Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.
Claimer: I own Benjamin Lyndon, and most of the other tributes/characters. Some are 'based' on friends of mine who picked what they wanted to be. One will be based on my brother, who has no idea about this but I decided to add him anyways. The ones based on people will have an asteric (*) by the name.
Chapter One
The town was quiet, too quiet, as I walked quickly home with the week's pay. I was late, beyond late actually, and I knew my best friend was damned worried about me. Jason had already left his job, most likely, but I had stayed late for overtime, because my boss wanted extra work hours. Considering the pay, I didn't exactly complain, but it turned to longer than just two hours.
The textiles run a bit too long, sometimes.
My name is Benjamin Lyndon. Everyone just calls me Ben, though. I'm fifteen years old and live in District Eight of Panem. It's been almost six months since the mark of the fiftieth year of the hunger games, something our country holds every year since the 'dark days' that allowed Panem to become a country.
Every twenty five years there is a 'quarter quell', which is special than other, normal games. Either way, kids between twelve and eighteen die. Last year, instead of twenty four tributes (one boy and one girl from each of Panem's twelve districts), there were forty eight of them; two boys and two girls. I lost my older brother and my younger sister to last year's Quarter Quell. There's just something really screwed up with the world when a government has kids fight to the death every year.
"Ben! Get in here!" My best friend and house mate, Jason, snapped at me. Running up the steps to my home, I grinned lazily at him.
"I'm here, I'm here. Chill out, man. Peacekeepers ain't around this far from the square, not to mention the factories." He closed the door behind me as I shook the snow off of myself, taking my shoes off and trading them for the fuzzy slippers Jason made for me last year when we had had the extra money.
"Dude, I don't care if it's just my uncle out an' about!" Jason growled. His dark brown eyes were glaring at me, worry in them. I sighed, shoving my payment to him.
"I had overtime, man. The show on?" I asked, referring to the Victory Tour that would be filmed. Every year, six months after the disgusting games, the victor would go on a Victory Tour. It was just a thing used by the Capitol, to remind the districts that we were controlled and helpless.
The winner of the Quarter Quell was the first victor from District Twelve. I'm sure in six months, he'll be regretting it when he watches his tributes die.
"His family and girlfriend died? Damn, that bites." Jason shook his head as we watched the broadcast on the teevee. Jason was counting the extra cash I made while I curled up in the blankets.
"Bites big time. How many times were you put in this year so far?" I asked, glancing at him.
"Nine. You?"
"Nine!? Jase, what the hell!?" I glared at him. He's only a year older than me, so he shouldn't have his name in there nine times; he's been accepting money and food from the capitol dogs, in tradeoff for his name to be put in more times. We swore not to do that, and deep down I knew he had been, since I've been doing it too.
"So, how many times did you take food?" Jason reorganized the question and I sighed.
"Four." I replied. Every year, with a person's name going in just one more time, saying that I've gotten it four times means my name is in there seven times, this year. It may increase, too, since it's another six months before the Reaping.
"Idiot." Jason muttered, giving me a hard look. I rolled my eyes, smiling some.
"I get it from hanging out with you so much." I glanced at him, noting the hint of a smile on his face. I grinned then, knowing things were okay.
Turning the teevee off, we laid down on the couch with me on top of Jason in hopes of sharing body heat. He tugged the blanket to cover us. As I fell asleep, I could only think of what would happen if Jason was reaped this year. He was the only family I had, even if we weren't really family.
–
I shot up, looking around as I rubbed my eyes clear of sleep goo. I overslept, but it was fine. The victor of the games would be stopping in our district today, so I had time until he arrived. Jason was in his room, and I could hear singing coming from inside, so he was getting dressed for the occasion. His brother had been reaped last time, as mine had, so we would be standing up in a certain place as families of the fallen tributes. The third family was a young woman and the girl's younger brother and three sisters.
Climbing out of bed, I wrestled with my rat's nest called hair before I managed to pull it into a messy ponytail. I tugged my night shirt off, pulling on my wool sweater. I changed my nighty pants next, and pulled on my boots. Walking out of my room, I saw Jason making some toast. He handed a piece to me, and we left the house to head to the square.
Snow was all over the ground, having fallen during the night. On instinct, Jason and I stepped closer together, walking with our shoulders bumping as we ate our breakfast.
We were led to the platforms that would show our siblings' faces as the victor spoke some speech his handler had written him. It was the same every year, so we hardly would pay attention, most likely.
When the victor showed up an hour later, I was shocked to see that he was drunk. What the hell? I glanced at Jason, giving him a what in the hell look. He was looking at me with a please tell me you see this too look.
When the speech ended, I was more than thrilled to leave to head to the factory for the work day.
It took my mind off my dead siblings and the upcoming reaping.