goodbye

District 8 is not a place made for raising a child. It's a dirty, horrible, disgusting excuse for a District. My parents raised my three siblings and me here. We work for hours, even my tiniest sister, and we barely make enough to feed all of us. Even with our poverty, the Capitol still forces us to offer up one of the children raised here for their own entertainment.

Today is the day of the Reaping, where the Capitol steals one boy and one girl from their families and uses them for their favorite sport of the year. It absolutely disgusts me and I can't stand it. Hopefully neither my little brother nor myself will be chosen this year.

With these thoughts, I look over at my thirteen-year-old brother, Myre. He's shaking where he stands. I can see it. He's terrified. I can't really blame him, especially what the penalty for bad luck on this specific day is. But if I call out to him, the Peacekeepers will attack us. Today is the Day of the Reaping, a day that District 8 always fears. We aren't a fighting district, we make fabric and clothes.

Our spokesperson from the Capitol, Maret Leon, a woman with pale blue skin and an outrageous hairstyle, walks up to the microphone. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds ever be in your favor!" she announces, a bright smile on her lips. There is no response from the crowd of children and teens before her. "Now, before we start, we have a video that has come all the way from the Capitol." I roll my eyes slightly as the video plays on the screen. It's the same every year.

The video is just there to remind us that we are under the boot of the Capitol. We cannot rise up against the Capitol again, because we will never be able to win. That was why the Hunger Games came along. Seventy-four years ago, the thirteen Districts rose up in rebellion against the Capitol. The rebellion was quickly put down, and District 13 was destroyed as a result. In penance for the act of rebellion, the Capitol created the Hunger Games.

During the Hunger Games, each of the twelve Districts are forced to offer up two Tributes per year, one boy and one girl, both from ages twelve to eighteen. The twenty-four tributes are forced into an arena to fight each other until only one is left alive. Whether it be from starvation, murder, suicide, weather problems, or some other crazed way of dying, it doesn't matter. It's all for the entertainment of those horrid Capitol people. That is the Hunger Games.

I bite my bottom lip again and look back at my little brother. His entire body is pale, and he's shaking in terror. He had escaped last year without being chosen, but his name is in the Reaping Balls twice this year. I just hope that this year would have the same outcome as the last year. I run my hand softly along the fabric of the ivory dress I had chosen to wear for this year's ceremony, closing my eyes in nervousness.

As always, Maret chooses the female tribute first. We are just District 8, a District that makes our living on making uniforms and cloth for the Capitol. But I can't help but be worried. I have my parents, two younger siblings, and one older sibling. I never allow Myre to put his name in for tesserae. My little sister, Fleur, is only seven, and unable to put her name in. Not like I'd let her. As for my older brother, Glenn, he's nineteen, and has escaped the Hunger Games.

If I never applied for tesserae for my family, my name would only have been in there five times. However, my name is in there over thirty times. The odds have never been in my favor. But I'm able to supply my family with things they need, even if it's at risk of my own life.

Maret's pale blue hand reaches into the Reaping Ball and digs around for a few moments. In those moments, my breath is caught in my throat. I bite my lip, and pray that it won't be my name. Slowly, in that one suspenseful moment, Maret opens the slip and reads off the name.

"Jade Jenkins."

It's not my name.

But I recognize the little girl who exits the crowd to approach the stage. She's just a twelve-year-old child. Her name is probably in there once, on that one slip of paper that was chosen from the Reaping Ball. She's… still so little. She's a year younger than my brother. If she was even fourteen or fifteen, I wouldn't have had a problem. But this girl, this young, shaking girl who looks like all color has been drained from her face, is only twelve.

I bite my lip and steel myself before making that one decision that will ultimately change my life forever. Perhaps even end it. Most people would call me insane and call my next action thoughtless. Maybe they'd be the ones who're right.

Pushing my way out of the crowd of other teenage girls, I stand in the center of the Reaping, all movement halted but myself. I feel eyes on me, some with shock and some with confusion. Ignoring all of the stares I'm getting, I take a deep breath and announce, "I volunteer."

The little girl's teary eyes widen, and a murmur passes through the crowd. There have only been a handful of Tributes from District 8 who would ever volunteer. I was perhaps the fourth. I bite my lip once more as Maret's shrill, yet calm voice asks, "What's your name, darling?"

