Chapter 2: Eden Night and Storey Kalak

Storey Kalak, 17

"Every year, there seems to be a mistake from us," Judaea Tulaying , returning yet another year as escort for our district, announces from upon the stage. This year, she refrains herself from starting out with a simple introduction about how fortunate District 1 has turned out to be in previous years. Perhaps she has now realized that we haven't had a victorious tribute in quite a few years. District 2, in replace, has seemed to earn the title of victory.

Shifting uncomfortably, the lean woman picks at her lime dress, most likely unsure of what she is to say next. "However, I do believe that this is our year. And we will soon have two excellent young tributes standing by my side."

The first notable mistake she makes is the fact that she is adding herself in as part of District 1, when, clearly, she hasn't the slightest bit of interest in it. After the last few years, Judaea has finally relinquished the thought of humoring us with jokes.

"How long," Hope's soothing voice intrudes on the silence, "do you think she'll go on about this year?"

I'm actually unable to answer this, as Judaea can switch from prattling to non-sociable. I've always enjoyed the bubbly side of anyone, it always ends up giving me time to earn a new friend. Yet, besides the fact that the Capitol citizen is already proving herself to be somewhat awkward with her...interesting choice of clothing, she might turn up to be one of those rare kind citizens.

We really do need quite a few more of those in the Capitol; either the people are too expressive with their style, or they're constantly on top of the events of the Games.

Judaea has the unfortunate flaw of both. "Perhaps the last few years have not exactly been in our favor, for there have turned out to be relatively difficult opponents from the lower districts, strangely. Every year contains a new surprise, I do suppose, and the lower districts have earned their's well enough - the image of far too many Victors."

Hope seems to be discouraged by this, as she seems to grimace at the thought of how Judaea thinks of the lower districts. In fact, I don't entirely agree with the Escort's words. Districts such as Ten or Twelve have just as much right to be entitled to a win as we do.

"But enough of my ranting. We have matters to settle over who our lovely tributes will turn out to be this year, correct? Ladies first, as usual!"

As soon as Judaea has placed her hand in the glass bowl, simply retrieving a small slip and unraveling it, her everlasting smile dilates. At this point, I am unable to understand what I'm even in the process of pondering.

I've never enjoyed the sight of the Games, the numerous deaths, or being exposed to various dangers. And, unlike many of District 1, I couldn't bear the thought of having participate in the Arena. The reckless motivations of what irks a tribute to even kill is questionable enough, but I'd never be able to fully accept the consequences. Being Reaped has always been a nightmare of mine, or rather dying has; however, I've never been capable of telling anyone of this, as there has only been a single person that I was capable of putting my total faith in.

And when a sympathetic and almost grim smile touches her lips at the call of her name, I can only watch Hope as she begins to make her way from my life. Gradual and steady steps seem to turn into a race as only one thought reaches my mind.

At first, I utter the announcement too low, and, unsure of myself for the first time, I force the words out, "I volunteer!"

Much to Judaea's amusement, she beckons to me, "A Volunteer, dear? That will certainly do."

As the frail woman stares me down when I push through the crowd of the other girls at the age of seventeen, she signals Hope away. Hope, however, could not look less horrified at the thought of me volunteering. Typically, one who places themself in the Games is either looking for death, or they are skilled with numerous of weaponry concerning strength. But in truth, I lack an ounce of strength on my body, and Hope knows this.

Yet she refuses to acknowledge this, her face directed to me in an effort to make eye contact, but I am unable to even do this, passing by my friend cruelly.

Just hardly upon the stage, Judaea's skeletal hand snatches my arm, and, though she had meant for this in an assisting manner, she seems to force me by her side. "What's your name, sweety?"

A quick glimpse at her dress, I can make out the distinct pin of collected fallen mockingjay feathers, the glossy feathers the most uninviting of all of the bizarre features of the clothing.

"Storey Kalak," I happen to manage, cringing at both the sight of the feathers and the reality of my previous actions, and I step from Judaea's side, her grip releasing my arm.

"Such a pretty name..." Judaea sings, "Well, Storey, do you wish to see who your district partner may be?"

Truthfully, I don't even interpret her question before I nod uneasily.

By the time she has drawn a slip reading Eden Night, a name that certainly reaches my memory, a rather lean boy has emerged from the crowd of seventeen-year-olds, his expression only passive.

The fact that he doesn't seem to have any kind of strength isn't questionable, it's quite clear. Even if I've never exactly had direct contact with Eden, it was well-known by many of our year that he gave up on training long ago. He's always used the excuse of leadership being more effective than brawns, and Eden's stuck to that opinion, for the look he gives Judaea is almost demanding as he condones the words of many others who wish to volunteer.

