"You Before Me and Me Before You"


A/N: Here's our final complete district, and second to last intro chapter, where we will head off to District Twelve to meet Ephraim Kress and Blaze Colton!

Warning: Especially vulgar language in Blaze's POVs. Also I wrote Ephraim's 2nd POV late Friday night after a party, so. . . it may have come out a bit goofy, because. . . reasons. . . sorry bout that. I know I at least had fun writing it though lol.


~I would do anything for you

I always will put you before me

You before me

And everything I'll ask of you

I always will put you before me

You before me~


Ephraim Kress, 16, District Twelve

January 22nd, Year 101

2 Jones Street, District Twelve

It's been six months as of today. An entire half of a year spent with one person should feel like a whole lifetime for somebody my age, yet it seems as if that entire time has flown by in the blink of an eye. Yet at the same time I still can't shake the comfortable feeling of normalcy I get every time Alita wraps her arm around my waist, cuddling her head into my shoulder as we calmly watch the fire slowly burn in front of us. I can't help but forget what life was like before her, and I have a hard time ever imagining life without her.

I've had girlfriends before- not many, but some- and none of them came close to the feeling I get whenever I'm around Alita. While I hate to act like some love-sick, naive teenager who thinks he's found his one true love, well. . . that's sort of how I feel.

Her seam grey eyes warmly flicker over to me, the steady crackle of the fireplace twinkling in her eyes as they widely look into my eyes, a dull grey in comparison to her's. My wavy brown hair is a complete mess, while her light brown hair carefully falls down her neck and drapes over her shoulders, not a single strand out of place even as she lays her head on my broad shoulders.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks softly, nearly in a whisper, not wanting to interrupt this perfectly calm moment.

"How beautiful you are," I reply honestly, even though she scoffs and rolls her eyes at the answer.

"You're so corny," she teases me in a murmur, going back to watching the burning fire.

"It's true," I laugh lightly, avoiding the sudden temptation to shrug, not wanting to disrupt the perfect image that Alita is, her eyes drooping nearly shut, as she contently sighs, legs crossed on the floor and toes curling as a goofy smile slips onto her lips.

"Well, thanks," she giggles, leaning into my shoulder more heavily.

"What, no compliment for how dashing I'm looking right now?" I joke, earning an 'are you kidding me right now' side glance from Alita.

"You look alright," she tells me, cheekily sticking out her tongue before nuzzling back into a comfortable position leaned against me and letting her eyes slide shut.

"I look fantastic," I tell her in a macho voice, taking my left arm and slicking a hand through my hair.

"Whatever gets you to sleep tonight," she murmurs under her breath, barely failing to deadpan as a smile creeps onto her lips for just a split-second.

"I think your head on my shoulder will get you to sleep tonight."

"What can I say? You make a good pillow."

"I make a lot more good than that," I tell her, returning to my macho voice.

"Yeah, you can be really funny sometimes too," she teases me, bopping my nose as she lets out a soft "pop," sound and giggles.

"Well, you know what they say. When it comes to making jokes, some people are good at it, and some people aren't."

"I can think of a few," she yawns.

"I can think of one in this house right now," I murmur under my breath, coughing her name in as indiscreet way as possible.

"Aww, you really shouldn't be so harsh on your dad, he at least tries to be funny, unlike some people."

I raise an eyebrow at her, and she just rolls her eyes and slaps me on the chest lightly. "Don't worry," she waves off. "It's not like I have much room to talk about funny parents," she mutters with a knowing glance.

Quirking a reassuring half smile, I throw my arm around her shoulder and squeeze tightly, kissing her gently on the forehead. "Don't think about them right now, let's just enjoy tonight, okay?"

She smiles back at me, letting her eyes droop shut as she wraps her arm around me, pulling back lightly as her head goes back to gently resting on my shoulders. A minute passes like that, a warm feeling enveloping us in the silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound and movement in the room except for the steady rise and fall of her chest, and light intakes and exhales of breath.

I'm perfectly content, willing to sit like that for the entire night, wide awake but perfectly happy with a night that doesn't seem to have a possibility of getting better. But then, just like she always manages to do, Alita manages to surpass any of my expectations.

"I love you."

The words fall out of her lips readily, breathed out as she quivers a sure smile, her eyes not even opening as she only slightly tightens her grip on me, pulling me just a tiny bit closer for those three words.

