A/N- Ok, as I said, this is up very soon! Enjoy reapings for District 7 and 8!


Arya Firestone, District 7 POV

It's been four years. Four hard years since that day. That day when his name was called and he stepped away from us, never to be seen smiling again. He was only fourteen, too young to die. Too young to leave his twelve year old sister and one year old brother. Too young to let them spend the rest of their lives without him. They still have parents, but they weren't enough. Nothing was enough once that hole had been emptied.

I close the locket.

Sighing, I slip the locket back into my mother's drawer, sliding it close, slowly and quietly. Tiptoeing, I leave the room, shutting the door behind me as if I were never there. My mother would kill me if she knew I had seen the locket - or even knew of its existence. I don't know why she keeps it a secret from me. No wait, I do. She wanted just sons, no daughters. That's what she always wanted, so when I came along, I was instantly the least favourite. Everything had always been about my older brother. How he was always top of the class at school and how sporty he was. There was him; the perfect child. And then there was me. The unwanted daughter.

Then my younger brother was brought into the world and guess what? I was downgraded from the unwanted daughter to the full time babysitter. I should hate my brothers, but no matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn't. My older brother was too nice and although he received too much praise from my parents, he was never arrogant about it. He was modest and he was my brother. Until he died.

"Arya?" A small voice says my name.

I turn around and see my younger brother looking up at me. "Yes, Benny?"

"Mommy says it's time to go" He says.

"Oh, ok then. Tell her I'm on my way" I tell him.

He nods and runs back out, his worn out shoes padding down on the stained wood and his head bobbing up and down as he runs. How could I hate him? Yes, he might have made part of my life worse, but he wasn't to know. He was only one year old, so small and innocent.

Shortly afterwards, I follow and leave the room. My parents wait in the main room of the house. You can't really call it a lounge or kitchen; it's pretty much everything in one room. Except the three tiny bedrooms. They try to smile at me, but I know they're just pretending. They don't mean it. They're just trying to be nicer because their precious first born has gone. They think that being kinder to me now makes up for everything in the past. But it doesn't. I can't forget how they were before.

"You look nice, Arya" My mother says, reaching to touch my dress.

I yank it out of her reach. "Yeah, thanks"

"Arya, don't be like this. Not today" She says.

"Even more the reason" I mutter, walking outside.

I sit on the crumbled wall, half of the bricks have worn away and the cement between them has decomposed to dust. I watch as families walk past, clutching tightly to their children's' hands and that look of dread and fear on their faces. Most of the children are pale, nervousness taking over their bodies. Some are even crying, snivelling, and their eyes are red with tears. I kick a piece of stone with my toe in anger. This isn't fair. None of it is. Children shouldn't have to live in fear like this. Parents shouldn't have to have their children sent away to battle to their death in an arena. And what for? Entertainment?

Pfft, no. How can any sane person find the Hunger Games entertaining? Wait, I forgot, no-one from the Capitol is sane. They just totter about in their ridiculous costumes, chatter away in their stupid accents and find pleasure in our worst nightmares. It's sick. And they killed my brother.

The walk to the main gathering is silent, as usual. I know we're all thinking; remembering.

My parents attempt to hug me goodbye, but I put my hand out instead. They shake it awkwardly and walk away, leaving me to wait before the stage. It's busy and takes me a short while to find someone I know.

"Hi" I tap Dilly on the shoulder.

She turns around and smiles. "Oh, hey Arya. You nervous?"

"Yup, it's the reaping" I answer simply. "And you?"

"Very; I had to take out two lots of tesserae this year" She replies, nervously fiddling with her hair that's braided to the side and tied with a blue ribbon.

"I'm sure you'll be fine" I say.

"I hope so"

The anthem begins and we turn to the front. Our representative, Goldie Templeton walks on stage, clapping her hands and smiling to the crowds. Insane.

"Welcome my favourite District!" She greets us. "It's that time again, when we select our two bold and brave tributes to represent District Seven in the annual Hunger Games!"

I roll my eyes. Hardly bold and brave; we're forced to do it.

"Right, without further hesitation, I will now choose our female!" She announces, walking beside the bowl.

