Fialla Howards (14), District Four Female-POV
Digging my toes into the sand, I feel myself fade away into the perfect daydream. Here, I'm not sitting alone on the beach, the sky painted pink and blue from the rising sun. Chiseled and strong, Nico holds me close, kissing my hair as much as possible. Utter bliss; that's the only emotion I feel now, the niggling feelings of chores left undone don't matter anymore. Looking into his sea green eyes, nothing could have made me happier than being here with him, right now. The metal back brace, usually annoying me slightly, gives me no grief right now, and upon closer inspection it's not even there. Brushing my forehead with his lips, Nico whispers the three words that I've always wanted to hear him say…
Sea spray douses my face, snapping me out of the perfect little world and into reality. Nico isn't here with me, no one is; my only company is the seagulls. Scrambling up, I am once again reminded of the troublesome back brace, always seeming to be in my way. When I was younger, Kallice and I were each training for the Hunger Games. To make a long story shirt, it didn't end all too well for me, resulting in the breaking of my back. People say that I was quite lucky; not many people survive these kinds of injuries unless they're Capitol citizens. I suppose I am, especially since I was born in District Four, home of one third of the fearsome Career pack.
Tucking a strand of curly chocolate brown hair behind my ear, I slowly walked towards my home. A little shack by the sea, nets surrounds the perimeter, most of them half way completed. I'd have to finish them soon; otherwise the rest of my family wouldn't be all too happy with me. After all, the six of us had to squeeze into that little house, and the only way we'd be able to pay the bills if we caught enough fish. That's what Father and Stuart did, my eight year old little brother only rarely being at home. Stuart spent most of his time off on the little sailing boat we owned, called La Bucephalus. It must have been a miracle that he did well in school, my Aunt Shorrie would always say.
Grasping the squeaky brass handle, the door yanked open with only a slight protest. Illuminated by candlelight, the small sleeping form of Stuart was revealed. Messy brown hair, he snuggled up to Kallice, who held him close with her lean and tan arms. The small ticking noise of a clock disturbed the subtle silence, alerting me to the fact that we'd have to get ready for the Reaping very soon. Biting my lip, blood soon began to flow, and I tried in vain to make it over to the wicker chair. Tripping over a stray book, I held my breath in, hoping that no one had been awoken. Stuart made little sleeping noises, turning over, cuddling into our sister again. He'd already be a good contender in the Hunger Games, even if he was only eight years old; most people in our District were like that. I, however, was extremely clumsy, so it wasn't very likely that I'd ever be in the Hunger Games.
Collapsing into the chair, it was only then that I made my fatal error. A tall and looming figure appeared out of the quite darkness, subtle breathing being the only thing to signify its arrival. Dropping a few inches in height, Aunt Shorrie's high heels appeared at my feet, then Aunt Shorrie herself sitting down next to me on a teetering pile. Her white blonde hair was skillfully arranged, looking like a high flying lady from the Capitol whom it was actually pleasant to look at. Out of my entire family, Shorrie was the eccentric one with the quirky ideas, and I found that I loved her for it. Contrasting to the rest of the brown and beige house, Aunt Shorrie wore jutting red lipstick, which she was able to pawn off of the Peacekeepers in exchange for services. She never really told us what kind of services, though I never had the nerve to ask her.
"Hey sweetie," Aunt Shorrie cooed, pulling me into a hug, "What's on your mind?"
Instantly, I thought back to my daydream of Nico. His sea green eyes seemed so intent, as if I was the only thing in the world, and the rest was completely lost to him. If a blind man ever saw the sun for the first time, that's the look I always pictured Nico wearing. Sadly, I doubted he ever noticed me, thinking me of more of a younger friend if anything. Sometimes, he'd flash a smile in the hallway at school, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Nico made me feel truly alive; I loved it.
My cheeks burned crimson, and I picked at a loose thread, trying to avoid Aunt Shorrie's hazel eyes, "Oh…umm….nothing…J-Just thinking 'bout the Reaping later..."
A perfectly plucked eyebrow shut up, and I slouched a bit in my seat. People always did say that I was like an open book, easy to read, even from miles away. Each time I attempted to lessen my blush, the image my mind had carefully constructed of Nico would reappear. By the time Aunt Shorrie grinned knowingly at me, I must have been redder than a tomato. Though, I wasn't all too sure, as the only time I'd see that fruit is whenever we had a Victor. Alas, it had been a couple years since that particular event had occurred; District Two tends to hog the spotlight when it comes to winning the Hunger Games.
Aunt Shorrie scooted closer, leaning forward, "Doesn't sound like it, Fialla sweetie…You thinking 'bout a boy?"
