Author's note: I really shouldn't be writing this. I already have two other stories, and of course I add another one. But I just couldn't help myself. :) So, here is the story of the twenty-fifth annual Hunger Games.
This story will be from the p.o.v of all of the tributes, so I can keep you guessing on the victor! Thanks to Wetstar for the idea!
Also, by the way, this is not an SYOT! ALL OF THE NON-CANNON CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO ME UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE. :) Therefore, please do not send me tributes. Use them in your own stories. Thanks. :)
Destined to Define Their Fates
Chapter 1
District 1, Leo's p.o.v
My district just voted to send me into a situation that involves having to fight other kids if I have any hope of surviving. That's the first thing that runs through my head when I first wake up in the morning. As it probably should since I know I'm going to be the District One male tribute in the Twenty-fifth annual Hunger Games. Even though it hasn't been announced, we all know that it will be Serendipity and I who will go into the games this year. We're both eighteen, and the most prepared for the games out of anyone at the training center. Surprisingly, I don't mind being sent to my potential death, although I'm not totally sure I'd volunteer under different circumstances.
Despite everyone already knowing who was voted for, District One is still holding a standard reaping. The other qualifying guys have a variety of reactions to me. Some congratulate me, while others shoot me a look of bitter jealousy. A short distance away, my best friend, Nova Malashewski, stands alone. At least she used to be my best friend, but since about three years ago, I'm not sure what I think of her anymore. Then after the weapon room incident, I'm more confused than ever. I barely talk to her anymore, because of the pain she caused me. Yet, at the same time, keeping myself away from her hurts just as much.
Suddenly, the talking of the crowd ceases as Florencia, the District One comes to the stage. She starts the ceremony like any other. Finally, she reaches into the reaping bowl for effect, and reads the name.
My heart stops. It can't be true. The new tribute seems just as surprised as I am. Because she is not Serendipity Fairchild. She is Nova Malashewski.
As Nova walks to the stage, she looks like she's about to cry. I'm not exactly sure why, since Nova's seventeen, just a year younger than me, and has had almost as much training as Serendipity and I have. I glance over at Serendipity and I am puzzled to not find her angry, but smiling. Not like an "I'm so happy for her" smile, but a "Yes! Victory!" smile. You would have never guessed that a few weeks ago when our head trainer selected the two of us and told at everyone at the district meeting to vote for us, it was all overjoyed Serendipity could talk about.
"Congratulations, Nova!" Florencia cries happily. Nova manages to give her a weak smile before the preppy escort digs into the male reaping bowl. I begin to wonder about my own fate now. If Nova was voted for instead of Serendipity, was someone else voted for other than me? At this point, I hope it's not my name they pull out, because there's no way I could handle being in the arena with Nova. What's worse, there can be no volunteers.
"Leo Donaldson!" Florencia calls. Shit. Luckily, I'm a good actor, and walk to the stage with what I hope is pride on my face.
"Congratulations, Leo!" Florencia gushes. "Tributes, shake hands."
Nova and I do as we're told, and as cliché as it sounds, my heart skips a beat as soon as our hands touch. Nova looks straight at me, with pain, worry, and sadness in her eyes. This stops any doubt in my mind. I am not coming home, but that doesn't mean One won't have a victor.
District 2, Selena's p.o.v
Today is the biggest day of my life. I used to think that was when I got my first boyfriend when I was eleven, but not anymore. No, today, I'm going to the Capitol, on my way to the very first Quarter Quell. Today was supposed to be the most perfect day, but of course, Granite has to go and ruin it.
"You're seriously breaking up with me!" I cry.
"Yeah. I am." Granite replies. "Because either you're going to die, or you'll be a crazy victor."
"Fine!" I snap, unable to tolerate his rudeness. "But when I'm rich and famous, don't come crawling back, because we're done! Officially!" I storm out, slamming the door behind me.
Great. That makes number twenty-one. Twenty-one ended relationships, not counting those that ended more than once, in seven years. Really though, it's not my fault. I try to find the right guy, but apparently I have bad judgment because every single one of them ends up being a jerk. I guess the unintentional reputation I put on myself doesn't help either, because the best guys don't want to date girls like me.
After leaving Granite's house, I go straight to the reaping. I'm there early, so I have to wait at least an hour before Piccolo comes to the stage. She does her usual presentation before reaching into the reaping bowl.
"Selena Dally!" That's me, of course. I walk up to the stage, full of pride. Piccolo congratulates me, and draws the male tribute's name.
"Ares Salem!" Ares comes up silently to the stage, with an indifferent expression on his face. I've seen Ares at training. He's the nephew of a victor, Patriot Salem, and mainly stays to himself. I haven't dated him yet, and I do admit he is kind of attractive. As we shake hands, I realize he could be relationship number twenty.
District 3, Franklin's p.o.v
It's been a year since the accident. A whole year, and sometimes I feel like it's still there. But then I wake up in the morning, look down, and see an empty space where my arm from the elbow down should have been.
It happened last year. I was working at Pearson Electrics, were work starts part-time at age fourteen. At sixteen, I was legally allowed to work with the machinery. I was attempting to fix one of the machines, when it roared to life, and just like that, my arm from the elbow down was completely gone. I haven't gone back to work since. That makes me nervous, since this year the capitol's making the districts vote for their tributes. That's all fine and good if you're from One, Two, or Four, but District Three needs people who can work. I am not one of those people.
