Prodigy Mallord (18), District One Female-POV
Shifting slightly in my bed, this nagging feeling keeps poking at me. Trying to ignore it doesn't help either, as it persists in making me open my eyes to greet the day; I give in eventually. Curiously, the clock reads 7:30 AM, something unexpected and unusual for me. Shouldn't my father come in yelling any moment now? That it's time to get back to training? Straining my hearing for a moment, all I can hear is the quiet chirps of the birds as they perch themselves on top of the telephone wires. No commotion coming from downstairs, in which my mother tries to tell him to let me sleep; a cold bucket of water usually graces my skin on those days. Not that I minded it that much, as it's only going to help me prepare for the Hunger Games, that way I can bring honor to the Mallord family and District One. Our Tributes last year had been pathetic, and I would know, as I'd been in class with the boy; neither of them made it to the final eight.
Ah yes, the Reaping is today; all over the country, children in the lower Districts are shaking in their boots. But I'm not scared, not at all, as emotion is merely a weakness that inhibits you; I learned that much from my father. Ever since I had been a little girl, around three years old, he'd been pushing me as hard as I could each day. Whenever I cried because of being weary, Dad would squirt lemon juice in my eyes, that way I'd have a real thing to cry about; I applaud him for it now. Back then, it had just unnerved me for a moment, before my determination grew and grew; no one is going to be able overlook me now. If his methods still didn't work, then Dad would simulate drowning by forcing my head into a bucket of water. Not too much later, people found me swimming every day at the tiny beach; there could be anything in the arena, I would need to be prepared in order to face it. That lesson had been drilled into my head, more so since my sister, Helena, had been born blind; there was no way that she would be able to compete in the Hunger Games.
"Prodigy!" my mother's voice called out, "Get ready to go! We need to be at the station in ten minutes or we'll miss the Reaping!"
"Coming!" I call out, listening to how emotionless my voice sounds; perfect.
Pushing off the covers of my bed, which are a faded blue color, it takes me only a minute to spot my Reaping outfit. Of course, it isn't very hard at all, given that it's the only red item in a room full of blue hues. Walking stiffly over to it, part of me looks at it in disgust, but I know that I'll want to wear it today. All of those idiots in the Capitol aren't poor, and it goes to show that the prettier, sexier, and more glamorous Tributes tend to get the most items sponsored; I'm hoping for a small army of sponsors. Grabbing the dress, I pause only slightly to think about how many people would have killed to be in my position. Smirking slightly, I know that Envy would have been a fine name for me as well; everyone knew that I would be the Victor of this Hunger Games, the newest one since Enyo won a little while ago. It would be grand, marvelous, and magnificent; it'd also keep Dad from pressuring Helena to train for the Hunger Games, despite her disability.
I slip on the dress, only taking a moment of my time to look at my appearance; it would need to be Capitol ready today. A deep red dress, a shade off from the color of blood, adorns my body. The fabric conceals my left shoulder, leaving the right shoulder bare; my stark pale skin contrasts beautifully. Around the middle of my thigh, the glamorous fabric ends, exposing my toned calves; my entire body was lean from hours upon hours of training. Smirking slightly into the mirror, I kick on my black flats before tucking a strand of brown hair behind my ear; there, perfection at last. A bluish-green color, my eyes radiate confidence, not to mention a steely edge that should scare the daylights out of anyone who dares to try and Volunteer this year; it's going to be my year and nothing is going to stop it. Soon enough, Aelius Templesmith is going to announce that I've won the One Hundred and Seventy Sixth Hunger Games; redeeming District One after the pitiful losses we had experienced last year, not to mention the rest of the Career Pack. As soon as I can, I'm going to establish myself as the leader and create two groups, one to hunt during the day, and the other to hunt during the night. Strategy is going to be key; too many underdogs have been winning the Hunger Games lately, a fact that bothered me fiercely.
"Prodigy!" my mother shrieks, "Get down here right now! We don't have all flipping day!"