Knowing my efforts would be futile to deny her, I merely nodded slightly, scanning around the cluttered room for my Reaping outfit. She should leave me alone if I told her I had to get dressed, a small if not nonexistent price to pay for my freedom from this conversation. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Aunt Shorrie put her soft hand on my wrist, and I bit my lip slightly. Lying on top of some burlap sacks sat my Reaping outfit. The only problem, naturally, was that it just happened to be on the completely opposite side of the room. If only I could have been a better liar, a better actress, and then I wouldn't have been in this situation in the very first place. Biting my lip again, I felt a trickle of blood in my mouth, which I hastily tried to stop by licking it with my tongue.
"You know, I liked a boy once two…," Aunt Shorrie said wistfully, "Name was Lazlo, and he ate like a pig! Broke my heart too, dying off on one of them ships…Show's still got to go on though, and that's just what I did…"
She had told me this story numerous times, yet this time, I wasn't all too sure why she was saying this. Aunt Shorrie released her grip on my arm, a silent tear gliding down her impeccable face, marring it forever in my mind. Carefully, I stood up, minding the brace on my back which my dress would never seem to disguise. Folded up neatly, I retrieved the white blouse and the purple skirt, the flats residing in the tiny attic that I shared with my parents. Tripping over a jar, Kallice stirred slightly, yawning a bit, reminding me of her presence. Aunt Shorrie and I each held our breath, and I tiptoed my way back over to her, knowing that the little ladder I'd need to use lay beyond her. Her hazel eyes seemed huge and excited, and she bent over, whispering in my ear.
"Volunteer, sweetie. He'll be heads over heels for ya,"
Nicolas Riddle (16), District Four Male-POV
Most people would have been a bit taken aback to waking up in Victors Village, even more so when you haven't even won the Hunger Games. Smirking, I pushed aside the soft blankets and sheets, tossing the delicate pillows to the ground. Since I was just a baby, I'd been pampered and fawned over by the people of the Capitol, all because of what my father did when he was just seventeen years old. One year older than I was now, and he, he had won the Hunger Games with complete and total ease. Sometimes, the four of us would gather around the flat screen television to watch the tapes of Dad's Games, despite my mother's disapproval.
Crossing the room to my dresser, I examined my own expression in the mirror and flashed a winning smile. Dirty blonde hair, paired with stunning teal eyes, I already could picture me as the winner of the Hunger Games. Sapphire, my younger sister, would just have to wait until next year for her shot at glory. This year would be all about Nicolas Riddle, the dashing sixteen year old, hailing from the terrific District Four! The Capitol women would be kissing the ground I walked on by the time I got there, so I had to ensure that I'd be wearing the exactly right outfit. Not like it would be all too hard, I thought with a snicker, yanking over the oak drawer of my dresser, stuffed full of numerous outfits.
After a couple minutes of quick consideration, the clothing I quickly dressed myself in would have earned the approval of a Capitol stylist. Actually, that's harder than it sounded, since the people in the Capitol have a rather strange idea of what passed for fashion and what's yesterdays news. Simplistic yet fashionable, the black shirt and slacks seemed to draw attention to my eyes, which always shinned brighter than the sea itself. Most of the girls in the District fawned over me, and despite this, I really only had eyes for this one girl. Clumsy, average, and disabled, I never fully understood what attracted me to her. When I realized this, I mentally labeled her, "My Little Enigma," something which was quite ironic based on her nature. She'd never find out though, but maybe, maybe when I won I'd finally surrender my heart; that wasn't all too likely to happen though.
Strutting around some more in front of my mirror, I heard Sapphire's music flow from her speakers. As always, my fourteen year old sister just never seemed to understand what an acceptable volume level was. By now, I knew half of the words to "Slightly Chipped Full Moon," and the awkward dance she'd do whenever, "My Angel Put the Devil in Me," came on. Currently, the latter of the two songs echoed throughout the house, accompanied with the sounds of crashing. Not being able to reign in my curiosity, I slipped out of my room and barged into hers.
"Nic!" Sapphire squeaked, her foot pivoted as she punched a picture of last year's Victor.
Her custom ordered blue dress lay abandoned on the clear table, the glittering six inch heels right beside it. True to her name, Sapphire's eyes were the deepest and most vibrant blue, ginger hair popping out again her freckled skin. The two of us barely looked alike enough for people to assume we had the same parents, since most of the people in just about each District had similar features. For instance, most of us here had tanned skin and wide smiles, not to mention limber and quite skilled with a trident. I trained with one daily; swordplay was actually my strong point though.
