A/N: Hey readers! So sorry this update didn't come as soon as I was hoping it would, but as I said before, I'm extremely busy as of late. I'm trying my hardest to write whenever I can, but it's getting really difficult.

Seeing as my life is pretty hectic right now, I might have to slow my update schedule down to just Mondays and Fridays, but hopefully that won't happen. Just be aware that I might not get the chance to update on schedule every time.

Anyway, I'd like to thank you all for reviewing! I love reviews. A lot. Like I said, I'll be replying to all my reviews, unless you ask me not to, so you know that I really take them all into consideration. I'd also like to thank you for the continuous favorites and follows. They mean a lot!

Now finally, here's Monday's update, District 3! Expect District 4 to be up on Friday, but maybe I'll surprise you and finish it by Wednesday. Don't forget to review!

Happy Reading,

Connor

District 3 Reaping

Sebastian Smythe, District 3 Tribute

The uneven slabs of cement that make up the sidewalk of my street make escaping difficult, tripping me up with every frantic step I take. I nearly drop my loot in the confusion of the chase, thankfully catching it before it can hit the ground. The angry shouts of citizens can be heard behind me. There's got to be at least fifteen of them, probably more.

My body nearly falls to the side as I make a sharp turn to bound up the stairs to my narrow, yet deep house. I push my way inside, slamming and locking the door before anyone can follow me in.

"Dad!" I shout. "You'd better get out here."

I don't hear a response other than my victims pounding on the door, shouting profanities at me. Glancing around, I quickly pull my dad's recliner in front of the door and rush up the stairs to the attic.

"Dad?" I ask, walking inside. Not here either. I quietly close the door anyway. Maybe I can just hang up here for a while until they all leave. After all, we have to be at the reaping in a few hours. They can't wait around that long, can they?

Taking a well-earned breath, I lean against the wall of the attic and slump down into a sitting position. I weigh the bag of money in my hands for a few minutes, satisfied with my work. I'd hate to be forced to give it all back to the gullible citizens of District 3 so soon. It's not my fault they fell for the scam.

After a while of impatiently drumming my fingers against the cold, wooden floor and still no sign of my father, who also happens to be my boss, I decide to head downstairs and see if he's returned through the back entrance. A poor decision on my part.

Someone on the street below must see me stand up through the window, because the next thing I know, I'm diving for cover as a brick crashes through the glass. I wince as several shards rain down on me, tearing open my skin in various places. "Son of a bitch," I mutter. "Alright, I'm coming!" I shout out the window to the people on the street. I stash the bag of coin under a pile of dusty, torn blankets in the corner and slip out the attic door.

Jogging down the stairs, I rub my forehead stressfully before shoving the recliner out of the way and pulling open the front door a crack. Putting on an obviously fake smile, I say smoothly to the angry crowd before me, "May I help you?"

A short, brawny man who looks to be in his forties steps forward, out of the throng of people, and says, "You're a phony!"

Seeing as it would be pretty hard to hide it, I shrug and respond, "What was your first clue?"

The man's plump face burns brighter than a fire as he clenches his fists and booms, "We want out money back! You said this stuff would cure us! You said we'd be better in a matter of hours."

"You will," is my answer. "Dude, it's a cold. It'll pass. It's not my fault you decided to buy my elixir."

"You mean your tinted water?"

"Yeah, that. Either way, no crime was committed. I offered you a piece of merchandise, and you paid for it. That's how the world works."

"But-"

"But nothing. Next time, don't be so careless. Have a nice day." I close the door for a second time. I brace my back against it and wait. The defeated grunts my customers get farther and farther away until I can't hear them anymore. I take a deep breath and release it in a hearty sigh, glad I've finally gotten rid of them. Now I've just got to get the window fixed before my dad notices it.

As if on cue, my ears pick up on the back door flying open. I can hear the soles of my father's shoes hit the tile floor of our kitchen as he locks the door behind him. "Breakfast," he calls.

I jog into the kitchen and notice the large bag of food sitting on the table. My dad helps himself to a freshly baked roll as I begin cooking some eggs and bacon on the stove. "How'd you manage to get these?" I ask quietly.

