Alliance of the Mockingjay, Book One

by THE-BANNED-AUTHOR

Coin is dead. Peeta and his team are prisoners of war. Katniss has dissapeared along with Gale, Johanna, Annie and Beetee. The rebellion crumbles and the Capitol reigns supreme. Five years after the failed rebellion the 79th Hunger Games begins. But the districts are still hoping for a spark of hope. A spark that could come from one of six children entering this year's Hunger Games

4. Chapter Two

Alliance of the Mockingjay, Book One: The 79th Hunger Games

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. I hope you enjoy this new series.

After the rebellion was put down mercilessly by the Capitol, the citizens of all twelve districts began to rebuild. They were not allowed pay and were required to work eight hours a day, repairing the damages the war had brought. Every citizen at the age of 12 and older reported to the District Square, where they were assigned a section of the district they would work at for that day. Then they set to whatever task they were given, only being given one break for lunch. Men would usually work on the repair of Peacekeeper houses, Victor mansions, factories, and the Justice Building. The women cleaned up the rubble where bombs had been dropped and restored any place that was used for the district's export. Families were responsible for rebuilding their own homes. And while all this went on, the citizens also were set to work chopping, mining, building, harvesting their main export to send to the Capitol.

The Capitol, also having been destroyed during the war, was rebuilt mainly by Avoxes and the prisoners of war that had not been executed. It was said that before Coin's public death by a firing squad, she had been forced to repair Snow's mansion, along with many Victors and Capitol citizens that were on the rebellion's side. After she was executed, Snow released the Victors back to their districts as a truce. This was seen by the Capitol citizens as kindness. However, to the districts, who saw the broken, weakened Victors as they returned from the Capitol; they knew there was no such kindness. The strongest of them had been broken they brought with them a promise. The next Hunger Games would be the bloodiest, most brutal in Panem's history.

Snow made good on that promise. A year later the 76th Hunger Games began. 24 tributes went into the arena. 13 died during the Bloodbath, which was held on a ledge above a pit of snakes. The 11 remaining were forced to endure torture at every step. Betrayal was the theme of those Games. Alliances were made and then viciously broken. The Gamemakers made sure that more than one tribute died by the muttations. The final two were both from District 12, as ironic as it seemed. At the last moment, the boy refused to fight his partner, turned his back and allowed the girl to slit his throat. He bled out and the girl from District 12 won the Hunger Games. She had no time to celebrate her victory though. The hovercraft was ready to take her back to the Capitol when she used the knife on herself as well,slicing into an artery. She died on an operating table; the Capitol physicians finally gave up trying to revive her after almost four hours. There was a memorial for her in the Capitol. Citizens praised her bravery yet wept at her suicide. Neither Snow nor Haymitch Abernathy, the girl's mentor, attended the memorial.

Despite Snow's hopes, the districts' never returned to the docile state they used to be in. Reports came in from every district of acts of violence, riots, and refusal to give in to the Capitol's demands. More Peacekeepers were sent out to the districts' and put the rebels down once again. Things would be quiet for a while then the districts' would rebel again. And again and again the Capitol had to put it down. They never knew which districts would rebel and when. Snow was not worried. He knew after a while, the districts would just give up. They were wasting too many lives and resources to try to defeat what could never be defeated.

Snow was wrong though. The districts' still had the spirit of the rebellion with them. They just needed another spark to set them on fire.

---

Harley Johansen awakens with a knife clutched in her fist. She silently takes a quick look around her bedroom for intruders. Determining she is safe, she releases the knife and sits up in her bed. Then she rolls onto the floor and starts doing push-ups. She feels her knife hand sting slightly when she presses it to the carpet. Her grip on the knife must have tightened while she slept and her nails probably scratched her skin.

After she has done 100 push-ups, she examines her knife hand. As she had suspected, her nails had broken through the skin on her palm and beads of blood had formed. Dried blood now.

"Could have been worse." Harley mutters to herself, starting on her 100 sit-ups. Don't worry about it Harley, it's just a scratch. Get the 300 over with and then you can bandage it.

'The 300' has been Harley's work-out routine for about seven years. 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 50 minutes of jogging, and 50 chin-ups, equal the 300. As a 17-year-old Career she is expected to do all 300 and more every day without complaint. On a good day Harley can raise the number to almost 500. On a bad day she can barely manage the 300. Today happens to be Reaping Day so Harley expects the total to be somewhere in the middle.

When she finishes her sit ups, the first rays of light start to show through Harley's window. Dawn, her favorite time of the day. She dresses in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and throws on a sweatshirt before leaving her room. She can hear her parents' snores as she walks down the hallway. The jewelry shop is closed for the day so her parents are able to sleep in.

As soon as she is out of the house, she starts her 50-minute run. The sun is still barely above the horizon as she jogs through District 1. On a normal day she would be passing by people opening up their shops or reporting for the eight hours of District Repair. After 5 years, though, District One does not need much more repair. Harley takes even breaths, trying to enjoy her moment of solitude. Even though the district isn't very crowded in the mornings, she has never liked being distracted from her run by citizens trying to greet her. She's not exactly a "people person". Which is the reason why she chooses to wake up so early. It also gets her a good spot at the Training Center before the younger trainees show up.

The Training Center doesn't open at dawn so usually Harley has to wait for someone to let her in or she asks for the key the day before. She jogs around the building a few times to complete the 50-minute run before she puts the key in the lock and pushes the door open. The Training Center is like a second home to Harley, she has been going there to train since she was 10-years-old. Every child is able to train at a young age and encouraged to continue training into their teen years. If you have stuck with training when you are eighteen then you are encouraged to volunteer for the Hunger Games. It is probably much more popular to volunteer in District 2, but District 1 has never had a Hunger Games go without someone volunteering. And at 17, Harley knows that someone will be her.

Harley turns the lights on in the main gym of the Training Center and heads directly toward the high bar. Harley has never excelled at chin-ups and usually can only manage to do eight before having to rest. She jumps up and grabs onto the bar. Grimacing, she lifts herself up until her chin is just touching the bar then relaxes. She continues to slowly make her way to 50 chin-ups, resting after every eighth.

Harley is so focused on her task that she does not hear the gym door open. She is not aware of the eyes on her as she relaxes her arms after the first 30.

"I would think you would be able to do those quicker after all these years." Harley is startled by the voice from behind her. She loses her grip on the bar and falls to the ground, just able to make a shaky landing.

"And your reflexes could get better."

"I didn't think you'd be here this early." Harley says, standing and turning to her trainer.

"Well, this is a very special day for you. I figured I should come down here and give you a few pointers before you disgrace your family." He says. "What? No hug for your grandpa?"

Harley eyes the older man for a few seconds before walking over and giving him a quick hug. "I am sorry Grandfather, how rude of me." She says her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Watch that tone missy." Grandfather warns. He takes ahold of her injured hand and examines it. "Had a little accident with your grip on the bar did we?" He asks looking down at her. His icy blue eyes are so piercing Harley has to look away. She nods, careful not to look at his face. Those blue eyes are not easy to lie to. Same as her father's and the same as her own.

Grandfather silently stares at her then touches her cheek. "You should do something with those bags under your eyes. You wouldn't want to look bad for the cameras."

Harley nods; a bit relieved he hadn't pursued the subject. "Yes Grandfather."

"We should get this wrapped up and then we will talk about the Reaping today. Understood?"

"Yes Grandfather."

Her grandfather grabs the First Aid kit and starts to bandage her hand. "I still say you should wait until you're 18." He blurts out. Harley rolls her eyes, she knew this was coming. Grandfather has always said what is on his mind.

"This is my choice." She says quietly.

"It's a bad choice if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you."

"I'm telling you anyway."

"Grandfather-"

"Don't use that tone with me Harley. This is serious business you're getting into!" Without meaning to, his grip on her hand tightens.

"Grandfather," Harley draws her hand back. "We have been over this a million times. I know you and Mother disagree, but Father thinks I am old enough to make a decision for myself. I am ready for this."

"Let some 18 year-old Career get the glory. Wait another year, you'll be better prepared then."

"I am plenty prepared now. If I wait another year I won't be as perfectly trained and I will have to go up against everyone in my class. No one else wants to volunteer this year and you know that. This is my only chance."

"You're still a child Harley-"

"You know I'm not a child." Harley says, cutting him off. "I haven't been a child for a while and all three of you need to accept that."

"Your death will disgrace our family-"

"If I do die I will die with honor. I am not a weakling. I am a Career. I am the Career you trained." Harley holds her hand up stopping Grandfather before he starts to speak. She looks at him, her blue eyes showing her determination. "But Grandfather, I will not die so easily. I will do my best win. You can count on that."

Harley stands up. "Now are we going to train or are you going to pout like a child?"

Grandfather stares at her then jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "Speed bag, you need to get faster." Harley nods.

