ACADIA LYNNE: DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from the thumping that against the walls of my room. Pacifica's been pulling her leavers party all night, and I've hardly been able to get a wink of sleep. Already, I know Paci isn't going to be surviving much longer than the idiots from Eight. Eight, being the district with the most bloodbath kills in recent history. I don't think their tributes have lived longer than the first two days in the past 17 years. I've done my research.

But Four hasn't had a victor in a much longer time. We've had our stroke of bad luck, but I think the Capitol's had it about up to their necks with us and our incompetence, and it shows. Dropped sponsors. Lack of popularity, of cheering. Even the other careers have been turning their backs on us. We've become the laughing stock of a nation, and it makes me sick. Two years ago, one of us died in the bloodbath. The fucking bloodbath, for god's sake! You'd think there'd be no stronger message.

And here we have our shit-stained mentors, who can't understand anything. Teal and Pacifica. Neither are smart. Neither are strong. They're attractive, but we lost our sponsor status years ago. We can't rely on popularity points anymore. We need someone strong. Someone fast. And brave.

Someone like me.

I haven't told anyone I'm volunteering in her place, but it'll be easy enough. I know Pacifica. Reading people is my forte, and manipulation is second nature to me. She'll wait until the cameras are already on her, confused. And then, once she's sure she's hot enough, she'll make "like, the best entrance ever!". Which is just the perfect amount of time for me to slip in and volunteer myself. Sure, she'll be pissed, and I'm sure I'll pay for it with a big, nice slap to my cheek, but physical harm to any tribute before the games is frowned about. Not that she even knows that rule. Pacifica is the walking, talking definition of why district four fails each year.

I'm supposed to be next year's tribute, but I honestly can't wait another year. There's nothing left for me to learn in this based academy, and I can't stand another year around more vapid, self-absorbed assholes. When I'm victor, at least I'll have the peace and quiet of a life in Victors Village to myself. Sure, there'll be cameras and publicity. But no more idiot hopeful, and no more idiot heartthrobs.

If there's one thing I hate, it's 'heartthrobs'. What's the point of them? They have no skill, no talent whatsoever, and they rely on the screaming hoards of Capitol women well past their prime to even go far. The games aren't supposed to be about how charismatic you are. It makes me sick. You fight, and you survive like the rest of us. It's not 'survival of the most popular', it's 'survival of the fittest'. The fittest being me, of course. But 'fit' doesn't always mean strong. It means cunning, and calculating, and courageous.

It means being able to take any measures to win, underhanded or not.

I sigh again, the party music from upstairs throbbing through the walls. I don't wish I was living back with my stupid parents - curse them and their constant obsessions with looks and image - but it's moments like these that make it seem preferable. Eventually giving in, I slide on my shoes and slip out of the door. I've been up for a while, pacing around in my room, quietly steaming. Pacifica's really been getting on my nerves lately, and not just because of her position as the 'strongest'. No. She's acting like she's better than me. And nobody does that.

Tiptoeing up the stairs, I reach her room. It's not hard to tell which one it is, from the latest Capitol hits blaring inside. Poor neighbours. Violently, I rap on her door.

"What?" she yanks the door open, her black hair spilling over her shoulders. I almost grimace at the sight of her face. It's caked in day-old makeup, her racoon eyes dull and bored. I can almost imagine my precious hatchet embedded in her pretty little skull. That's another thing. She can't handle gore. I can.

"I wanted to say, good luck for later." I try to keep my voice neutral. If I act sweet. she'll know something's up. I'm not exactly a sweet person, and I keep to myself. She frowns at me. "It's a Quarter Quell and everything. Thought you could get as much luck as you can."

"I don't need it. The odds are in my favour." Then she slams the door in my face.

I scoff. You couldn't handle a second in the arena, especially not in a Quarter Quell like this one. Plus, the odds are definitely not in your favour. There's not in anyone's favour anymore.

Not when I'm around, they're not.

