Chapter Four.
Reapings, Part Two.
Leven Foxe, 17 years old;
District Two Female.
The Foxe household bursts into life the moment my two elder, twin brothers come rushing in through the door. Mother and father immediately relax with wide, soppy grins and hand the pair their breakfast; before, like a hurricane, they're out through the door and back to enjoying their plentiful lives.
Full of enthusiasm, full of life, full of talent. Full of everything I sit here, thinking about, thinking about my desires. The things that I can't seem to ever grasp.
"Leven dear, you better be leaving, don't want you being late." Mother smiles and comes closer to me, planting a delicate kiss on my forehead. Usually, it fills me with a relieving warmth that satisfies and chills whatever insecurities brew inside my stomach. Today, it only intensifies them with unrelenting strength.
It could be the last breakfast we have together, because... because they don't know, I haven't told them. When I stand up, sling my bag over my shoulder and turn to go, I take one last long look at the breakfast table. My eyes linger on the relaxed way my two parents stare at each other, then envelop into a hug.
Their connection is what's kept this family so perfect. Or, as perfect as they'd like to believe. Me, I'm just Leven, the second daughter, the youngest girl. What's been done a thousand times before doesn't matter when I do it.
So, that's why I have to leave this house and head to the reaping as the girl the District needs me to be. I hold my head high and smile brightly, even when my stomach starts to roil with nerves. People run around with a buzz only Two could feel. One, Four, they're as much a Career district as we are, but they don't seem to share quite the same passion as we do.
It's about competition, but camaraderie too. What you can do for yourself, and what you can do as a team. But only if it grows out of a love for what someone can do when holding a weapon. My branch of teamwork, it's not what they want. This society. If only they weren't so obstinate or judgmental, then maybe I wouldn't be so eager to throw my life down the drain.
Don't be so pessimistic about your chances Leven. You were chosen after all. I nod and walk onwards, with a deeper, rooted passion inside my stomach. It's a bit bright today for my liking, but maybe the sun shining in the air is a symbol for what lies in store. Maybe, the world is actually on my side, maybe it's telling me that this year is my year to be the Foxe member my parents want to talk about.
No more beautiful Marriott, no more tough, strong, capable Reese and Ronan, or brilliant, intellectual Carter. It'll be Leven, the Victor
Even I can't deny the thrill such a title fills me with, despite what getting to that spot means for me and my sanity. I've seen it before, and I'm not stupid enough to believe it won't happen to me. The worst things always do, because I'm just not cut out for-
No.
I reach the Square, and like breakfast, things seem to go faster than usual. Maybe it's my desire to have this over and done with, or maybe it's fate's way of giving me less time to talk myself out of it. How can I question myself anyway, what with the Head trainer picking me over everyone.
That shows I have some merit, right? I'm skilled enough to be picked, so I'm skilled enough to win. But what about all those Victors who have won without skill in combat, huh?
Marriott waltzes on past and waves at me, smiling with her friends huddled round her. If only it was easy like her life. A perfect life. She doesn't seem to bend or break under the pressure of what life does to a person.
If only I could be her.
Confidence. I have to believe in myself. Otherwise, I'm dead. I don't want to die.
The reaping progresses onwards at the same fast pace as earlier. The Treaty is over with in what feels a matter of seconds, and the escort's hand is shoved straight into the bowl at a speed such a dramatic lady tends not to display.
It's time. If I don't do it this year, I'll never do it. Next year, I'll be so much more frightened, full of such disbelief in what I can do.
I'm not useless. I'm not.
I can't be.
"I volunteer!" I shout, with as much confidence I can pour into the two words. If I can trick myself into believing that I'm like the other trainees I worked with, like I can kill without blinking, kill without letting who I am fall apart, then this is something I can do.
Or, I kill and lose everything I am.
Or, I die.
It all depends on me and my actions. The worst part is, I've never been that reliable.
Alfie Caulfield, 15 years old;
District Seven Male.
It's easy to be overwhelmed by the masses, an ocean of Seven's citizens bobbing up and down to get to the same destination. United in their desperation to get this over with, most people move faster than they tend to usually do, which doesn't help those who aren't up to fight against the crowd.
Unlike most who do their best to contest with others, like this is a giant playground, I happily walk with my friends. Shoving my hands in my pockets, a jolly tune starts to play around in my head, and without caring for the abrasive shows demonstrated around me, a whistle starts to leave my mouth to match the song.