The training session is relatively normal. Harley and her granfather try to cover all the bases before the other trainees start to show up. After the speed bag, there is archey and sword training (two of Harley strengths), then knife throwing and weight lifting (one of her weaknesses-though she has enough strength to hold a sword she has never been able to lift well). There is an excercise where her Granfather put a blindfold over Harley's eyes and tells her to defend herself from his attacks. Harley has never liked this excercise. Her eyes are more well developed then her other senses, and the blindfold doesn't seem to help in the slightest. So it's no surprise when Granfather tackles her to the ground.

"All right I get it!" She says, ripping the blindfold off and standing. "I'm not good at hearing attacks. But I'm won't be able to develop that sense in an hour."

"It's important Harley." Grandfather says. "What if you are attacked in the middle of the night? You can't rely on your sight when it's too dark to see anything."

"But I'll be the one attacking!"

"What if it's someone in your alliance?"

"I'll kill them before they get the chance."

Grandfather shakes his head. "You're not read-"

"Yes I am! And I'll prove it to you."

Not wanting to argue anymore, Harley walks away from her Grandfather, toward the gym doors.

"Harley I swear, someday your arrogance will get you killed." She hears him mutter.

"But not today, Grandfather." Harley slams the gym doors closed and starts walking back to her house. She keeps her pace quick, trying to block that last conversation from her mind. Concentrate Harley concentrate, you can't look like you're upset when you go on the stage. Remember you are the next Victor of District One. Just keep thinking that and everything will fall in its place. You will win.

When she reaches her house, Harley keeps moving, thinking she should cool down before she sees her parents. She takes a slow walk around the district. More people begin to filter out of their homes and go about their daily business. Shops open, cooking fires are lit, neighbors greet each other, children run through the streets, women talk about the new emeralds in the jewelry shops, and the Peacekeepers start to ready the District Square for the Reaping.

Harley can smell eggs and bacon cooking when she opens the front door to her house. Her mother must be awake. She walks into the kitchen where her mother hands her a plate.

"Eat up sweetie. Today's a big day." Her mother gives her a smile and a wink.

"Thank you Mother." Harley says quietly, as her mother bustles around the kitchen. Harley has never understood her mother. They look alike (except for Harley's eyes which are shaped and colored like her father's). The both have long black hair, round noses and long torsos, but that's about where the similarities stop. Harley has never understood how she could always been so cheerful and chirpy even in a stressful situation like this. It may be that Mother has not completely accepted that Harley will be volunteering for the Hunger Games.

"So honey, how did you sleep?"

"Fine." Harley says quietly, looking down at her plate. Mother examines Harley's face. "Was it a nightmare Harley?" She finally asks.

Harley nods but says nothing. She can tell her mother wants to question her more but chooses not to.

"Eat up dear." Mother says. "Don't let the eggs get cold."

"Where's Father?" Harley asks between bites. There is a flash of something-sadness? anger? - across her mother's face, but she looks at Harley and smiles. "Oh he's just in the garage. You know how he loves messing with that old bicycle."

Harley nods. The bicycle her father loves so much was some sort of antique motorized vehicle for one. It does not work of course; the engine was so old no one knew how to fix it. Harley somewhat resents the stupid thing. Whenever Father was in one of his "moods" he would work on that piece of crap. Never really gave Harley a chance for some daddy-daughter time, even if she wanted it. Father had even named her after the stupid antique mother-loving bike that didn't even work. Shows where his priorities were.

Speak of the devil, Harley's father walks into the kitchen, wiping his hands on a red rag, a grease stain on his cheek.

"Good morning Bronzer." Her mother says to him. He nods to her and looks at Harley's plate.

"Do we have anymore bacon?" He asks sullenly. Clearly he was still feeling the effects of the alcohol he had drunk the night before.

"I'm sorry dear; Harley got the last few pieces. I'll try to buy some tomorrow." Mother's voice falters a bit and she glances at Harley, knowing her daughter might not be sitting at that kitchen table the next day.

"Damn useless woman." Father mutters as he sits down. Mother at least has the decency to pretend not to hear what he said, handing him a glass of water.

Harley looks down at her plate and sees three strips of bacon still left. She pushes the plate in front of Father and stands. "I'm done anyway." She says. "I think I'll go get ready." Harley, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, walks out of the room without waiting for a reply.

"Harley I laid something out for you on your bed. Give it a try. You have to make an impression today!" Mother shouts to her before Harley closes the door to her room.

After showering and drying her hair, Harley looks on her bed and almost starts laughing when she sees the dress her mother intends her to wear. A slinky black dress that looks more like it would serve better as a scarf or skirt lies on her bed. Harley starts for her closet, looking for something decent to wear…then shakes her head and turns back to the dress. Mother would be very disappointed if she didn't wear it and she had already been upset by the Father had treated her.

Sighing, Harley slips the dress on over her underwear. "Suck it up Johansen, you have to make an impression." She says to herself, fumbling with the zipper in the back. Even with the zipper all the way up, Harley feels very exposed in this dress. It has no sleeves, only being held up by shoulder straps. What little of a chest Harley has is pushed up and out. The dress only goes halfway down her thighs, leaving her legs bare. She assumes this dress is supposed to create a very sexy image, but Harley just feels ridiculous in the flimsy thing. She tends to like feeling supported and protected in her clothes. The dress does neither of the two. Harley would love nothing more than to take the stupid thing off but she knows it will probably help her chances of getting picked as a volunteer.

Going back to the kitchen, Harley sees Mother has put on a white sundress and put her hair in a bun. Even her Father has cleaned up his appearance, wearing a blue blazer.

"Oh Harley, you look beautiful." Mother says, kissing her cheek. Beautiful? Well that's one word for it.

"It's time." Father says, glancing at the clock. He looks at Harley. "Harley. You have thought this through? You are completely sure?"

"Yes Father." She says feeling annoyed at his question. Didn't they understand? She has to do this.

Her father nods. "You don't want to be late then. Let's go." Father opens the door and lets Harley and her mother out before closing and locking it up. Harley leads the way to the District Square, fighting the urge to look back at her house, trying not to think that there is a chance she will never see it again.

---

"All right, it's time to get up!" Skyler groans and buries her head in the pillow, trying to ignore Mrs. Grislow's attempts to wake her and the other kids up. Stupid old cow.

"Get up! Get up Manning!" Someone pulls the blanket off of Skyler and shoves her off the cot. She gives a surprised yelp and looks at the woman who just pushed her off. Grislow scowls at her. "It's morning. Better be down in the dining room in three minutes or there will be no breakfast for you."

"Yeah, it'd be a real shame to have your delicious gruel go to waste." Skyler whispers. Grislow hears her and hits her head with a spoon.

"Watch your mouth." Mrs. Grislow warns Skyler before walking in between the cots of the other kids, swearing at them to get up.

I hate this place, Skyler thinks, standing up and walking over toward the girl's bathroom. She grabs a towel and starts washing her face with the cold water. Out of the corner of her eye she sees some of the girls lining up for the showers. Skyler runs a hand through her short brown hair.

"This can last for the rest of the day." She says, thinking she'll shower after the Reapings and spare the waiting. Although the water will probably be freezing by then.

Skyler walks over to the closets, picking out a green t-shirt and jeans to wear. She strips out of her pajamas and dresses, brushing off the fact that there are at least four other girls in the room. They all have the same body parts as her, who really cares what they see?

After getting dressed, Skyler makes her way down to the dining room, where kids are lining up for their morning bowl of oatmeal. As she gets in line, she feels someone tug at the collar of her shirt.

"Looking our best and brightest today aren't we Skyler?" Says someone behind her.

"Shut up, Patrick I'm still waking up." She says, shooting the boy with red hair behind her an annoyed glance. Patrick merely smiles at her and ruffles her hair. "You haven't showered yet? That's okay, guys like the dirty girls."

Skyler elbows him in the stomach. "Stop being an ass. Where's Seaweed?" She asks, looking around the dining room. Patrick shrugs, "He'll be here, he's probably just trying to flirt with Erin, convince her that he has the 'magic touch.'" Patrick makes quotation fingers when he says 'magic touch.'

Skyler shakes her head. "That line never works. How many times has he used it?"

"I'd say about twenty." Patrick looks over his shoulder and waves, trying to get someone's attention. "Here he comes now."

Sure enough a tall, tan-skinned boy who looks about the same age as Patrick joins the two of them; he has a big grin on his face. "You freaks will not believe what just happened."

"She didn't say yes did she?" Skyler asks in disbelief.

"Better she said to meet her down by the docks after the Reaping." Seaweed laughs. "Am I good or am I good?"

"You lucky son of a…." Patrick high-fives Seaweed and Skyler rolls her eyes. "She might have just invited you down there to push you into the water."

"Skyler, ye of little faith. Believe it or not, most girls find me attractive."

Skyler snorts. "Uh huh yeah sure."

"You're telling me you aren't at all attracted to this?" Seaweed says motioning to his body.

"Nope, not in the slightest."

"Actually," Patrick interrupts their playful argument. "Skyler can only be classified as a girl physically. So she wouldn't find any guy attract-" Patrick does not finish his sentence however as he sees Skyler glaring at him and realizes it is better for his safety to shut up. The three of them each grab a bowl of oatmeal with a spoon and sit down at the long table.

