AN: OH my god, how time flies! I meant to have this finished ages ago but my week has been absolutely hectic! first my mums birthday, then father's day, it was absolute insanity and I apologize that this wasn't up sooner! anyway, enjoy!
Jarred Emery, 17
When I walk back into the house after some last minute training I can smell the scent of freshly baked bread wafting down the hallway. By the time I get to the kitchen Jayleen has already started slicing and buttering it up, her child hands grasping hold of the knife tightly, her eyes focused on the bread with unnecessary intensity. There's something almost ridiculous about the look on the ten year olds face and as I watch her I almost find myself smiling. Almost.
From the other side of the table my father pears up over the paper he's reading, ice blue eyes glaring at me. "Well, how'd you go?"
"Belos says I did great. I'm moving fast, and my skills with spears can't be paralleled by any of the other prospective volunteers." I say, my voice monotone. He shifts a little in his chair so I can see his whole face over the top of his paper and I clench my fists at my side, bracing myself for the question I know will come next.
"Well, what about sword training? Did he have anything to say about that?"
"You know that's not my area. I prefer things I can use at a distance as well as in close combat." I say through gritted teeth.
He rolls his eyes and shifts his gaze back to the paper clutched in his hands. "All the best victors from 2 used swords."
"This year will be different."
He doesn't even acknowledge my final sentence and I stand in the doorway for a few moments watching him, trying to contain the awful rage building up inside me. I've spent my whole life training for the games; all for him and my mother and no matter what I do it's just not good enough for either of them. It seems since the day I was born I've been a daily disappointment to them in one way or another. I've learnt not to care too much about it. As long as I'm not disappointing myself I'm fine, that's all that really matters.
"Want some toast Jaz?" Jayleen asks, breaking me away from thoughts that involve my father's head being impaled on one of his precious swords.
I shake my head. "Nah I'm fine. I'm sure there'll be plenty of food to eat on the train."
"But if you don't make it up on stage you'll be hungry." She laughs, waving a piece of the bread around in the air, trying to make it look enticing.
I can't help but humour her. She's so different to me. While I'm cold and nonchalant she's bright and caring, always trying to get me to smile and be happy. It's a lost cause of course, I'm not a happy person. I won't be happy until I step off my plate and enter the games, and even then I'll probably just be as cold and awful as ever.
That's fine with me.
Rose Stroud, 17
"I wish my parents were victors so I could have dresses like you." Mckenna sighs as she holds one of my dresses against herself. "It's so not fair Rose."
"I'll trade you the Capitol Luxuries for a home that's not empty for half the year then, sound like a fair deal?" I say, thumbing through the pile of dresses we've stacked on the bed.
"Done." She laughs, leaning down and pulling a green dress with intricate floral patterns out of the pile. She pushes it towards me, smiling. "This one, It'll bring out those gorgeous green eyes of yours."
"Why does it even matter if it'll bring my eyes out? We're just going to a reaping."
She looks at me with her eyes wide open and mouth gaping, feigning shock. "Oh Rose Stroud, honestly you make me want to cry sometimes. To think you look like you do and on the one day you can really put it to good use you don't even register it."
I feel my cheeks going red under the wayward dark curls hanging across my face. "I just don't think it's that big a deal. No one will see me after all, it's not like I'll be up on that stage."
"But every boy in the district will be there! Don't you at the very least want to look nice for that reason?"
I snatch the dress from out of her fingers and poke my tongue at her. "You know I can't be bothered with all that."
"Well I wish you were. Every boy in the district wants to find a way into your pants."
"No they don't and that's just disgusting." I spit back at her, feeling my cheeks going an even darker shade of crimson than they already were. She just laughs at me, rolling her eyes.
"You really have no idea at all." She pauses mid way through changing into the red dress she'd already asked to borrow and looks out my window quizzically. "Shouldn't Julie be here by now? She only lives like five blocks away."
"You know Julie, she gets a bit distracted sometimes." I say while internally chastising myself for forgetting she was even supposed to be here. "I'm sure she'll be here soon enough."
"Don't worry, I can already see her, she just came around the bend."
By the time my mother lets Julie in and she makes her way up to my room Mckenna and I have already changed into our reaping outfits. Each of the dresses hug tightly around our waists before the skirt fans out all floaty like to our mid thighs and I'd be lying if I said we didn't look appealing, if not almost adult. It's a stark contrast to the way Julie looks when she shyly walks through my doorway. Her dress is an elegant navy thing with the loveliest embroidery stitched around the hem that once belonged to her sister. On Jen it would have been an absolute knockout, but on Julie it just doesn't sit right. She's still thin like a child, with nonexistent hips and an almost flat chest. The dress hangs awkwardly around her body, making her look a little lost in amongst it all.
