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The evening was finally cooling off, and BigB finally got the chance to sit down and relax for a moment. Being from District 11 meant hard work, especially during the harvest but BigB was seventeen, which meant his time in school was practically done, he’d barely spend a few months in classes the next year. Instead he would be joining the training programs for the laborers of his district, basically the elegant way of saying that they stopped schooling children as soon as possible to put them to work.
All day had been a buzz of work and anxiety, everyone had been stressed for the upcoming Reaping. That year there were many twelve year olds eligible for the first time and the whole town had been fearing the worst.
BigB selfishly wasn’t too stressed, neither he or any of his closest friends had any siblings of Reaping age, and just last year one of them had been reaped and had died pretty close to victory, so the larger Reaping pool only served to ease their anxiety.
That’s why when the moment presented itself, BigB and his friend group went out to a clearing in a nearby orchard so they could sit around a small bonfire chatting, playing games and drinking liquor they probably shouldn’t have had access to. Spending some time without anyone’s supervision, no parents, no overseers and no Peacekeepers. They weren’t exactly allowed to be out there after curfew, but no one was gonna bother them the night before the Reaping.
The clearing in the orchard had become their safe space, whenever times had been especially hard they had used it as their meeting place. Sometimes visiting alone or in small groups, sometimes all of them. About a year prior they had held a secret funeral for their friend, since the one that his family had held had not done him justice according to them.
The night came quickly, they didn’t eat because none of them had enough, but they pretended it was so the alcohol could buzz them quicker.
They played betting games, with cards and dice, but without any coin, only fruit pits because they didn’t have any money to bet.
They wanted to smoke, but none of them had managed to sneak tobacco from their homes or the shop.
They didn’t sleep, acting as if they didn’t need rest, but it was anxiety and fear that kept them awake.
They cried, openly, because all of them were mourning a friend who had been taken from them too soon.
Even with all their struggles and suffering, the laughter always picked up again, because they are resilient and craving living life more than anything.
All of them are just children trying to feel some control over a traumatic event completely beyond their control.