Her hand, with fingers so long and topped with glittering nails, swirls inside, teasing the slips of paper. Each one she brushes along could be mine. One of them could be chosen. One with my name on.

She plucks one out.

"Ahem, ladies and gentlemen, our female tribute for the 500th Hunger Games is..."

Please don't be me. Not me. Anyone but me...

"Arya Firestone!"

My heart plummets.

Phosphorus Vox, District 7 POV

"Saxon!" I call out to the woods.

He comes bounding out of the abundance of trees, his tail wagging wildly and holding something between his teeth.

"What have you go there, boy?" I ask, bending to see what he's found.

He stops in front of me and barks proudly, dropping the object at my feet. I pick it up and turn it in my hands. It's just a twig, but Saxon seems so proud of it that I start stroking his head

"Wow Saxon, a twig! Who's a clever dog?" I praise him, exaggerating a little to make him feel special.

He barks as if to say 'I am!' and his tail swishes behind him.

"Come on then, we'd better head home. It's the reaping today" I say, standing up.

Saxon barks in agreement and looks longingly at the twig that's still in my hand. Sensing he wants play, I throw the twig and start to walk home. Saxon follows behind, retrieving the twig and waiting for me to throw it again. I keep throwing it and he keeps bringing it back, all the way from the woods back to our small, run down house.

When we get in, Saxon heads straight for the fireplace and stretches out on his belly. I laugh and rub his back.

"Fire's not on Sax, it's summer"

Even so, he stays lying down and I throw him an old shoe he likes to chew on. He grabs it in his teeth and begins gnawing on the sole.

I leave him with the shoe for entertainment and go into my bedroom. My small, box like bedroom. My reaping clothes are waiting on the end of the bed and I sigh, starting to get undressed. Once I'm changed, I give my hair a quick brush and some fragments of leaves fall out. I notice my hands are dirty too, so I walk out to the kitchen sink to wash them.

When I enter, my father is sitting on the sofa, absorbed in his own thoughts. As usual.

He's been like this for a while now, ever since Mom had an affair with a Peacekeeper and left us. Some days, I can hear him talking out loud to himself, often moaning about the state of the house or what to have for tea. Things that Mom would moan about. Used to moan about. I guess he misses her, like I do. But at least I've gotten over it, unlike him, who spends most of his time sitting quietly.

I don't speak to him as I walk past, heading to the sink. I turn the tap and trickles of cold water come out, cleansing my hands and washing the off the dirt.

Glancing at the clock, I realise that the reaping starts in five minutes. Saxon and I must have been out for longer than I'd thought.

"Aren't you gonna be late?" My dad finally speaks.

"Yeah, forgot the time" I say, putting on my shoes. "I've gotta run; you coming?"

He shakes his head. "I'll meet you there"

"Fine. Bye then" I say, walking out the door.

Saxon chases after me, licking at my heels.

"Sorry, Saxon, you can't come with me now. Just wait here for me, ok?" I tell him.

His ears drop lower, but he barks obediently and runs back in the direction of home.

As I'm already late, I run to the main centre. We don't live too far away, so I manage to get there just as the Treaty of Treason is being spoken.

Quickly signing in, I slip into the appropriate group and try to avoid the stares I'm receiving. There's a few tutters from the people around me, but I just concentrate on the stage.

Goldie Templeton, District seven's representative, is just selecting the girl tribute. I'm not worried for anyone, as I have no siblings or friends apart from Saxon, so all my dread concentrates on myself.

The girl is announced and she heads up to the stage, Arya her name is. Seeing that she knows she'll probably be dead in a few weeks, she seems pretty calm. Unlike me, as I'm feeling so nervous that I'm starting to sweat.

"Ok then, ladies and gentlemen, let us move on to our male tribute!" Goldie announces, silencing the crowd.

She reaches in and pulls out a slip.

"And our boy tribute is... Phosphorus Vox!" She smiles. "What an interesting name"

It is an interesting name and I've always liked being interesting. But right now, I wish it wasn't my name.