She tucks a strand of her short brown hair behind her ear and smiles at us. "Hey guys. You both look really lovely."
"Thanks Jules." I say, smiling at her. "You look really pretty too."
"You're just saying that because you have to."
"No I'm saying it because I mean it." I say, shoving her gently, because I really do mean it, sort of. She might still look like a bit childish, but that doesn't mean she isn't pretty, in her own funny little way.
"Alright enough you two, we've got a reaping to get too and none of those trained kids are going to be able to volunteer without an audience present." Mckenna shouts at us, pushing us through the doorway that poor Julie was only just leaning against.
"I really hate reaping day." Julie says as we walk down the hall, "It makes me nervous."
"Oh Julie, you really are the sweetest." I laugh, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "You've got nothing to be worried about."
"I know I know, but you know me, always getting worked up over pointless things."
"Well you shouldn't. Now I don't know about you guys but I missed breakfast this morning." I say, desperate to move the conversation away from Julie's worries so she can forget about them and relax. "How about after the reaping we go down to the bakery and get some of those delicious cupcakes with the blueberry icing? I'll pay."
"Sounds fantastic Rose." Mckenna replies, and all talk of pre reaping nerves are replaced entirely by the promise of cake as we make our way to the town square.
Jarred Emery, 17
I've found myself a spot in the seventeen year old section close to the walk way that leads up to the stage, just like my trainer told me to do. When the time comes to volunteer it's always a mad debacle, with all those who think themselves worthy enough pushing and shoving their way violently through the crowd, desperate to be the first to find their way up onstage and be declared the tribute. According to Belos they have a much more organized system in district 1. They train all the kids as a collective and then pick the best to volunteer, but he reckons it'd never work here. We of District 2 are too proud and too stubborn to give up the chance to win the games just because someone else has been declared better than us. He said they trialled it one year and it failed miserably, everyone just fought to get on stage just like every other year while the kids who were handpicked got left in the background, too stunned to move.
I've got to keep calm and focus on getting myself to that stage before anyone else. It's doubtful any males under seventeen will try to volunteer, but there could be anywhere from five to twenty boys from both the seventeen year old and the eighteen year old section that I'll have to beat. I can already tell that one of the boys next to me is also planning to volunteer. Like me he hasn't been listening to any of Wanda's stupid ramblings about the Capitol, and his eyes are glued to the stair way the whole way through the propo. He's a tall boy, taller than me, with ebony hair and biceps the size of a small child's head. I have no idea who he is and frankly I don't give a damn. I already know who's going to be standing on that stage ready to bring the pride and honor to our district that it deserves.
It's going to be me.
"Now get excited folks! Let's head on over to the bowl and pull out a lucky ladies name, shall we?" Wanda, the escort, crows out at the crowd. She half skips to the bowl, her blue bouffant bouncing dangerously across her head as she does so. Behind me I can hear a few boys murmuring about how damn fine her legs look and I can't help but shake my head. In any of the outer districts we'd all be still as statues, unable to even string a whole sentence together in our minds, let alone speak out loud about anything. But here in 2, where you're almost certainly safe? Nah, no worries at all. Those kids are so relaxed they even have the time to check out the escort.
I don't though, I need to stay focused.
Wanda flicks her hand around in the bowl very quickly, pulling out one of the names that had been resting on top of the pile of papers. She skips back to the microphone and smiles widely, her silver teeth glinting in the midday sun. "hmmm. Well now. Julie Watercress!" She calls out.
I don't even acknowledge the girl. She's not going to be the one who'll be my ally in the arena, before becoming my enemy. She's just some girl who's got to get up on the stage for a few minutes to adhere to Capitol formalities. Soon enough the girls will be pushing and shoving their way through the crowd, all too eager to take her place.
Except for the first time in nearly fifteen years, that doesn't happen.
When Wanda expectantly asks if there are any volunteers not a single girl pushes her way through the crowd. There is no screaming, no shoving, not even the clawing at faces you sometimes see with the really aggressive girls. All that has been replaced with a crowd of stunned and curious faces peering around at each other, all looking for something that with each second it becomes apparent isn't going to happen.
I glance back up at the girl on stage. She's rather short and almost sickly thin, with wispy brown hair and wide grey eyes that are open wide, dew dropped shaped tears beginning to form around the corners. There is no way she'd last five seconds in the games and I make myself a quick mental note to kill her during the bloodbath. I can't have something that pitiful weighing me down in the games after all.
Apparently just as shocked as the rest of us, Wanda taps the microphone and says with a voice that's almost pleading, "One last time, are there any volunteers? Any at all?"
That's when from somewhere in the lines across from me a hand shoots up in the air, and a soft shaky voice calls out the words that haven't been spoken off stage for so many years. "I volunteer."
