District One: Make Me Golden
Valentine Holloway, 16.
District One Female.
It's hard to be invisible in District One.
Except, she is.
Here, everything is about looks. It's a competition to see who can have the prettiest body, the nicest clothes, the fullest lips, or the shiniest jewelry. The people who possess these are looked up upon like shining stars, worshiped like immortal gods. The people who lack these things receive attention too, but not the good kind. They are trash in the eyes of everyone else, scumbags who don't belong in the ranks of One. Everything about one's appearance is noticed, even the smallest details. Bad or good.
Even the giant houses beg for recognition. They face off across the street in a trivial contest to see who can have the largest square footage, the cleanest cut lawn, the shiniest windows, the most expensive car. They don't need to have shrubbery shaped like animals, trimmed biweekly by the poor gardener with a bad back and sharp scissors. But they do. The owners of the mansions want people to notice them. When people walk by, they yearn for them to stop and stare, their jaws dropping in awe at the miraculous sight before them.
No one has ever stopped and stared in awe at her. Well, at least not for a very long time. It's been years. She wishes with all her might that they would just look. Like everything else around her, Valentine craves to be noticed. By her parents. By her friends. By her peers. By anyone.
She stares into the mirror, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. Her face is slathered with coats of makeup; maybe it'll finally make her appealing to the boys. It's not that she's ugly, she has smooth chocolate skin and a smile that lights up the room, but she's not pretty either. Her eyes are a bit too far apart, and she's a bit short for a girl her age. Despite being Hispanic in a town full of whites, she's average looking enough not to get noticed, which she despises. With makeup, she's at least a little prettier, a little above average. Maybe enough to get someone's head to turn her way tonight.
Peeling herself away from the reflective glass, she flings open her bedroom door and flies down the stairs. Her heels clack against the dark mahogany wood, alerting her mother sitting in the room below. She looks up from her book, her eyes resting on her daughter. Then, they look back at the book again with disinterest, glazed over once again.
"Mom, don't I look nice?" Valentine asks, fishing for a compliment or a critique; she's not picky. As long as her mother just notices her, she's happy.
Her mother shrugs and mumbles a few words quietly. "You look fine."
Valentine's smile fades slightly. "Well, don't you want to know where I'm going dressed up like this?"
Her mother doesn't answer, lost in the pages of her book once again. Valentine expects this though. It's been the case ever since her older sister died five years ago, murdered in a dark alley on the slummy side of town. Her killer was never found. Ever since then, Valentine's parents blocked their remaining daughter out of their lives, ignoring her and paying as little attention to her as possible. They can't lose someone they forget about. That's why they pretend like she doesn't exist half the time.
Sighing, she makes her way across the room, grabbing a light pink jacket hanging from the rack. She slips it on, gazing at her mother with longing eyes. She wants her to look up more than anything. Valentine wants her to look up and see her for she is really is. Her daughter. Her last remaining daughter who she should treasure more than anything else.
But she doesn't.
Her nose stays nuzzled in the flimsy pages of her book, her eyes never leaving the black print. Valentine looks away. She should have known better than to hope. She's been hoping for five long years, and every time her mother's face stays hidden behind the pages of that goddamn book. She never looks up, and she never will.
"Mom," she blurts out. "I got picked to go to the Hunger Games by the academy."
Her mother doesn't seem to hear her, flipping to the next page of the book as if she never said anything. All she wants is a reaction, but she doesn't get one. She'll just have to push harder.
"I worked really hard mom," she continues. "Really hard. I trained every day and stayed after everyone left so I could go. We had the final qualifying rounds today and I won by a lot. The giant girl with those big muscles didn't even know what happened, that's how fast I beat her mom. Isn't that great? Aren't you proud of me?"
Say something. Anything.
In the room, there is only silence, the quick beating of Valentine's heart the sole thing ringing in her ears.
You don't have to be proud. Just tell me that you care.
Her mother flips another page.
Tears well in the young girl's eyes, sparkling in the bright lights of the room. She turns away sharply, her long hair following her like a shadow as her head twists around. Her dark mascara is beginning to run. The hours of work she put into it has been ruined in a matter of seconds.
If she dies, would her parents even realize it?
Extending her arm outward, she lets her calloused hand wrap around the cold metal door handle. It sends a shiver up her spine, freezing her muscles for a split second. She takes one last look at her mother before twisting open the door and walking out into the brisk night air. On the way out, she slams it behind her. The whole house shakes.
Maybe that will get her mother to notice.
