Most everyone in District 2 was trained for the Hunger Games. It was, after all, known for it's Career Tributes, the people who were trained from the day they could walk and talk to the time they're twelve years old. It was common for District 2. Everyone was rich, pretty, and extremely talented.
Everyone except for Jason Luca, of course.
Being one of the only Hispanics of District 2, Jason was born to a less well-off family in comparison to the rest of District 2. His mother was a native of District 11, his father a native of District 2. His father had to attend a meeting in District 11, where he met his mother. It was the typical Romeo & Juliet-type romance: his father being wealthy, his mother being poor, ultimately resulting in a romance they never intended. He eventually asked her hand in marriage, which, it's redundant to say, his parents did not approve of. He was destined to a life of fortune, but after he let his parents in on his plans - which they tried to desperately refute him from, to no avail - they cut him off. Not just in fortune, but in communication. To this day, they still haven't uttered a word to his father. Now, Jason, his parents, and his two brothers were living in the worse part of District 2. While most teenagers in District 2 spent their days and weekends training for the Games, Jason didn't. He didn't want to be a part of the Games at all, in fact.
He was sitting in his room, gazing out the window, at the crowd gathering in the courtyard. Everyone was dressed in their finest, no one worried. If they didn't want to be in the Games - well, it was District 2. There were always volunteers. If they did want to be in the games, all they had to do was volunteer. Jason knew he had to get out of the house soon, to follow everyone else out to the courtyard where Pinky Mandarin, his District's escort, would be reading the names of the tributes for this year's Hunger Games. He was not looking forward to it. He always found it depressing.
There was a knock at his door, to which Jason called, "come in!"
His youngest brother, Billy, walked into his room, looking smaller than usual. "Are you coming?"
Jason nodded, pushed himself off the bed. "Where's Steven?"
"He already went into the courtyard with Dad," he replied.
Jason nodded, moving to lead Billy into the courtyard. They walked in silence, as he assumed they did in the lesser Districts. In District 2, however, everyone talked excitedly, guessing who would get Reaped, who would volunteer, how far everyone would get, etceterra.
Silence fell over them soon, however, when Pinky Mandarin walked onto stage, smiling her exuberant smile, as ever. She made her way to the microphone, tapped it once to make sure it was on, and spoke into it. "Welcome, District 2, to the eightieth annual Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She beamed at everyone in the crowd, and everyone smiled right back, some applauding. "Now, ladies first!" She made her way over to the glass case filled to the top with tiny slips of paper, each one bearing the name of a citizen of District 2. She reached her hand in, shuffling the papers around, and called out, "Anastasia Roderick!"
Jason knew Anastasia. She was one of his only friends who hadn't trained for the Games, either. It wasn't like she couldn't, it was because she simply didn't want to. She wanted to be a part of the Games about as much as Jason did, which was not very much.
She had barely made her way onto the stage before a chorus of "I volunteer!" was called out. There was always the option to refuse volunteers, which wasn't uncommon in District 2, but Anastasia didn't refuse. In the end, it was a girl named Sara Bremner who they chose to make tribute. Sara was very small with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Pinky smiled wide as she made her way to the boy's jar, reaching her hand in and pulling out a slip of paper identical to the girl's, except that the name was different.
Jason felt his heart plummet when his name was called. His expression froze, his eyes wide. Time slowed; he felt like he couldn't move. He suddenly found himself on the stage alongside Pinky and Sara, not aware of how he got there, not even realizing he'd moved at all. He was numb.
But this was District 2. Someone would volunteer for him. Someone always volunteered.
Except that no one did. No one rose their voice, no one called out to volunteer. It was as though all the Careers just fell off the planet. He didn't understand. Why did nobody volunteer? It was silent for a few long moments. Then he heard it. He searched the crowd anxiously, finding the source of the scream. It was Billy and Steven, his two brothers, shouting at the Peacekeepers to let him go. Jason watched as his father grabbed Steven and Billy, dragging them away in a way that couldn't have been comfortable for either of them.
Pinky seemed just as bewildered as he did when she cleared her throat awkwardly, straining a smile. "Well," she said, "District 2, here are your eightieth annual Hunger Games tributes, Sara Bremner and Jason Luca!"
Samantha Aron was very pale for District 7. She had shoulder-length brown hair with stunning hazel eyes framed with long, thich eyelashes. She was sitting in the field behind her home, staring at the sky. It was an exceptionally clear day. It was very green in her field. The grass was healthier than anywhere else, flowers blossomed year-round, and the trees were in abundance compared to the rest of the District. She spent a majority of her time here, but more so on Reaping days. Her best friend, Noah Michaels, knew this. He found her laying on her back, cloud-gazing. Noah was taller than Samantha, with tan skin, large green eyes, and dark hair only slightly shorter than Samantha's. He was very thin but well-built. He didn't say a word when he found her, he just found a spot next to her and stared at the sky, too. They spent quite a while like that, just silent. Finally, Noah spoke up. "How are you feeling?"