"Told the butcher there was some severe illness spreading between the chickens and pigs. Traded the baker some eggs for the bread."

"Nice one," I comment. "Juice?"

"There's some in the fridge."

I grin as I finish cooking us some breakfast. Sliding a plate across the table to my dad, I take my own helping and begin to scarf it down.

You would think the life of a con-man would be pretty bad. Unreliable income, not well-liked, whatever. But in reality, it's one of the best lifestyles I've seen so far. I mean, District 3 is completely overpopulated, giving us plenty of unsuspecting people to pull a fast one on. We never run out of clients. We feast like kings everyday and our living conditions are better than what most other families are dealing with.

Do I feel bad about constantly lying to people, stealing their money? Not in the slightest. If we didn't, we wouldn't be alive.

"Sebastian," my father says, causing me to look up. "Don't you have to be at the square?"

I glance at the clock on the wall. "Not for another hour. Why?"

"I want you to get their early. See if you can get us a bit of coin, huh?"

I catch on almost immediately and share my father's wicked smirk. "Right."

The old man stands and sweeps away my empty plate. "I've laid some clothes out for you in your room. I'll meet you at the justice building after the reaping to see what you've got, okay?"

"Got it."

I hurriedly jog to my room and catch sight of the "clothes" he's chosen for me. I scowl for a moment, but remind myself of all the money we'll be rolling in afterwards. On reaping day, people are unnaturally sympathetic. They're more than willing to give a little to the less fortunate. Imagine what they'd do if they saw a poor, starving boy begging for money by the square.

Quickly, I slip into the tattered khaki pants and dark brown dress shoes, ones with large patches of missing leather, leaving my chest bare. I guess my naturally skinny physique proves to be an advantage here. Now that I think about it, the cuts I earned earlier from the shattered window adds even more to my character. I make an effort to mess up my neat, light brown hair until it looks like I've been sleeping in a sewer for weeks. When I'm all finished, I grab a metal mug from the kitchen and rush outside, covering my pale body in dirt.

And then, the act begins.

I hobble down to the square, which isn't far from my house, clutching my stomach, sucking it in so it seems like it's starving for anything to eat. Before I even set up my site at the square, a man must notice my mug and drops a coin into it. I shoot him a pathetic look of thanks before he turns his back and I snigger.

Plenty of people are at the site of the reaping once I arrive, the perfect hunting ground. I sign my name at the front desk and limp into the busiest part of the event. Pretending to collapse, I hit the cold ground and crawl up against a wall, holding my mug out weakly. Several people pass me before a few begin to take pity. Before I know it, the change is pouring in.

The last person to donate before the reaping actually begins is a petite, oriental girl, who appears to be a year or two younger than me. She digs into the pocket of her green, floral dress and drops four silver coins into my mug, more than anyone else has so far.

Sunshine Corazon, District 3 Tribute

"Sunshine, sweetie, come on."

My mother grabs my hand, forcing me along. I breathe a sigh of relief. Thankfully, neither of my parents caught me spending most of my savings on that poor, starving boy by the justice building. If they did, I'd be in so much trouble. We're struggling as it is. They wouldn't want me handing out my money like that.

But how could I resist? We may be a little poor, but that boy back there has it a lot worse. It doesn't even look like he has a home.

My mother stops walking, causing me to run into her from behind. My father grabs both our arms, keeping us from falling over.

My parents sign me in, just like they have been for the past four years. They can't even let me do that by myself. Really, they don't let me do anything by myself. They spoil me as much as a family with virtually nothing to their name can. And I absolutely hate it. Why can't they just let me grow up? I'm sixteen for crying out loud, not seven.

"Now Sunshine," my father says, stooping down so he can look me in the eyes, resting a hand on my shoulder. I'm quite short for my age, which makes things difficult for my abnormally tall dad. "I know you've got a bit more tesserae this year, but don't worry. Everything will work out fine, okay? We don't need to fret or be scared or-"

"Dad."

"Just go in there with confidence and you'll be back at home with us in no time. We can have a big dinner to celebrate-"

"Dad."

"I'll even go buy us all some of that homemade pudding from the baker you love so much for dessert and we can-"

"Dad!" He looks at me with shock on his face. My mother giggles. "You're the one worrying. I'll be fine, okay?"

