Mae Themis, 14, District 5
On the stage, just to the right of the podium, a wiry man was nervously trying to pin a strand of dead confetti to the wood. His hands shook fiercely as Reyna Pulman, the district escort, watched over him. The stapler he was attempting to use had jammed, and clearly he was quite flustered with it. Reyna didn't look pleased at all that he couldn't even hang a piece of confetti. The reaping was everything to this woman. They had to be perfect.
Mae frowned, almost feeling sorry for the man. He was trying to hang the confetti all wrong. If he was smart, he wouldn't be using a stapler at all; surely a jar of clay glue would be much more efficient. Why staplers still existed at all was a mystery to her. Hopping of the chair she had been sitting on, the girl walked over to the man. Not everyone could be as logical as her, after all. It was her duty to lend a hand to those in need.
"You're doing that wrong," Mae said, pointing to the stapler. The man looked up at her, surprised. It wasn't often that the reaping staff found kids in town square early. "Staples are just going to damage the podium," Mae went on. "You should use clay glue. Its much less archaic and it will come off easier. Plus, the jars can't jam."
The man's face flushed with embarrassment as he glanced down at his stapler. Reyna Pulman on the other hand looked amused, possibly even charmed by Mae's interruption. She always did seem to like all of District Five's citizens, once you got past the fact that she picked two kids to be killed each year that is.
"I'm sorry, how old are you?" the man stuttered out looking annoyed. "Eight? Family members are supposed to stand behind that yellow tape over there."
Mae crossed her arms, frowning indignantly. She looked young for her age sure, but there was no need for this man to exaggerate things. He was just upset that she was smarter than him, most people were. "I'm fourteen actually," she snapped angrily. "And excuse me if I was trying to be helpful. You only look slightly challenged with your caveman tool there after all."
Reyna laughed as the man's already beet red face started turning purple. "Better watch out Arthur, it looks like you've met your match," Reyna said, patting the man on the back as she winked at Mae. "What's your name dear?"
"Mae Themis," the girl replied proudly. She did like it when people recognized her for her true worth.
"Well Ms. Mae, you know your not supposed to be here just yet. The reaping doesn't start for another two hours," Reyna smiled.
Mae rolled her eyes. "Of course I know that. My dad works in the justice building and is helping out the mayor. He dragged me here with him. See, he's just over there."
She pointed across the stage where the mayor was skimming through her five page speech. Mae was actually rather surprised that the woman still needed to review it. A tall intelligent man stood beside her, pointing at her script with his pen. His hair was a fair blonde, the same color as Mae's, and he seemed to be completely oblivious to the world around him. The only thing he was focused on was his work.
"Ah," Reyna nodded, understanding her finally. "Well just try not to get in anybody's way then dear. I'm sure everybody's very busy."
Mae frowned feeling very annoyed. With a click of her tongue, she stormed off the stage. They were all idiots, all of them. She was the smartest girl in the district, these stupid capitolites couldn't even dream of knowing what that kind of intelligence was like. But it was more than just the capitolites. It was her entire District. She was smarter than all of them. Just look at her father, dragging her to work with him because he didn't have anything better to do with her. At least he recognized her genius, he'd spent enough money on her tutors to have a decent idea of how smart she was. Still, he thought she wasn't worldly enough. Well, she was the most worldly person she knew.
Sighing, she made her way back towards the entrance to the square. She'd show them all one day when she got hired as the head of one of the power plants. Then they'd understand. For now though she'd have to just make do with the respect of her peers. The adults would see more clearly with time.
Petro Joule, 15, District 5
People all wore masks. The loving parent, happy spouse, bickering siblings, District citizen, capitolite, president, everyone- they all spent their lives putting on a face, a guise, of contentment, or even of discontentment. They floated around the world, spinning through their repetitive routines, never letting their acts falter even the slightest. Perhaps the only time anybody saw another's true self was when they were dead, hanging from the ceiling by a tediously thin rope.
That's how he found out who his mother was, on the same day when he learned that every single one of them were liars.