"Leilani. Leilani Oakwood," I reply. I notice that my voice sounds much more confident than I feel. Inside, I'm shaking. I look over to my little brother, who is almost crying. I mouth an apology to him as I'm escorted onto the stage.

Maret looks almost pleased as she practically skips to the male Reaping Ball and pulls out the top slip of paper, almost lazily. I close my eyes, and hope I won't be thrown into the Games with a child. I can't bear the thought of killing a child.

"Myre Oakwood."

My eyes fly open and I gape like a fish. My little brother has been chosen to enter the Games with me, chosen to die alongside me. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to make sure he can go home. As Myre's face falls, paling even more, and he slowly walks forward, another male voice calls out.

"I volunteer!"

I can feel my shoulders sagging in relief as another boy, with dark hair and blue eyes, pushes through the crowd and stands almost protectively in front of Myre. He glares up at the stage and announces in a strong voice, "My name is Clay Jenkins."

And it's then, hearing his full name, that my face falls once more. He is Jade's older brother. I had just saved his little sister from being the one to die. He's only returning the favor and saving my little brother. My hands curl into fists at my sides in both anger and regret. Still, a jolt of relief runs through my veins that Myre won't be with me.

At Maret's request, or order, the two of us, the newest Tributes of District 8, shake hands, a silent, unspoken agreement between the two of us forming. Instead of applauding us, the crowd behind begins to sing quietly. They sing an old lullaby that was used at funerals.

I know that they're singing it for us. Tears form in my eyes at their sorrowful voices. This is our death sentence, and everyone knows it. I refuse to let my tears fall, but I smile widely. I suppose I just need to accept the fact that I'm going to die in the 74th Hunger Games. That's a fact.

We are just District 8, a District that makes our living on making uniforms and cloth for the Capitol. But even so, we will try to make it out alive.

{ may the odds be ever in your favor }

I'm thrown into a room, where my family can visit me before I'm shipped off to the Capitol to be prepared for the Hunger Games. Fleur is the first to rush in, clinging to my dress. She sobs, hugging me close to her.

She peers up with her wide eyes and begs, "Don't leave me, please, Lei." I kneel down in front of her and hug her. "I don't know what to do now…" she cried, tears streaming from her blue eyes.

"Listen to me," I start, cupping her face in both my hands. Her eyes lock with mine. "I will come home. Until then, be strong. Not for me, but for yourself. Don't let anyone see you cry, and don't doubt me for a second."

Fleur nods weakly, and hangs onto me again. She nuzzles her face into my dress once more, still crying. Her tears and her sobs only serve to break my heart. As the Peacekeepers storm into the room, and gently drag her away, Fleur screams in protest, trying to hang on. I shake my head, and she goes limp, allowing the large, burly men to drag her off.

The next one to visit is Glenn, worry reflected onto his face. Like Fleur did to me, I rush forward and hug him tightly, burying my face in his neck. He holds me close, refusing to be the one to cry. He shushes me as I continue to sob.

He pulls away, staring down at me. "You can win this. I know. Be stronger and faster and smarter than the other Tributes. Just don't show anyone what you're made of until the time comes to kill."

I shake my head a little. "I'm a girl from District 8. I'll most likely die on the first day," I confess sadly.

Glenn glares at me a little. "Listen to me, Lei. I know you. You're stronger than you think. If Cecelia and Woof can win, so can you. You know you can." I solemnly nod and turn away. Our three minutes are up. I can hear his footsteps echoing as he walks away.

My parents visit next. It's mostly just crying and memories. There are no talks of the Games, just well wishing and talking of the past and of things yet to come. My mother makes me promise that when I come back, we'll all go for a picnic. I promise this. My father, on the other hand, doesn't say anything but "good luck". He just holds me tight.

I can't help but hug my little brother close to me as he stumbles in. It looks like he's just recovered from crying, with bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down his face. But as he walks in and I hug him, Myre begins to cry again. I kneel in front of him. Myre takes my hand in his and places something in it.

"I wanted to be the one to give you this. Take it with you, into the Games," he requests quietly, wrapping his smaller arms around me and hugging me close to him. "Please, Lei, please, try to make it home for me."

Planting a kiss on his forehead, I nod. "I swear that I will do my best, Myre. I love you, baby brother." He nods, more tears streaming down his face. I hug him again before he turns and leaves the room, even before our three minutes are up. I can't exactly blame him though.