Typically, Grislow Community Home is meant to house up to thirty wayward orphans. Right now, it only has 15, seven girls and eight boys. These are the children who weren't picked out at the orphanages when they were babies and now that they are much older, no family wants them. So they go on to the Community Homes, where they stay until they are 18 and can legally support themselves. Others, like Skyler, lost both or one their parents when they were in their pre-teens, had no other family in District 4 and were too old for the orphanages. Agatha Grislow used to run the home along with her husband. Ever since his passing, she has become harsher with her rules and restrictions and crueler with her punishments. Skyler had not been there when Mr. Grislow was alive, however, so she only knew the cranky old bat. Mrs. Grislow does not like Skyler in the slightest. Skyler is a natural born rebel, whose stubbornness and impulsiveness has only increased as she matured. She cannot help herself from talking back whenever Grislow is scolding her. She doesn't need to be scolded. She's 15 for Panem's sake! In three years-three long years- she would finally be able to leave the Home. Until then she has to stay in Grislow's manor.

Skyler has to admit though; Grislow's Home isn't that bad. The kids are given meals three times a day, a roof over their heads, and a cot to sleep on. It's a lot more than kids in poorer districts are given. Even so, she hates it there. Skyler is usually in some sort of trouble most of the time. If it's not talking back, it is sneaking out after hours, being disruptive during class time, and even refusing help with chores. Grislow responds by yelling at her, beating her (occasionally) and sometimes assigning her the most repulsive of tasks (like cleaning every toilet in the Home). This only sparks Skyler's rebellious side and she retaliates, which she is punished for again. It is a never ending cycle of disobedience and punishment.

"So, what do you guys want to do before the Reapings?" Patrick asks, bringing Skyler's wandering mind back to the table.

Seaweed shrugs. "What is there to do?"

"We could walk down to the District Square and watch them get ready." Skyler says. "We could go for a swim at the shore. We could bother the Peacekeepers"

"Boring, fun, and even more fun." Seaweed says, stirring around his oatmeal with a spoon. "But I think we should just go swimming.

"But isn't the shore closed off today? Something about making sure no one tries to skip out on the Reaping."

Skyler grins. "Who's gonna care if three kids go swimming? We'll be back in time for the Reaping anyway." Her grey eyes light up at the thought of splashing around in the ocean.

"We better be or Greaselow will probably skin us alive." Seaweed says, glancing at Mrs. Grislow who is eyeing the three of them. The boys hate Grislow probably as much as Skyler did. Greaselow was their nickname for her.

Skyler snorts. "That old bat wouldn't care if the Peacekeepers arrested us and had us whipped."

"Which might also happen if they catch us at the shore." Patrick helpfully points out.

"C'mon Pat, where's your sense of adventure?" Skyler asks.

Patrick shakes his head. "All right, all right, you win we can go swimming." He says, giving in.

"Now about the attire for our outing today…." Seaweed says grinning at Skyler.

"No, no way. We are not skinny-dipping. Not after last time."

"Yeah that crab got your rear good didn't he Skye?"

Skyler's face turns red as the boys laugh. "I hate you both." She says, looking down at her oatmeal.

Patrick ruffles her hair again. "Fine, no skinny dipping either. I say we sneak out now, before Greaselow tries to make us do the laundry or something."

An hour later, the three of them are down at the shore, taking turns throwing each other into the ocean's waves. Since none of them own bathing suits, they have to swim in their underwear.

"One, two, three!" Seaweed and Patrick toss Skyler into an incoming wave. She lands in the water with a small splash then comes up, laughing.

"You call that a throw? I barely even reached two feet!"

"Which is how tall you are!" Seaweed shoots back.

"Hey, I am a perfect height for a girl my age!" Skyler is pretty short, but she isn't going to give Seaweed the satisfaction of admitting to it.

"Let's not get into this again guys," Patrick says, "Let's just say Seaweed is freakishly tall and Skyler is a midget." For that comment he gets splashed from both directions.

Skyler laughs as Patrick tackles Seaweed into the waves. She lets the boys fight as she lies back so she can float on top of the water. The sun is shining, the birds are singing (or rather seagulls are squawking),and she's with her best friends. This is bliss, she thinks, closing her eyes and drifting off into slumber.

"Skyler." The urgency in Patrick's voice wakes her. Skyler opens her eyes and stands up in the water. Patrick points toward the shore where two Peacekeepers are waiting for them. Damn, and we were having such a good time.

"What do they want?" She asks Patrick.

"I don't know, but we should probably get out before they get mad." Skyler nods and follows Patrick and Seaweed as they make their way out of the water. Skyler has a bad feeling that her comment earlier about Peacekeepers whipping her and her friends might have jinxed them.

"What can we do for you?" Seaweed asks the Peacekeepers in a friendly tone. The Peacekeepers are not in a very friendly mood though.

"Get your clothes on before we arrest you." One of the Peacekeepers says.

"We were just swimming. What's so illegal about swimming?" Seaweed asks them.

"You entered a closed off area of the beach. This one," He points at Skyler. "Has already been warned about fishing and carrying a weapon here."

Shit, busted, Skyler thinks, the only day I didn't borrow a spear from the Training Center too.

"Well, as you can see sir, we weren't fishing or carrying weapons. Just having some harmless fun." Patrick says shooting Skyler a be-quiet-and-we'll-handle-this look.

"Nevertheless we are under strict orders to arrest anyone who trespasses."

"We advise you to put your clothes on and get going to the Reaping."

"And what are you gonna do if we don't? Cuff us and take us there yourselves?" Skyler says without thinking. She claps her hands over her mouth, but it is too late.

The Peacekeepers share a glance. "That's a good idea. Sergeant." One of them takes out a pair of handcuffs.

"Okay, okay, officers, we'll go." Patrick says quickly putting his clothes on. Skyler and Seaweed do the same, looking very nervous. "Okay? Now we'll just be on our way…." The Peacekeepers stop Patrick before he can walk away.

"It'll be easier for us to just take you there ourselves." The Peacekeeper nods to his partner and they put cuffs around their wrists and ankles.

"Well isn't this…comfortable." Skyler says, earning a glare from the boys.

"This isn't for your comfort. It's so you don't perform any more criminal activities."

"Criminal? How are we crimin-oof!" Patrick elbows Skyler in the stomach to shut her up.

"Look we live at the Grislow Community Home. You can just escort us there and Mrs. Grislow can take care-"

"And who's to say you won't run off when we let you go?" The Peacekeeper asks. "No, we are taking you to the Reaping and afterward we'll see about your punishments." He grins on the word 'punishments'.

Skyler shudders. Just our luck to get the one who enjoys his job.

"Move it, you." The Peacekeeper tries to grab Skyler's hair and pull it. Luckily, there isn't much hair for him to grab. Skyler easily jerks out of his grip. "Okay! I'm moving!" Sheesh.

The group looks pretty odd, walking down the streets of District 4. Two Peacekeepers with three, hand-cuffed teenagers in tow, looking humiliated. Most people look on with confusion. Some look at the teenagers with pity. Some only shrug and go back to their business.

Their ankle chains are linked together so there is a lot of stumbling, tripping and running into each other and other people between Skyler and the boys. After a while, Skyler starts to get over the humiliation. It isn't that bad. They were just swimming; they certainly can't whip them for that. At least not in front of the cameras. And Grislow might get to them first. But she might do worse than whip them. Which was better, the Peacekeepers or Mrs. Grislow?

"Skyler!" Patrick whispers sharply and shoves her. Skyler had stopped walking in the middle of the street while she had been thinking. She stumbles and starts up walking again.

"Sorry." She whispers to Patrick. "I just got bored."

He sighs. "You are probably the only person who would get bored while walking in chains in public view."

"Well, this walking is slow and boring. Let's do something fun!"

Patrick gives her a look. She shrugs. "Hey, we're already in trouble. What else can possibly happen?"

"I'm with Skyler." Seaweed says.

Patrick sighs again. "I swear you two are going to be the death of me."

Seaweed, risking a pile-up, looks over his shoulder and grins. "Shall we give these gentlemen a bit of a tune?"

Skyler grins and Patrick stifles a groan. "You read my mind Seaweed." Seaweed winks and turns back to the Peacekeepers.

"So guys," He says to them. "Do you have any requests?" The Peacekeepers do not respond. "No? Too bad. Patrick?"

"Leave me out of this."

"Awww, pwetty pwetty pwease Pwatwick." Skyler says, risking a glance over her shoulder to give him the puppy-eyes.

"…Fine. How about Heave Away, Bully Boys?"

"Excellent choice!" Seaweed says. "I'll start." Before Seaweed even opens his mouth, the Peacekeepers jerk the chains to stop them.