Growling, I slowly turned my gaze to the firmly shut door, picturing it bursting down into flames, "I AM COMING!"
Tugging on my hair doesn't help, it doesn't make my anger go away, and the wood door appears to be the perfect target for me. Rushing over to it, I fold my fingers in to make a palm heel, punching through the door like butter; a couple splinters lodge themselves in my finger, but I don't care in the slightest. It's not the first time that I've broken this door either; Dad already bought a spare one, just in case I had another fit like this one. Screeching, I slammed the door open, stomping and huffing my entire way down the elegant staircase. On purpose, the red carpet that lines it becomes crumpled and horrid looking; a smirk of delight forms on my face. No one, and I mean no one, should have the privilege to tell me what I'm supposed to do; I'm the one that is going to be in charge, no matter what.
"Uh," Mother starts, exasperation evident in her tone of voice, "Why on earth do you behave like this? Try to set a good example for Helena- all she knows is that you're screaming all day long! I never wanted you to become like this…a monster! Prodigy Mallord, I order you-"
Having enough of this, I quickly step over and clamp my hand over her mouth. It's not going to hurt her or anything, but Mother's green eyes widen in shock, as if she can't believe how annoying I find her. If I had wanted to take her life, and then believe me, I would have done it a long time ago; but I'm not going to, as Mother is the only one that stands against Dad training Helena, besides me of course. Helena appeared to be a carbon copy of me, and at only thirteen years old, she'd never known what the sun looked like when it rose in the sky. She'd never know the beautiful blue hues that paint the lake that I swam in, the shinning and glittering lights that covered our District, or what the horrors of the Hunger Games truly were. But to Helena's credit, people wouldn't have known she was blind, as she has a very adept sense of hearing; sometimes I believe that Dad forgets that as well.
"Look, I know that you're scared of Dad and I. Just leave me along; I'm not going to hurt you. But let me make this clear…no and I mean no one dares to order me around," I threaten, staring into Mother's eyes like a predator would look at their prey.
As soon as she nods frantically, I remove my hand and wipe it on Mother's sleeve; I'm not going to have her saliva covering me all day long. Especially not this day, the day that I finally rise to the status of Victor and become recognized across Panem as a force to be reckoned with. This is what I had been working for all these long and tiresome years hadn't it? Pushing those types of thoughts, the thoughts that would have me chicken out of entering the Hunger Games on my last eligible year; I march out of the house with Helena on my trail. Dad must have already gone early, waiting for the moment that I live his dream and win; it was my dream too, right? Huffing ever so slightly, I mask my emotions, that way no one could see the small bits of uncertainty that are beginning to build up inside; there wasn't any reason at all for me to feel that way.
After all, I'm going to win the Hunger Games.
Ribbon Layfeyette (18), District One Male-POV
It must have been have an hour before our train finally pulls in to the station, located right next to District One. While this isn't true for the outer Districts, the higher the District number is, the larger it is going to be. Because of this, some of us who live on the outskirts have to take on the trains, which are painstakingly slow, as if the District Six people have been doing this on purpose. Z insisted on several occasions that they were, and that's why we should be sure to kill off all of their Tributes, for potentially making us late to our Reapings. Most of the time I just ignore him, as he's annoying, so much so that…
I'm annoying? What about you? If anyone is annoying, it's Mr. Katrie Combe…Oh look! I can hear bells! Here comes the dork! Here comes the dork! Here comes the dorkiest dork of the…dorks. Hehehehe... Like my song?
Really, Z? Of all the people that ended up in my head, it just had to be you. We have literally nothing in common, and somehow, you always insist on driving me insane. Not to mention how exhausted I get whenever you take control; the only thing good that comes out of it is you train my body.
Don't you mean our body? Two minds in one body, means sharing! Have you ever heard of sharing, silly boy?
