.:.:Titiana Atria Tebetta, 17:.:.
The whole world swirls around me as I open my eyes.
For a brief second, I can't remember where I am, or who I am.
My name is Titiana Atria Tebetta. I was adopted at a young age by Hera Tebetta. I am in the Tebetta household, sleeping in the comfiest room in the house. I am seventeen years old. Today is the reaping. I am going to volunteer for the reaping. As in, take part in the Hunger Games.
That was enough to snap me back to reality. I sit up from bed, propping myself up with my elbows. The room is dimly lit by the light shining through the thin curtains on the windows. When did I close the curtains last night? Hera must have done that. Also, I don't think I turned off the lampshade next to me before falling asleep. The book I was reading then is on the ground, next to the bed, probably must've tumbled off when I woke up.
"Titiana! Wake up! Breakfast is nearly ready!"
I sigh and let my feet fall onto the carpet underneath me. After a few seconds of stretching, I stand up and pad my way to the bathroom.
The reaping… is today. I'm finally seventeen years old and must volunteer in order for Hera not to be disappointed in me. I must not disappoint Hera. She loves me so and wants me to repay her with victory. If I win, I will be able to stay with her forever… but don't I need to stay in the Victor's Village? Would Hera want to move in with me?
No, Titiana. Don't think those thoughts now. It's not the time.
I let it all wash away and go down the drain along with the warm water coming from the shower.
.:.:Maximillian Sharp, 18:.:.
"Crap, crap, crap…"
I'm late for the reapings. How long had I been working? Think it was since twelve last night. It's nearly eight now, so that's eleven hours…
Everyone stares at me as I run to my place in the eighteen year olds' section. They're all fancily clad in suits and pretty dresses, while I'm in my grime-covered jumpsuit. Fine, maybe I don't exactly look the best for the reapings, but who the hell cares? It's my last year and there's probably no chance that the escort, Demetrius Stoic, is going to pick my name from that glass bowl.
I try to brush some of the dirt off from my jumpsuit. It doesn't go off. Oh, well. I'll change when I get back.
Demetrius skips – yes, skips – onstage and beams at the crowd. He's wearing an orange suit this year, with a green bowtie and green shoes to match his groomed, forest green hair.
"Welcome, welcome, children of District 2! You must know me as Demetrius Stoic, your escort!" He sounds ever so enthusiastic. If you listen closely, you can tell that his voice was genetically altered to be high-pitched and kind of like a girl's. Some people in my line snort at this. Either that or they were snorting at what I was wearing.
"Now, this year is a very special year!" Whispers go through the crowd about the specialty of this year's Quarter Quell – there could be two victors from the same district coming out of the arena. Demetrius coughed, silencing everyone.
"As I was saying, this year is a very special year. This year is the fourth Quarter Quell, where the two people I will pick next can come out of the arena, alive, together!"
Everyone claps. Demetrius flashes another smile, this time probably for the cameras. "So, for the reaping!"
He circles both of his hands over the glass bowls. I bet all the other districts have their escorts pick the names separately, but Demetrius likes making his little twists to everything.
The hands that have been creating the tension in the crowd finally dive into the pile of names. They both shoot back up at perfect timing, and Demetrius expertly flicks them open using only his thumb.
"Maya Schertz and Maximillian Sharp!"
I hear a scream from the twelve year olds section. Just then, a hand shoots up from the seventeen year olds and the owner of that hand yells, "I volunteer!"
.:.:Titiana Atria Tebetta, 17:.:.
"Well, sweetie, what's your name?"
Stoic flashes his unnaturally white teeth at me. I blink.
"Um. Titiana. My name's Titiana Atria Tebetta."
"What a lovely name!" he says. He puts his hand on my back and makes me face the rows and rows of people in front of me. "People, our female tribute, Titiana Atria Tebetta!"
Everybody claps and cheers on Demetrius' command. I smile at them – I need to make a good impression for the cameras.
The male tribute, who I recall was named Maximillian Sharp, came up the stairs of the stage. He had a smirk plastered on his face.
"You must be Maximillian Sharp!" Demetrius said, and I couldn't help giving him that 'duh' look behind his back. Maximillian seemed to notice and laughed.
Demetrius didn't suspect anything and faced the crowd again. "Maximillian and Titiana, District Two's tributes for the fourth Quarter Quell! You two, shake hands."
Maximillian takes my hand and shakes it. "It's nice to meet you, Titiana."
"Likewise, Sharp."
.:.:Maximillian Sharp, 18:.:.
I sit there, in the crying room, alone.
