Austen Wyme, District Four Female, age 18

"I can do it," I promise, looking Mom straight in the eye.

She stares right back at me. "Look, baby," she says. "I know you're strong and beautiful and tough, but-"

"And trained," I interrupt.

"What?"

"I'm trained, too. I've been spending a lot of time at Fisher's Academy recently, so my sword-wielding has improved drastically since you and Dad taught me how to swing it." Fisher's started out as a simple training facility to prepare aspiring fishermen for a rough life at sea. It taught mundane, easy things, like how to scale fish, fashion sails, or spear a passing mackerel. After the rebels started raiding the shipments to the Capitol, though, Fisher's started teaching people how to fight. While it used to churn out hardy seamen, it now churns out warriors.

This history may be one of the reasons I'm pretty much to only rebel that goes to Fisher's. I don't go so I can make sure fish gets to the Capitol, I go because I want to be prepared for anything. The people there respect that, so I've made friends, and the trainers show no bias against me. I mean, sure. Florida, Lorena, and Nina are pretty Loyalist and a little clique-y, but they help me train and are fun to be around. Thanks to them and my prior weapons knowledge from fighting against the Capitol, I am well versed in the way the sword swings.

"I mean, just think about it, Mom," I say. "You know I'm capable of winning, and riches are promised to the Victor! We wouldn't have to live like the losing side of a war anymore," I argue. Mom runs her hands through her hair and sets her elbows tiredly on the table.

"Logan!" she calls into the other room. "Come talk some sense into your daughter!"

"What wild plan does Gail have now?" my dad shouts back. Gail's my little sister, and her berserk imagination is always prompting her to do stupid things. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but she's always getting herself into trouble.

"Not Gail, Austen," Mom hollers. "She wants to be in the death match."

There's a silence for a minute, as if Dad's processing how to handle this. I hold my breath hopefully. He's always been the lenient one, who lets me have my own freedom and make my own choices. He steps into the room, brow creased in thought. The dish towel hangs forgotten in his hand, and he swishes it back and forth contemplatively. "She wants to do what now?"

"I want to Volunteer for the Hunger Games," I say. He purses his lips and looks like he's about to shoot down my plan, but I hurry to show him how I see things. "I'm strong, I've been working with you guys for years. I'm trained; what do you think I'm doing at Fisher's? And I- I can kill people. In the rebellion, I did, and I'm still intact. Come on, Dad, I can do it! And when I do, we'll be rich. You won't have to worry about paying me through college or keeping food on Gail's and my plate. And the glory, Dad! I know everybody whispers about us. As a rebel in a District of Loyalists, we aren't respected. The Games would get me, get us that respect. I want to, Dad. Please?" There's complete silence for a little bit, and I know Dad's struggling about what to think. "Please, Dad," I repeat in a pleading tone. Maybe it'll push him off the fence and onto my side of this.

He runs his hands through his hair, stressed, and for the first time I notice the grey streaks. "Austen," he sighs. "You'll have to kill kids. Little kids, and unlike the rebellion, they don't all deserve to die. It's different."

"I know," I protest, "But I can handle it. If I don't do it, someone else will have to. Twenty-three kids are gonna die no matter what I do, so I might as well benefit from it."

"Austen!" Mom cries, incredulous. I guess I did sound rather insensitive.

Dad looks at me solemnly. "You're a woman now," he says, "and you are free to make your own decisions. Your mother and I will support you no matter your decision, but that doesn't mean it's the right thing to do, Austen. I don't want you to Volunteer, and neither does your mom, but we aren't going to make you do one thing or the other."

I look at my feet. It's hard, but I truly believe what I argued before. "All I want is your blessing," I murmur.

Mom won't meet my eyes. I think she's tearing up, and she grabs Dad's hand. Dad's having trouble looking at me, too, but he gives me a sharp nod. "You have it," he says.

I look at Mom. She's visibly torn over whether or not to agree. Somehow, she forces out a curt nod. That's all the affirmation I'm going to get, but I hardly need anything else.

There's Austen for you! Thanks to Lmklein20account2 for her. I hope I did her justice, even though I don't think I did.

Sorry it's been an extraordinarily long time since I've updated. There's been a heavy load of school work. Austen was a bit of a confusing character to write(a rebel who Volunteered for glory), even though I liked her, so it took me a while to write her. That is, of course, not mentioning the three times that my computer spontaneously restarted in the middle of my writing, deleting most of my progress. Due to that, I hope you don't mind if it's not quite as good as it should be.

Please, submit and review!

Thanks!~ MessyModgePodge