Just shut up, Z, I think back in reply. No answer comes, which means he's probably gone off to pout in whatever corner of my, I mean, our head that he could find. But then again, I don't even think that heads would have corners, as they're a generally rounded shape…Yeah, that's why Z is the one who trains for the Hunger Games, not me; I lose focus so much that I've been labeled as hopeless. According to Lorelai, the only chance I have of, "winning is if Z saves your sorry butt, which I know he will, loser." Despite the fact that she hates me, Lorelai has this crush on Z, who according to the doctors is just a symptom of something called MPD.
I am not a symptom! If anyone is a symptom, it's you! I mean, come on? Ribbon? That sounds like a girly name! Oooh! Look over here everyone! It's Ribbon stinking Layfeyette!
Eventually, the rare thing happens; Z shuts up for once in a lifetime. Probably because the train has finally skidded to a halt, causing all of us potential Tributes to clamber off of it, cheering when the flustered conductor announces that trip was free of charge. On most Reaping days, that tends to be the case, that way no one is discouraged from Volunteering because they don't want to look poor in front of the rest of the District. In the end, it is pretty evident of who has money; a rich girl in a blood red dress whips past me, smirking a bit as if she sensed my thoughts. But really, most of our Victors didn't have the best living conditions when they went into the Hunger Games, and it's become a common economic strategy for people in District One, along with the other Career Districts. Of course, it's not like I actually needed the money, since my father is a well known jeweler in the District; he does custom work for the richest people in the Capitol quite often.
"Oh Ribbon, you just look divine!" Mom gushes, latching herself onto my arm as soon as she exits the train cart, with my father's arm held in her grasp as well, "I always did know that my little boy would be a Victor!"
"Thanks, Mom," I reply, smiling slightly even though I try to imagine that the Hunger Games don't exist, that children aren't murdered each and every year, "I'll try my best to make you proud."
For a moment, I glance down at the Reaping outfit they had forced me into, but not without Z letting out a couple of nasty comments about it. Black slacks, with a button down shirt in the same shade, I'd actually thought that he would have enjoyed wearing it. Tugging at the color slightly, the eagle eye of my mother catches the movement, with a short scolding being instantly given. They'd always been controlling like that, wanting me to enter the Hunger Games, yet I have no intentions at all of Volunteering. Sure, I'd feel a bit guilty about disappointing them, as my parents are just trying to do what is best for me, but I don't want to be affiliated with the merciless slaughter that takes place in the arena.
"You will son, you will. Just remember to Volunteer, before they've read the name out, and I assure you that we'll be watching you in the Capitol by tomorrow," Dad says, probably trying to be encouraging, yet the harsh tone of voice he always seems to use comes out more as a command.
Don't worry, Dad! I won't forget! Little Ribbon might, if he gets too distracted though…But I won't! I'm Z! Oh and Ribbon, like my new catchphrase? When you get shocked, Z goes pop! It almost rhymes, too, even better!
Squeezing my hand together, I try to prevent myself from talking to Z out loud, as most people in the District already think that I'm crazy. Because of this, I really don't have all too many friends, while with my charming good looks, Mom had been sure that I'd be popular instantly. I guess that stunning blue eyes and cropped blonde hair isn't good enough for people if sanity doesn't come along with it; problem is that I'm not the insane one. Ever since I could remember, Z has been in my friend, and up until I was five years old, the two of us had been best of friends. We're lucky that we didn't try and kill each other until up to that point, as each of us would really love our own body; too bad that probably isn't going to happen any time soon. Especially after Z tried to murder my, well I guess our, parents; that's when I stopped letting him take over whenever he wanted to.
I can take over whenever I want to, silly boy! They're going to you alive in the arena, I can tell! Lorelai knows that too…Even pathetic Katrie Combe. Oh yes, the silly girl with the dead cousin who loves little Ribbon! Oh look, it's the bells again! Here comes the dork!