"Nice Alf'," Jasper says, laughing. He's panting to keep up, what with his chunky frame slowing him down. Harper and I do what friends should do and wait for him to keep up. All around me it's like the most basic show of humanity's aggression is playing on repeat for us. The lumberjacks fight for the right to be there first, wanting to impress the people that pay for their work, and then you have those who want to fit the crowd.
The smaller families even try to make a larger game of it, because distraction is better than putting up with reality. I understand where they're coming from, but instead of making a massive fuss, why not take it slow and enjoy the burning hot air of Seven's marvelous weather.
With the bird's singing their songs to match my whistling, and a light breeze to contest with the sun, disregarding the reaping, this is just another splendid day to be outside with my friends. Unless, of course, you have people like... him, ruining it for you.
Up front, another stupid chimp amongst the throngs of animals fighting for their place, is my big brother. One of my big brothers, and unfortunately, the worst of them all. Clyde is busy pummeling District Seven's biggest asshole into the dirt, before he instantly retaliates.
It's brutal and disgusting how they can roll around in the mud and not care. Maybe Harper and Jasper tease me for it, but my mother paid a lot of attention into making sure I looked somewhat presentable for today. Where there's cameras, there are people on the other end watching. That's what she said, brushing my hair and pulling my ear playfully.
I love my mother, if only the rest of Seven could be so understanding. So I don't cut down trees, so I don't look like a waddling buffoon corded with muscle, why can't I just be me? Still, what they say can't knock me down. Alfie Caulfield ain't the type of kid to let himself get bogged down so easily.
Once the three of us reach the Square, Harper pulls us into a hug before walking away to be with some of her 'girlfriends'. I watch them stare at the pair of us, giggling, before they do what girls their age do and fawn over people like my brother. It's hard to not be a little envious, but a part of me can't cope with that emotion, it means bad things, and I refuse to be put down by someone who's the epitome of what it is that's wrong with the world.
Clyde flexes for them and laughs jovially with his best friend. Together, they push through to the front of the line and disappear amongst the crowd. Easy for me now, without their distracting voices and the overwhelming irritation of their presence.
Now I can be with someone I care for, in a District that if I pretend is good, could maybe actually be a decent place to live. It's beautiful on the outside anyway, who cares what's on the inside if what I can see is big enough of a distraction?
Once past the Peacekeepers, our escort hurries the last few to walk on in and begins the process. For some strange reason, our otherwise sprightly Mayor resigns himself to letting our chipper Escort take his place. After reading the treaty, he mixes things up a bit and heads straight on over to the male reaping bowl.
My name is in there, Jasper's too. Two of my brothers'. It could be anyone I know, I just hope that maybe, today, life actually shows how it can be a good thing without me having to make an excuse.
"Alfie Caulfield!"
Or, the complete opposite.
Almost like a switch is flicked on, my eyes and mouth widen with shock. With my jaw hanging down, I can't quite process a proper reaction. All eyes turn to me, everyone, people I know and like, people I dislike, and people I fail to recognise.
Then things register, and my mind goes a fragmented vision of red and black.
On the ground, hiding and bundled into a ball, maybe they'll ignore me. All I wanted was to live my life the way I wanted it to be, without caring how I should have been. But no. Life's thrown this in my face and now, everyone will laugh at poor little Alfie Caulfield.
Hands grab me and soon enough I'm on the stage, but strangely enough when I focus on everyone, it's silence. Not even Clyde says a word.
For once they don't see me as the laughing stock, they see me as a poor victim.
I'm not sure which is the worst.
Sayla Reinhardt, 15 years old;
District Ten Female.
Outside, I'm almost blown back by Xander's arrival. He stares at me with narrowed, angry eyes; a red hue to his cheeks. I laugh and poke him, eliciting nothing more than a deeper, angrier stare until his eyes are almost completely hidden from me.
"What did we say to each other?" he crosses his arms, and my eyes immediately move over his shoulder. At this angle, the sun peeks between two clouds, a flock of birds forming beautiful shapes as they weave together through the streams of light.
There's a weird tang to the air, like desperation, but also happiness. Fake, maybe. I hope not, it's good for people to be united in something real, something they can experience together. Not anger, anything but a state that puts people into emotions that tear relationships apart.