In my hand is a small, bronze pocket watch. It was my mother's once. I flip open the lid, seeing a small photo tucked away in a frame. It's of my entire family and myself, from last year. I attempt to stop crying as I walk from the room and into the car that will take me to the train.

From there, the train will pick up the other Tributes, and then, we go off to the Capitol for the Games.

The car ride is silent. Clay had downright refused to allow Maret sit in between us, so the pale blue woman is sitting in the front seat while Clay and I both sit silently in the back of the car. I have never spoken to Clay in my life, but he seems to be friends with Glenn. I frown.

His hand wraps around mine, and I look up at him. His eyes are set straight ahead, and I smile softly. Our agreement is that we're both going to be trying our best in the arena. We will not let anyone see us fall, and we won't go down without a good fight. I squeeze his hand softly, letting him know that I'm still there. Perhaps it's just my imagination, but I swear that I can see Clay smile a bit, too.

We arrive at the train, and I continue to keep a strong face, clutching the pocket watch tightly in one hand. My other hand is still attached to Clay's, and Maret seems to notice this. She smiles, but doesn't comment. I'm grateful for this, and I think that perhaps Maret isn't so bad.

In the first room of the train is a beautiful room, filled with first class furniture and food. Two people are sitting at the table, full plates of food in front of them, yet they weren't eating any of it. I recognize them as Victors of two previous Games, named Cecilia and Woof.

Cecilia, a blonde woman with a motherly face, looks up and smiles sympathetically at the two of us. Woof is an older man, who simply doesn't acknowledge the two newest Tributes. There's been talk that he's gone senile. Honestly, after winning the Games, I can't exactly say I don't understand why.

"Come sit down. There's plenty of room," Cecilia invites warmly. I smile a little more and take a seat across from Woof. Clay sits next to me, his hands fidgeting a little as he does.

Then, there's the dreaded silence for a few moments as both Clay and I place food onto our plates. My eyes flit back and forth from Woof, to Cecilia, to Clay, and then back to my own plate.

Clay doesn't waste any more time though. He looks up, a fire in his eyes. "How are we going to do this?" he asks loudly. I jump a little, keeping my face stony as Cecilia looks up. "I just wanna know how we can both make it home," he says with a smile.

"Ever the optimist, huh?" Cecilia laughs. "But to answer your question… I can't see any possible way for the two of you to both make it out. Just do your best, be a likeable person in your interviews, and surprise everyone."

It certainly wasn't what Clay was suspecting. Honestly, it wasn't what I was expecting either. However, Cecilia continues to explain how sponsors work, and how the interviews and the training sessions would influence their decisions about which Tributes they would help.

I stood up suddenly. "Sorry, I just… I need a few minutes, please excuse me," I say quietly. I slowly move towards the exit of the car, feeling Woof's eyes on me for the first time during the entire train ride.

I walk out of the room into the halls of the train. It's there that I break down. I can't help but cry. Myre is depending on me to win, but honestly, making people like me would be more of a difficulty for me than killing someone. At least, that's what I think. I've never had any friends before. My only friends are my family, and that's that. I never needed anyone else.

Now, to survive in these Games, I'll need sponsors and gifts from people. I'll need them to like me, I'll need to make them want me to survive. I hastily wipe away my tears. No one likes I crybaby, as they're usually the first to be killed. From the moment I step out of this train, I'll need to be calculating my every move, from my relationships with other Tributes to the way I play myself off in public. The Capitol will be watching.

I figure that it'd be best for me if I get all of my tears out now. I continue to cry, sliding down the steel wall and onto the floor. Hugging my legs to my chest, I burry my head in the fabric of my dress.

"Hey…" I look up to see a blond boy standing over me, an emotionless expression on his face. "You're District 8, right?"

I nod quietly, forcing myself to stop crying, although I know he's already seen my tears. "Yes. I'm Leilani."

He sits next to me, facing the wall. "Cato." It takes me a few moments to realize that he's just told me his name, but I nod when I realize this. "You volunteered for your partner's little sister, right?"

"Yes," I say.

He finally looks over to me, his blue eyes locking with my brown ones. "Why did you do it? Why'd you volunteer yourself for another person?" he asks. His face is still emotionless as he asks this question.

