District One Reapings: My Time is Now


Flynn Larson, District 1


Thwack. The knife slammed into the dummy's heart with considerable force, and Flynn let out a whoop of triumph. Running a hand through his wavy blond hair, he glanced around to see if anyone else had been watching.

Man, I'm getting good at this! He'd only started training a few months ago, but his aim was already excellent. It was a shame that the Reaping had come so soon—he could've gotten even better with some extra time.

He was surprised that so many people were at the Training Center on Reaping Day, but then again, these were Careers. And if they were doing it, then he was going to do it. He would show them all that he wasn't just some spoiled weakling. He would prove that he could be a Career, too—if he wanted to, that is.

"Hey, brat!" A huge, bulky guy with spiky brown hair walked over to him.

Oh, no. Not him. Flynn's heart started to pound, but he masked his fear with a big smile. "Jake, my man! How's it going?"

"Oh, I'm just putting in some extra training before the Reaping. Not that I need it, but hey, this is my year! But this isn't about me," he sneered. "What are you doing here? What lame excuse did you give your dimwit parents this time?"

Flynn flushed. "Don't talk about my family like that."

"Why not? I think parents that won't even let their son touch a needle deserve to be called dimwits. Maybe if their son wasn't such a baby, they wouldn't have to be so protective of him."

"Take that back!" He stepped toward the boy and tried to look threatening.

"Why? What're you going to do, fight me?"

"Yeah," Flynn snapped, gathering up his courage. "Yeah, I think I will."

"Then bring it on."

Other Careers gathered around them as they dropped their weapons and started to warily circle each other. Jake laughed as Flynn stepped forward. "You're even more of an idiot than I thought."

"Yeah, well, think again," he snarled. Jake hesitated, scowling, and Flynn saw his opening. The guy underestimated him and wasn't prepared for Flynn's speed, so he got a solid hit to Jake's nose. The other Careers gasped as a sickening crack resounded. Blood began to pour from his nose, and he cried out in pain.

Blindly moving forward, Jake grabbed him and gave a short, cruel laugh. "No running away now, brat." Flynn steeled himself as the older boy's fist slammed into his eye. The teenagers watching the fight cheered.

"What the heck do you guys think you're doing?" Rian Thomas, one of the supervisors at the Training Center, ran forward and pulled the two boys apart. "It's the Reaping Day, for God's sake! And if you—" he glared at Jake "—are going to be volunteering today, you'd better keep yourself in one piece until then! How on earth did you let this shrimp do that to your face?"

Jake let out an angry grunt, and Flynn scowled. Shrimp, huh? His eye was already swelling shut, but he couldn't help feeling proud about the punch he had given Jake.

He would definitely be getting a black eye, but so what? Hopefully, it would just show everyone how tough he was.

The only thing that worried him was how to explain it to his parents.


As Flynn cheerfully headed towards Sterling Plaza, where the Reapings would be held, some of the other twelve-year-olds gradually flocked around him.

"Hey, Flynn!" One scrawny kid piped up. "How'd you get that shiner?"

He gingerly brushed his fingertips to his eye, which had become swollen and puffy. Evidence of bruising must have been showing already. "I got in a fight with Jake Carter. I think I might've broken his nose, though!" he smirked.

The guy looked up at him in awe. "Geez, how'd you—" But the swarm of people pushed them forward, cutting his question off. Flynn turned away and searched the crowd until he found the familiar faces he was looking for.

"Greyson! Keegan! Linden!" he hissed. His trio of friends shoved their way towards him.

They greeted each other and chattered excitedly as they stepped into the area marked out for twelve-year-olds, but Flynn suddenly grew serious. "I… I'm volunteering today," he whispered confidentially.

Linden's eyes widened. "What? You're crazy! We're only twelve, Flynn!"

"I know." He grinned, revealing bright white teeth. "That'll make my victory even more glorious."

