CARPER CONCH, DISTRICT 4The sand crunches between my toes.I hold my shiny dress shoes, the only part of my outfit that is at all new, in one hand.In the other, I crush small pieces of sadstone, crumbling it so it falls back into theflat sandscape.I needed a quick break from this day. I had a 6:00 am crab trapping shift, then a 10:00am boat matinence, an hour break, then a packaging and loading shift at 3:00. I rushedhome to shower and change for the reaping. The sun is about to set, and the reaping'sabout to start, yet here I am, kicking rocks on a beach.The shore is still covered in clear, plastic-like jellyfish. They're a gorgeous cobaltblue, and they washed up this morning. People here in Four call them sailor jellies, buttheir fancy name is vellella vellella. These washed up jellies are meant to be a goodomen, bringing pleasant suprises and good news. A bit ironic that they show up on reapingday, huh?My parents believe in all of the sea lore, and on the day my sister and I were born, theywashed up and they named my sister after them, though we call her Ella because Vellella iskind of a mouthful. I got stuck with part of an ugly fish, a carp, who isn't even nativeto our ocean."Carper!" Ella calls, sitting on one of the many docks around the beach. "I know you likegoing late so we don't have to wait, but I'm pretty sure waiting in a line for a littlebit is better than getting shot!"I laugh too loudly, trying not to accidentally let her know that the giant guns thepeacekeepers carry scare me more than they should. I'm too old for that, way too old now.But I've seen them use them and I'd rather Ella and I not be around.But, I decide to listen to her and we start the short walk from the docks to the Councilbuilding.The closer we get to the square, the more people there are. Peacekeepers are everywhere,keeping everyone in order. I can see them scanning for anyone they might need to put intheir place. I feel like throwing up, I'm so scared I might just vomit right here on thespot. The sun has almost fully set by the time we reach the town square.The escort this year is a young man named Orpheus. His greenish hair, streaked with pink,is neatly combed, his is shirt crisp, his face is caked with makeup. He looks like hedoesn't belong here. He's already at the podium, microphone in hand, waiting for the Mayorto start his speech.The Mayor is the same way as he is every year during the reaping. Stoic, serious and tothe point. Today, however, even he seems a little on edge from what I could tell. TheMayor finishes his long-winded speech, finally getting onto the main event of the day: thedrawing of the names. He gestures for the escort to step forward, and he reaches into aglass bowl, and I watch in a sort of morbid anticipation.Most districts do the girls first, and we're no different. He twirls his painted fingersaround in the massive bowl and plucks one out."Delani Avery."It takes a moment for me to find the tiny girl in the crowd. She's short, and reallyskinny. She looks like a baby version of my sister.Delani makes the short walk up to the podium. She's shaking like a leaf, her eyes wide and panicked. Her parents watch helplessly at her. Her dad is crying, cclenching andunclenching his fists. Her mom is stock still, just watching as her young daughter walksup to face the news of her coming death.My stomach is turning to knots. I hate when little kids get picked. It just feels so...wrong.The Mayor steps forward to introduce her, a rehearsed speech I've heard on every reaping,including my own. But I'm too focused on Delani and how she's shaking, looking like she'sabout to run for the hills. Her face is pale, her eyes almost looking like they're aboutto pop out of her skull. I can see her parents behind her, tears on the verge of coming.Her dad is crying into his wife's shoulder, while she stands still, staring at hisdaughter.And the reaping goes on. I watch the Mayor reach back into the reaping bowl, the boys thistime, and watch the names come out. My attention is all on the bowl and its contents,praying that name that comes out isn't mine.Then the Mayor pulls out the slip of paper, holding it up for us to read it. My heart isin my throat as I watch the whole square hold its collective breath. Silence fills theair, and the whole square is a blur around me.The words from the Mayor, clear and concise, come through the microphone and the square.They're two words that I would've done anything not to hear at the reaping. this lifetime."Carper Conch."I feel as if I'm frozen in place, but my legs start the march to the stage. When I passthe girls on the way to the stage, a frail hand grabs my forearm. Ella's milky blue eyesglare up into my own."The jellyfish are never wrong," she whispers. "You're going to win."I nod shakily, and slowly pull my arm out of her weak grip.The steps up to the platform feel like I'm walking up a mountain. I keep my head down, myeyes locked on my shoes as I take each step in slow, deliberate steps. I finally make itto the podium, and I'm greeted by Orpheus with a tight, nervous grin.He motions for me to join him. The cameras, which have been filming this whole time, swingaround to film us up close. All I can do is clench my jaw, fighting the urge to run and tohide somewhere, anywhere.No one volunteers. I didn't expect them to.Then Orpheus speaks. The words are loud and clear and I hear them like the clash of awave."And that concludes the annual reaping! Thank you, everyone, for joining us- and may theodds be ever in your favor!"I turn to Delani as she reached out to shake my hand. Her handshake is strong, almost asstrong as mine even though her arms are tiny.For the first time ever, I feel like I'm actually looking at the reaping for what it'sreally supposed to be: a display of the Capitol's major power. I've always known the gameswere designed to showcase the Capitol's might, but looking at all of the citizens andseeing the fear on their faces just proves it's true. I am one of those people now.