For someone like me, those words shouldn't be a small thing. They should be a massive obstacle, a towering mountain that takes me preparation and grit and a few buckets worth of sweat to choke out. But when I look down on her small figure, her easy smile, her face that can't be described in any way other than beautiful, the words spill out without a second though.

"I love you too."

Her smile brightens just a tiny bit, mine widening as well into a content grin, feeling as if the entire world of worries has just been lifted off my back, not a thing mattering except for her body curled up next to mine, listening to the pops and cracks of fire, watching the dim flame continue to burn for the rest of the night.

Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve

May 4th, Year 101

Blue Ridge Public School, District Twelve

You learn real fast in life who you care about, and who you don't. Those that you do care about you fight tooth and nail to keep safe, and if somebody who you don't care about is ever harming somebody close to you, then why should you hold back against them? Especially when that first list of names has been thinned down to low enough to count off on my left hand.

My left hand: which currently has a nasty cut running across it from finger tip to wrist. An ugly scar that will stay with me the rest of my life, but one that I'll never regret having. Those few people that you care about, you have to protect them, even if that means putting their safety before yours. After all, if you aren't willing to sacrifice your own well being for somebody, can you truly say that you care about them?

A smattering of just a few adults are all gathered into small groups, mindlessly chatting to pass the time as they wait for the kids to get out of school. Most parents in this hellhole aren't willing to sacrifice any time for their kids, much less wait for them just to see them a few minutes earlier, and I can't help but gain a smidgen of respect for the people here who clearly give a damn about their children. I like to hope that my parents would do the same for June if I weren't around to be here for my little sis.

The sky is as gloomy as ever, the thick smog coating the entire world in a dull grey, coal seeming to be sprinkled evenly throughout the earth, even here at the school miles away from the nearest mine. Most people get used to the coal dust that veils our district in a sad grayness, but I don't think I ever can. That's one thing that June and I will always agree on, and regardless of how much it sucks to be constantly brought down by the world that you'll live in for the entirety of your life, I'm still happy that June and I feel the way we do. Better to be aware of the awfulness of your life and cling to some sort of hope for a better life, then to sulk into a life of resigned normalcy. As June always likes to say, keep your head in the clouds and maybe one day you'll finally be able to see them. I always loved that saying. . . who would've thought a ten-year-old could say the most uplifting thought I've heard in my life?

The old school bell dully rings off, rattling around loosely, seemingly on its last hinges. Nearly as soon as it goes off, the front exit to the small school in which half the district is stuffed into opens, kids filing out, packed shoulder to shoulder as they all attempt to squeeze through the slim doorways. Between the taller high schoolers and the hundreds of other kids, I just barely manage to spot June's currently unmissable light pink hair bobbing its way through the crowd.

My fists clench tightly as the color of her hair has my blood boiling at the memory of how she got it, the bulging veins in my left hand more promptly showing off the scar which just further triggers the memory of the ordeal. How kids can be so terrible never fails to amaze me, and I still feel myself slightly surprised I was able to stop myself from flat out murdering the sons of bitches who thought that it would be funny to pick on a little girl eight years their prior. Their excuse that it was just a 'final year prank' and that they didn't choose anybody at specific to do it to, and just snuck the un-washable dye into the first hat they saw- didn't do anything to calm me down.

It doesn't matter though, those three scrawny little assholes got what they deserved, and the scars lining my back and running down my hand from the whipping that came afterwards are well worth it. I'll gladly trade an eye for an eye with anybody that messes with June, and I think it's safe to say based on their black eyes and timid expressions every time that I've seen them since then, that I got the better end of that trade.

I'm now able to fully see June, her smile still firmly in place despite the odd looks she's getting, holding her winter hat over her head, tugging back and forth on the ear muffs attached to them, swinging the hat as her head bounces from side to side, skipping giddily towards me as her bright blue eyes light up the moment they spot me.

Just as she begins to speed up, she bumps into the back of one of the older boys, tumbling to the ground and falling on her rear as the boy turns around confusedly, his friends also stopping with him, a pretty looking girl and three idiotic looking dudes checking to see why their friend stopped walking with them.

But as the boy turns around and spots June on the ground, dusting off her pants and her cheeks flushing in embarrassment, he doesn't extend an arm to help her up, instead breaking out in laughter, not even attempting to hide how funny he finds June's hair as he turns to say something to his friends.

I don't hear what he says, but whatever it is, it causes him to begin to laugh even louder, his friends all chuckling along with him while June's cheeks flush an even deeper red as she self-consciously attempts to cover up the bright pink.