"What?" I teased, "It's not like you were naked or anything…"
Rolling her eyes, Sapphire hit the volume button of her music player, letting the lyrics scream throughout the house. Swinging numerous hits, Cherry Stringers, the District Seven Tribute from last year, was soon reduced to a pulp. Her gray eyes looked blank, printed on the poster board that Sapphire had bothered to pick up in the Capitol; Dad let us come with him to watch the Hunger Games each year. Smirking slightly, I merely leaned against the wall and observed, trying to pick out which precious stones she'd be wearing this year at the Reaping. While it wouldn't be her year, there'd no doubt be a camera on there as soon as I took center stage, beaming proudly out at the entire District.
"YOU PUT THE DEVIL IN ME!" Sapphire cried, "YOU PUT THE DEVIL IN ME!"
Picking her up, I tossed her lightly on the bed as she continued to sing along to her music. Mom was right; Sapphire was addicted to her music player, which wouldn't be an asset to her when she competed in the Hunger Games. And as her big brother, it wasn't my privilege, but my duty to make sure that she'd have every opportunity. Unplugging the music player from the wall, Sapphire gave out an anguished cry, now singing to a song that only existed inside of her head. Exiting the room, I figured that she'd get ready for the Reaping eventually, not wanting to get arrested by Peacekeepers before she could become a Victor.
I waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs, since Dad and Mom had to leave early. Dad would be mentoring this year, so he'd have to be at the Reaping before anyone else would arrive. Sapphire and I were each used to this drill, having it perfectly memorized in each and every way. After about five minutes of standing there, Sapphire hurried down the stairs, looking as beautiful as a guy could describe his sister as.
"So now my dear, I ain't the girl you knew," Sapphire murmured, still singing that odd song of hers.
Shaking my head, I dragged her off to the Reaping, barely making it there in time. Hurriedly, we scrambled into our designated waiting pens. A couple of the Capitol citizens threw us rotten looks, quickly stopping upon realizing that we were the Riddle kids. Shooting a glare at them, a pale faced one shrank back, hiding behind one of the taller male workers. The entire display was quite pathetic, something that a lot of people here agreed on, even if we supposedly liked the Capitol. District Two were the lapdogs of the Capitol; District Four just happened to take advantage of our situation.
Our escort, Ariella Watchermen, already stood proudly on the stage. Every piece of her outfit was the color blue, though of various shades. Her lips seemed frosty, and her dress made me feel like someone had put the ocean onto cloth. Delicate and fragile, her soft personality instantly silenced the entire District, Ariella's accent hard to detect from subtle practice.
"Welcome, District Four," Ariella purred, "To this year's Hunger Games public Reaping. I wish good luck to each and every one of you, and may the strong prevail…for the odds are ever in your favor."
Everyone erupted into applause, with the exception of the white faced twelve year olds. They didn't know it, yet I'd be this year's Tribute in the Hunger Games! No one would be able to stand in my way! It was my year! Mine! Looking over at Sapphire, she seemed to be gazing towards me as well, giving me a thumbs up. A couple people around her were jostled, almost shouting angry words at her before remembering what the situation exactly was. Most of the kids in District Four tended to avoid us, unless we were their training partner that day in Training School. It probably had to do with our strength, I concluded, turning my attention back to Ariella as she trotted over to the glass reaping bowls right after the video commenced.
"The beautiful young lady who shall have the grand honor is…," Ariella announced, "Yasmine Covettie,"
People began to search around for whoever this year's Tribute was, yet no one appeared. Peacekeepers descended into the correct pen, searching until they found their pray. The female Tribute wasn't found, but it must not have mattered, since a pretty girl stepped out from among the fourteen year olds. Analyzing her quickly, we all knew she may not last all too long, though my eyes widened as I realized she was none other than my little Enigma.
"I volunteer as the female Tribute for District Four!" Fialla Howards called out, almost as if she was in a trance.
The Peacekeepers most likely felt glad, rushing over to Fialla when she came to terms with what she had done. With that back brace of hers, I couldn't tell why she thought that she'd be able to win the Hunger Games. Fialla shouldn't have Volunteered, I admonished, and she should have let them continue searching for that Yasmine kid. At least her death would be a glory filled one, an honorable fate to lay at rest in the Hunger Games. In fact, Fialla should be grateful that her District Partner would be the newest Victor in the long, long line of them. Smirking slightly, I watched with the rest of the District as the red faced girl was prodded onto the stage, staring out at us with wide eyes. No one Volunteered for Fialla, sealing her fate to die in the Hunger Games; the Hunger Games that I'd be winning.