The other girls part, making a pathway for this apparent saviour to make her way out onto the stage and it actually surprises me when I recognize her. She's Rose Stroud, The daughter of two very notable victors. I've had a few classes with her at school, but neither of us has ever talked. All I know is that her father killed seven people in his games and her mother decapitated her own district partner. Even without any kind of formal training that stigma is going to stick with her.
She'll be good for sponsors.
Rose Stroud, 17
As I make my way out of the group of shocked girls I'd only moments before been standing in line with I pause for a moment to squeeze my shaking hands together, trying with all my might to make them stop. This is a mistake, I know that already. I'm more than likely going to never come back to my home after this. If it had been anyone else they would have just left Julie up there to meet her fate. I couldn't do that though. She's so timid, so sweet. She'd die in the bloodbath, no doubt about it. I couldn't watch one of my closest friends go through that knowing I stood by and did nothing.
Now I'm the one facing Panem's most elaborate death sentence.
A peacekeeper reaches an arm out to guide me up to the stage, snapping me out of my momentary daze. I shrug his arm off. If I present myself as weak from the beginning, as someone who needs to be guided onto the stage like a pathetic child no one will take me seriously as a career and that's what I need to sell myself as from now on.
Holding my head high I make my way up onto the stage, careful not to look at any of the kids all peering with obvious curiosity at me. By the time I find my place beside Wanda I've almost managed to convince myself that this was my plan all along, that I'd always intended to volunteer for the games.
Almost.
"Now I'm sure I've seen your face somewhere before?" Wanda says as she gives me a brisk hug, her manicured nails digging into my shoulder blades as she does so. I wait another moment for her to elaborate, thinking she'll say something else but instead I find her staring at me expectantly.
"I'm Rose Stroud, I'm sure you who my mother and father are." I say, gesturing to the seats behind her. My father sits next to Nymeria, the female mentor for the year, his face ashen. He smiles at me and nods his head towards the crowd, feigning pride but I can see the anguish in his eyes.
"I knew it! They must both be so proud!" Wanda replies.
I grin widely at her and laugh, hoping whole heartedly that my voice won't shake as I say what I'm about to next. I've always been excellent at hiding the truth, at spinning lies but this is quite different. Never have I had to lie to ensure my own survival. "Of course they are. It's always been my dream to follow in their footsteps; I might as well do it now."
"No doubt you'll do a fine job of it! Now I know we are all very interested in our female tribute, but we really must get on with the males now, so without further adieu..." She says, skipping over to the males bowl, leaving me alone in the centre of the stage to wonder whether I've been convincing enough to the audience before me.
The boys name is Franklin, or something along those mundane lines. He's a small twitchy looking kid of about fourteen. He watches the crowd nervously as he stands beside me; no doubt panicking that no one will step forward and take his place like what just happened with Julie. His worries prove unnecessary, the very second the 'v' in the word volunteer escapes Wanda's lips the usual chaos ensues. Boys start screaming at each other, pushing each other, some even punching each other on their way to apparent glory. It's even more disturbing watching it on stage than it had been in the previous years when I'd watched in amongst it all and I have to work even harder to hold myself together.
When the fight to the front is finally over and the lucky boy is pulled up alongside me by Wanda I feel the blood in my veins turn to ice.
His blue eyes are all but obscured by the brown bangs that hang across his face, but I'd know those eyes anywhere. I've seen them stare cold and indifferent at a dead frog as he sliced its body open in bio classes. I've seen them scrutinizing the younger children who can't fend for themselves against the older kids. I've seen them watching me in class as I talked with McKenna.
Jarred Emery. None of the other Career kids left me feeling so uncomfortable and afraid after I've found myself caught in their gaze, not like he has.
I've been stuck in a frozen state of panic while he introduces himself to the crowd and it's only when I feel his cold clammy hand grab hold of mine that I find a way out of it. His fingers crush my own as he stares into my eyes, his own cruel and apathetic. They say exactly what I've already been thinking; that I'm not good enough for this; that I'm not going to prove to be a threat to anyone in the arena. Even if it is true, I can't let him think that, so I squeeze back. I don't have nearly enough strength to match his harsh grasp but it's enough to make him raise his eyebrows and just enough to get one corner of his mouth to twitch into a slight smile.
Hopefully it's enough to prove to him I'm not just a scared little girl trying to pass herself off as a Career.
AN: Well now, I hope that was alright, these two proved to be a little harder to write about than Aria and Brock, so I hope I got their characterizations right. I also thought I'd do a different sort of reaping system for district 2 than what I did for 1, because those darn kids from 2 seem a tad more dedicated to the whole games experience. That being said, It's great to have most of my Careers done, and I'm super excited to start writing the reapings for the kids from 3!