"Accept none of them," he says, stepping up to the stage and nodding as Judaea grins.

Like expected, Eden doesn't even look in my direction, instead facing the crowd.

Judaea, still slightly bleak about this year, hardly acknowledges the two of us when she says, "Shake hands, now!"

And just as we do, Eden gives me a sympathetic look, "Good luck, Kalak."

Eden Night, 17

Although I'm unable to fully understand why a girl with such a feeble appearance as Storey Kalak would ever attain thoughts of volunteering, even for a friend, she cannot exactly prove to be entirely useless until I can observe her in Training. I shouldn't be skeptical of my district partner, as for the next few days, she'll have to be the only person I can at least socialize with. And she seems to be excellent at talking, as she has been known to be friendly. But in the last few years, as seeing District One has failed miserably to lower districts, some of our tributes' strength can only go so far.

At other times, we can only count on appearance and charisma.

My father had once explained that likability is not the most reliable source. A pretty face can easily be destroyed by brute strength, and this is true, as the last few competitors in former years have been easily taken down. However, I've learned to fully accept neither likability nor brawns.

I've come to learn that I no longer need the equivalent strength of some menace. Leadership and confidence do just as well, if not better. After all, if you can control the brutes of the Arena, it only makes it easy to take the more feeble opponents out quickly.

And it's so much simpler when you can outsmart the ignorant and foolish tributes. Most of them are without senses, many without the ability to even perform tasks alone. Some tributes are even simply too stupid to eve realize how to play the Games correctly.

However, I am not. I've forced the thought of training away, as it only wastes time. And simply studying how the Games will work, how many tributes are killed at what point of time, what the mutts shall be when released, are only a few effective perks of learning from other mistakes in previous years.

As the doors open to reveal my parents, the Peacekeepers immediately following, I don't question why my father seems to be unable to at least smile. Like many, he has never believed that I had the strength to pull through in the Arena, and, unfortunately, he can only base this opinion off of my sister's failure. Skye, apparently, was not even able to make it through the first few nights of the Games, being killed off rather quickly by the male tribute of Eleven. It being a disgrace to be murdered by anyone, especially by one of a lower district, Skye was often antagonized even after her death.

Though it was relatively upsetting that she had such an outgoing character and kind personality, even Mom and Dad made snide remarks over her disappointing loss. Like many others who were unable to emerge the Victor, Skye ended up becoming a symbol of failure that year. For District One, we find it difficult to even accept the fact that some tributes were clearly not built for the Arena. And I refuses to be the same way as Skye was.

If I do manage to be killed early in the Games, at the very least must I die at the hands of either another Career or someone of a higher district. One of such expectations winning yet again is almost impractical.

"Good luck," are the only words my mother is capable of uttering. And, somehow, they turn out to be the most comforting in this time, as my dad soon decides to speak up as well.

"Don't turn out like Skye," he says, almost a half smile upon his expression. "Don't worry over the weaponry, you'll have allies to kill when needed. Focus on the survival stations in Training, as they'll be of the most use in the Arena. Avoid the stronger opponents." I then do catch sight of a grin. "But you already know all of this, don't you?"

I can only nod, as the two of us know how much I've planned for the Games.

"Good, then. You're going to go far, kid."

It isn't long after they leave when I'm escorted out of the Justice Building, and, much to my disapproval, I find my new team awaiting.

Though Ms. Tulaying's grin is as bright as ever, the fact that she still remains ever so uninterested with District One remains. If she has been disappointed with the letdown of many tributes, she'll certainly be skeptical of us this year.

Storey, sadly, doesn't seem to have as much strength as many Volunteers. And, even though I do admire the fact that she volunteered for a friend, she won't make too much of an excellent district partner as of now. But as her smile seems to grow when she continuously compliments Judaea on varying things, I cannot deny the fact that she's friendly and bubbly, possibly loving much of our district.

She's actually just like Skye once was, before she was sent into the Arena. And, unfortunately, she might end up dead the same exact way.

But, yet, I refuse to let that happen.


A/N: Can I say just how awkward this is? Anyhow, I guess the Reapings will resemble this, and I know that it's not the most interesting chapter to read... I suppose many of the Reapings will be around this length, but when the Capitol chapters come up, expect twice the size. Sometimes I get carried away...

Are Eden and Storey okay? I've accepted the challenge to work on both of my stories at the same time. And it's not going too well. I shall soon have the prologue up on the first chapter.

Thank you to all of those who added this story to your favorites/alerts! And, of course, thank you to the reviewers (even if I hardly respond to them)!

Have a good day/night!

-Sallen