Kiss of Death

The sun was extraordinarily hot that morning. It always was the day of the Reaping. Scout stood in the square amongst the many rows of children. The Capitol’s symbol hung from the stone buildings in an attempt to decorate the square for the dreaded ceremony.

Ash stood in the distance on the opposite side of the square as Scout. Almost immediately, she spotted his dark hair against the pales of the buildings behind him. Her feet moved in his direction, stepping slowly across the pavement.

Before she reached Ash, Reed moved beside her, fluffing her hair in his hands. Her eyes pierced in a glare as she patted down her hair.

“Are you ready for the reaping?” Reed asked. “This is our last year.”

Scout shook her head. “I’m never ready.”

Reed nodded, reaching his hand out to fix a piece of hair Scout had missed. He smiled at her and pulled his hand away before they turned to the stage.

The static from the microphone filled the square. After the noise, the square fell silent. The boys moved to one end of the square and the girls to the other. District Seven’s children moved to their lines, facing the large stage. In their perfect rows, each of the children stood tall, their hands at their sides.

The crowd’s silence was soon replaced with the Capitol’s anthem, which sounded through the town’s many speakers. On the stage, the Capitol’s promotional film began playing on the white backdrop.

The crowd watched, silent and shaking, as they waited for the film to end and the names to be pulled. Geneva Cardinal stepped onto the stage, her bright green dress attracting everyone’s attention. She turned to watch the film as it came to its end.

“This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future.”

The film was replaced with a black screen, which was then removed. Geneva turned back to the crowd and stared out at the children’s pale faces. She pulled the microphone close to her face before speaking.

“Welcome everyone,” Geneva said, her voice light and cheery, “to the Reaping for the 56th Annual Hunger Games. I’m sure everyone is just as excited as I am to see what lovely tributes will be representing District Seven this year so let’s get on with it.”

Geneva’s hand reached into the large bowl, swirling around the small slips of paper. She circled her hand a few times before finally deciding on a name. Her fingers gripped tightly around the slip of paper, which lit up in the sunlight.

She unfolded the slip slowly before turning to the microphone.

“This year, our female tribute will be,” Geneva said, staring out into the crowd, “Scout Lovett.”

The moment her name was spoken, Scout’s blood went cold. The shaking in her hands moved throughout her body, as everyone’s eyes turned to her. She paused for a moment until the tall girl next to her shoved her forward.

With her thoughts moving more slowly than usual, it took a moment for Scout to realize what had happened. The girl nudged her again, forcing her to walk.

Her legs seemed to move of their own accord towards the stage. She couldn’t feel them. She couldn’t feel anything.

Her body stood on the stage, but her mind was not with her. She could neither think nor speak. She thought only of sweet little Maven, who had no one to take care of her during the day. Mrs. Walker would have to stop working, and Reed would have to work longer days. His body would be tired, and his hands would be sore, but there would be no one to tell him that everything would be okay.

Ash would help, or at least she hoped he would. She could ask him to help the Walker’s get food, but she couldn’t be sure that he would.

With her thoughts racing in a sudden blur, she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her mind. After a few moments, she willed herself to look out at the crowd. Her eyes scanned the crowd for Ash’s face and met it almost immediately. He looked blank as though he were in shock.

It was only then that she realized what had felt like minutes to her had only been seconds to the rest of the world. Geneva had just begun turning her attention back to the bowl.

As the pale woman moved her hand once more through the papers, she kept her eyes on the crowd. Her hands finally rested on a piece of paper at the top. She gripped it, pulling it out to be read.

“Our male tribute will be Tandon Bush,” Geneva said, her voice echoing through the square.

A young boy, a few years below Scout, walked towards the stage. His small frame appeared even tinier in front of the crowd. Scout eyed him up and down, wondering if he would last longer than she would.

Geneva smiled at Tandon then spoke again, “Now, do we have any volunteers?”

The square grew silent. Even the birds in the sky stopped singing.

From the back of the crowd, a voice spoke, “I volunteer.”

All eyes turned to the back, searching for whoever had spoken. The crowd was silent as the voice spoke again. “I volunteer as male tribute.”

Reed stepped forward, moving through the crowd until he reached the stage. Tandon looked at Reed with wide eyes. The boy paused for only a moment, before rushing back into the crowd.

Geneva’s face lit up as Reed approached her.

“My, what a strapping young boy,” she said, moving Reed closer to her. “What is your name?”

Reed moved his face towards the microphone. “Reed Walker.”

Scout looked at Reed then out at the crowd. She locked eyes with the small boy, Tandon, who appeared to be breathing a sigh of relief. Her gaze moved back to Reed, who was still talking to Geneva. He was strong, there was no doubt about that, but he wasn’t a killer. He was putting his life on the line to win a prize that he had no chance of getting.

“Tell us why you’re entering,” Geneva said, pushing the microphone back towards Reed’s face.

“I’m a career,” Reed said. “I’ve been –”

“What are you doing?” Scout screamed, interrupting him. Her breath caught in her throat, making her face grow hot. A few small tears fell from her eyes.