Of course, he was just as bad as the rest of them. He smiled and joked around, making them all believe that he was grotesquely okay. Perhaps that was why nobody could love him, because his mask was so much uglier than the rest of Panem's.
It was only when he was completely and utterly alone, away from their happy guises, as he was now, that his own mask slipped away. Then he would watch as the blood dripped from the knife, beading up on the porcelain sink before it started to run down to the drain, disappearing forever. Pressing his thumb to his wrist, he closed his eyes, letting the stinging throb overtake him. Now he looked the same both on the outside and the inside. His mask was gone, and now everything was bloody.
"Petro? Are you coming?" a deep voice called from the other room. The boy's heart skipped a beat as he turned on the faucet and thrusted his knife underneath it.
"Yeah, one second, I'm just washing my hands," Petro called back, rinsing the blood off of his wrist. He quickly pulled up his sleeve, hiding himself from the rest of the world. His father could never know. It would disappoint the man too much. Quickly, he wedged the knife in the gap in between the worn counter and the floor. Then he turned, took a deep breath, and walked out into the only other room in their dingy house- the bedroom and kitchen.
"You look nice," his father said absently as he tightened his tie in the mirror that hung on the far wall.
"Not as good as you do pops," Petro smiled, replacing his mask.
His father snorted. "You ready for the reaping?" he asked as he turned towards his only son.
"I guess so," Petro shrugged, a wave of sadness and nervousness washing over him. It was such a waste watching such good people getting reaped every year. Every kid who walked up onto that stage had a life, a future. They had friends and family that loved them. For it to all be erased in one flicker of an escort's tongue, it was unfathomable. "Hopefully we just don't know this year's kids."
"Hey, maybe we'll get a winner this year," his father nudged him. Petro thought back to the past couple years. The careers were on a winning streak, he highly doubted that anybody from the outer districts even had a chance at winning.
"Sure, maybe we'll get a new victor. Then our Capitol representative can be just as young and attractive as Districts One, Two, and Four," Petro smiled somewhat sarcastically. His father laughed again.
"That's my boy, always thinking of the important things in life," he bellowed.
"Yup that's me, I might as well be a capitolite," Petro laughed shakily, sneaking a guilty glance down at his hands, at the unseen scars. Up ahead, the town square was approaching fast under the dust clouds of the power plants. So Petro put on a new mask, that of the obedient District boy, and moved to stand in the check out line.
Mae Themis, 14, District 5
Mae watched the stage as the first District Five victor arrived. The square had slowly gotten busier as the day had progressed, and now it was relatively full. Mae had made her way over to the fourteen-year-old section quite a while ago; however, she hadn't seen anybody she knew yet so she was still standing alone. District Five was a moderately large district, so it wasn't unusual for her to go the entire reaping without seeing one familiar face.
Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder, looking to her left, she found that no one was there. Then to her right, a sudden fog of hot breath billowed against her neck. "'Sup know-it-all," a nasty voice growled. Immediately, Mae felt annoyed.
"I see you don't know how to get somebody's attention properly. Common courtesy would be to tap the shoulder nearest to you, or maybe to even call my name, but of course you're rude. I shouldn't be surprised," Mae chastised.
The thin blonde girl huffed. "I'm rude. Yeah, that's funny. I heard about what you did to Spark the other day. Don't pretend to be a saint," she said, eyeing Mae with a disgusted glint in her eye.
"I was just trying to help her. I thought she might appreciate it if she didn't fail the final project of the year that's all," Mae said through gritted teeth. The blonde girl standing in front of her, Ember, was possibly the most obnoxious person she had ever met. Not only was she always speaking down to Mae, despite her clear intellectual inferiority, but she was also dirt poor. She just couldn't understand what it was like to be a genius. Obviously she didn't handle her jealously very well.
"Is that what you thought you were doing? 'Cause I heard you called her stupid, threw away her design idea, and then left," Ember raised an eyebrow scrunching her nose.
Mae opened her mouth to protest, but one of the peacekeepers suddenly shushed the two of them, as the reaping was about to start. Mae prayed that Ember would be the one who got picked. It's what she deserved.
"Mae Themis," Reyna Pulman called.