"But why?" Keegan pestered. "Your parents are gonna murder you, you know."

"Nah. They'll leave that to the other tributes. Hey, I'm going to show the whole District what I can do. Then maybe they won't think I'm so weak and babied."

"I don't think you're weak," Linden interjected, still looking alarmed by Flynn's audacity.

"Well, yeah," Flynn said, affectionately clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Plus, I really want to see the look on Jake's face when I volunteer instead of him."

The group got a good laugh out of that. For a moment Flynn wavered—could he really leave behind his friends?—but he knew that there was no room for doubt in the Hunger Games. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and focused on the escort stepping onstage.


Desert-Rain Anderson, District 1


Desert-Rain inhaled and looked down at the outfit resting on her bed. The dark blue dress was nice enough—it might be just what she needed for the Reaping today. Her final Reaping.

"Dezzy!" A small, blonde girl burst into the room, shrieking. "Raz is saying that he's going to volunteer!"

"Don't worry about it, Gwen," she sighed. "Raz is just being stupid, like always. If he has any brains in that thick skull of his, he'll know that he needs more size and training."

Gwen giggled. "He really wants to be in the Games, though."

"Yep, I know." Dez sighed. Her fourteen-year-old brother, Raz, was a Career through and through, obnoxious and competitive. She had no doubts that he would volunteer one day and, more likely than not, win his Games. But her? She wasn't like that, and she still wasn't sure what she was going to do today.

"Mom says that you and Raz should go down soon," Gwen said in a softer voice. "You slept all afternoon."

"Well, better to get rest if I'm going to volunteer," Dez yawned, pulling a brush through her wavy blonde hair.

Gwen's eyes widened. "You, too?"

Dez blinked. "Nah, probably not. I was just kidding." Or was she? It wouldn't do to be so indecisive on Reaping day.

"Well, your dress is pretty," she remarked. "Good luck! Mom, Dad, Quinn, and I will be watching you guys in the crowd."

No pressure, she thought dryly. She knew what advice Raz would give her, so it was pointless to ask him. She had been certified to volunteer, but so had five or so other girls at the training center.

Oh, well. She would see how things played out at the Reaping.


Dez was pushing her way through the crowd when she saw him. Grant. He was quite handsome, with chiseled features and light coppery hair, but the sight of him just brought bile up in her throat.

How long had it been since he'd dumped her? Only a month and a half? But he'd already found another girl, one no doubt prettier than her. As if he'd ever really cared.

She was still bitter, yet she couldn't stop admiring him. She'd tried to deny it to her friends, but part of her, the part that had fallen in love with him, still longed for him. And she wasn't sure that she could ever get over it.

She realized that she'd been looking too long when he frowned in her direction. Hastily, she turned her gaze to the stage, where all eyes were trained on Candi Sandstone, the District 1 escort.

The woman's features were slightly squashed, likely from too many plastic surgeries. This year her hair was a strange, glittery silver. Her dress was so sparkly that it hurt to look at her.

"This year, we're going to change things up and start right off with the Reapings!" Candi chirped, heading over to one of the giant glass bowls containing the names. "It's the ladies' turn this time!"

An unexpected rush of anger coursed through Dez as she glimpsed Grant nudging his friend and rolling his eyes her way. And in that instant, she knew what she was going to do. She had to show him that she didn't need him, that he didn't deserve her. She would come back from the Capitol with fame and riches, and she would laugh in his smirking face.

"Lavender Frame!" Dez bolted for the stage, flying through the air as she screamed as loudly as she could. "I volunteer!"

Candi stepped back in surprise as Dez flew towards her, taking the microphone. "I'm Desert-Rose Anderson."

For a moment she was inwardly dismayed. Had she really just done that? But then she found Grant's stunned face in the crowd, and a satisfied smile crept over her features. She smirked and settled down on one of the chairs provided for her. If she was really in this, she would have to find out who her district partner was.