All eyes moved to her as she walked across the stage to the place where Reed stood. Her fists moved forward, pounding against his chest.

“Take it back!” she yelled, throwing in a few more punches.

The Peacekeepers stood at attention, moving forward to take her down. Reed reached his hands to Scout’s arms, taking one of her wrists between each of them. Her punches stopped, ended by his tight grip, and she pulled away. The Peacekeepers moved towards her, two of them placing their hands against her shoulders. They escorted her away from the stage towards the mayor’s house.

Tears flew down her face, landing in pools on her cheeks. As the Peacekeepers guided her through the mayor’s home, she attempted to calm herself down. With Reed now a victim of the Hunger Games as well, Maven would be left with just her mother. The small girl would be alone for hours at a time, and she was still too young to look after herself. By volunteering in the games, Reed had succeeded in destroying Maven’s future.

Scout’s attempt at calming herself had only upset her more.

After walking down a long hall, Scout’s guides stopped at a door. One of the Peacekeepers waved his hand, motioning for her to step inside.

The door opened with a creak, crying along with her. The tears pouring down her face blurred her vision, allowing her only to take in what was directly in front of her. The Peacekeepers dropped her arms before shutting the door behind her.

Her hands reached up to her eyes, wiping the water from them. Air caught in her throat, forcing her to gasp. She paused, thinking to herself, breathe Scout, breathe.

She made her way to a chair in the corner, sitting on its hard, wooden surface. Her hands glided over the arm rests. The grooves of the rough wood twisted beneath her fingertips.

Her mind was still racing, thinking horrible things, so she took to counting. 1. 2. 3. 4.

She had only just begun when the door opened. Across the room, her mother stepped through the frame, tears running down her face.

Her arms wrapped tightly around Scout, holding her daughter as she sat. Scout wound her arms around her mother as the two of them sobbed.

Scout’s cheeks burned as the salty tears ran against them. Her sensitive skin was not used to all the weeping.

With the door still open, her father walked in, approaching the women slowly. Scout pulled away from her mother and looked into her father’s eyes. His face was as rough as ever.

He reached his hand out to her, rubbing it once on top of her head.

“Good luck, little one,” he said, wrapping his hand around his wife’s.

Her mother kissed her once more, before following her father out of the room.

Scout kept her eyes at the door, which her parents had shut behind them. It creaked open slowly, the noise much more quiet than before, until Ash was visible behind it.

He stepped forward, walking slowly into the room. Scout kept her eyes on him as he tapped his fingers together. His eyes were focused away from her toward the floor beneath her.

The air felt thicker, much heavier than it had before. Air flowed coarsely in and out of Scout’s lungs, the sound of her breaths being the only sound in the room.

Ash’s eyes moved gradually from the floor up to Scout until they met her own.

He walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

His hands moved to her hair, tugging the loose curls gently. She moved her arms around his waist in a tight hug. His soft scent filled the air around her and she breathed in deeply, determined to hold onto the smell forever.

Ash pulled away slowly, his hands moving to wrap around hers. He stared at her a moment, their eyes meeting in a soft gaze, until his lips pressed gently against her forehead.

“It’ll be okay, Scout. Reed will take care of you, and the two of you can find a way out.”

Scout shook her head furiously, pulling away from him.

Ash sighed. “I’ll wait for you. I swear I will.”

He placed another kiss on top of her head, as she nodded slowly. He dropped her hands, before turning away from her.

“I love you, Ash.”

He turned back to her, an apathetic smile on his face. “I love you, Scout.”

His hands moved to the door, pushing it open. The loud creaking almost masked the sound of her cry. Ash stepped out of the room and down the hall, leaving Scout alone.

With the door now open, Scout could hear the sound of Maven sobbing in the next room. It was a noise she had heard many times before. Her desire to soothe the girl took over, and she moved to the door frame, slowly walking over to the room.

Before her hand could touch the doorknob, a Peacekeeper approached her, motioning for her to follow him. She was escorted to a restroom, where the Peacekeeper told her to wash up.

When she stepped into the room, he shut it behind her, locking it automatically. She leaned over, looking underneath the crack in the door, and spotted the Peacekeeper’s shoes, signaling he was waiting right outside.

Lifting herself from the floor, she took a deep breath, placing her hands on the surface of the concrete wash basin.

Her eyes moved slowly from the floor up to the mirror. The face looking back startled her. Her eyes were red and swollen and the tip of her nose was a floral pink. She was ugly when she cried. She had always been told that.

She reached her hand to one of the knobs on the sink, twisting it slowly. The faucet poured out water, and she scooped it in her hands. As she splashed the water on her face, she practiced her breathing once more. She began her counting, one to thirty, until the Peacekeeper knocked on the door.

The knob twisted beneath her fingers, and she pushed the door open. The Peacekeeper wrapped his hand around her arm, pulling her back through the winding hallways of the building, and out the front door.

She was led down a busy street to the large silver train that would carry her to the Capitol.

The train was faster than a bullet, they had said. And twice as deadly.