It takes me another few moments to gather my thoughts and answer him. "Well… I suppose I just couldn't watch a child go up. She had no chance of coming back, and even she knew it," I reply quietly. Cato nods quietly. "What about you?" I ask suddenly. "Did you…"

"Volunteer? Yeah," he answers shortly. He's quiet, even as he stands up. "Nice meeting you, I guess. See you in training." He walks away with those words, and I stare at his back.

He was my competition in the beginning of the Hunger Games. Cato. Just his build and his attitude told me that he was one of the Careers… Cato is someone that can, and will, kill both Clay and me as soon as we set foot in the arena if we don't move carefully.

{ may the odds be ever in your favor }

In my room on the train, I lay on my bed. Cecilia had finished explaining everything about the pre-Games training and interviews. I'm clearly in a bit of a pinch. I turn my token, the watch Myre had given me, in my hands. As I flip it over, I stop. There's something engraved on the back of it.

Always faithful. Always strong. Always courageous.

I almost start to sob again. These words are the words I know that I'll need when I'm in the arena. These words will keep me going. I will stay faithful in times of doubt. I will stay strong in times of weakness. I will stay courageous in times of darkness. And I will return to my family.

That is what I promise myself as I clutch the watch again and think of my family back home.

In the mornings, Glenn and Myre challenge one another to see who can wake Fleur and me, and keep us awake. They usually do this by making us angry or scaring us, which makes both my sister and myself chase after them. My mother, who is usually cooking something for our family of six, smiles and laughs. My father, who Fleur hides behind, quietly, yet playfully reprimands the boys. They just laugh and say that they won't do it anymore.

After breakfast, the four of us go to school, where we learn all kinds of different things. From curriculum assigned by the Capitol to skills that we'll need to survive as adults, our school covers as much as it can within five hours, until around two in the afternoon. When school ends, Fleur and Myre go help mom with her tiny shop that sells clothing. Glenn goes to work in the factory, until around eleven. I, however, work to make Peacekeeper Uniforms. It's a rather boring task, one that keeps me occupied until nine.

When I get home, Myre and Fleur are already in bed. Fleur has usually fallen asleep waiting for Glenn and me to return home. Myre is awake most of the time, and he tells me stories about what he's done that day. I always listen contently until he gets tired and falls asleep, as I know that one day, we might be stripped away from each other. Like today, I know, I will never get to hear Myre's stories about funny things that happen in the shop.

I sigh, remembering things that I know will never happen again. I won't ever make it back to witness my family doing those things, and I know it. I've already resigned myself to die. But if I die, I'm going to take as many of those Tributes as I can with me… if I can bring myself to do so.

A knock on my door makes me sit up quickly and shove my token into the front of my dress. I bite my lip as I sit on the edge of the bed and call, "Come in!" in a quiet, yet loud voice.

Clay, with a small smile on his face, walks in. His blue eyes are dancing with mischief, but they're also reflecting a seriousness that I know my face shows as he looks at me. He sits on the foot of my bed, and I slide next to him, just waiting to see what he was going to say or do.

He takes a deep breath. "You nervous?" he asks softly, starting out with a quiet question. I nod in reply, feeling unable to speak because of the lump in my throat. "Same. But I'm definitely going to try my best out there. I know you will too." He smiles a little over at me. I look down a bit as he smiles, and he turns his gaze back to the floor. "I wanted to ask… if you're willing to form an alliance. At least until we get to the top eight or four or whatever? I know, it's stupid, but I just want to know I can count on someone," he asks.

To say I know how he feels would be an understatement. I know that I'm alone, and I hate feeling that way. Without my family, I have no one. Truthfully, not one sensible Tribute would even dream of teaming up with someone from District 8. Most all of the Tributes from our District are slaughtered in the bloodbath or soon afterwards. To have someone we can depend on would be amazing, even if we can only count on one another. After all, we're all we have.

"Sure." He looks up at me, shock written on his face. My face is serious though. "But once we get into the top four, you might not be able to trust me."

He nods, his face finally settling to be just as serious. "I know."

I look over to him and grasp his hand in mine. "I'm grateful for how you saved Myre from being entered into these Games. I really am. But I want to make it home just as much as I want you to, and just as much as I know you want to, but you heard Cecilia. Only one of us will make it home."

