Chapter Text
I woke up feeling miserable, per usual, but this morning an extra sense of dread accompanied me when I woke up.
It is Reaping Day.
Normally I wouldn’t be concerned about this, since I only have a few slips with my name on them- or, at least I used to. Yesterday, I took out 50 slips of tesserae.
I have an illness that no apothecary medicine nor doctor can figure out how to cure. I don’t attend school, out of everyone else’s fear that I may infect other kids. I know that cannot happen, as my sister Maize is fine, and so are our parents. The administration doesn’t care about the specifics- no one does.
My mother spends time fussing over my appearance once I clamber out of bed. Try as hard as she may, I will still look as miserable as I feel. I can’t hide it.
Guilt gnaws away at me as my mother combs through my messy hair. I have not told my family what I have done, and you know what they say, “There’s no time like the present.”
However, I do wait until she has finished up with my hair, and we walk out into the small kitchen area, where my father and sister are sitting at a circular table, undoubtedly waiting for us so that we can have breakfast as a family. It is a humble meal, consisting of bread and some meat that Papa traded for at the market.
The usual chatter is replaced by awkward questioning.
“How are you kids feeling? You know, this is your last year Maize.” Mama’s voice sounds unsure, as if she can’t fathom her daughter going to the Games. “What about her son?”, I wonder.
“I’ll be okay, Mama. Haven’t you heard? Inari Fennel’s volunteering.”
Who..? Fennel? No clue. I may pretend to listen to my sister’s rambling about what happens at school, but I don’t know the half of it.
“Really? Now why in Panem would she do such a thing?” Dad looks up from his newspaper- one from the Janné family’s pizzeria, undoubtedly.
“No clue,” Maize shrugs her shoulders and returns to her bread.
“How about you, Rye? Feeling nervous? You haven’t got a thing to worry about.” Mama presses me for an answer. No time like the present…
“I took out 50 pieces of tesserae.” My voice sounds detached, as if I haven’t said a word. My family turns to look at me in sync.
“Rye, that’s not funny,” Maize chides.
“Son, don’t you mess with us like that.” Papa jumps in to back her up.
“No, I’m serious. Check under my bed- that’s where the grain and oil are.” I feel as though I am a mere spectator in this moment, separated from my treacherous mouth, and the finger that points to my room. No one noticed because I sleep alone. Maize is in the same room as Mama and Papa- just in a separate bed- because of my sickness.
Papa gets up from his seat, muttering something about troublemaking brats. Mama and Maize follow behind.
A gasp comes from the room as I try to finish my breakfast. Maize comes back crying before running out of the house entirely.
“Rye Chayote! What in the hell have you done?” My father’s voice is loud and commanding- not a tone I hear often.
“The doctors don’t have faith in me. I’m getting worse.” I combat his question with another hollow yet true answer.
“That’s no excuse!” I began to tune my father out at around this point, not listening to the lecture that lasted for about five minutes.
“Do you understand me, young man?” Huh? Oh. He’s done.
“Yes, sir.” I nod along with faux understanding, knowing that he is unaware of my distaste for the situation.
I walk out of the house afterwards and wonder what in Panem I have gotten myself into.