Samantha scoffed. "How do you think I'm feeling?" She was very outspoken for her extreme dislike of the Games. Noah knew that.
Noah grinned and turned sideways to face her. "Come on, Sam. It's not that bad."
Samantha propped herself up on her elbows, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief. "Not that bad?" she asked incredulously.
He chuckled, raising his hands in mock-surrender. "I'm kidding." He smiled and sat up as well, suddenly serious. "I might be Reaped this year, you know."
Samantha stared at him, nodded, accepting the fact. Every year, he put his name in more than the last. He had a sister whom he loved with all his heart, and he couldn't bear to let her get called. Samantha was used to him telling her this every year, and yet, he had never been called. She believed that he was blessed with a never-ending bout of good luck. "You're not dressed," she observed, nodding at his outfit. It was plain black jeans and a white tee shirt. She had already dressed for the Reaping - her mother had laid out a pastel pink dress that reached the knees with elbow-length sleeves. Her mother would have a tantrum when she sees the grass stain on the back of her dress.
He shrugged. "I will. Eventually." He flashed her that smile of his that she loved, the one he reserved just for her, which had her smiling back. It always had her smiling back.
Samantha stood, wiped the grass and dirt from her clothes as best she could, extending a hand to help Noah up as well. He took it gladly. He smiled at her once again before pressing a kiss to her cheek and leaving with the promise of seeing her at the Reaping. She nodded, watching as her best friend walked toward his own home.
She made her own way toward the courtyard where the Reaping was being held. Her parents and brothers were already there. She scanned the crowd for sight of someone she knew, but when Gigi Summer, District 7's escort, made her way onto stage, she gave up her futile search in exchange for giving her attention to Gigi.
"Welcome, District 7, to the eightieth annual Hunger Games!" She looked around at the crowd, no one really overly excited to be present. "And may the odds be ever in your favor," she added sweetly. Samantha wanted nothing more than to punch Gigi in her face. "Ladies first!" she sang. She made her way to the jar full of girl's names, plucking out a piece of paper. She straightened it out, glanced at the audience in suspense - seriously, she was the worst escort ever - and said in a proud voice, "Samantha Aron!"
Samantha stood rooted in place, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't surprised. She expected her name to be called, year after year, and when it was, it didn't come as a surprise. She numbly made her way to the stage, climbed the steps, and took her space next to Gigi, holding her head high. She would not show fear. She sought out Noah in the crowd, and when she found him, she gave him a very subtle thumbs up that, if you were not Noah, you would not have noticed it. He didn't seem to relax at all though; the way his jaw was set, the way his shoulders were stiff, the way his eyes were hard.
Gigi Summer proceeded to the jar opposite the girl's jaw, pulled out a paper, and read out, "Daniel Leung!"
Samantha knew Daniel from somewhere. She searched the crowd and saw him; everyone had turned to him. She wondered if the same had happened with her. He looked shocked. He moved forward slowly, not quite believing what was happening. Daniel stepped onto the stage. He was very cute. He was Asian, he looked strong, if not a little awkward. Gigi nudged them closer together, urging them to shake hands. They exchanged a brief, awkward glance, before grasping each other's hands feebly and letting go just as quickly, not having their heart in it. In reality, they were both terrified, Samantha knew it. "District 7, I give you your tributes for the eightieth annual Hunger Games, Samantha Aron and Daniel Leung!" There was scattered applause, before she dropped her voice and said, "and may the odds be ever in your favor."
After the Reaping, Daniel and Samantha were both guided into a separate room in the Justice Building, where they could meet with their friends and family for three minutes each before being sent to the Capitol. Samantha walked in clumsily and sat down.
The double doors burst open, and her mother walked in with tear-stained cheeks. "I love you, honey," said her sobbing mother, who knew there was a probability that her daughter might not be coming back to her.
"I love you, too, Mom," Samantha choked out, hugging her mother to her.
"Try to to win, so you can come back to me?" her mother said hopefully, staring straight into her eyes, cupping her chin.
"I will," said Samantha, nodding, knowing these could be the last words she ever said to her mother, as her mother was escorted out of the room.
Seconds later, Noah came into the room, gathering her into a huge hug. She knew he wasn't crying - Noah just didn't do that - and hugged him tighter, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to say goodbye to Noah, to the one person she could trust more than anyone else in the world. He let go eventually, holding her by her shoulders, arms width away. "You can win this, Samantha," he said confidently, and just as she was about to protest, he silenced her. "Don't say you can't. You can, and you will. I believe in you."
Samantha stared at him, tears in her eyes, willing herself not to cry. Not in front of Noah. So she just settled for a small nod. He hugged her again, one more time, before the Peacekeepers entered and made him leave.
Leaving Samantha alone with her thoughts until the Peacekeepers whisked her away, too.