He only replies with a slight smile. "Not a problem. We're even, you kept my sister at home," the brunette boy replies with a smile etched on his face. Clay reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small horseshoe charm. "This was Jade's. I want you to do me a favor if I die. I want you to give this to her."

My eyes widen slightly, but I nod anyways. "I agree, but then you have to promise me something in return. This pocket watch… please give it to Myre if I die."

Clay nods, still serious. "I promise." I smile and reach over, squeezing his hand gently before letting go. He stands up, a smile on his face once more. He replaces the charm in his pocket and looks over to me. "Why don't we go get something to eat?" he suggests, the twinkle back in his eyes.

I smile slightly and stand alongside him. "That sounds perfect. I haven't eaten since before the Reaping," I say quietly. He chuckles a little as my stomach growls. My face flushes and I smack his arm playfully. "S-Shut up!" I protest, my face a bright red as he bursts into laughter again.

It's only been a few hours, and I already have an ally for the Hunger Games. This makes me realize that I'm not alone. There's twenty-three other teens, just like me, who were chosen. Some against their will, some volunteers, but all in all, each of us just want to survive.

Laughter rings through the halls as Clay and I walk along the halls together towards the food cart. We're joking and laughing like we've been best friends forever.

I'm not alone. Clay likes me for who I am, I suppose. If I can make one person like me by being myself, why can't I draw out a few other people? The Capitol must be at least a bit easy to entertain.

After all, they created the Hunger Games. Their sick sense of humor and horrible ways of entertaining themselves is enough to tell me that I won't be the only Tribute who hates the Capitol. All I have to do is make it seem like I don't.

A strategy formulates in my mind, and I smile a little wider as we reach the food car. Perhaps I stand a chance. Even if it's only a slight chance, it's better than nothing.

As we walk into the food car, Cecilia looks up and smiles at us. "We're approaching the Capitol building now. You should prepare to meet your style team shortly." Neither of us seem to be too enthusiastic about being made over like this.

I look out the window and see the grand buildings only a few thousand miles in the distance, which would be covered in no time on this train. I collapse into a chair and begin to hum the funeral lullaby to myself, attempting to steel myself to prepare for the Capitol and its people.

Hey, for those of you that were following me or following my old story, "Free to Ride", I'm starting over. I recently signed back in after almost a year, and I'm so ashamed of myself. Honestly, the writing in "Free to Ride" was so poor, I'm highly embarrassed to admit I wrote that almost two years ago. So I'm restarting. This is going to be the new me, I've practiced and I've continued to develop my writing, so I hope you guys like this.

So this story, "Only Human", is one that has been in the process of developing for almost three years, since I first read the first book of "The Hunger Games". I have not been "on the bandwagon" of Cato lovers, as most people would assume. When I first started this story as a Cato/OC, my only thought was to develop Cato further than he was in the books.

My protagonist, Leilani, and her District partner, Clay, have gone through so many changes. Originally, Clay was actually thirteen, not eighteen. Leilani is sixteen, and she's stayed that way. However, at first, it was going to be one of those, "oh shit, I'm chosen" or "my baby brother is volunteering, I have to go in" stories. Not that I have anything against them. But I wanted to develop a different idea of two people who sacrifice everything because of morals.

Originally, I was not going to put them into the 74th Hunger Games or even have this be about romance or anything. Originally, "Only Human" was going to be about how Leilani (whose name was Narine at first, and then it was changed to Elysia, then finally to Leilani) and Clay struggle to lose their morals and put behind how they don't want to kill anyone.

As for why I chose District 8 as their home District, I've seen pretty much every other District have been chosen. I'm sure I saw at least seven District 4 stories, I've seen tons of District 12 or District 3. District 11 was one that I've never seen picked, but of course, that would mean kicking Rue out of the spotlight. So I chose District 8, the Textile District, mainly because I've been in factories and I've seen what happens in places like that District. It's terrible, and so I use that in my writing.

Also, I will not be killing Cato. End of story. I'm not sure how I'm going to do this, but I know I want Cato and Lei to live, but I don't want them to rely on their alliance. I'm really reluctant to kill Katniss and Peeta, as well. So I'll sort that later.

I've read most of the really popular Cato/OC stories on here, and I'm always impressed by them. I think my favorite was "Common Sense", by Oblivious to the Obvious, or "Spark", by we are the light. If you haven't read them, I can honestly say that you should go read them, they're amazing.

Hope you stick around for more.