"Now for the young men!" Candi reached into the bowl and pulled out a slip. "Ingram Lee!"

There was the usual mad rush as hulking guys raced to the stage, but one skinny blonde kid from the twelve-year-olds section sped ahead of the pack, grabbing the microphone. Dez stared in astonishment.

"The name's Flynn Larson," he declared. Somewhere at the edge of the stage, a teenager gave a furious howl.

Dez sighed. There was no way that the kid had been certified. Sure, he was tall for twelve, but the Center very rarely certified children under sixteen. Some people at the Training Center were going to be very upset—not that it mattered. The guy probably wasn't going to get back home to face them, anyway.

"Shake hands, tributes!" Candi piped. Dez firmly took the boy's hand, noting that he had a recently acquired black eye. Typical. He had obviously tried to pick a fight with an older Career.

"And after that excitement, let me remind you of how this lovely tradition came about…" Dez stopped listening as the escort drawled out her speech, wondering about the decision she'd made.

Hopefully, it had been for the better.


Flynn Larson, District 1


"But why, Flynnie, why'd you have to do it?" Ariel Larson burst into tears for about the twentieth time that hour.

"There, there." Her husband patted her on the back. "Flynn is strong. He'll be fine." Even he sounded slightly uncertain.

"He could have at least gotten training!" she sobbed.

"Uh, yeah. About that…" Flynn trailed off. Better not to make things worse than they already were by telling them about his secret excursions to the Training Center. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm gonna win. You'll see. I can do more than you think, you know."

Ariel was obviously past the point of comfort. She moaned in grief as the Peacekeepers came and escorted Flynn to the train.

He sighed and stepped into the plush car, practically drowned by his mother's tears. She just couldn't understand his capabilities.

He was also emotionally drained from saying goodbye to his friends. It was the only time that he had really felt a twinge of regret.

Flynn was just sitting down next to that girl—Sand-Rose or something, he couldn't remember—when a bulky figure barreled into the train and tackled him.

"You idiot!" snarled Jake, primal rage burning in his eyes. "First you crack my nose, then you steal my spot! It was my year!"

"S—sorry," Flynn gurgled, his throat clenched between the older boy's hands. Where had the Peacekeepers gone?

"Get off him," an icy female voice ordered. Flynn vaguely saw his district counterpart pointing a knife at Jake's side. "Now."

Jake scowled but released Flynn's neck. "Oh, so it's you, Little Miss Elite. Think you're so good with your little bow and arrow, huh? If I was in the Games like I should be, I'd have no trouble carving your heart out."

"Leave."

Jake spat at Flynn's feet and reluctantly exited the car. "I'll enjoy watching you die, Flynnie!" he called over his shoulder.

Flynn shakily got to his feet. "Thanks. What was your name again?"

"Desert-Rose, but I prefer to be called Dez. Wait, let me guess. He's the one who gave you that shiner?"

"Well, yeah, but I broke his nose. I totally beat him up!"

Dez coolly looked the boy up and down. "Mmhmm. I'll take your word for it."

"It's true."

"So, why on earth did you even volunteer?"

Flynn scowled. If anyone asked him that again, he was going to barf. "Why did you volunteer?"

Dez hesitated. No way was she going to tell this kid her real reasoning. "I'm eighteen. This is my time."

"Maybe this is my time."

"It could be."

Flynn leaned back, closing his eyes. So he was going into an arena full of brutal kids turned murderers. He could handle that. He would surprise everyone.

This year was going to be Flynn Larson's time.


Author's Note: Yay, first Reaping officially done! I'm sorry to Dez's creator- I know I changed a lot about her, but I think it'll work out better in the end.

On a side note, please review and tell me how I did! Remember, the sponsor system won't start until the Games, but you can start earning points now. Reviews will be worth 5 points each.

I'm still waiting on my District 2 tributes, so I don't know how long it'll be until the next chapter. But never fear, I'll be back!