It's kind of ironic how I'm in a place called a crying room, yet nobody in here is crying. Well, I'm the only one here, and why should I cry? There's no point. It's not like there's anyone that's going to miss me if I die.
But I'm not the slightest bit sad. Now that I'm in the Games, I'm going to win. I'm going to win back my family's honor. I'm going to not be Max, the weirdo from the factory I work in, but Max, the victor of the 100th Hunger Games, along with… what's her name again? Titiana Atria Tebetta. That's a nice name. It suits her tough demeanor.
After a few minutes of doing nothing in the crying room, the door opens. I expect it to be a peacekeeper ushering me aboard the train but it's Ewan, the only friend I have.
"Hey," he says, awkwardly standing in front of the door. We've always had that sort of awkward-but-close-friends kind of relationship.
"Um, hey," I say, scratching the back of my head.
"So," he starts. "The Hunger Games, huh? Sounds… cool."
"It's a lot scarier than it may seem," I say. It was true – for once in my life, I was pretty much scared to death.
"I can tell." Ewan is probably the only person on Earth who can understand how I feel. My face is nearly always straight and emotionless, and if not, with a smirk plastered on it. I guess that's why we're best friends, despite the awkward aura that seems to follow us whenever we meet up.
"It's kind of lonely, not having anyone else saying goodbye to me." I rest my head on my fist.
"Well, I'm saying goodbye to you, aren't I?"
The corner of my mouth twitches. "Yeah. Thanks for that." I stand up and walk over to him
"I'll see you soon, hopefully," he says. We shake hands, and just at that moment, a peacekeeper comes in and tells us our time is up.
"Hopefully," I echo as they walk out of the room.
Hopefully. Hopefully, I won't die in the arena. Hopefully, I'll get back home in one piece, and not in a coffin.
.:.:Titiana Atria Tebetta, 17:.:.
"I'm so proud of you, Titiana," Hera says, hugging me tighter. "I'm so, so proud of you."
I felt the hot tears pour from Hera's face onto my cheeks. I felt sorry for her. I was coming back a victor, but still, she's going to have to live alone until I come back. There are the Avoxes to keep her company and do her chores for her, but it won't be the same. I let myself cry as well. Hera will understand that they're not of fear, but of pity.
"I'll miss you," I say. "What am I going to do without your advice? I might slip up. I might do something wrong that'll kill me and my district partner… Hera, I'm going to need your help so bad in the arena."
"You won't," she whispers and gives me a peck on my forehead. "You'll be just fine, my little Dalmatian. Just fine."
I smile at my old nickname. When I was two, I was found on the streets by her. I was wearing a dog tag saying my name, birthday and blood type. It's kind of sad, how my parents treated me as if I was a dog. They didn't give me a pretty locket or anything, just a dog tag. My black hair was wet from the rain and was sticking to my pale face, making me look like a Dalmatian. Of course Hera never actually mistook me for an actual dog, but the name kind of stuck a few years later when she told me about that story.
A peacekeeper comes in and tells my mother our time is up.
"Just a moment," she says. She takes a bag out of her purse and gives it to me. Before I can ask what it is, the peacekeeper takes her away and I'm left on my own in the crying room.
I open the bag, and inside is a bronze armband. I pick it up and take in the engraving on it. It's simple but beautiful. Just how Hera knows I like things.
I put in on my wrist and admire it. I will win the Hunger Games, and it will all be for Hera. Nobody else. Just Hera, the one person who has bothered to care about me after all those years of being alone.
.:.:Maximillian Sharp, 18:.:.
My district partner, Titiana, comes in just as I sit down on the fluffy sofa at the lounge.
"Sharp, we need to discuss some things," she says. Wow. Talk about straightforward.
"Hello to you too, Titiana," I say, grinning and ignoring her previous comment.
"Don't call me that," she growls. "Call me by my last name, you fool. You don't get attached to strangers too quickly like that, especially in a situation like this."
"Fine, then, Tebbie," I say. This seems to anger her more.
"It's Tebetta, idiot."
"I prefer Tebbie." I kick my shoes off, which land barely an inch away from Titiana's – no, Tebbie's, arm. "So, what do you want to 'discuss' about?"
Her left eyes twitches, and I notice the scar on her eyebrow. Probably from a close encounter in training, I guess. "Just… just forget it. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'm tired."
She storms off, and just before she closes the door to her room, I say, "Good night, Tebbie. Don't let the bed bugs bite."
Slam.
I have a feeling me and Tebbie are going to get along just fine.
