to the death by my district would be vastly worse than having my name drawn out of the reaping ball.