Annabeth Rylie, District 8 POV

I stand in front of the mirror. A girl, skinny and blonde, stares back. She doesn't look like much on the outside, dressed in a plain brown skirt and a crumpled white blouse that hangs limply around her almost none-existent waist. When she turns to the side, she notices a small rip in the skirt.

I sigh heavily. "Great. Out of all the days, my skirt decides to be faulty on reaping day"

I slip the skirt down my legs and place it on my bed. Pulling open a drawer, I root around for my sewing kit. I find it easily enough, there aren't many possessions in the drawer, and I take it over and sit on the bed. I pick up the skirt and rub the soft material in my fingers, my thumb poking through the hole like a worm on a wet day.

It doesn't take long for me to match the colour up roughly and thread the needle. I pierce the material and weave the thread in and out, up and down. With District 8's industry being textiles, I picked up the hobby of sewing, and actually, I'm quite good at it. The needle easily glides between the fibres of the fabric and the gap is closed within a few minutes.

Holding the skirt out in front of me, I can barely see that there was a rip. The stitches are so small and narrow that I'm impressed with myself. Quickly, I slide back into the skirt and decide to tie my mad curls in a ponytail.

Now I look in the mirror. This time, a girl, smart and intelligent, stares back. She looks important. Just like the girls I read about. The ones who solve crimes, save the world and win the perfect guy. I may not be able to solve crimes, nor save the world, but I may be able to win the guy. Maybe.

"Annabeth! Will's here!" My Mother calls up to me.

I quickly adjust my hair and run out to the front door, smiling. My perfect guy stands outside, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Anna" Will says, accepting my hug. "You look nice"

I feel myself blush.

"Thanks" I say, then add, "You too"

And he does. He looks very nice.

"You ready to go?" He asks.

I nod. "What about Lila?"

"She's meeting us halfway" He replies, holding out his hand.

"Oh right. Sure, let's go then" I say, taking his hand.

His skin feels soft against mine, the warmth radiating off and making me feel hot inside. I try my best not to blush as we walk down the street, still hand in hand. Although we're holding hands, we're not an item...yet. Will's just a friend and holding hands is his way of showing friendship. It's nice, but I can't help wishing that it meant something else. I wish it meant that he loved me. Not as a friend. As a girlfriend.

I've had a crush on Will for as long as I can remember. From that first day we became friends, I instantly fell in love with him. I think it was his lopsided grin that caught my heart first. And it still does, stop my heart, whenever he smiles. We've been friends since we were five. So, ten years I've known him and I've still never told him that I love him. I wish I could, but I'm way to shy for that. What if he doesn't love me back? I can't ruin this friendship.

Halfway to the reaping, Lila joins us, creating our three-some. She is my other best friend and all, but I kinda liked walking with just Will. Just walking, not talking.

"So, are you both nervous?" Lila asks, taking my other arm and linking hers through.

Will shrugs. "Yeah, a bit I suppose. My name isn't in there that many times, though"

"Hmm, mine's in there about ten times, I think" Lila says, chewing her top lip in thought. "What about you, Anna; how many times is yours in?"

I look to the ground. "Twenty seven, I think. I had to take tesserae, Takai isn't old enough yet"

Will squeezes my hand. "Don't worry, lots of girls have their names in over forty times. They have a much bigger chance of being chosen"

"Thanks" I smile at him.

My smile fades soon after. We've arrived.

It seems like we got here just in time, it's pretty busy and the signing in queue is quite short. As soon as Will lets go of my hand, it starts to shake. He notices and grabs my arms.

"It's ok, Anna. Calm down, I'm here"

"You won't be for much longer. You won't be there when the names are chosen" I say, my lip quivering.

"I won't be far, I promise. You'll be able to see me, I'll make sure" He promises.

"But..but, my name...it's in there more than last year!"

"I know, I know. Don't panic though, that will only make it worse" He lets go of my arms. "Look, I'd gotta go get to my group. I'll see you later"

He walks away and Lila takes my hand instead.

"He's right, Anna" She says, walking with me to our group. "And I'm here with you"

I nod and channel my breathing. They're right.

We stand, hands linked, all through the Treaty of Treason. I keep looking over to the boys side and catch Will's eye a few times. He keeps smiling at me, mouthing that everything will be ok. I'm just mouthing something to him when everyone goes still.