The boy says something to June, then begins to turn to his friends, but never sees anything except for my fist.

I'm still running as I throw the punch, and it barely manages to connect with his jaw, but the strength behind it and his surprise is enough to send him stumbling backwards, barely staying on his feet as he looks up at me with a look of complete confusion, holding a hand to his cheek as his friends all rush over towards him.

I'm not letting him get off that easily though, the blood boiling in me to the point where I'm seeing red, the world around me almost muting as the sounds all morph into one inaudible blend. Before he can fully recover, I'm already charging at him again, grabbing onto his shirt and picking the heavy boy just an inch into the air before tossing him backwards onto the dirt ground, dust flying up as he roughly collides against the floor.

He grunts as he slowly lifts his head up off of the ground, still looking thoroughly confused and not at all annoyed or angry even, something that just makes me even get more pissed off. Does he not even know what he was doing wrong? He thinks that there's nothing wrong with making fun of little kids?

I begin to stomp towards him again, but stop dead in my tracks as I feel a pair of warm arms wrap around my leg, June's wide eyes bearing up at me when I look down, as she rests her head against my leg, clutching on tightly and refusing to let go. "It's okay, Blaze," she murmurs quietly in a pleading voice.

Looking down into her watery puppy eyes, I find my anger dissipating in an instant, nodding and quirking a soft smile to her, not even sparing the asshole another glance. "Alright," I grunt, reaching down my arms and picking her up, throwing her legs around my shoulders as she lets out a giggly scream at how high she is, wobbling just a bit as I hold tightly onto her feet.

The first few steps away are a bit difficult, but soon I find a rhythm despite the unevenness of having her on my shoulders. Once we exit the thick crowd of students anxious to leave school, June seems to ease up, relaxing as she slumps down and rests her chin on the top of my head. "I love you, Blaze," she whispers tiredly.

A genuine smile slips onto my lips. "I love you too, kiddo."

Ephraim Kress, 17, District Twelve

May 4th, Year 101

Blue Ridge Public School, District Twelve

While I don't exactly dislike school, there's nothing more relieving than the sound of that old bell chiming off at the end of a grueling lecture on Hunger Games history that begins to drag on just a bit too long, my patience just starting to thin. Hanging out with friends? Meeting new people? Awesome. But having to sit through hour after hour of dull lessons from teachers who seem just as eager as us to just get the heck out of here the moment the clock hits three o'clock? Not my cup of tea.

So once that bell finally does go off, I'm the one leading the charge out of our classroom door, Alita matching my pace and hanging by my side, grabbing onto my hand as our hands swing wildly while we rush through the halls. Just a bit behind us Boone and the only person to ever enjoy one of Miss Barry's lectures- Wendall, struggle to keep up. As we walk through the hallways, Boone's brother Asa comes out of his classroom and falls into line with us, chatting animatedly with Boone while Wendall silently listens.

Alita and I have gotten to the point where neither of us even needs to speak to one another, perfectly content with just holding onto each other as we walk through the halls, bright smiles on both of our lips as we shove our way through the mass of humanity blocking the lone exit. Even through the loud chatter of the school, I manage to overhear a bit of Boone and Asa's conversation, the two taking turns interrupting each other to argue over who's classes are more boring.

Alita just squeezes my hand, glancing over at me and rolling her eyes as we turn a corner, cramming our way through the doors to leave the school. I almost take in a deep breath of fresh air, nearly forgetting the fact that the air out here is probably less fresh than it was inside, the smog being particularly bad today, even the blue in the sky invisible when I look up.

"At least there's a bit of sunlight," Alita cheerily comments, always the one to look for any bit of positivity. Hell, with her home, I would be looking for any shred of happiness I can find too. She's admitted to me she does as much.

The two of us both stop in the middle of the fast moving crowd for just a moment to look up to the sky, but it's long enough for somebody to bump into me, as I feel a light impact against my leg, and faintly hear somebody crumpling to the ground.

I don't have to turn around to know it must be one of the elementary schoolers, probably with their head in the clouds and not paying any attention to where they're walking. But hey, not like I can blame them, wasn't like I was very grounded when I was that age either.

But when I do turn around, while I may not be surprised to see a little girl who can't be older than ten lying on her rear end, looking completely embarrassed, I am more than a bit bemused to see the bright pink hair that her hat is doing a bad job of covering. That half-done attempt to hide the ridiculous looking hair, combined with the fact that the bright pink her cheeks are turning nearly match the color of her hair, make me unable to hold in the laughter that rises up from me.