He nods, taking control of himself again. "Right. You'll be fine. Okay. Good luck, sweetie." He takes his hand off my shoulder and lets my mother kiss me on the forehead before I make my way into the vast crowd of potential tributes.

In no more than a few seconds, William Schuester, fresh off the train from District 2, begins his speech about the "glory" of the Games. Immediately, I wish I hadn't left my parents. My heart starts pounding and I suddenly notice my claustrophobia kicking in, being surrounded by hundreds of other girls. I find it hard to breathe by the time Schuester says, "Shall we start with the girls?"

I close my eyes in hopes that I can catch a break and take some time to think. I work out the odds in my head to reassure myself that I can't possibly be chosen, it just won't happen. But I suppose that's what everyone's thinking, isn't it. And here in District 3, we don't have Careers to volunteer if things don't go our way.

Right about now, I wish we did.

"Sunshine Corazon!"

I exhale so quickly that I think I might throw up. A few of the girls around me must realize that I'm Sunshine and move away, creating a path to the aisle that runs down the middle of the crowd, separating the boys and girls. I'm eager to take it and rush out into the open, where I should feel even more anxious or scared, but instead I calm down almost instantly. Now that I'm not in as tight a space, I can finally think.

You'll be fine, Sunshine, I tell myself. Play it cool. Look nice for the cameras.

But it's much harder than I initially thought. Who knew getting reaped would make you feel so…hopeless? I nearly fall on my face when I stumble up the stairs and the edge of my short dress gets caught on Scheuster's mic stand as I pass it. Man, do I look awkward.

I ignore my escort's remarks of congratulations and focus on finding my parents in the crowd. I can't seem to locate them, but in a way, I'm thankful. I really don't want to see the looks on their faces right now.

Before I know it, it's time to pick the boy, and I find myself wishing and hoping it's someone weak. At least that would increase my odds of coming home, right?

"Can I have a…Sebastian Smythe?" Schuester announces. He scans the crowd eagerly, but his face drops when he sees the looks of Sebastian, who turns out to be the same starving boy I donated four silver coins to earlier.

Well, he definitely looks weak, I can't help but think.

But when he takes the stage, I suddenly get a new feeling about him. His aura…it kind of scares me a little. I find myself feeling totally outmatched the instant he glares into my narrowed eyes.

Let's just say I'm extremely relieved when I'm sent to the justice building.

Patiently, I sit in the nicely furnished room, waiting for my parents to show up. I know they'll be my only visitors. They're the only real family I have, after all, and not many kids want to make friends with the poor, weird, Asian girl. Not that I mind. I was never really a people person anyway. I'd much rather do my own thing.

Suddenly, the door flies open and my parents come scrambling in, my father first. They both wrap me in a tight hug. They spend a large amount of time sobbing into my dress, not letting me hear what they're actually saying. Seeing as this could possibly be the last time I'll ever get to talk to them, I don't want it going like this.

"Guys," I say, trying to wiggle out of their embrace. "Guys! Come on, get it together!" I squeeze out of the Sunshine-sandwich and stare at both of them. "Look, face it, I'm going into that arena. Can we please spend our goodbyes a little more…I don't know, maturely?"

They glance at each other before simultaneously wiping the tears out of their eyes. My mother speaks up. "Okay, fine what do you want to talk about?"

That's when it hits me. I don't know. They've never asked me that question before. I don't really have anything to talk to my parents about at all.

My abnormally keen hearing kicks in and I sense a Peacekeeper coming down the hall, probably to take my parents away, so I quickly say, "I just want you both to know that I love you so much. You did everything you could. You're the best parents I could have ever asked for."

We share another hug, but thankfully, this one doesn't include hysterical sobbing. My senses prove to have been correct as a man in all white comes into the room to escort them away. I watch as another tear falls from my mother's eye and they disappear.

I fall down onto the large sofa in the middle of the room, burying my head in my hands. I'm fully aware of how we barely even mentioned the Games in our final goodbyes, and I know the reason. Everyone knows what's going to happen in that arena. I don't even stand a chance. I'm going to die, and I'm going to die soon.