I look to the front and see that the girl's name is about to be chosen. I'm quite far behind, but I can just see the slip of paper being pulled from the bowl. My stomach flips as the slip is unfolded and the name is revealed.

"And your District eight female representative for the 500th Games is..."

I hold my breath.

"Annabeth Rylie!"

I choke on the air inside my mouth.

"Come on then, where are you Annabeth?"

"Here" I answer, raising my hand.

"Up you come then"

I lower my hand and walk towards the stage. As I pass Will's row, I flick my eyes to look at him. He looks shocked, but manages an encouraging smile. An encouraging smile from Will is enough to get me to the stage without shedding a tear.

It's enough for me to do anything.

Guthrie Zython, District 8 POV

"I think this is the last one" I say, placing the box next to the others.

"Thanks Guthrie dear, you've been a great help" Mom says, standing in the doorway.

"No problem, I like to help out where I can" I say.

"And that's why you're the perfect son" She smiles, holding her arms out.

I walk over and let her hug me, her thin arms stretching across my broad back and squeezing me tightly. She holds me for a while and a droplet of wet drips onto my shoulder.

"Mom, are you crying?" I ask her.

She wipes her damp eyes with the back of her hand. "Of course not"

"Yes you are, I can see the damp in your eyes" I say.

She gives a soft sigh. "It's just that time of year again. It comes around too quickly"

I glance to the ground, knowing what 'it' is. The reaping. Mom never likes to say the word, so she just says 'it'. Personally, I think 'it' makes it sound even worse, but I'll stick with whatever Mom prefers. That's just how everything goes anyway; I'm always doing what's best for my Mom. It's always been that way and always will. Mom comes first, now that I'm older.

"Don't stress about it, Mom. I'm sure it won't be me. Seriously, what are the odds?" I say, attempting to reassure her.

"Yes, but-" She tries.

"But nothing, Mom. You go and get yourself ready; I'll tidy these boxes up a little" I tell her, shooing her inside.

She obeys and closes the door gently behind her. Then, I turn back to the boxes. There's seven of them, all waiting patiently for someone to sort them out. Some of the corners have been battered from being hauled around the District and the cardboard is scratched generously. So much for the fragile sticker.

I untape one of the boxes and peer inside, checking that it's the right delivery. Inside, there's a cluster of sewing threads of all different shades of blue, brown, green. I dip my hand in, rooting around and counting the reels of thread. The order said there were thirty five, but I can only see thirty three...

"Hey, Guthrie" A high pitched female voice comes from behind me.

I pull my hand out and turn around. Standing, dressed in a rather short dress, is Penelope. My ex girlfriend; emphasis on the ex.

"Oh... Penelope.. What a surprise to see you today.." I say, trying to act surprised. Although I'm not. Not in the slightest bit surprised. She practically stalks me. Some days I swear she sits outside my house, waiting for me to come out. Honestly, she's mental. How difficult is it to understand the words 'we are not dating anymore'?

"Yeah, well I was just passing by and I saw you. Thought it would be rude not to say hello" She smiles.

Of course, just passing by. Her favourite expression. How come she's always 'just passing by'? And come to think of it, why doesn't she just live next door? She practically spends all her life walking down this street.

"Ah, well you've said hello now" I say, subtly hinting for her departure.

"Yes, I have. But I haven't even asked how you are!" She exclaims, clearly not taking the hint. "So, Guthrie, how are you?"

"I'm fine Penelope, just fine" I say. "What about yourself?"

"Normally I would say good, but obviously not today!" She says.

Yeah, because she so looks worried about the reaping...

"The reaping, I'm presuming?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah, I'm really nervous. Feel my hands, they're shaking"

Without hesitation, she thrusts her hands into mine, giving me now choice but to feel her nervousness. I nod in agreement and try pulling my hands back, but she clings on to my wrists.

"Oh Guthrie, why don't you walk with me? I need someone with me; to reassure me that I won't be chosen" She whines.

I struggle under her tight grip. "Urm, I would, but you see I'm... um, I'm walking with someone else" I quickly pretend.