"You'll be fine," my father says, but I can still see the worry on his face. That makes it hard to believe him, if he doesn't even believe himself.
I go through the standard procedure and then join the other seventeen-year-old in our special roped off section. "Hey! Frankie!" My best friend, Albert waves me over, and I make my way over to him. "Nervous?"
"Yep."
"Don't be." Albert replies. "They can't vote for you just because you're missing half an arm. It wouldn't be right."
Oh, yes they could. District Three citizens are definitely not as cruel as the Capitol itself, but parents would do anything if it means keeping their children safe for another year. I don't say this aloud though, and soon Ignatius comes to the stage and does his thing. He then sticks his hand into the female bowl dramatically, moving it around even though there's only one name to choose from. "Lucia Schmidt!"
A small girl comes timidly from the fifteen year old section, visibly shaking. I've seen her in the hallways at school before, and happen to know she has a very severe case of epilepsy. So severe, her seizures can occur as much as once or twice a week, usually when she's under stress or excitement. Poor girl. If her epilepsy acts up in the arena, as it surely will, she doesn't have a chance.
"Congratulations, Lucy! And now for the boy!" There he goes again, saying the tribute's name wrong. He does this every year. "Franklin Loran!"
I sigh, and make my way to the stage. "Congratulations Lincoln! Tributes, shake hands."
We do, sealing our deaths.
District 4, Krill's p.o.v
"Ready for the big day, Krill?" Mom asks, sliding more pancakes onto my plate.
"Yeah. I can't wait." I lie. I don't know why my parents think I'd enjoy being in the Hunger Games, but I wouldn't. For one thing, I'm going to probably be the youngest of the careers, putting me at a disadvantage. Secondly, the other guys in training are going to hate me. And then of course, there's the fact that I really don't want to kill anybody. It's just… wrong!
Mom detects the lack of eagerness in my voice. "You're father worked hard to get you here, Krill. You should be happy."
I know I should be, but I'm not. In fact, I'm kind of ashamed. My father, the mayor of District Four, promised everyone a sum of money if they voted for me to go into the games and wrote their name on the ballot, thinking it's what I actually wanted. Yeah right. He says there's a good chance people took the bait, so it's unlikely I even have a choice.
"I know he has," I sigh, "and I'm grateful, really. I'm just nervous."
"Don't be. You'll do great." Mom says, kissing my forehead. But I don't want to do great. I don't want to go at all.
Still, a few hours later I stand at the reaping, fiddling with my watch nervously as Salamanca starts the ceremony. Please don't be me. Please don't be me. First things first, though. Ladies always go first.
"Orca Beckman!" A seventeen-year-old girl with black hair grins, and walks to the stage triumphantly. Then, Salamanca reaching into the male reaping bowl. Please don't be me. Please don't…
"Krill Daughtry!"
Great. Here I go. Off to hell.
District 5, Millie Olsen's p.o.v
"Millie Olsen!" calls Esmeralda. I'm a little surprised, but I know why they picked me. I'm the fastest girl in the district. I set new track records at school. I am an ambitious perfectionist. District five needs another victor desperately, and I, for the most part, am their only chance.
I walk to the stage with a poker face. Esmeralda shakes my hand and calls the male tribute.
"Clayton Han."
Clayton walks up slowly, looking straight ahead. He's sixteen, but incredibly smart. While I break records in track, Clayton breaks records in academics. He'll hopefully have a chance too.
We shake hands. If luck is on our side, five will have a victor this year.
District 6, Janet's p.o.v
"Janet! Janet! Sammy took my doll!"
"I did not! You lost it again!"
"Come on," I say, taking my six and seven-year-old "sisters" by the hand. "Let's go find it."
After hours of searching, we finally found it on the swing outside. "Girls! Come on inside! It's lunch time!"
It's Ms. Finnigan, our caretaker here at Almost Home Orphanage. She gives what you might call tough love. She's strict, but only because she cares about us. She's the closest thing to what most of us will ever get to a mother.
There are twelve of us at the orphanage at the moment, ranging in age from three-year-old Charlotte to sixteen-year-old Wilbur. I'm the second oldest after Wilbur, and the other kids look up to me, a responsibility I love having. Luckily for our family of misfits, only four of us are eligible for the reaping. The rest of our family is safe. The twelve of us, plus Ms. Finnigan walk together until those of us who are old enough split off.
After what seems like an eternity, District Six's escort, Josephina calls the girl's name.
"Janet Higgins!"
It takes me a minute to realize it was my name that was called, and I make my way to the stage in shock. Things go from bad to worse when my district partner is called.
"Wilbur Bryant!"
No! This can't happen! Wilbur is like a brother to me. I can't go into the games with him, but because of our district, we don't have a choice. It isn't long before I figure out what the district has done. They simple just voted for the two oldest orphans in the orphanage, kids that no adult except Ms. Finnigan care about. Judging by Wilbur's furious-looking eyes as he walks to the stage, this does not settle with him well. Not at all.
Author's note: There are the first six districts. Phew! They're not all going to be like this, with so many p.o.v's in one chapter, but I just wanted to get reapings out of the way.
Also, please know that I am also writing two other stories at the moment, and I LOVE reviews. So basically, more reviews = quicker updates. :)
Next Chapter: Districts 7 – 12 reapings.