Sorry for being gone so long! I've been struggling with some mental health issues and couldn't write- hopefully I'll be more consistent now! Sorry if this chapter is a bit short, by the way. Anyway, this is the District One Reaping!
Argentina Macri-Kirchner, District One Female, 10
In a world far from Panem, magic was known.
No, that definitely wasn't good enough. Argentina flops onto their bed in frustration, dropping down the pen they were using to write down ideas for the story that won't leave their head. They need a better opening line than that. Something to draw in readers, catch them on a hook. That was always the best way to start a story, they knew, but that isn't happening.
It's probably because it's Reaping Day, which Argentina is dreading. Reaping Day is definitely the worst day of the year, in her eyes. Children are sent off to die for the unrighteousness of Panem, usually ones trained for years to brainwash them into throwing their lives away. It's really no wonder her sister Nadia, poor Nadia, she was never quite right in the head.
They just hope they won't be reaped. Obviously, they don't want to die, but that would be avoided if someone volunteered, and they had some academy training. That wasn't the only bad thing about being Reaped. The Games-intentionally or not- enforced a gender binary between male and female. Argentina knows transgender children can easily change whether their name is in the female or male bowl, but as someone outside that dichotomy altogether, it had been agreed their name wouldn't be moved out of the female bowl. The idea of the whole world seeing them as a girl- they were fine if one or two people made a mistake, that was understandable, but the whole of Panem? The idea was unthinkable.
They've already thrown on a t-shirt and jeans- the Reaping is at six-thirty, so the entire District wakes up at dawn today. The outfit is almost offensively plain for reaping day, but it's better than the old red dress folded neatly on the floor. The family didn't really have much money to spend on new clothing that'd be wore maybe three or four times a year, maximum, so they had Nadia's old hand me downs that she grew out of, whether it was from age or when she got pregnant.
No, the worst part about Reaping Day was the fact that Nadia could be reaped. She's sixteen, the oldest possible age, and then not only would Argentina's beloved sister die but her baby too. And they knew she couldn't make it, no matter how much Papa pushed her into it. She'd seen her swing from happy to sad on a whim, come home crying almost every week after she'd entered another failed romance. Argentina couldn't have that happen to her, ever.
They made a promise to themself, there and then. If Nadia were Reaped, they would volunteer. Better one dead child than two.
Miroslav Altamura, District One Male, 11
In the simulations in the academy, there was always one way to victory he excelled at. Manipulation. The simulators were simplified programs- he had learnt after saving up for a computer they were slightly altered copies of Hunger Games video games for children in the Capitol- but that didn't mean they didn't teach useful skills, and he is definitely confident he'd learnt enough to survive in an arena fullsix-year-olds.
Which is why Miroslav Altamura has decided to volunteer. He'd known one day he'd volunteer anyways, even if he wasn't chosen nothing was stopping him from merely screaming out "I VOLUNTEER" before whatever musclebound simpleton the Academy somehow thought would win could. If only he could wait till then. But he can't.
His brother, Zar, is the selected volunteer this year. Good luck, most of the District would think, but Miroslav knows better. He's seen Zar break down in tears when his parents and Jasper, his other brother, were fighting, and he saw the faint scars he tried to hide with long sleeves. He wouldn't last a day in the arena, and really it's a mercy that the Altamura on that stage will be little Miroslav.
He wonders who his district partner would be. The girl up on stage right now- Nania or something, he can't quite remember her name- had no chance of getting into the games. She's blatantly pregnant, and to give District One any credit they'd never let a pregnant girl into the Games. He's surprised, though, when the volunteer comes from the herd of ten-year-olds, and the girl appears to be small and petite. Easy pickings, he'd guess, though he knows better to underestimate a One.
The escort- a desaturated looking woman wearing a Roman toga he can't bother to remember the name of, asks her for her name, and she replies with "Argentina Macri-Kirchner," and it's only when the escort rather excitedly exclaims "Oh! Sisters!" that he realises she's basically a smaller version of that Nonia girl, with dark hair and pale skin. Argentina smiles awkwardly, and tells the escort they're not a girl, and they start to engage in a conversation Miroslav can't care about, and he waits to hear a name, any name, and before the escort can even finish saying "Quintessence C-" he screams "I VOLUNTEER!" and runs up to the stage before anyone could object.
Before the escort could even say anything, he shouts into the mic "I'm Miroslav Altamura! One's youngest Victor." and grins. Argentina is giving him an odd look, and the escort shuffles them into the Justice Building before Miroslav can continue exclaiming confidence into the microphone. He doesn't wait long for a visitor. Zar.
When Zar slaps him across the face for daring to volunteer over him, Miroslav has one thought. No matter what I could ever regret about Volunteering, at least I'm away from my family for a while.
Both of these tributes were from the lovely 20! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you like how I portrayed your tributes! And everyone else, how did you like these tributes? I can't believe we're a quarter way through the Reapings already!