In another moment a joke pops into my head, and without a second thought to it, I turn to Alita and voice it out loud. "I don't think that brightness you saw was the sun," I tell her, causing myself to laugh harder as Alita rolls her eyes, attempting to hold in a giggle that barely escapes her, while Boone and Asa don't both laugh along just as loudly as I am.

When I turn back to the girl on the floor, her cheeks have turned a full blown deep shade of red, and she avoids my eye contact as she pulls her hat more tightly over her hair. The smile immediately drops from my lips, and I feel a pang of guilt as I awkwardly look down at the girl, mentally cursing myself. I guess I forgot how self-conscious girls can be about that kind of stuff, damn.

I'm about to go to help the girl up, but after hearing Asa and Boone's laughter continue to echo out loudly, I turn to tell them to cut it out. As soon as my head turns though, I'm met with a rough impact on the lower half of my jaw, and I'm seeing stars as I dizzily stumble backwards, barely staying on my feet as I attempt to balance myself out while the gears in my head start turning, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

It doesn't take long for the answer to come, as I bring my hand to my cheek, the blurriness fading from my vision just in time to make out a very pissed off looking guy charging at me, picking me up by the shirt, lifting me a full inch of the ground before tossing me backwards.

I land roughly, letting out a groan of pain as a shot of pain hits the back of my head. The world is spinning again, and this time it takes what feels like a full minute for things to return to normal, and as I manage to wobbly lift my head up off of the ground, I see the boy stomping towards me, a feral look in his eyes as his fists stand clenched at his sides.

While I know that I should probably be feeling fear right now, for some reason all that I can muster up in me is a feeling of intense confusion, and I can't tell if it's because I landed on my head bad and have a concussion right now, or if it's just about what the hell is even happening right now. I just made a joke, and out of nowhere I'm getting attacked by a dude? Was it really that bad of a joke? I mean, I get pre-teen girls can be self-conscious and all. . . but damn.

I'm not exactly in a position to voice any of my confusions at the moment, the boy stalking closer and closer to me by the second, as I've not even begun to try to scamper to my feet or scuttle away, still frozen in shock as I lie with my head lifted up, eyeing the boy bemusedly. Running would be the smart thing to do now, right? So why am I just laying here? I totally have a concussion, don't I?

But despite my lack of self-preservation, somebody else comes in to keep me from getting my skull caved in, the pink-haired girl attaching herself to the boy's leg and looking up at him with pleading eyes, murmuring something that just blends into a distorted sound for me. Yup, I totally have a concussion. At least now I've figured out the humor-to-head injury ratio for future use, because while brain injury sucks and all, that was still one hell of a joke.

I blink a few times, shaking that thought from my head and forcing myself to focus on the present. Why the hell aren't I feeling bad right now? I just brought a little girl to the verge of tears and I'm still talking to myself in my head and cracking jokes to myself. God, my head is all sorts of fucked of right now.

My eyes shut for a long second, and I widely open them back up, forcing myself to manually blink, still lying on the ground and watching the scene unravel in front of me, the pink-haired girl getting a piggy back ride from the older boy as they walk away. Well, thanks little girl for keeping me from getting my head caved in. Would've been nice to stop the concussion, but I appreciate it anyways. . . .

"Damn it," I murmur to myself in a slurred voice. "I'm doing it again."

I get onto all fours, and thrust myself up to my feet, taking one big step before flopping back onto the ground face-first, Alita shrieking my name and running to my side as soon as I hit the dirt. Through the distorted sound, I manage to hear her calling my name, and I let out a groan of affirmation, waving a hand in the air as I keep my face in the dirt.

"I'm okay," I wobbly slur.

"God damn," I manage to make out the voice of Asa. "What the hell was that dude's problem?"

Even in my half-conscious state, I'm still able to shake my head, my nose rubbing against the ground as dirt smears my face. "No, tha-t was my fa-ul-t," I get the words out in pieces, jumbling up the words to the point I'm not even sure if anything I say is audible, but the silence I receive is hopefully enough confirmation that they heard me. "I. . . wa-as being a jack. . ." I pause for moment to think of the word I'm looking for, then add, ". . . ass."

"Oh god Ephraim," Alita's voice comes out worried and in a state of panic. "We gotta get you to the apothecary."