Cut it out, Z! You know that I don't feel about Katrie that way! She's just a friend. And as for the dead cousin, it isn't her fault that Cashmere died last year; blame District Ten if you have to, Z! Slamming up my mental walls, whatever little cries of insults that Z would have worked up are lost, with an odd silence echoing throughout my mind. According to the doctors, people aren't supposed to have other people in their head, though I still wonder if there's another person out there like Z and I. Of course, my thoughts are cut short as I hug my mother goodbye, right before being shoved into line for the DNA confirmation by my father. He'd always wanted a warrior son, so I crack a small smile and nod at him, hoping that will please him; evidently, it doesn't.
If you really wanted to impress him, then you should have let me be the one in charge…I'm the type of person that he wants to be his son, Ribbon.
Ignoring him as always, I step forward obediently when the Capitol lady motions for me to come forward. Holding out my finger, she jabs it with the needle, causing me to wince; some of the kids around me give disgusted glances at that behavior. After she smears some of my blood onto a little piece of paper, which confirms that I really am Ribbon Layfeyette, they allow me to go into my sectioned area, right at the very front of the stage; twelve year olds stand in the back, that way they won't get caught up in the fray caused by the Volunteers. Of course, my friend Talon has an uncanny ability to predict exactly who is going to be going into the Hunger Games, with only occasionally being wrong; last year, he'd said that our female Tribute would Volunteer, when she had been Reaped instead. He'd taken that pretty hard, as his parents had raised him to be a perfectionist and pretty much succeeded, with the exception that he'll gladly rant on about them whenever you lend an ear.
Tia Adessi, a well known Escort for District One, steps out onto the stage. Smiling from ear to ear, she makes her usually speech about how the Hunger Games were designed, the history behind them, and the grand bond that ties us all together because of it. Upon playing the clip, a gruesome retelling of each of the rebellions, with the execution of the Mockingjay shown at the end, all I can focus on is the glittering dress she's wearing. Not that I'm attracted to her, but mainly because it appears to be made out of icicles; probably one of the better outfits that Capitol people have worn to our District.
"Remarkable, isn't it?" Tia comments as soon as it's done, making her way towards the glass Reaping bowl, full of carefully folded pink slips, "Let's start off with the girls…Rarity Leveque!"
A blonde haired girl from the fourteen year old section steps forward, wearing an exquisite blue dress that is as dazzling as her confident smile. But unfortunately for her, the girl in the red dress from earlier shrieks out that she Volunteers, starting the annual rampage of girls towards the stage. Shockingly, I find that Katrie is among them; her cousin, Emerald, is glaring daggers at her bag, probably having pressured her into doing it. That doesn't stop the first girl though, who knocks everyone out of her way, and because she's wearing flats, it does give her the slight advantage. By the time that she's made her way to the stage, several Peacekeepers are escorting girls away from medical treatment; one of them has a nasty black eye that's already begun to form.
"And what is your name, darling?" Tia asks, smiling widely at the pretty haired brunette.
"Prodigy Mallord," she responds, smirking out into the crowd, as if she had already won the Hunger Games.
"Excellent," the Escort states, obviously pleased with her first Tribute, before making her way over to the adjacent Reaping bowl, "And for the young man, who will receive the honor of representing District One in the One Hundred and Seventy Sixth Hunger Games…Ribbon Layfeyette!"
Instantly, I knew that this would be my chance. Shoving my way through Ribbon's mental walls, I could almost taste the shock and panic that rolled off of him. Excellent! He won't be fighting back for a while, allowing me to take control for a good couple of hours. Besides, I'd be able to get more sponsors than he could, so it didn't matter at all. Smirking slightly, I took my first step since I'd been locked out after training, since that little baby couldn't handle the thought of killing a fly. Almost prancing towards the stage, Tia raises an eyebrow at me, probably wondering why my actions changed so drastically. Oh well, no one Volunteered, so lucky me! I get to go into the Hunger Games! And who knows, perhaps Lorelai will finally go out with me once I come back…Ribbon shouldn't have a problem with it though, and if he does, it's too late now!
"Shake hands," Tia states, "Here are your District One Tributes: Prodigy Mallord and Ribbon Layfeyette!"