Mae felt her limbs freeze as her eyes froze onto the stage. The crowd around her suddenly went silent. In her ears, the sound of her heart beat, precious yet fragile, thumped. She considered running for a moment, as the horrible reality began to crush her. Then two strong hands slipped around one of her arms, beginning to drag her up towards the stage. A flare of anger shot through her making her face flush slightly.
"Let go of me," she shrieked madly as she raked her nails across the peacekeepers exposed forearm. He let go after giving a rather high pitch yelp. At least seven other Capitol croonies stepped forwards, prepared to drag the girl up to the stage themselves. Mae had not attacked the first man because she intended on running though. With her head held high and her fists clenched tight, she stormed up to Reyna Pulman, hating everything.
The escort smiled at her, recognizing her face. "Good to see you Mae," she said cheerily. "Onto the boys."
Petro Joule, 15, District 5
Petro watched as a little blonde girl who looked no older than eleven emerged from the fourteen year old section. As expected, he didn't recognize her, but all the same a wave of sorrow filled him as he looked at her face. Indignant was probably a good word for her expression. She must have have some shadow of a life her in District Five, if she was that furious.
With a tense sigh, he returned his attention over to Reyna, waiting to find out who would be the male tribute for this year. If the next few seconds lasted an eternity, and he never found out whose life would be snuffed out in a week or so, he wouldn't mind. Of course, time didn't freeze, and since Reyna wasn't the most dramatic escort out there, she made quick work of the second glass reaping bowl.
"Petro Joule," she called out, looking around the square.
Petro felt the blood in his veins run cold. Immediately his eyes moved over to the roped off family section where his father was standing. The man was standing there gaping at the escort, completely stunned. Petro tried to make himself smile for the man. He had to put on a brave mask, to show his dad that he would be okay. It wouldn't come though. There wasn't even a minuscule shred of happiness left within him. It was like in the instant his name was called, his muscles had completely forgotten what a smile was. The entire concept of it had vanished. There was no more happiness and no more fake happiness. Because in the face of death, a silly expression can hide nothing.
His throat swelled, and the tears started to come out in choked sobs. Petro's entire body began to quake uncontrollably as two peacekeepers gently led him up onto the stage. He didn't resist at least. He didn't know how to.
Up before the entire District, he stood wallowing beside the girl, his District partner, Mae Themis. Looking out on the audience, he could see the pity in all of their eyes. Everyone pitied him. Scanning the crowd, he looked for the familiar faces of people he'd never see again. First he found young Flux, his next door neighbor, standing with the twelve year olds. Well, he thought, at least it wasn't him, he's the oldest of three and has been supporting half his family for years now. They needed him. Then he saw Rex Tyson, an acquaintance from school. It was a good thing it wasn't him either- he was dating a girl named Aura and everyone expected the pair to get married one day. And it was fortunate that Kelvin George didn't get picked either. He was due for a promotion at the factory. Oh, and Jet Druden too. His father just passed and his mother needed him.
In fact, it was good that none of them got picked. They all had lives that they loved, people that they cared for. They were all needed. Yes, better it be Petro, the boy who epitomized the idea of unwanted. This way, in five years, they could all forget about him and be happy.
A/N Sorry for the long wait. I've been ridiculously busy and haven't had any time to write. But here's D5. You'll notice that I didn't write the good byes. That would probably be because I'm lazy. I did this last time too, except, I only lasted one reaping before I started skimping on the goodbye segments. Reapings can be repetitive, so while I'll probably attempt to maybe write the goodbyes for most of the tributes, if I feel like I don't have anything overly significant to add other than a tearful scene where one or two parents are telling their kid how much they love them, I'll probably be skipping it. Of course, if there is anything important that i need to convey in a good bye segment, I'll of course write it in there. (sort of like how I felt that Auden's goodbye was important to soundly establish her sort of aversion to her intellect or how Airin's goodbye was important because I needed to show Hartley's reaction to him stealing the spotlight and so on). But that's my judgement call. So yeah, if I don't write the goodbye scene for a character, just assume it was average.
Any who, until next time.