She loops her body under my right arm, and I feel someone else grabbing my left as the two hoist me into the air, and I look over at Alita to see her light grey eyes shining with worry, a few strands of her beautiful light brown hair in her mouth as she looks at me as if I were a ghost. Who knows, maybe I am? If I were a ghost could they still see me. . . or touch me? I dunno, I'll have to ask her if I'm a ghost. . . .

Before I get the chance to ask, we begin to slowly move forward, Alita staring into my eyes intently, holding my eyelids open whenever they attempt to droop. "You are such an idiot, Ephraim," she sighs.

I just giggle a bit, eyes glazing over as they stare back at her, even in her panicked state and with her face being so blurry I can barely see it, still looking like the most beautiful girl in the entire world. "Heh," I snort, bobbing my head. "Yea-ah."

Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve

May 24th, 101

Blue Ridge Public School, District Twelve

Whenever the reaping begins to approach the district always starts to clear up a bit. The smog is gradually reduced to the point where visibility is attainable by the time the Capitol sees the town square tomorrow, and it almost seems as if the coal dust begins to thin from the air, no longer lining your throat with every breath you take.

While the clouds are still all grey, the sun a dull orange that barely cuts through the thick smog, for the first time in a while- the sky is blue. That bright baby blue that the sky is always colored in picture books, only missing the white, fluffy clouds to be as picturesque as any painting can be.

It's this image that I'm surrounded by that sets the tone for the afternoon, a light feeling in me that I don't often feel as I wait for June to get out of class, having to stay late to talk with her teacher. Nobody else is around at this point, and I'm glad for that, left in peace to just stand with my hands in the pocket and look up in the sky.

My head is brought out of the clouds by the clicking of the doors, swinging open and falling shut a moment later as my eyes drift over to the exit to see June grinning wildly as she skips towards me. The pink in her hair has just begun to fade, now just an odd mixture of her strawberry blonde and neon pink that blends into something that can not quite be described as orange. Hopefully it doesn't stay like this long, and is a sign of the dye begin to come out- but either way June doesn't seem to mind, looking carefree as ever.

"Hi, Blaze!" She greets me cheerily, bounding over to me, raggedy backpack slung over her shoulder as she waves at me.

"How was school?" I ask her as she drops her bag and hands it off to me.

"Good!" She replies enthusiastically. "We don't have to have school tomorrow, but my teacher wants me to do a special writing assignment over the weekend."

"Sounds fun," I laugh, lugging the bag over my back and taking her hand as the two of us begin to casually walk home, taking our time down the dirt road, not terribly anxious to hurry. "What's it going to be on?"

She shifts at the question, looking a bit uncomfortable as she kicks a loose rock that we pass by. "I'm supposed to write a summary of all of the reapings. Apparently it's some national competition. Every district chooses one elementary schooler to write one, and the best out of the twelve gets to visit the capitol for some writing program."

"Best in the entire district, huh?" I nudge her on the shoulder, giving her a smile. "Mom and dad'll be proud of you, that's awesome. My little sister, visiting the capitol."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not gonna get chosen, the only reason I was picked for this was because the fifth grader they chose didn't want to do it. And besides, it's not like I have a ton of competition."

"Still, what? Sixty fifth graders? Another sixty fourth graders? To be chosen out of that is still impressive, don't undersell yourself."

She just shrugs her shoulders, something else clearly on her mind as she avoids my reassuring gaze, eyes on the dirt road as she kicks her heel against the ground with every step. "I don't even want to write it, though."

"What? Don't tell me you don't want to go to the Capitol." I stop walking for a moment, looking in both directions to make sure nobody is around before telling her, "I may not exactly be a fan of them, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy going there for anything that wasn't the Hunger Games."

"It's not that," she sighs, rolling her shoulders and sticking her hands in her pockets as she walks forward, forcing me to quickly hustle up to catch back up to her.

"Then what is it?" I ask, stepping ahead of her and walking backwards, raising an eyebrow at her.

She speeds up and brushes past me, then stops walking, pausing ahead of me and averting her eyes to the ground as she kicks the dirt. "I don't wanna have to write about the reapings. It just. . . feels wrong to be excited about watching and writing about them. I mean, there's kids younger than me that might get reaped. . ."

"No matter what you do twenty-four kids are going into the Games, June," I attempt to reassure her, giving her space and staying behind her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "If all those people are going to have this awful thing happen to them, there might as well be at least one little girl that gets to have something good happen because of them."

"But what if somebody I know gets reaped?" She asks exasperatedly. "It's not exactly that unlikely, I probably know at least a fourth of the kids."