"Sayla," Xander's voice softens a tad as he clicks his fingers in front of my eyes. I stare at him and shake my head, abandoning my train of thought. Maybe I should try to focus a bit more, especially since it's reaping day.
"Hm?" His eyes grow wider with concern, and gripping onto my hand gently, the fury leaves him in time to an invasion of a relatable sense of warmth. I sink into that and let him guide me down the streets. In a state of peace internally, I listen in silence to him mutter in a whisper-like voice about his day, about yesterday, and then when I offer a little bit of input, about his own family's well-being.
"You know you were supposed to meet me at my house, instead I had to come to yours. Across town, today, Sayla. You know how busy it gets at this time." Rather than raise his voice, he laughs and knocks a shoulder into my side. Immediately, I react and poke him, giggling quietly. It's nice when it's just me and him: friends.
Sometimes he can drag me around on escapades that never end well, and counteract with how I generally like to go about life here, but today's events have mellowed him out somewhat.
Me and him, peacefully chatting about anything, it keeps my mind at a constant rate of tranquility. When I can think through things clearly, whole other possibilities shine through. Like, what we could do after the reaping, maybe we could go into the centre of town and meet up with my other friends.
They don't like Xander, but it'll be fun. The gang. Maybe we can talk about ourselves or stuff like that, relaxed topics, stuff about nature and things that don't corrupt such a blessing as having a life.
You know, sometimes, it's nice to just be with the people I care most about-
"Sayla."
Again, his voice breaks through and I stare into the eyes of a Peacekeeper. A cry manifests itself and is canceled out by a choking sensation at the back of my throat. "S-Sorry, I was just-"
"Doesn't matter, cut it out and step forwards."
"I will, give me a moment." I pat down my dress, but before I can finish, he yanks me forwards before Xander can do anything.
"I said now."
I stare into his maniacal eyes and spit, slapping him away. "And I said in a minute. I know you have a schedule, but I'm-"
He stabs me with the needle and I shriek, falling forwards when his palms stretch out to force me in the direction the crowd move in. Xander's pulled away with the crowd of guys, moving him along towards where he has to wait during the reaping. I stare at him and frown, sadly dragging my feet towards my own section.
I shouldn't have reacted like that, he just caught me wrapped up in my own head. It was a short walk, talking to Xander must have made things go a lot faster than usual. It's nice, being with him. Better than those awful authoritarians who preach peace and stab us in the fingers!
Euphrasia, another close friend, smiles when I reach her side. We wait standing next to each other for the Mayor to welcome us all.
"Where were you?"
"With Xander, some Peacekeeper got a bit antsy with me." I laugh the situation off and stare up at the Escort, taking over from the Mayor. Euphrasia closes her eyes tight, gripping onto her dress. This is the worst moment for her, I don't like seeing her so stressed. It only makes things worse for me. When others are stressed, it's like it eats away at me, pulling and tugging on my heart and forcing the breath to leave me in short bursts.
Why can't everything just go at the right pace, the right time? Why can't people get along and just be ordinary; humans in a society that works together in some kind of unified manner?. Why can't-
I feel a hand on my shoulder, a rough, gloved hand. Then I look up and I'm met with a sheet of black metal, the visor of a Peacekeeper.
"Sayla Reinhardt, move it."
It's the Peacekeeper from before. I look around and all eyes are on me. Me, little Sayla Reinhardt.
Why are they staring at me? I haven't done something wrong have... I...
Oh...
The force of my situation knocks the wind right from my lungs. My fists ball up, my eyes clench together and somehow, I will the tears back, even when my entire body protests.
I'm a tribute. I was... reaped.
Is this some kind of irony? Send in the most unprepared girl, the girl who talks about topics to combat the ideology of the Games, the girl who just wants peace.
The girl who now, won't survive to make it home.
A girl destined to die.
Ash Rowe, 14 years old;
District Twelve Male.
Today, of all days, is when she sinks deeper into her shell.
I open the front door and stare over my shoulder, lingering for the sake of my mother. Maybe this year's reaping, she'll finally snap out of it. Her deep state of longing, her lost, shattered soul reminiscing over everything she lost to my despicable father. Abandoning us, five years ago on the very day that two kids were taken away, it reminds her that this isn't just the day I could be taken. It was the day she lost someone she loved.