Ariella had a critical look on her face, then shrugging slightly as she swayed her way over to the other Reaping bowl. Relaxed, I kept my focus on my father, grinning as he quickly shot me a thumbs up. He and Sapphire, I suddenly realized, were quite alike in their expressions. Both of them held their heads high, ready to fight off the world, even with my mother's disapproval. Ever since I was a little boy, she'd always wanted me to be a sweet little kid, and hated the idea of the Hunger Games. Part of me wondered how she felt today, knowing what I'd be about to do.
The beautiful escort drew out the slip of paper, pausing to read the name quietly to herself before announcing it to the entire District. Right now, I knew, would be the best time for me to Volunteer. No one else would be trying to right now, so I'd surely make it into this year's brawl. Looking over at my father once more, I lunged forward from the pen, drawing the attention of just about each person in the District. Especially, I noted, the attention of my Little Enigma.
"I Volunteer!" I yelled proudly, "I Volunteer!"
Marching boldly up to the stage, I towered over the small and frail form of Fialla. Ariella smiled approvingly, as if relieved that she'd get a shot at being the escort for the winning District this year. This Capitol lady better be extremely grateful, just like my District partner should be. Looking around at this year's Mentors, they'd also better be grateful that only one of their Tributes for this year would die. Smirking slightly, reaching outwards for the microphone from Ariella's dainty hand, I drew it close to myself, ready to introduce myself to the world.
"Hello, I'm Nicolas Riddle," I spoke calmly, "And I've but one thing to say….Victory or death!"
Handing back the microphone to Ariella, everyone burst into applause. They all knew that I'd be this year's Victor; they'd be downright stupid not to realize it. All of the sponsors would be betting on me right about now, not even needing to see who would be making up the competition. Of course, there really wasn't any, as competition implied that someone else this year would be standing a chance again me in the arena. And that, that wouldn't be all too likely this time.
Fialla Howards (14), District Four Female-POV
My entire family arrived early to the Reaping, leaving me to bask in the fading sunlight. Near me, a tiny little stream of water poured into a nearby drain, the slight suds to it indicating that the Mayor had treated himself to a luxurious bath. Dipping my fingers into the cool water, time seemed to slip past me, escaping my grasp. Daydreams frequented my head, keeping me nice and entertained. The only bad thing was that by the time I looked around, the reaping was just about to begin; everyone else had already signed in. I gulped, going as quickly as I could over to the Capitol check in lady, watching her complete her task with a sterile mask on her face. Thankfully, she wasn't all too mad, allowing me to join my fellow fourteen year olds without a moments delay. A couple of the kids raise an eyebrow at me, but our escort has a captivating presence.
She looked like an angel or a goddess of the sea. Ariella's hair fell in waves, graceful and seemingly without end, even though it stopped at her ankles. Her eyes, a soft gray, gave her a contemplative look most of the time, yet it only added to her beauty. Some girls near gave out a slight gasps, wanting to be this otherworldly creature. Makeup, perfect in each way, made her skin pale to the eye, giving off a subtle glow that everyone could detect. Ariella Watchermen must have been blessed, I decided, to be able to be like that by her own choice.
"Welcome, District Four to this year's Hunger Games public Reaping. I wish good luck to each and every one of you, and may the strong prevail," Ariella paused, leaving us intently waiting for the end of her sentence, "for the odds are ever in your favor."
Smiling slightly at us, a small nod of the head gave the signal. Following it obediently, the entire District and I burst in cheers, loving the little speech she had given before the Reaping. Not many escorts were able to craft their words so carefully, so precisely that just about no one was upset by it. Yet Ariella did, and that's why we loved her for it, demanding that she be our Escort year after year after year. With a wave off her gloved hand, Ariella turned our attention to the screen, where a video sent from the Capitol began to play.
This time, I decided to pay attention, as it would be my last time down here. Footage, immensely outdated, of the Dark Days was shown first, a voice narrating the whole time. We witnessed bombings, Capitol citizens killed viscously by members of the Districts, and the creation of the jabberjays. At the very last part, a smile grew on my face, as they just happened to be one of my favorite animals. It soon turned into a grimace, watching the smoldering ash of Old District Thirteen, the location for this year's Hunger Games. According to President Gremlin, it'd remain that way as a testament to what happens when the Districts break the trust of the "caring and kind" Capitol. The fated words, which we all knew, appeared in golden letters. The creation of the Hunger Games, a pageant in which two brave young people would fight to the death in a public arena; everyone knew this story by heart. Closing my eyes briefly, the image of the Mockinjay, Katniss Everdeen, came next and soon was replaced by her corpse. The Hunger Games were reinstated, the Capitol returned to glory, and the last words we saw, written in gold, "And all was well…"
"I'd say no words can describe our story, District Four," Ariella spoke in a grave voice, "Only silence, the utmost respect, can."