"We're here. Now behave and be quiet!" The Peacekeeper snaps and leads them to the Sign-In table. Skyler and Seaweed snicker and even Patrick can't help but chuckle. The mayor has already started his speech, so they are considerably late after they sign in. They stand near the back, still in the chains, whispering to each other. None of them seem all that concerned when a young man in a dark green dress shirt, and what looks like a patchwork skirt walks up to the microphone.

"Happy Hunger Games everyone!" He says in a strangely high voice. He must have gotten cheek implants since his cheeks are perfectly round and red.

Skyler takes one look at him and has to bury her face in her hands to prevent her from laughing. "Is-is he wearing a-a SKIRT?" She snorts.

"Actually, I uh think it's called a kilt." Patrick says. "He's the new guy. I think his name is Germaine Servilli."

"He got District 4." Seaweed says, sounding impressed. "He must know some people in high places in the Capitol."

"And who should we start with this year?" Germaine says, looking out into the audience as if he's expecting a suggestion from them. "I know, let's start with the ladies!" Skyler snorts again as he walks over to the girl's bowl and picks out a name. However, the piece of paper slips out of his hands and falls to the stage.

"Whoopsie-daisy." Germaine makes the mistake of bending all the way over to retrieve the slip, which gives the audience an image they did not want to see. Clearly Germaine had forgotten to wear underwear. Many in the audience gasp and parents cover the eyes of young children. There is giggling from the girls and the boys are all very red-faced.

"This guy is great." Skyler says, giggling along with the girls.

"All righty! And our first tribute is…." Germaine unfolds the piece of paper and reads the name loud and clear.

"Skyler Manning!" Skyler stops laughing and pales. She turns to look at Patrick. "He didn't…." One look from Patrick's terrified face tells her the truth.

"Skyler Manning come on up!" Germaine calls. One of the Peacekeepers bends down and unchains her ankles so she can walk. He does not unchain her wrists though.

"Skyler Manning!" Skyler's eyes start to water and her knees bend. Seeing she may pass out, Seaweed pushes her slightly to get her started walking. She looks back at them one more time before starting down the middle aisle.

No, no, no, no this can't be happening! It can't be happening! And oh to think this morning I was so happy. I was with my friends, I was in the ocean. I'm dead! I'm dead! Skyler breath comes in hitches as she starts up the stairs. No, don't cry, don't cry, they can't see you cry.

Skyler takes a deep breath to collect herself and she walks onto the stage. Germaine beckons her to stand next to him. She walks over to them and turns toward the audience, not looking at them but at the ocean that sparkles in the sun.

"Oh, what…pretty bracelets you have there Skyler." Skyler looks down at her bracelets-handcuffs-in wonder.

"Oh…yeah…they're new. I think I'm going to start a new fashion statement." She lifts her cuffs up to the audience and manages a grin. Only Germaine chuckles, as the rest of District 4 stare at her with pity and sympathy in their eyes.

Skyler does not hear the next name called but soon a very brutal looking boy is on stage next to her. Most children in District 4 do train but few actually try to make themselves Careers, and it looks like this year her district partner will be one of them.

When Germaine tells them to shake hands, her hand is almost crushed by his grasp.

Bad luck for us Mannings', she thinks miserably, first my mother, then my grandmother, then my father…

And now me.

---

Max takes a deep breath before lifting the bow up and pointing the arrow at the target. His hand slightly touches his mouth and he holds the position for a few more second before releasing the arrow. The arrow flies through the air and…hits the wall right next to the target.

Max's cheeks burn as he hears laughter. "Nice one Maxie. That's the closest you've gotten today."

"Shut up Kirk." Max says, putting the bow back on the rack. "So archery's not my specialty. I still rock at track and field." Kirk rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, fat lot of good that'll do you once you're in the arena and have to go up against some 300 pound guy from Two." Kirk shakes his head and leans against the wall crossing his arms. "Eighteen years of training and you still haven't learned a thing."

"What can I say? I was never a learner. I'm more of a do-er." Max goes over to the punching bag. "Ahem!"

Kirk sighs and walks over to him. "I can't believe I got up before noon for this." He says holding the back of the bag steady so it wouldn't swing.

Max punches the bag with all his strength and is satisfied to hear a painful grunt come out of his older brother. He smiles a little and continues to punch them bag, using a bit less force though. Usually Max wouldn't actually go to the Training Center on a Sunday. He would normally be, like Kirk, sleeping in until noon. But today is the Reaping. He has to look at least a little bit in shape. Especially if he might volunteer.

"All right, that's enough, give my gut a rest." Kirk whines, letting the bag swing into Max. Max is too late to dodge it and ends up getting knocked over onto his back. "Whoops, sorry."

Max sits up giving his brother a look. "No you're not."

Kirk grins and grabs his hand. "Yeah, I'm not." He lifts Max to his feet.

"Jerk." Max mutters.

"Bitch." Kirk says.

"Ass."

"Douche."

"Retard."

"Homo."

Max shakes his head but can't help but grin. "You know that's not true."

"Bro, you have never had a girlfriend. I've never seen you with any girl except Rhine. And also you're a virgin."

"Am not! I made it with Deedee in a closet!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah!...Except she went around telling everyone it didn't count…."

Kirk chuckles. "Aw Maxie…."

"Don't call me that." Max says.

"Whatever you say Max…ie." Kirk grins before Max tries to tackle him. He easily slides away so Max ends up tripping and landing face first on the floor.

"You are such a jerk!" Max says, sitting up and rubbing his nose.

"That's what older brothers are for Maxie." Kirk yawns. "What are we doing here anyway? You wake me up at nine so we can go down here and I can watch you fall on your face."

Max looks at Kirk for a moment then looks down at the floor. "Actually I'm…I'm thinking of volunteering."

The grin is immediately wiped off of Kirk's face. "What?"

"I think I might volunteer this year." Kirk doesn't say anything. Max scrambles up and uses his silence to go on. "I figure I'm 18, I've learned a lot. I may not be the best at archery, but I'm fast and I'm pretty strong. I'm not beefed up like you are but I don't have to be. I know I'm not the brightest tool in the shed but I got good street sense and I actually feel like…like…like I have a chance…."

Kirk looks at him, a mixture of anger and hurt on his face. "No Max. You're not volunteering."

"Why not? Someone has to. You even tried to when you were 18-"

"Exactly!" Kirk suddenly yells at him. "I tried but I wasn't picked. The Victor's title should be mine. You're not going to steal it from me."

Max stares at his older brother. "I know you're selfish Kirk but I never thought you could be this much of an ass." Max starts to yell at him. "You chickened out! You could have volunteered! But you didn't! You snuck away and spent the rest of the day boozing! One of us has to volunteer! Dad thought you would, but you didn't. You let him down when he needed you most and like every single fucking day of your life you decided to only do something for yourself." Kirk looks at him silently as Max goes on. "What you didn't think that would fall on me? Dad wants to have another Victor in the family, and since you couldn't man up, his favorite couldn't, he had to rely on me!"

"Max we both know that Dad thinks I'm an arrogant, lazy ass who can't do anything but drink and sleep."

"Which is completely true! But you're still his favorite! Even after all this time, it's always been you!" Max blurts out before he realizes.

Kirk stares at Max then crosses his arms. "Fine if that's what you think of me, I'll just go then."

"Fine by me!" Kirk shakes his head and walks out the doors of the Training Center.

Max punches the bag angrily. "Selfish asshole." He mutters. He stays angry for a few more moments then sighs. His brother was what he was, Max shouldn't blame Kirk for everything. He had messed up but he didn't deserve that.

Max quickly walks out of the doors to the Training Center and tries to catch up with Kirk. "Kirk! Hey Kirk! Hey I'm sorry!"

Kirk waves him off and continues walking. Max sighs. Great just great, Max thinks, you pick today of all days to pick a fight with one of the only people that supports you.

"Kirk wait!" Max breaks into a run to catch up with his brother. Kirk may be stronger than him, but Max is much faster. Max runs until he is right next to Kirk, then he slows into a walking pace. Kirk doesn't acknowledge Max's existence.

"Are you gonna talk to me?" Kirk says nothing. "Can I at least walk next to you?" Nothing. "Well…I'm gonna anyway." They walk in silence.

Max doesn't try talking to his brother again until they reach Victor's Village. "Hey Kirk, I'm sor-yah!" Max trips over a bump and almost falls on his face.

Kirk chuckles a bit. Max gives him a look. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Well at least Kirk's talking to him. When they reach the mansion, Max walks up the front steps and opens the door before looking back at Kirk. "Coming?" He asks.

"In a minute." Kirk says, looking over his head. Max sighs and steps inside the house.

"Max." Max turns back. Kirk looks at his little brother with an expression he had never shown before-fear. "Just…good luck."

"Right."

"Okay."

"Okay." Max turns back and walks into the hallway.

Well, that's about as close to an 'I'm sorry' as Kirk can get. Trying to put it out of his mind, Max climbs the stairs to the second floor and goes to his room. He finds the clothes for the Reaping his mom had picked out for him lying on his bed. A dark blue dress shirt and black dress pants that used to belong to Kirk but now are handed down to Max.