Her grip loosens a little and I slide my hands away. "Who?"

"Erm... my, erm, Mom" I answer.

Penelope runs to the window of my house and calls. "Guthrie's Mom! Guthrie has promised to walk me to the reaping, so he said he'll meet you there!"

She pauses for a moment, listening to a reply, then comes bounding back to me, glowing with pleasure.

"Right, all sorted. You're Mom said she'll walk round with your Dad and see you there in a few minutes" She tells me. "Now we can walk together"

I'm about to protest against the idea, but she slides her arm to link with mine and starts walking.

"Um, Penelope. Are you sure this-" I begin, before I'm interrupted.

"This is nice, isn't it? You and me walking together; it's like we're back together!" She says, leaning her head into my arm.

That's the last straw.

"No, Penelope, it is not nice. We are not walking together and we are certainly not back together" I say sternly, shaking her off my arm.

Penelope looks shocked and her bottom lip starts to quiver. "I didn't mean it like that... I just thought.."

"Just thought? I haven't given you any signals at all and you just presumed?" I say back.

"No, it's just that we keep seeing each other lately and you seem..." She trails off.

"No wonder we've been seeing each other a lot; you've been stalking me!" I say, raising my voice slightly.

She gasps. "I haven't been doing anything of the sort! You're just lying because you don't want to admit you want me back!"

Wow, this girl needs some serious help.

"I don't want you back!" I retort.

"Well I don't want you back either!" She yells, turning away and running from me at top speed.

I stare at thin air for a while, processing what just happened, then carry on walking.

I arrive at the reaping soon later and thankfully, there's no sign of Penelope. She's probably weeping on someone's shoulder, playing the poor ex girlfriend act. Not that anyone would buy it; she's a nutter.

I sign in and head over to the rest of the seventeen year old boys. My best mate, Jamar, is waiting for me.

"Hey, Jamar" I greet him. "You would not believe what just happened"

"Let me guess, Penelope again?" He says. "Dude, I don't know why you used to date her"

"No, neither do I. She's a total weirdo; way too clingy" I laugh.

Jamar laughs a little, then collapses into a state of silence.

I notice that he's seeming a little thinner than normal, and his skin looks quite pale.

"Jamar? Are you alright?" I ask him, concerned.

He gives a brief sigh. "So and so, I guess. It's hard work looking after Mom while Dad's out working all the hours God sends him"

Oh yeah, his Mom's really ill. Of course he's not alright.

"Oh, sorry about that. Is she getting any better?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No, not really. Doctor reckons that the chances of her getting better any time soon are pretty slim. We're looking at a few more months before she shows any signs of recovery"

I feel a pang of guilt for Jamar. Here's me going on about my ex girlfriend problems, while he has a seriously ill Mom. What kind of a friend am I?

There's no more time to chat, as the anthem starts and the reaping begins. I watch silently as the girl is reaped; someone I'm not familiar with, then wait as the boy is about to be chosen. The slip is opened slowly, killing us all with impatience and dread. Us boys always try to look tougher, but deep down, we're all just as nervous as anyone.

"And our slip says our male tribute this year is... Jamar Kanning!"

Oh no. Not Jamar. He can't be reaped. His Mom needs him. She'll get even worse without him. None of his younger siblings can care for her like Jamar does. They'll all crumble without him. No, no, no. This can't be happening.

Without thinking, I leap in front of Jamar, blocking his path. "I volunteer as tribute!"

Jamar looks at me, horrified. He doesn't say anything, he seems to shocked, so he just stares at me.

"It's ok, Jamar. You have your Mom, she needs you" I whisper to him. "I'll be ok"

I won't be ok. But he doesn't need to know that now.


A/N- Ok, these characters are quite different! But what do you think of them all? Do you think Arya's defiance for the Capitol will help her in the arena? What about Phosphorus, do you think he has some hidden skills? Do you think Will likes Annabeth too and will his memory help her through this? And finally, what do you think about Guthrie volunteering?

As usual, let me know anything you think about these characters! Let me know if I wrote them well! Thanks to all who submitted these tributes, I love them!

Thanks, FireflyLlama xxx