The night is frigid and icy, a sign that winter is just around the corner. She pulls her jacket tighter against her skin, her white teeth chattering in her mouth. The house of the party isn't too far away, but in the cold, it feels farther. She quickens her pace.
Within a few minutes, she's on the doorstep of a massive mansion with loud music blaring inside. Through the windows, she can see tall figures dancing on tables and groups mingling in the corners of the rooms. She knocks on the door and it opens, revealing a tall boy with bleach blonde hair and a red beer can in his hand.
"Hey, Val!" He exclaims, flashing her a toothy smile. "Beer's in the kitchen, the wine's in the cooler. Have fun!"
She nods her head mutely, heading straight to the kitchen. Mainly, she parties for attention from her parents and peers, but she also does it for the alcohol and relief that it brings. For one night, she can forget all the stress that sometimes feels like it's going to all bubble over and swallow her alive. When she drinks, she feels relaxed and at peace, a feeling she can't obtain anywhere else.
But when she wakes up in the morning, it all comes rushing back, worse than ever. However, Valentine isn't one to run away from her fears. When she wants something, she always, always gets it. She's going to work hard to win the games, and then, her parents will have no choice but to notice her.
She may be invisible now, but in a few weeks, the whole world will know her name.
Clay Wolfe, 18.
District One Male.
His friends call him Golden Boy.
He's tall and handsome, with an athletic frame and long legs. His jaw is sharp and defined, and he has greyish blue eyes with a cold glint inside, which makes him look slightly mysterious. The girls have always had crushes on him since he could remember, swooning over pictures of him in the yearbook and doodling his name down in big loopy letters on their papers in school. He's caught the unwanted attention of a few boys too, but they don't interest him.
He's also a great student and a phenomenal athlete, playing multiple varsity sports before being recommended to try training at the academy. Like everything else in his life, he's excelled at that too, coming up onto in most fights and quickly rising through the ranks to become one of the top candidates to lead District One to its second victory in the 12th Hunger Games.
In addition, his family couldn't love him more. He had two supportive parents and a trio of younger siblings who adored him with everything they had. "Clay! Clay!" They shout every time he entered the house, enveloping him in three giant hugs every time they saw him.
To the world, it looks like he has a perfect life. Only, Clay Wolfe knows perfection is an illusion, and even the sturdiest states have cracks.
The scar on his right cheek is one of the casualties of his crack, almost invisible unless looked at very closely. No one would be able to notice it unless they were directly looking for it, and no one looks for Golden Boy's flaws.
"Next up in the ring, Clay Wolfe, and Silver Vasquez!"
Clay nods his head mutely, standing to his feet. A shiver goes down his spine as he locks eyes with his opponent, a tall boy who towered above all the other trainees, including him, by almost an entire head. He was the one who gave Clay the scar almost two years ago. Clay wonders if he remembers that day. He sure does.
Silver grins wickedly, confirming Clay's suspicions. However, he can't let it get to him. He takes a deep breath in, trying to calm himself down. If he has any chance of winning this fight, he needs to remain calm and not let what happened last time happened again.
Clay returns the boy's wicked grin, sticking his tongue out in the air to taunt him.
Silver laughs and grabs a large broadsword of the rack.
"You want a repeat of last time, Golden Boy? Maybe I should change my name to Golden Boy instead because once I fight you, you won't look golden anymore," Silver jests.
Narrowing his eyes, Clay shakes his head. Behind him, some people in the class snicker. He's nervous, but he can't show it. He needs to remain as calm as the ocean on a windless day.
"Nah, Silver suits you," he replies bitterly, faking his confidence. "Because you're going to come in second in this fight anyway."
The class laughs again, and the trainer quickly silences them. "That's enough, work it out in the ring you two!"
Scanning the weapons rack, Clay finds his signature weapon, a long sword with the word victor carved into the bottom. He leans forward, grabbing it off the rack. Then, the two boys head into the fighting ring, eyeing each other like vultures ready to devour their prey.
Stay calm, he tells himself. Stay calm.
"Alright boys, you know the rules," the trainer exclaims. "No cheating, and no excessive hurting of the other. Once I say the fight is over, it's over."
Silver smirks. It's over when I say it's over, the boy mouths.
Not if I can help it, Clay mouths in reply.
I'd like to see you try, Golden Boy.
You don't want to see me try, he grins back.
Adrenaline is pumping through his blood, racing through his body. He feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.
Crap.