TEAL MARINA: DISTRICT FOUR MALE

I bite back the bark of laugher that squeezes it's way up my throat as Virgo, our escort, holds out a sheet of paper - bless that sheet of paper - her eyes expectant. A sheet of paper that, ultimately, should not determine the fate of anyone in District Four. Except it does.

Because it's mine.

Let me explain. Volunteers are common in Four, expected, even. The girl who just stepped up proves that. We're lovingly dubbed as the 'Capitol's favourites' in the big city itself, and we're not-so-lovingly dubbed the 'Careers' in other districts. 'Careers' meaning that training for the Games themselves are what circulate our lives. Excuse the pun, but it literally is our career. Train. Sleep. Train. Eat. Re-watch the Games. Train. Etc….

So it will come as zero surprise when I say that I have spent the majority of my life training for this. Days and days on end running around on tracks inside our centre. It's formally called "The District Academy for the Gifted", but it's an elaborate lie. Training is illegal.

But, the Capitol doesn't give a shit. Otherwise, we'd all be dead by now. It's always been that easy for them.

Not for us, of course. People hardly understand how hard training can be. The tension in there can nearly be as high as the tension in the games. Maybe even more. At least there's only ever about six Careers in the games themselves, give or take. Outside of that, everyone else is terrified, and most inexperienced. Some are smart. Most aren't.
Stakes are high in the academies, though. Everyone's pressing for that one place, and it's not exactly the environment to make friends. You're cold and harsh and calculating, which works for a lot of people. But not me.

I've never had a talent for underhanded methods, which is probably why it came to a bit of shock when I ended up being chosen for this year's male tribute. It's not often a male tribute will go for the charisma angle, which is why people were so horribly bitter about the whole thing. I almost expect someone else to volunteer in my place - oh the irony that I've been reaped - but I don't think anyone dares to do that a second time.

So I guess my sarcasm and charisma it is. I suppose it's worked for District Four before. But then again, I think back to the 75th Games, that didn't go too well for him

Oh well. Welcome to the Teal show, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you enjoy yourself, because you're gonna be here for a while.

Virgo looks slightly confused as I saunter up to the stage, a slight spring in my step, and take my place next to Acadia, who's giving me a competitive look. Oh. Well two can play at that game. Looking at her dead in the eye, I jokingly imitate her gaze, right down to the narrowed eyes and furrowed brow. Obviously, I've done it right, because I hear a couple chuckles come from around me, including Virgo. Hopefully the Capitol's just as amused.

"Well, that's quite an entrance!" Virgo remarks, having to stoop down to stick the microphone right in my face. Her wedge heels are easily half the length of my leg, and with her piled-on hair, she looks freakishly tall. "No volunteer? You have to give me your opinion!"

I look at her with mock surprise. "I thought these were the Reapings! Don't tell me it's the interviews already? Are the games tomorrow?" That causes another chuckle. Acadia rolls her eyes.

"I wish…"

"Nah. I was supposed to volunteer anyways. Looks like the odds are totally in my favour already!" I wink.

"Well, well! We have a jokester here, don't we? Give it a hand for Teal Marina!"

Scattered applause. Slightly smugly, I look at Acadia. My applause was louder than hers. Hah.

"Shake hands, you two, and off you pop! We don't want to drag things on too much, do we?"

No, we don't, but I'm going to bask in every second I get on air. After all, I need to win it with the audience straight away. Not being the most proficient of weapon-holders, I need all the help I can get from sponsors. Especially if I'm against Acadia. She's notoriously brutal.

Still, I can't help but tease her just a little. Mockingly, getting on one knee, I hold out my hand, attempting to grab her's.

"My lady."

Flushing, she snatches it away. Looking at the camera, I pull a face. Yeah. They'll love that.

"District Four, your tributes. Acadia Lynne and Teal Marina!"

That's right. One of us is gonna be the victor. And it isn't the bitch.

That took longer than anticipated. I'll update quicker next time.

Also I failed that physics test, if anyone cares. I might be murdered after results, so I'll try to get as many chapters out before then. Bit short, but I hope my writing's improved.

Seeya, anyways.