After he pulls on the clothes Max walks over to the mirror and examines his image. While Kurt is short and stocky, Max is very tall and lean. He's been called a 'bean-pole' multiple times by jerks at his school. Even though they both have the same dark brown hair, Kirk keeps his cut close to his head while Max lets it grow out into a shaggy style. He sometimes has to push his bangs out of his eyes so he can see.

Max cocks his head as he stares at his reflection. He tries pushing his hair back above his hazel eyes, which never works. He shrugs. Well the rest of him looks fine. Max puts his hands on his hips and grins.

"Damn I look gooood." He says, trying out a few poses in front of the mirror. "Sexy. Fine. Yeah you know you want it ladies…."

"Yeah sure we do." Max jumps and lets out a very unmanly screech. He turns to see a blonde-haired girl laughing in the doorway.

"You are so ridiculous!" She says, howling with laughter. Max blushes. "How'd you get in here Rhine?"

Rhinestone grins. "Your brother let me in, I thought I'd come up and see if you were ready." Rhine glances at the mirror. "Do you need a moment alone with yourself?"

"Nah, no it's cool. It's cool." Rhine's seem him do more embarrassing stuff anyway.

"What's with the nice clothes?" She says walking in a circle around him. He and Rhine usually don't care about the Reapings so they never bother dressing up. In fact Rhine is only wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and a jean jacket like she always wears. Max has never seen her actually take off that jacket.

"Well, it's my last Reaping so I thought 'Why not go out with a bang?'" Max lies. He hates lying to his best friend but she would freak if she knew he was volunteering.

Rhine just shrugs. "Whatever. Ready to go?"

"Yeah, sure." Rhine leads the way as they walk back down the stairs and out the front door. "Where's your parents?" She asks as Max, locks the door.

"Don't know. Probably already at the Reaping. My dad had to be there early." Max pockets his keys and they head toward the District Square. "So Rhine?"

"So Max?"

"Are you thinking about volunteering?"

She shakes her head. "No, that's not for me. I'm not much of a fighter and I don't care money."

"But you don't just get money as a Victor. You get the glory of winning and honor for your district."

Rhine rolls her eyes. "Honor, glory, I don't care about any of that crap. I don't know, maybe I'll feel different in a couple years when it's my last Reaping." She eyes him. "You're not thinking of volunteering, right Max?"

"Pfft, no." Another lie. "Anyway," Max says now trying to change the subject, "Why did the muttation cross the road?"

Rhine looks at him, a bit confused. "Um, I don't know, why?"

"Who cares? It's a muttation. Run for your life!" Rhine chuckles. "You are so weird."

"I take such pride in that." Max says.

"Why am I friends with you?" Rhine asks herself.

"Cause I'm immature and you loooooooooooooove it." Max teases. Rhine shoves his shoulder. "You're annoying."

"And you looooooooove it."

"You're a goofball."

"And you loooooooooooooove-"

"Max I swear if you say that again I'll-"

"All right, all right!" Max says, holding up his hands and grinning at her. "You know you love it though."

"Fuck you."

"When?"

Rhinestone starts laughing again. "In your dreams Maxie!"

Max laughs too. "I'm just kidding Rhine."

"Yeah, yeah…." They reach the District Square where kids are lining up to sign in. Rhine bites her lip and looks away when they prick her finger. She has never had a stomach for blood.

"I'll see you after?" She asks, looking straight into Max's eyes.

"Yeah, of course." Max's eyes flicker downward to his feet. He hates telling so many lies. Even if it's something he's good at.

"Okay… well, Happy Hunger Games!" Rhine chuckles and waves at Max as she walks over to the 16-year-old's section. Max watches her retreating figure. The he sighs and walks over to stand with the other 18-year-old's. A few of the boys in the section recognize Max and greet him. However Max is too deep in his thoughts (which is very rare for him) to have a conversation.

Okay, on the pro side of volunteering, Max says to himself weighing his options, you get to show off your fighting moves…not that you have many but you can always fake it. Dad'll be proud of you, Kirk will be bothered if you win and if you do win you'll be rich and famous. And girls just can't get enough of famous, handsome Victors.

However on the con side, volunteering would upset Kirk and Rhine, who are probably the closest people to you. And you could die. Which is pretty bad.

Max ran his hand through his hair. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't used to having so much pressure on him. He spots the mayor and the other officials of District 1 walking onto the stage. Well, if he made a decision he'd have to make it now and fast.

The mayor begins the very long, boring speech of Panem's history. All the old stuff about the Dark Days, how The Capitol reclaimed Panem after the districts revolted, how District 13 was destroyed and why the Hunger Games were established. Then he started with the new history how the districts revolted again this time led by the victor Katniss Everdeen. Of course, the Capitol won again and reclaimed all the districts.

Max never really listened to the speech since he had heard it for five years and everyone knew the story. But he still has not made his decision as District One's escort, Petunia Florence, walks up to the microphone.

"Happy Hunger Games, District One!" She begins, smiling brightly at the crowd. As always Petunia is wearing her white blouse and lace leggings with a bright pink raincoat over her outfit. She wears different colored contact lenses so that one eye looked pink and the other was an egg white color. Max wonders if she even knew what color her eyes really were as she continued her speech.

"It's now that time of the year! We will start with the girls!" Petunia turns to the bowl holding the girls of District One's names and selects a paper. She unfolds the paper and reads out the name. "Silver Knight!"

"I volunteer!" Only one girl shouts out from the 17-year-old's section. Max faintly recognizes her voice but can't seem to remember who it belongs to.

"Oh, I see here we have a very eager volunteer." Petunia says as the crowd parts for the girl to go onstage. "Come on up dear, come along." The 'very eager' volunteer, walks onto the stage, perfectly poised, an arrogant half-smile on her face.

Holy shit, it's like Max has been hit with a thunder bolt. She is hot! The girl has straight black hair that goes past her shoulders and piercing blue eyes. Of course the boys, including Max, are not staring at her eyes but the low cut- very low cut dress she is wearing.

"And what is your name, sweetie?" Petunia asks. The girl looks straight into the audience, still grinning that cocky half-smile.

"Harley Johansen." Her smile widens and Max can tell she is looking directly at the cameras.

Oh yeah, the girl from history! Max realizes, still staring at Harley. He always thought she was a looker, but man oh man how am I gonna get up onstage next to that?

"And now for the boys." Petunia reaches into the glass bowl and pulls out a name. "Wonder Prascus!"

"I volunteer!" This time there are about six boys who shout the sentence out at the same time. Including Max. Hey she might not pick me anyway, I should just give it a try. Petunia puts her hand to her chin in a thinking posture. Then she points directly at Max.

Crap.

Sorry, I wasn't too sure there for a second. Didn't mean to volunteer. Carry on. Let what's-his-name have it. I'll just be on my way.

Max feels the urge to deny he tried to volunteer and just let someone else have it. But instead he pushes forward through the crowd of boys and up to the stage. The girl-Harley- narrows her eyes at him and he grins at her.

"And what is your name handsome?" Petunia says, winking at Max. Max looks directly at Harley as he says his full name. "Drake. Maxwell Archibald Cadimus Drake."

Except for a few snickers, the crowd is completely silent. Okay, that sounded much better in my head.

"Let's give a hand to your new tributes District One!" Max smiles as the audience applauds for him and Harley. I could get used to this….

---

"Danny stop it! Stop! You're getting water everywhere and I've already had a bath!" Callie laughs as Daniel splashes her with the bath water. "Danny hold still so your big sister Callie can give you a bath. Hold still."

"No." Daniel laughs along with Callie, opening his mouth in a toothless smile. Being almost a year old, Daniel can only say a few words and phrases. No is one of his favorites along with won't and can't.

"We don't have much water Danny, now be a good boy and hold still." Callie tries using a stern voice to make her baby brother behave, but what's the use? Danny is just plain naughty and Callie couldn't be stern with him if she wanted to.

"No." The baby laughs again, waving his arms around. Callie shakes her head, smiling at him. "You're such a little rascal you are." She says finally getting ahold of him. "Mommy and Daddy will have their hands full with you when they get off work."

"Mama." Danny points his little finger at her nose.

"Oh no Danny. I'm not Mama. Mama's working like always. Just like she and Daddy always are." Callie lets out a sigh. Things have gotten so bad since having Daniel. With the extra and very fussy mouth to feed, both of her parents had to make themselves available for more time at the power plant, making Callie Daniel's chief guardian and babysitter. They even had to work Reaping Day, even though other districts had the day off. But if District 5 wasn't always working the other districts and the Capitol would not have power.

Callie is lost in her thoughts and doesn't notice a soap bubble rise up from the sink and pop in front of Danny's eye. The child's eyes start to water up and he makes a mewling sound.

"Oh no, Danny it's all okay. Everything's okay." Callie says, using her most soothing tone. She kisses Daniel on the forehead. "Guess bath time is over then." She says, lifting him out of the sink and lying him down carefully on a towel on the floor. Daniel coos at Callie and grabs her finger. He sticks her finger in his mouth and sucks on it.