I give her shoulder a squeeze, smiling at her even if she can't see it. "Well, then I bet they more than anyone would want somebody that they know to get something good out of their loss."

"Would they really?" She asks shakily, sounding not so believing of me. "What if it was me that got reaped? Would you want to even think about anything happy?"

"Well, you don't have to worry about that, because you won't get reaped."

"And if I did?" She asks me, turning around and giving me a look that tells me that "you won't" isn't going to be an answer she'll take.

"Then I wouldn't let them take you," I tell her honestly. "I would fight every last Peacekeeper in this entire district if I had to, but I can guarantee you they would never get to take you away from me."

This manages to crack a hint of a smile from her, looking down to the ground sheepishly as she clicks her feet together. The smile quickly disappears though, and she looks back up to me, now looking dead serious. "And if you got reaped? Would you want me to be happy about that?"

"I don't care what happens to me," I say, taking her hand and squeezing it tight, staring her dead in the eye to get through to her that what I'm telling her aren't just empty words. That this is really all that matters to me. "All that I care about. . . is that you can be happy. No matter what happens to me, if the end result is making you just a bit happier, a little bit better off in life, then I'll be just as happy as you darn well should be."

She continues to stare into my eyes even after I'm done speaking, seeming to be looking for one shred of dishonesty, just a little hint that what I said isn't completely true. But the longer she scrutinizes me, the more she seems to realize how much I meant what I said. And while her eyes were begin to look glassy before, now they've begun to water up, a cracked smile on her lips as she suddenly buries her head into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Thank you," she murmurs to me. "You're the best brother in the world." She pulls back from me and wipes her eyes, giggling through the tears as she looks up at me. "I don't care how many other people say that, because every other kid that tells their brother that is wrong."

The words bring an easy smile to my lips and a warm feeling in my heart, meaning more than anything else anybody else could every say. Because everything I said to her really is true, and looking down at her right now only just fuels that thought further. Nobody else in the world matters but her. It's always her before me, me before everyone else.

No matter what.

Tristan Bay, 28, District Twelve Mentor

May 25th, Year 101

The Town Center, District Twelve

Another year, another half-hearted attempt to reason with myself that this year can be different. That was the argument I made with myself this morning, staring tiredly into my mirror after a night of no sleep. It's also the same tug and pull I'll undoubtedly go through in the next week, when reason and tempered expectations are thrown out the window, traded out for a thin veil of hope that I force myself to uphold. Even when my tributes fight with each other, anger Careers, form worthless alliances, and put themselves in unsalvageable positions- it's always my job to keep believing.

Scanning the dead, tired, defeated crowd in front of me, I find myself struggling to find that piece of hope that I always manage to find. It seems every year I have to dig deeper inside me to find it, and right now. . . it's hard to find the energy in me to even care enough to put in the effort. No matter how much I try to force myself to believe that having hope will help, my results make it hard to think that hard work really does equal results in the Games.

After all, some of the most recent victors have come from the least likely places. Glory's mentor basically verbally abused her while he was around, and Caleb slept through Audra's bloodbath, sure she would die there and not wanting to have to witness it. Maybe my belief really doesn't matter, and I'll just have to come to terms with that fact. I've already lost enough kids that I fought tooth and nail to get home, so what more can I really be asked to do?

It really is no wonder that all of District Twelve's victors have turned into bumbling alcoholics with life expectancies in the forties. Well, all two of them anyways. At bare minimum I can hopefully at least break that streak. As much as I love Caleb to death, I've always warned him that his problem with alcohol is toxic for both him and his tributes, and it looks like that's starting to finally come back to bite him. As awful as it sounds, he can at least be a lesson to the younger victors to stay away from drugs to cope. God knows they need as many reasons to stay sober as possible, with how many there are to pick up the bottle.

In my years of mentoring, I've begun to master half-listening to the mayor's same old speech, and am able to quickly pull myself out of my thoughts as he finishes in a timely manner, turning it over to our beloved escort. Well, loved by me anyways. People in District Twelve tend to not have any extra room in their hearts for anybody, much less a Capitolite. She's kept me sane in my years of mentoring though, so she'll always have a loud round of applause from me, even as the rest of the district barely manages to eek out a decibel of noise.

But Rose isn't much of one to care about, or expect, praise, and she quickly walks out to the podium with a somber expression, having the general courtesy to not be happy while sentencing children to death. She's wearing her signature all (rose) pink outfit, from her hair, to her dress, and down to her heels- all the same exact shade of her namesake.