His eyes widen, but so far, everything is fine. He just needs to stay calm.
"On the count of three, you may begin!" The trainer announces. "One, two, three!"
Silver wastes no time. As soon as the word "three" is out of the trainer's mouth, he is flying through the air, the blade of his sword angled right at Clay's neck. Although the sword is dulled, Clay knew the blow could still leave a mark. He ducks out of the way just in time, leaving Silver to stagger to the ground and try to regain his footing.
While Silver is recovering, Clay swipes at the boy's body, the blade of his sword cutting through the skin on his back. Silver howls in pain, jolting upward and slashing his sword at Clay in response. It cuts against Clay's hand, drawing fresh, crimson blood.
Clay's heart is pumping faster, but he has no time to calm down, for Silver is lunging at him again. Clay raises his sword in the air and the two weapons clash against each other, making a loud clinging noise. Silver grunts, pushing down harder. Clay does the same, pushing up on his weapon.
Then, he begins to feel it. Crap.
"What is it, Golden Boy?" Silver teases, pushing down harder. "You scared?"
"Anything but," Clay hisses back.
However, his eyelids are beginning to droop, lowering themselves slowly over his eyes. He growls, forcing them back open. Silver swings at Clay's side and Clay blocks the blow, his heart racing even more now.
It's happening, and he all he can do is watch until everything spirals into chaos.
His muscles begin to relax, and all of a sudden, he feels extremely sleepy. Silver swings his sword at him again, and this time, Clay isn't fast enough. The sword hits him in his side, the sheer force of it knocking him to the ground. He winces and tries to stand to his feet, but he isn't fast enough. His tired muscles ground him to the floor as Silver presses his shoe down on his chest.
Why does the floor suddenly feel so much like a bed?
Silver points the blade of his sword right toward the middle of his neck, the sharp point just barely resting on his skin. Clay gulps, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but all of a sudden, he releases he has lost control of the muscles in his legs. Everything in him just wants to lie here and let himself fall asleep, but he can't let anyone know. As far as they're concerned, he is still the golden boy with no flaws.
He'll tell them he was just tired, and that he didn't sleep much last night. He won't tell them the truth. He'll never tell anybody the truth that he has narcolepsy and that he's not as golden he seems.
"Silver is the winner!"
Yeah, that sounds about right.
A/N: I forgot how much I hated writing intros, and I have eleven more to write, so... yay?
I'm also impatient and can never follow deadlines so I'm posting the tribute list today. I've had the list pretty much finalized for like a week anyway, I doubt anything was really going to change.
I hope you liked these two, as always career spots were tough to get into (I got seven submissions for D1/D2 females, holy cow!) so if you don't see your tribute written here or listed below, don't feel bad. They were hella competitive, and I really just based my decisions on what I can do with them down the road in the capitol and in the arena. Also, a lot of you didn't get your preferred district, and I tried to move them into backup districts but sometimes I just had to move them into a district you didn't even request, but don't worry, I've thought it out and they'll all turn out alright. PM me if you have anything you want to change. So, without furtherado, here is the tribute list for Blackened!
District One Male: Clay Wolfe, 18.
District One Female: Valentine Holloway, 16.
District Two Male: Pilate Antoni, 18.
District Two Female: Hana Marko, 18.
District Three Male: Skylar Baxton, 17.
District Three Female: Freyja Abbott, 18.
District Four Male: Archer Caspian, 17.
District Four Female: Coraline Seaton, 17.
District Five Male: Solomon Nyguen, 17.
District Five Female: Luna Nyguen, 17.
District Six Male: Tyrell Taiko, 15.
District Six Female: Winnifred Ellison, 16.
District Seven Male: Bruno Muller, 13.
District Seven Female: Terra Macintosh, 18.
District Eight Male: Gareth Emory, 18.
District Eight Female: Beckett Locke, 14.
District Nine Male: Lennox Orseni, 15.
District Nine Female: Eliora Abraham, 16.
District Ten Male: Braxton Busbee, 16.
District Ten Female: Marguerite Thorne, 12.
District Eleven Male: Takei Sadeh, 17.
District Eleven Female: Manisha Rollins, 15.
District Twelve Male: Mortimer Maximus, 16.
District Twelve Female: North Brier, 14.
Like I said, I had so many amazing submissions, and not everyone (even the really good ones) could get in. I based my decisions mostly off plots I'm beginning to plan for the future, so if your tribute didn't get in, don't take it too hard.
Expect the D2 intros in a week or two.
paper :)