"You want your binkie don't you? There, there, big sister will get it for you." Callie looks around the room searching for Daniel's binky. Ah ha there it is, right on the edge of the sink where I left it. Callie gently removes her finger from Daniel's mouth and grabs the binky. "Here we are." She put the binkie in Danny's mouth and he immediately sucks on it.

Callie smiles at him and pats him with the towel, drying him off. Danny giggles as she does so.

"Oh does that tickle? Are you ticklish?" Callie grins and starts tickling Danny's stomach. Danny laughs more and kicks his feet up. Callie laughs and takes both of his feet in her hands. "Careful or you'll take my eye out." She releases his feet then stands. "You stay there and behave now." She says to Danny, as she opens the door to go outside.

It's such a beautiful day, Callie thinks, taking in her surroundings. The sun is shining brightly, the trees are swaying in the slight breeze and Callie can hear a mockingjay start to sing in the distance. Callie breathes in the fresh air before going over to the clothesline. She starts taking the laundry down from the line and putting it in a basket next to her. Her family does not have the money for fancy clothes but they make do with what they have. That goes for luxuries such as hot water, allowance, more modern furniture, and things like that. Callie does not mind much. She has grown to love the simple life she leads.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots one of her neighbor's walking out of his house and into the street. "Good morning Mr. Cantrell!" She calls to him, waving her hand.

He looks about, wondering where the voice came from then spots Callie. He immediately starts to smile. "Ah, hello Callie! I believe it is 'good afternoon' now though."

"Oh my mistake. Time sure does fly by." He chuckles. "Are you parent's home?"

Callie shakes her head. "No, they had the early shift. I'll be meeting them at the Reaping."

"Ah yes the Reaping, I'm headed down there now. I have to see what the competition looks like this year." Mr. Cantrell is a very nice man. However he has never been married and has never had any children. He likes to gamble a lot and his main game is the odds for the Reapings.

Callie nods and brushes her blonde hair out of her eyes. She very much disagrees with the way Mr. Cantrell acts about the Reapings but she's in no place to reprimand him. Everyone is entitled to their opinion.

"Don't worry Callie, the odds are quite in your favor. You didn't have to take the tesserae until this year correct?" Mr. Cantrell has a sly look on his face that is usually present when he is gambling.

"Yes, after Daniel was born things got a bit…difficult." Callie lowers her eyes. Mr. Cantrell waves his hand. "Forget about it Callie. There are a lot of more kids who have their names in more times than you have."

"Yes I know."

"I'd better be off. I'll see you at the Reaping."

"Have a nice day!" Callie's waves to him as Mr. Cantrell turns back and walks down the road. Callie turns her attention back to the laundry trying to shake the thought of her name being picked. Mr. Cantrell was right. She only had her name in about eight times which was much less the most of the children her age. Her parents had never wanted her to take the tesserae and she had only been forced to do so until they had Danny. Despite her parents working more hours, they still had the need for food. Callie had no choice. But it was only one time. One time couldn't hurt her chances.

Put it out of your mind Callie, she tells herself, you have nothing to worry about. She carefully folds one of her father's nicer shirts, making sure it will not wrinkle. When she is done, she picks the basket up and takes it into the house.

Danny has closed his eyes by now and is taking a nap, the binkie still in his mouth, his little hands curled up. Callie places the laundry basket on the table then bends down and lifts Danny up. She cradles him for a bit, watching him peacefully slumber. She then places him on a table and takes one of his nappies out from the basket.

Danny wakes up as she is putting his diaper on but he does not cry. He merely stares at her, sucking away on his binkie.

"There we go." She lifts him up. "That feels better right?" She gives him a kiss on the cheek. "I suppose we should get dressed for the Reaping now." She says to herself.

"Weaping?" Danny asks. Callie laughs and nuzzles him. "Don't you worry little one, it'll be years before you're eligible." Callie's voice falters near the end of that. She stares at Danny, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. Someday her little brother would be eligible for the Reapings. She might not have to worry now, but when Danny is 12 she knows she will be among the families who group together in the square, hoping their child will not be picked. The same fate awaits her own children. And Callie wants children so very much. She can only hope that they will have the same luck she has had so far.

Shaking her head of those thoughts, Callie dresses Danny in blue foot-pajamas. They have no money for nice baby clothes so the pajamas will have to do. Just like the bath, Danny fidgets around and kicks. She laughs and tells him not to be naughty which she knows will never happen.

Putting Danny back onto the towel, she walks into the next room, which she shares as a bedroom with her parents. She already had planned what she would wear the day before. A yellow sundress that goes to her knees is hanging from a chair with her gray flats. She slips the dress over her head and slides the flats on. Her hair is dry from her bath by now so she is able to comb it. To finish the outfit, Callie clips a sunflower barrette in her hair that her mother had found last year. She twirls around a few times in the dress, giggling. She does not get to wear this dress often and she has always loved when she can put it on.

Callie goes back into the other room and sees her baby brother has once again fallen asleep. Careful not to disturb him, she picks him up. She carries him with her and opens the door. She steps outside letting the door close and starts to walk to the Reaping.

The District Square is not far from her house and she is there within minutes. She does not sign-in right away, instead searching for her parents in the growing crowd.

"Move it along now Miss." A Peacekeeper says to her, trying to grab her arm. Callie steps back to avoid him. "I'm sorry sir, but I have to get Danny to my parents first. I can't really be holding a baby during the Reaping right?"

The Peacekeeper's eyes flicker to the baby in Callie's arms. "All right, but you should find your parents before the Reaping starts."

"Yes sir." Callie says, darting around the Peacekeeper. She continues to walk through the crowd, scanning for any sign of her parents. When the officials mount the stage, Callie finally spots her mother. She hurries over and her mother, spotting Callie, reaches out and takes Danny from her.

"Callie-" She starts to say.

"Mama the Reapings about to start, we can talk after." Callie says, and rushes back to sign in and take her place with the other 14-year-olds, very much out of breath.

"Callie." She hears her name called out. Callie turns to see her friends, Kess and Lorelei, waving to her. She goes over to them and takes Kess's hand.

"We were worried there for a moment Callie." Lorelei tells her.

"I had to find my parents to take care of Danny." She says, "How was your day?"

Her friends are not able to answer as the mayor steps up and reads his speech about the history of Panem. Callie has heard this many times and finds it much too upsetting to listen to. She looks back in the crowd toward her parents. Danny is awake now, pointing his little hand at her, probably wondering why she is separate from the family. She smiles at him and crosses her eyes. Danny laughs.

"Your little brother is adorable." Kess whispers to Callie.

"Isn't he a darling? He's so naughty though."

"He's a boy can you expect anything less?" Callie shakes her head as the District 5 escort, Isis Nerva, slowly walks in front of the microphone.

"Greetings, District 5!" She says in a soft voice. Isis is probably the oldest of the district escorts. She is about 50 or so year's old but has tried to make herself look much younger with many surgeries on her body. Her skin is pure white and is pulled so tight she has trouble moving. Her smile is much too white and looks almost painful. She wears the same outfit she always has, a spring green pantsuit with green high heels. She dyed her hair baby blue and wears it swept up in a bun. Her eye make-up is blue as well.

"Well, it-it's that time again! As always, ladies first." Isis makes her way to the bowl with the girl's names. She reaches in but she seems to have trouble grabbing onto a piece of paper. Each one she grabs slips from her hands.

Lorelei sniggers and Callie gives her a look. "What?"

"Be nice." Callie says, and Lorelei just shrugs.

Isis has finally managed to grab onto a slip and she walks back to the microphone. "And the girl tribute is…." She fumbles to unfold the piece of paper.

Lorelei chuckles. "Lorelei it's not funny to laugh at someone who has trouble-"

"Callie Breck!" Callie snaps her head up and looks at Isis, her brown eyes widening. "No." She whispers. No this can't be happening!

"Callie Breck!" Callie gulps, trying to hold back the tears she feels coming on. Kess gives her hand a squeeze as she pulls away and makes her way through the crowd.

The whole time she is moving toward the stage, Callie is fighting back tears. She can't let Danny see her cry it would only upset him. But I'm never gonna see him again! I'm going to die! I'm going to die and I'll never see my baby brother again!

That last thought does it. As soon as Callie puts her foot on the first step she bursts into tears. She climbs onto the stage, sobbing into her hands. She desperately tries to stop but she can't! She can't! Why was it me?!

"Shhh, there, there honey." Isis puts her arms around Callie and pulls her to her chest. Callie gulps and cries all over the woman's blouse. "Honey, settle down, settle down." Callie tries to pull herself together but when she hears a wailing start in the crowd she only sobs harder.

Danny. Danny was crying for her. He didn't know why Callie was crying but seeing her so upset set him off. Callie finally cries herself out and stands there sniffing, in front of all of District 5 and the Capitol as well.