Our escort already stood by the glass reaping bowls, yet I found myself dwelling on the video. We saw the same one each year, yet this year it seemed to stick with me more. The Mockinjay's eyes bored into my mind, the gray almost looking inhumanly angry at her tormentors. Katniss Everdeen must have really hated the Capitol, I thought, though she didn't have any reason to. In school, you learned a brief lesson on her, about how the Mockinjay lived a wealthy and rich life, lonely, so she planned to take over Panem herself. President Gremlin knew this, liberating us from the spider web of the Mockinjay as soon as he could. At the age of fourteen, I still wasn't sure if I believed it or not.
Dimly, I heard someone this year Volunteer. Blinking a bit, my glance turned towards the Peacekeepers who were quickly heading in my direction. Sapphire Riddle stood near me, so she probably had been the one that Volunteered this year. Yet she didn't move from her place, gazing towards me with a look akin to pity. Blinking a bit, panic started to arise within me, realizing that I wasn't standing in the pen anymore. Had I Volunteered? A blush grew in my face, and I realized that I did, the Peacekeepers prodding me onto the stage. Upon the completion of their task, my eyes must have been huge as I stared out at the District, not saying a single word.
"Ah…," Ariella mumbled critically, then speaking clearly, "And for the honorable young man whom shall be joining Fialla in the most prestigious event…"
Watching her, she drew a small piece of white paper from the second Reaping bowl. Squinting slightly, I could almost make out the name of whoever the potential Tribute would be. Almost as if she was sensing my thoughts, Ariella dropped the name back into the beautiful glass bowl, parting her mouth to speak again. However, she quickly was interrupted by a Volunteer, whom I knew all too well. Nico, well, Nicolas walked up to the stage calmly, standing next to me.
"Hello, I'm Nicolas Riddle," Nico confirmed, "And I've but one thing to say…Victory or death!"
Everyone once again loved him, even if his speech wasn't nearly as long as Ariella's. When we shook hands, his grip seemed firm and confident, a million times stronger than my own flimsy handshake. Maybe, I wondered, maybe someone would actually want to sponsor a disabled girl. After all, how cool would it be to be able to say you knew the underdog would win from the start? My cheeks still burned a severe red, even with this bit of confidence, as the Peacekeepers led me into my room, leaving me alone until my family came in, all at once.
"Alla!" Stuart cried, clinging to my leg, "I don't want you to go!"
Rubbing his hair, I glanced over at Kallice, who seemed to be emotionless. Blinking a bit as she came over, my older sister scooped up my younger brother, soothing him as best she could. In almost minutes, Kallice had successfully lulled the eight year old into a dreamless sleep, sparing him from the nightmares that may soon come. Biting my lip slightly, a wave of guiltiness washed over me, no doubt easily seen on my petite little face. My siblings sat down on the corner of the room, prompting my parents to come over and give me a large embrace. Cuddling into their hold, coolness appeared in the palm of my hand.
"For good luck," my mother prompted, "it belonged to an old friend of Shorrie's."
Opening my small hand, I gazed in fascination at my token. It was a pocket watch, silver and grand, fastened onto a chain. This probably had been Lazlo's token, I realized with a grim smile, looking at it once more. Undoing the latch, I placed the pocket watch around my neck, feeling the soft ticking next to the beating of my own heart. Hopefully, both of them would keep on going, and if one had to fail, please let it be for Nico…
Nicolas Riddle (16), District Four Male-POV
Most of the time, Dad chatted with me on the best ways to win the Games. He went over how to find water, which way a river would flow, and some of the major constellations up in the night sky. Committing it all to memory, I smirked and nodded in the correct places, content with letting him talk. Dad went over a way to tell if food had been poisoned or not, which I neglected the information a bit, since I obviously wouldn't need it. The Careers would always have plenty of food, and if we didn't, then the sponsors would send it in for us. Those crazy Capitol people loved helping their Tributes win, and being able to partially claim our kills. As soon as I won, I'd just humor them, even though they didn't have much to do with it at all.
"We love you so very much, Nicky," Mom said, a sad smile on her face, "Come home for me- for us."
Smirking, my father's ring felt extremely light on my finger. In the Games, this would be my little piece of home, and I'd make sure to deliver it to my father in person. There'd be no way that some wacko would wrap it up in a little package, place it next to my coffin, and break my mother's frail heart in the process. Not only was this my year to win, this was my District, my country, and most importantly, my life; I didn't plan to let go of any of those anytime soon.
"Count on it," I promised, hugging her quickly, "I'll be home before you can say Tracker Jacker."