"Welcome, District Twelve, I am proud to be here here as your escort for my tenth year, equaling the tenure of our lovely victor Tristan Bay."

The crowd manages to eek out a scattered applause for this, mostly coming from children below reaping age, their heads still filled with Capitol propaganda that paints me as the savior of our district, believing this fairy-tale character of me being a glorious hero. A kind, motherly figure that should be an inspiration for every man, woman, and child in our district that so desperately needs role models.

That image dissipates pretty fast once they get old enough to watch the reruns of my Games.

There are no accidental victors.

Once the applause dies down, Rose wastes no time to quickly run through the rules, and calmly proclaim that she will be reaping our first tribute. Even with the genders combined, and the ages expanded, the bowl is almost comically small, little more than one thousand children eligible to be reaped. Compare that to the near half-million number of District Six, and it's no surprise why none of our tributes ever steal the limelight. There's not enough of us for anyone to give a damn. Hell, there's more pet dogs in Panem than there are citizens in our district- we're the minority to end all minorities.

I again pull myself out of my bitter thoughts, focusing on Rose intently as she carefully reaches into the bowl, pulling out a slip from the very center- just as she always does. Once she's satisfied that she's found the true middle, she plucks the paper out, not paying the bowl another glance as she quickly walks over to the podium, just as anxious to get this god-awful ceremony over with as the rest of us are.

Her voice is clear as she loudly announces into the microphone, "Blaze Colton."

The response is immediate, a high-pitched scream rising from one of the back sections, clearly not belonging to Blaze- a fact that's only further confirmed when a girl emerges from the ten-year-old section, dull pink hair all but covering up her light blue eyes that are alight with fear.

As soon as she breaks out into the aisles, a handsome young man emerges from the twenty-ones, not even looking back as he begins to hesitantly walk towards the stage, giving some very worrying looks towards every Peacekeeper that he sees. Thankfully they mustered up some reserve troops to fill in the gaps for the reapings, or else I have no doubt he'd be making a break for it right now.

But while he might not be running away, the girl with pink hair is running towards him, tears in her eyes as she shouts out his name, Blaze turning around just in time to see her collide with him, clinging onto his waist and refusing to let go, even as he hurriedly whispers to her, attempting to lightly peel her off of him while tears begin to collect in his eyes as well.

It's at that moment that I find that nugget of hope, a spark that maybe this really can be the one. He's undoubtedly going to be popular in the Capitol, he looks to have the physical attributes to win, and it's clear to me as he tearfully has to pull his little sister off of him that he has motivation. The only flare of worry I feel comes from when a Peacekeeper comes to restrain the girl, who refuses to leave Blaze- and the boy immediately tenses up, looking fully ready to lash out.

As soon as that scare comes though, it's gone. His anger simmers down, and he un-clenches his fist, looking in pain as he slowly turns away from his sister, forcing his way up the stage in long, slow, but sure steps.

By the time he turns back to the crowd, on stage and standing tall next to Rose, his sister has resigned to her fate, her body limp as the Peacekeeper practically carries the girl back to her section, the heels of her feet dragging against the cement the only sound in the otherwise silent district, a harsh, high-pitched sound that causes goosebumps to prickle on my skin, a shiver running through my spine.

Rose, as calm as she usually is able to be, looks a bit out of sorts from the whole situation, clearing her throat and silently seeming lost in thought for a moment, holding the microphone inches from her mouth even as no words spill out. It only takes a few moments for her to maintain her composure, and as soon as she does she's quickly speaking into the microphone, eyes darting between the boy and the crowd.

"Well, it's a pleasure to have you Blaze Colton, I assume the lovely young girl we just saw was your sister?" She asks the question lightly, and I let out an audible breath when she doesn't attempt to make a joke about the pink hair. The Capitol will be frowning at the missed pun opportunity, but there are more important things in life than entertainment- or popularity, in Rose's case.

Blaze seems to notice the lack of mention as well, easing up just a bit as he slowly nods, keeping his eyes locked on the microphone, seeming to fight against scanning the crowd for his sister. "Yeah."

"She seems to care for you very much," Rose offers warmly.

He doesn't respond to this, continuing to just barely succeed in fighting back tears as he blankly stares ahead, and Rose almost looks in pain as she is forced to move away from the short interview, and to the inevitable question that she must ask the shocked boy.