"Well, are there any volunteers?" There is complete silence in response to the question. "Then let's move onto the boys!" Moving quicker than she has in years, Isis takes a slip from the boy's bowl and unfolds it. Probably because Callie has already caused enough of a scene.

"Seth Ouranos!" Callie wipes her eyes on her sleeve as a young boy walks up from the 13-year-old's section. He is quite short, barely as tall as Callie herself. His red hair looks like fire as he stands in the sun. His skin is as pale as chalk and he has deep black eyes that look like holes in his skull. He looks at Isis with disgust then turns his gaze toward Callie.

Callie shivers as he stares at her. There is something behind those eyes. Something…not right.

"District 5 your tributes!" Isis says, holding out her hands for applause. She receives none.

The mayor steps back up to read The Treaty of Treason. Callie looks out into the audience, directly at her family. Her parents look distressed but Danny is still crying, his little face red and blotchy. A tear comes to Callie's eye as she looks at him. Her baby brother will probably never see her again.

---

A loud pounding on the door awakens Garret. He lifts his head from the table and covers his ears, the pounding not helping his massive headache.

"Open up! It's the Peacekeepers! We order you to open this door!" The pounding only gets louder.

"All right! I'm coming!" Using the table for support, Garret staggers to his feet and walks over to the door. He opens the door and the sunlight blinds him. Garret rubs his eyes and squints at the Peacekeepers. "Wuh-what do you want?"

"Garret O'Neill you are to report to the Reaping immediately or you will be detained." The Peacekeeper says.

Ugh, the Reaping of course. "Sure, fine, I'll be there in five minutes." Garret says and makes to close the door but the Peacekeeper jams his boot in the doorway and pulls it back open. "You will report to the Reaping immediately or you will be detained Mr. O'Neill."

"Okay buddy fine. But just warning you, I have a bit of a hangover." The Peacekeepers eyes immediately go to Garret's right arm. Garret follows his gaze and realizes he is still clutching the neck of a beer bottle. It's strange how he didn't notice that before….

"Fine, you have five minutes then I arrest you." The Peacekeeper relents. Garret gives him a two-fingered salute and shuts the door. Garret sighs and turns around, placing the bottle back on the table. He shuffles along to the bathroom and turns on the water in the sink.

Garret splashes the cold water on his face, hoping it will wake him up a bit more. He runs a hand through his short brown hair, wetting it down, then places both hands on the sides of the sink and looks into the dirtied mirror. His brown eyes are rimmed with red, dark bags underneath, and his face still looks slightly green. Not one of his better mornings.

Garret had been drinking a lot more lately. He didn't really know why, it could be his job, the bills he has yet to pay, the reminder that breath he takes is one that Lisa-no stop it, stop it now. He doesn't know. But every night it's the same routine. He clocks out of work at eight, goes down to the liquor store, buys whatever alcohol he touches, goes back to his house and drinks until he falls asleep. He wakes up the next morning and, depending on how hung-over he is, goes back to work and starts the cycle again. All the alcohol he drinks must be unhealthy for him, but he doesn't care. Anything to ease the pain.

Garret takes a couple minutes to brush his teeth and change into some slightly nicer clothes before he walks back to the door. He puts his hand on the doorknob but does not open it.

I'll be damned if some Peacekeeper asshole drags me by the ear to the Reaping, he thinks to himself. So instead of opening the door, Garret crawls out the window and sneaks past the Peacekeeper waiting for him.

That'll teach him a lesson, Garret thinks, not to wake me when I'm hung-over. Unable to help himself, he takes one look back at his house. His and Lisa's house. Their home or it would have been. If it weren't for the Hunger Games.

The house isn't very large or fancy. It's a small, peaceful looking cottage, made up of a kitchen, living room and two small bedrooms. It wasn't much, but it was the perfect place to raise a family. That's why they had picked it. It was the house they would have lived out their whole lives together. The house where he could have woken up every morning to feel Lisa's breath on his face or heard her singing in the kitchen as she made breakfast. It was the house where his daughters could have run around, playing with their dolls, blue ribbons in their hair. It was the house where his son could have given him a ball and demanded his father play catch in the backyard together.

It was a perfect house for what they wanted. But that was in the past. Before Lisa had been Reaped.

Forcing himself to look away, Garret keeps his eyes on the road, trying not to stumble over the rocks. He has to blink his eyes and shake his head to keep himself from passing out again. The street was empty since everyone was already at the Reapings. He had slept well past noon and probably would have slept through the Reapings if the Peacekeeper hadn't knocked on his door. He really should get an alarm clock so he can actually be on time for once. But then again, the alarm would just make his head hurt and he would probably smash it with a hammer. He passes the graveyard, thinking about going to visit his parents but decides against it. There would be plenty time after the Reapings.

He is still looking at the graveyard when he bumps into someone. Literally bumps into, making the person stumble and lose her balance.

"Watch it!" An irritable voice says. The girl he bumped into turns her head. "Hey, asshat! I'm talking to you!"

"It would help if you moved a bit faster." Garret says, not wanting to apologize to such a rude girl.

Her eyes narrow at him. "Shut it ass, before I break your kneecaps." With that, she turns around and walks off.

Well isn't she a ray of sunshine? Garret shakes his head. Hoping he won't run into her again, he starts walking up the path to the District Square, where the mayor has just walked onto the stage.

Garret happens to be very familiar with that stage. He's been up there more than one time, either watching or being a part of the punishment of District 8 rebels. Garret has always been on the receiving end of the punishment and he has the back scars to prove it. He doesn't know how many times he's been whipped. The most he's ever remembered of the punishments was the third time the rebels had tried to fight the Peacekeepers. Garret had not been a victim of the Cat yet but that time he was the first to be dragged up and tied to the post. The first lash had been right in the middle of his back. The pain was enough to make his eyes water and his knees to bend. He did not cry out though, he stood firm. It was the only dignity he had left. He did not make a sound until the sixth lash which had snaked around onto his stomach. Then he screamed. He had been thirteen years old and he had screamed so that all of District 8 could hear him. Tears had rolled down his face and he had pleaded for the Peacekeeper to stop; but he did not. He kept going seven, eight, nine, twelve, fifteen, twenty times until Garret had passed out. He was hauled off the stage and was given to his parents, who carried him home and laid him on his pallet. He couldn't move for days, every part of him screaming in pain. It was Lisa, even then, who had put the medicine on his back. In a few weeks, Garret was healed and was ready for it again. He was whipped much more than twenty times in later years, but never once did he scream. No, he wouldn't allow the Peacekeepers to strip him of his dignity ever again. He took the pain and punishment and was back to fight them again. He did that until he was seventeen. He is eighteen now, and has not felt the Cat in over a year. Perhaps it's because, there is nothing left for him to fight for.

Garret signs in and walks over to where the other eighteen year-olds' are standing. The mayor is almost finished with the History of Panem speech. I should have just stayed asleep, Garret thinks to himself, tuning out the mayor. He notices out of the corner of his eye that some of the other boys are edging away from him. Did he really smell that bad? Or was it something else? Maybe they didn't want to be acquainted with one of District 8's most notorious rebels.

The mayor finishes his speech and the District 8 escort, Silas Pitio, takes the stage. Garret has always thought of Silas as the Human Doll. His dyed-orange skin and hair shine in the sun, looking more like plastic then flesh. His blue eyes are incredibly wide taking up the better part of his face. His mouth is always in a big grin no matter the occasion. His orange shirt has the top few buttons undone which exposes a hairless chest. He wears black pants and what looks to be black platform shoes.

These Capitol people and their stupid fashions, Garret thinks as Silas grins at the audience.

"Good afternoon District 8! Are you ready for the Reaping?" The Human Doll asks, rolling his tongue on the R's. The people of 8 do not respond, every single one of them glaring at the Capitol man. It's a wonder how Silas can keep his smile when the hate radiates from the audience. But then again Garret has serious doubts that the smile is even real.

"Okay! We'll start with the girls!" Silas goes over to the glass bowl holding all the girl's names and fishes out one of the pieces of paper.

"Alana Harris!" One of the girls in the 18-year-old's section swears loudly and walks up to the stage. After she has walked up the staircase and onto the stage Garret can finally get a good look at her. Alana wears a sour expression on her dark face and her green eyes glance at Silas; she looks at him like he is some kind of bug she wants to squash. Her black hair is close to the color of her skin, cut close to her head but she is very skinny for some reason. Garret realizes a few minutes later that she was the girl he had run into eariler.

When Silas turns to see her he gives a slight shriek at her appearance. Then he coughs. "My, aren't you…something." Alana growls at him and turns away.

"Okay…." Silas shakes himself and puts on his smile again. "And now for the boys." He walks over to the glass bowl for the boys and grabs the first slip his hand touches, clearly not wanting to spend any more time on stage with Alana. "Garret O'Neill!"

Well this was bound to happen sooner or later, is all Garret thinks as he makes his way to the stage. His parents were both part of the rebels and so is he. Lisa wasn't really a rebel but she was always there for him and his parents. It was bound to happen. The well-known rebel of District 8 had caused enough damage and now the Capitol had to get rid of him. In the most brutal way they could think of.