"Bye mum," I wave cheerfully, embedding the smile onto my face whether my body wills it or not. If she can't smile, then I'll do the smiling for her. There are times when it's hard to be the rock people can depend on, when there's the issue of my own problems, my own day to day troubles, I need to vent on someone.
But, if everyone else needs to let go of their daily worries, I can't. I'm the person that these people depend on, even if it whittles me down day by day.
Kolten immediately finds me amongst the crowd, smiling at me with a skip in his step. I quickly return the greeting and together we join the overanxious throngs of citizens, heading through the dusty air to another ceremony, another day to see two kids get sent off to die.
Optimism only lasts so long in this world. Twelve's chances have never been high. We never forget the truth.
"Wanna hang out after this shitfest is over, maybe get some alcohol?" Kolten's eager jump may fool other people, but it doesn't cloud my own judgment. He's transferring his own state of anger at this system by attempting to act older than his, maybe drink away his sorrows.
I laugh and pat him on the back, knocking him forwards. "Booze, really? We're fourteen Kol', let's not drink ourselves to an early grave."
"Too true, why speed up the process when this country's doing it for us?"
I look into his cheerful eyes, still shining despite the pain hidden away tight. I nod my head sadly and swing my arms back and forth. Some people, like Kolten and I, are better at locking away our true emotions and letting the world see the mask that suits the current state of what's best to feel.
It makes life easier, when you can be the person people can rely on. Besides, if everyone was depressed, there'd be no such thing as a well needed light.
"Ha look," I point at Claude, one of the newbies dressed head to toe in the Peacekeeper uniform. Except for the helmet. "He can't even dress himself properly."
The guy fumbles for whatever it is that will clasp the helmet to his suit and repeatedly fails, cursing when his finger catches on something. "Hey, need a hand?" I yell, laughing. Other people less occupied with a deep rooted, reaping funk, chuckle when they see what I'm directing my attention towards.
He stares up at me and blushes, shaking his head. "Just w-who do you think you are kid, get in line."
"Maybe I should be Peacekeeper-ing instead of this chump," I stare at the crowd and throw a thumb in his direction, soaking in the general laughter. People who were staring at the ground, finally direct their attention towards the idiotic Peacekeeper.
Maybe it's bad to pick fun of someone who's only doing his job, but I hate the Capitol as much as Kolten, only its easier to transfer the blame onto easily accessible people. Plus, someone so inept at dressing himself won't be a problem in the near future.
There hasn't been a whipping in years.
Finally, we get to the Square, with the crowd drawn apart by more livelier and well adjusted Peacekeepers. We're ushered through, separated and soon enough, the process begins.
As usual our Mayor drones on without any real enthusiasm, and once again our Escort makes up for it with a show of flamboyance and a spray of glitter or some crap like that. Drama can be fun in moderation, I draw the line at sparkly shit.
"Riva Buchanan!"
The chosen girl is a looker, that much you can tell. She stands shaking up on stage, but through some well built strategy, or maybe a barrier to her true feelings, she smiles. Good on her, I guess. Show them we're strong!
"Ash Rowe!"
Smile, like Riva.
That's the first thought, nothing about death or blood or gore. Things are hard to make sense of straight away, but piece by piece like a jigsaw, it starts to come together. If I smile, I won't fall apart to these thoughts. Thoughts I don't want to think, a darkness I refuse to let in.
"I volunteer!"
And Kolten, my best friend, my stupid, idiot friend, shoves his hand in the air.
When he starts to run to the stage, my feet kick into action and I propel myself forwards faster. Up near the microphone, I shake my head and shout out, letting the smile slip: "No volunteers. I accept my place as tribute."
And like that, I've sealed my fate.
But I won't let a friend die for me. That's the one good thing I can do before I fall for such a corrupt state. I can save a life.
Thanks to jessicallons-y, Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg, Aspect of One and Jalen Kun for these four tributes.
Favourite POV?
So, I keep saying I'm going to go focus on my other story, then this tempts me too much and I ignore that in favour of this. Oh well!
To those twenty or so submitters who haven't commented so far, it'd be great to hear from you. Obviously, for whatever reason, it's fine if you don't have the time or whatever, and I'm not one to threaten the whole 'ur trib is a bb if u dont review!', but yeah, it'd be cool to hear whatever you have to say so far about this Games' tributes! And to those who haven't got a tribute but read, the same goes for you, I'm always interested to hear different opinions :D
Thanks to the few that are reviewing, means a lot :)