"Well, Blaze, I'm afraid that now you will have to be choosing your partner in the Games." She says the words as gently as possible, and I again breath a sigh of relief as she doesn't attempt to hype up the moment at all, again ignoring the entertainment value of the viewers back home. District Twelve may have its down sides, but ironically enough, escorts tend to not be one of them.

Despite her carefulness, the impact doesn't seem at all lessened on Blaze, his eyes alighting with rage as he turns his gaze to the crowd. Rose flinches back, but then quickly leans back in as she realizes in sync with me that his anger isn't directed towards being forced to make that decision. His gaze isn't a nervous one, guiltily attempting to reason with himself that there's someone that deserves to be chosen. This boy is deciding between people that he wants to be forced into the Games.

That realization unnerves me just a bit, dampening my excitement over the boy as I exchange a worried look with Rose. We may have been expecting for tributes who disliked each other, but you always like to hope for the best. . .

Rose doesn't seem keen to interrupt the boys harsh judgement, waiting silently for a solid minute through a tense silence as he continues to stare daggers through a multitude of sections. Finally, his gaze rests in one place in particular, locking there for a long moment before turning away, his anger turning to bitterness as he faces Rose, his eyes still burning with fury as he mutters, "A seventeen-year-old, Ephraim."

The fact that he doesn't even know the last name of the person he's sentencing to almost definite death again sends a negative energy through my veins, my hope still firmly in place, but my burning optimism dimming just a bit, now just a dull flame that I'm barely clinging to.

The boy who steps out of into the aisle does nothing to illuminate that light, a harmless looking young man emerging with an expression that crosses between shock, confusion, and regret. Why he would be feeling any of those feelings right now only furthers my uneasy curiosity over these two's history, especially as Ephraim refuses to look either Rose, myself, or Blaze in the eye as he quickly walks up the steps.

Once he reaches the stage, a single loud sob escapes from his section, and Ephraim seems to pause as it does, his eyes peeling back to meet someone else's before quickly looking back up stage, now locking his eyes with Rose as he walks to her side, being careful to keep his distance from Blaze.

Rose seems to sense the fearful tension on stage just as well as everybody else in this district undoubtedly does, and being careful to keep her body firmly in-between the two boys, brings the mic up to her lips. "District Twelve, your tributes, Blaze Colton and Ephraim Kress!"


A/N: So, on top of writing that 2nd Ephraim POV, I also made a late night shot at some fanmail and bonus scenes. So on my blog is 2 new fanmails, and three just-for-fun scenes where our 12 tributes play paranoia, and then never have I ever, followed by another game of paranoia(written at a different-but equally fuzzy time]. So have fun with those beautiful trainwrecks lol.

Also, in case your curious about that whole concussion thing, I meant to touch on that during the reapings, but the POV was starting to get long and I needed to wrap it up. So more on that during his goodbyes(which those will be done en masse in just 3 chapters, so not too long). Honestly, if you have anything that you think is a loose-end I forgot to tie, it's (probably) just me saving it for the 3 or 4 more POV's I'm going to be writing for them. I need to save at least a few of my big reveals :P

See you guys, hopefully next week, in D10/D3! And in the meantime be sure to be on the lookout for more bonus scenes and fanmail(which you guys should all TOTALLY send in, like, IDC how "stupid" or "silly" the question is, I think we've already hit max stupidity with my antics a few nights ago lol).

Trivia: Last time the 3-point answer was not correctly answered by anybody sadly(didn't really expect anyone to lol, that one was tough AF). The correct answer was: the last paragraph was a near word for word copy of Amara's death POV. Look at me, making allusions and poetic connections. I'm starting to feel like my old AP lit teacher.

(1 point) So this story has now had a total of 5 tributes in relationships, with a few more lovey-dovey ships in the future. When did I get so sappy? Anyways, lol, because of that we've also had 5 love scenes/POV's(Merrium, McKenna, Levi, Clyde, and now Ephraim). Out of all of these which one has been your favorite?

(1 point) Now that we've seen all of the pairings between our POV tributes, which district pairing has been your favorite so far? The more mysterious reasoning in D1? The very blunt reason here in D12? The bittersweet selections in D5 and D6? Lemme know your thoughts!

(1 point) Normally don't do 3 trivia questions, but since I put all that stuff on the blog I have a question (semi) related to that stuff: Who do you ship so far? Can be tributes, mentors, escorts, side-characters, your own tribute which hasn't been introduced yet. . . anybody that you like. Go wild. Bonus points(1 per) if you predict a ship that'll actually happen(I have a few planned out, because Turtzreal has made me soft and in a shippy mood)