Garret steps onto the stage and feels a pang of guilt. He never got to visit his parents' graves. Now he probably won't even get the chance to say goodbye to them. Or to Lisa.

"Are there any volunteers?" Silas asks when Garret is on the stage. Of course no one would volunteer for him. They all know he has nothing left in District 8. And, at least if he goes maybe he will win and bring the district some money and food. Out of all of them Garret O'Neill has the best chance of surviving.

But a part of him doesn't want to survive.

---

District 12 took the longest time to rebuild. When the rebellion was put down the citizens of 13 were immediately relocated into District 12 and the Capitol took command of 13. The citizens had a lot of work ahead of them as most of the District was still covered in rubble and ash from the bombings. Only Victor's Village was left standing. Families were able to take refuge there until their houses were rebuilt then they were forced to move back in. The citizens of 13 were granted the houses of the citizens who had died in the bombing and in District 13. The Justice Building and District Square were the first things to be reconstructed as were the whipping post and scaffolds. After all the Peacekeepers had to establish authority among the new citizens of 12.

The only person who did not work was Haymitch Abernathy, who was under house arrest. He was allowed plenty of white liquor which was enough to keep him sedated through the 76th, 77th and 78th Hunger Games. Haymitch hardly ever spoke to anyone, not even the tributes for five years. He never cleaned his house and he never even bathed. It looked like he had just given up.

The district is still in repair as he trudges down the streets of District 12, a bottle of wine in one hand, a jagged knife in the other. Taking a swig from the bottle, he looks at the shops that are being repaired by the women. Not even on Reaping day were the citizens given a day off of the work. Haymitch has to take another swig as one of the women looks at him, her eyes full of despair, her face gaunt and thin from hunger. Haymitch merely sighs and stares at his feet as he shuffles toward the District Square.

For once in his life Haymitch is actually early for the Reapings. A few kids mill around in the square, their parents anxiously wait on the sidelines and Peacekeepers are still putting the last touches on the stage. As Haymitch climbs the stairs he is shocked to see a woman in a bright pink wig at the microphone.

"You're here? Last I heard you went nutso." He says, swallowing more of the wine, when Effie Trinket turns to greet him. She frowns and looks at the bottle in his hands. "I see you're still the same drunken old man you were five years ago." She says to him.

"And you're still the same uptight gaudy bitch you were five years ago." He shoots back. He can't help but notice the minimal make-up on Effie's face. Come to think of it she is dressed rather plainly as well. The only shocking thing about her is the wig.

It was said that Effie Trinket had been taken prisoner by the Capitol during the rebellion. They tortured her for information but when they found out she didn't have any they gave up on her. Left her in a jail cell to rot. They left her in that cell for a year after the rebellion and when they let her out, she wasn't the same Effie. This Effie didn't seem to care for fashion and was prone to bouts of depression that would overtake her at any time. No one knows what they did to her in the Capitol but whatever it was left a permanent look of emptiness in her eyes. Haymitch pities her, what they did to her was much worse than they did to him. At least he has alcohol.

"Oh we can't have that here Haymitch." She says, taking the knife from his hand, looking at him warily like he might try to use it on her. The thought has crossed his mind before but now Effie is too pitiful to hate to that extreme. Haymitch grunts and eases himself into a chair, gulping down the rest of the wine. He throws the bottle onto the stage. It crashes and breaks into a million pieces. He looks for Effie's reaction but she only nods and asks a Peacekeeper to sweep it up.

Haymitch sighs. This is going to be a long Games.

Even though hours pass by before the square is full, to Haymitch's drunken self it only seems like a few minutes. Once again he has to watch the kids' line up to be picked for slaughter, sort of like pigs on a farm. The poor saps don't have a chance at winning anymore. It seemed like a stroke of luck that the 76th finalists were both from 12 however Haymitch had suspicions that a certain President Snow was involved in helping the girl make it that far. But then the luck ran out, the rest of the kids died in the Bloodbath. Haymitch spent the rest of the Games unconscious to the world. He wasn't that upset the kids had died. There was no way he could save them. They knew, he knew it, so why even bother. A couple of them accepted their fates, the rest tried to train on their own to no avail. And, one by one, they all died.

The thing that does upset Haymitch would be the fact that there is no more Chaff to be drunk with. Chaff was probably Haymitch's only friend, the only person who could make him genuinely smile and laugh. But Chaff had died in the 75th. So now, Haymitch drinks alone.

The mayor, Haymitch can never remember this guy's name all that comes to his mind is the long dead Mayor Undersee, starts to read the History of Panem. Right around this time every year, Haymitch wishes he had a drink. This year is no different.

He grumpily scratches his head and slumps in his seat. Let's just get this thing over with so I can get onto the train and into the bar.

The mayor finishes and Effie steps up to the microphone. She puts a big smile on for the crowd, but it is lacking the enthusiasm that she normally shows. "Welcome to this year's Reaping District 12!" She says, "Now it is time again to pick one young man and woman to participate in this year's Hunger Games!" This may not be the same Effie but her voice still grates Haymitch's ears. "We'll start with the ladies, as always!" Effie removes one of her gloves as she walks over to the glass ball. Her hand hovers over it for a second and Haymitch can swear he sees a slight look of hesitation cross her face. Maybe he didn't, for she plunges her hand into the bowl and picks out a name.

Effie Trinket unfolds the slip of paper and reads the name on it. "Sabrina Tudor!"

The crowd starts to murmur as they part to let a girl from the 16-year-old section through. Haymitch can understand why they are daring to whisper to their friends as the girl walks up onto the stage. He has never seen or heard of this Sabrina girl and clearly neither has the rest of District 12. This is odd. District 12 is so small practically everyone has been acquainted with each other. It is common to not know a first name, but a last name like Tudor has never existed in District 12. Perhaps she was from District 13.

Sabrina has light blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. She is of average height, though she seems to have some muscles in her calves from what Haymitch can see since her blue dress goes to her knees. Maybe she is merchant class? Not likely. Sabrina's expression is impassive when Effie greets her. She does not speak, but she looks out into the audience, as if a bored of these proceedings. Haymitch wonders if this is all an act and that she is trying to act like she is stronger than she looks. Maybe she has a secret weapon or talent.

"Are there any volunteers?" Effie asks. Haymitch looks out into the audience but there are no Katniss Everdeen's willing to take the girl's place. "Then we'll move onto the boys." Effie takes a slip from the boys' glass bowl and unfolds it. "Nix Palais!" Well that's a name.

Haymitch looks out into the audience and sees a boy walking up and the rest of the 17-year-old's edge away from him. Nix seems a bit shocked at first but starts grinning when he reaches the stage. He has spiky blonde hair and brown eyes, with a twinkle of mischief in them. His smile is strange to see, why would someone be smiling when they've just been Reaped? Haymitch would say this was an act as well, but he knows this boy is not acting.

Now Haymitch actually does recognize Nix. Not by name but from that glint of mischief in his eye and that smile that he wears whenever he has caused trouble. Nix is very famous around the district for his pranks on Peacekeepers. He once lifted the toupee of the Head Peacekeeper with a line of twine and a make-shift fishing hook. He was whipped for that but that's the worst of punishments he has received. The rest have been extra work, less food, more school work, etc. Nix is also known for his sarcasm and wit. He has some nice muscles from all the manual labor he's had to do and he is very smart as well. Good-looking, strong, clever, we might have a winner here, Haymitch thinks to himself, I already like him. It might be because Nix reminds him a bit of himself before his Games. He'll have to get closer to this kid during training.

The mayor steps back up and reads the Treaty of Treason. Haymitch knows neither of the kids are listening, both of them are staring out into the audience, Sabrina with an unreadable expression, Nix still has the grin on his face. When Effie tells them to shake hands. Nix leans forward a bit and whispers something to Sabrina. Haymitch has to crane his neck to hear him.

Let's show those Capitol freaks what District 12 is made of.

Sabrina makes no response, but she tilts her head as if curious to why this boy would be so friendly to her.

Effie guides the tributes into the Justice Building and the crowd disperses. Haymitch tries to get one last look at the tributes before heading to the train. He is shocked to see Sabrina looking right back at him. She holds his eyes for a moment then gives the smallest of nods. Then she is gone.

This chapter is 31 pages long on Microsoft Word… and I have proof read this about 12 times. I bet I still missed some stuff though. You're welcome.

I am well aware that not all these POV's are equal, Skyler, Max and Callie's being the longest. But there is much more to Harley and Garret and that you will see in later chapters. Can you guess who the main of District 12 is? I'll give you a hint, it's not Haymitch.

So those are the main characters of this story. Harley and Max from District 1, Skyler from 4, Callie from 5, Garret from 8 and one of the tributes from 12. Seth, Alana, and the other tribute from 12 will also have pretty big roles to play in this story.

Hope the chapter was worth the wait. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorite, followed, etc. this story! I will get another chapter out soon.

- THE-BANNED-AUTHOR