Hello! To start off, I want to say that finals are starting tomorrow. And nearly as soon as I'm finished with school, I start theater. That goes on for about a month. I'm not sure what the update schedule will be until all that is finished but I can promise you that I'm not abandoning this story, and if I WERE to do that, I would definitely let you all know.

Now! Last Reaping chapters and then we get onto the Capitol train (bc screw goodbyes). There's more notes at the bottom.


Oceania Emeli

By the time I was awoken by the bright sunlight streaming through the window directly into my eyes, everyone else is already awake. I could hear twins in the other room over where Grandma slept as well as where we cooked and ate meals. Eli and Damien shared a room with me, and how I always managed to sleep through their rambunctiousness. I rolled out of bed and rubbed my tired, hazel eyes. The sun was already out and high above our heads and I wondered what time it was.

I supposed that I wouldn't know until the bells rang from the Justice Building and I could count off the tolls. The Reaping wasn't until later in the afternoon so I took my sweet time getting ready. I slipped out of the house via the side door, and went to wash myself off before anything else. The water was cold as ice but I was grateful to watch the grime and sweat from days of work slide off of my face and body and into the basin. Once clean, I reversed the whole process and wiped myself in a, no doubt dirty, rag.

I slid back in through the side door and got dressed in the outfit Grandma had picked out for me. She was very picky with what I wore and how I looked, so I had to dress to her liking, especially on Reaping Day. I did not worry about Reapings anymore.

As I tucked the sky blue blouse into the brown skirt, I did not worry that my brothers would be Reaped, or that I would either. Eli and Damien were still a year too young to even be eligible, and - though my name was scattered in the Reaping bowl countless times, somewhere in the forties, I think - I was eighteen years old. If I could go this long without being Reaped, why would it happen this year? The idea wasn't completely void from my mind. It still lingered there, taunting me and making my chest feel heavy like someone dropped a piano on it.

Once I was dressed, I combed my fingers through my hair and braided the dark locks behind me. There, nice and neat. Grandma would probably approve.

I was wrong. I was immediately told to sit down and let her redo my hair into a bun on top of my head, a few loose strands falling around my face. Grandma said that I was a woman now and I needed to look like one. I didn't need to look like some kind of child with pigtails. I must look feminine and lady-like. Apparently hair could make that much of a difference.

My brother's were nowhere to be seen until the sound of the door slamming open cracked through the air, and was met with an immediate, "I told you two to stop slammin' that door! Do you want to go without it again? If you break it, that's what's goin' to happen so you'd better stop!"

And was responded with a nearly immediate, shameful, "Sorry Grandma..."

Grandma wasn't strict about what we could and couldn't do on Reaping Day. All she ever said was that we had better come back an hour before the Reapings start and if we're a minute late, she'd whoop us. She never meant it but I never risked finding out. Every year, I did the same thing; hopped ship to spend what little part of the day we had left with Fiera and Dakota - a set of sisters who had been my friends since I was a little girl.

"Bye, Grandma," I said, speaking up a little because she was getting old and I figured that, to her, anyone that spoke to her sounded like they were miles away. I kissed her on the wrinkled cheek, gave her a quick hug, and turned away to pat Eli and Damien on the heads before I left. I carefully shut the door behind me, and then I was off.

The Peacekeepers in Eleven made me nervous - I could do something wrong without even knowing it, and I may be shot for it - so I tried to stay away from them. There were extra on Reaping Days, though, and it wasn't exactly easy to just walk around unseen by their watchful eyes.

A few years back, when I was much younger and right around the time the Hunger Games had just begun, there had been a riot by some resistance group during the Reapings. Apparently, they had been holding underground meetings for ever, probably, because they didn't like how oppressive the Capitol was. The Hunger Games were what really set them off. A few men and women survived, I think, but most of them were executed and even a few innocents in the crowd were killed. I think it was something like thirty people died overall. It didn't put a dent in our population.

That was why there were always so many around and it made me nervous. I always felt like I looked suspicious and when someone so much as moved, I felt the urge to run at top speed. I kept on through the District calmly, with my head held high, until I reached Fiera and Dakota's house nearby. They weren't allowed to leave their house during on Reaping Day, but I didn't mind the walk.

I attempted to wipe some of the dust off my shoes before entering but it wasn't easy and I trailed some inside their house feeling bad. I glanced back at the footprints only once before continuing into the kitchen where I was met with their family, welcoming smiles on their faces. They must have heard me come in.

"Hello, Nia!" came the voice of their mother.

And I heard the bells toll three outside.

Milo Knox

"Now, if you get into any trouble today, I'm going to personally make sure you never leave this house again except for the Reapings, young man."

That my mother. She was a whole head shorter than me, but she still acted like she could beat me up if she wanted to. Which I'm sure she did sometimes. She fervently fiddled with the collar of my shirt, doing her best to make it stay down, and I silently let her. I'd already been lectured, like I was every year, for the scars across my back and the new bruises on my knuckles.

"Have you been getting into fights again, Milo?" She would tut.

Every year I would say no, she would give me a look, and I would tell her that they deserved it. Whoever the unlucky bastard was, they had started the fight. Whoever was stupid enough to say something stupid, had messed up my shoulder so it wasn't like I was the only one at fault. That's pretty much how it always went. The scars were always there, and she always acted as if they were new. Some of them always were.

Damn Peacekeepers will do anything to a teenager who eats a few of the crops. I was just lucky that they didn't care enough to remember faces in District Eleven or else I would probably be killed for all the times I got whipped instead.

I was nothing if not tolerant to a little pain.

I stood up for what I believed in and I didn't take any of the Capitol's shit. It wasn't an easy job, you would think that I would have been rewarded for my persistence by now.

She finally fixed my shirt and then moved on to look over my suspenders while I absently twisted the ring on my finger. Ever observant, she took notice and grabbed my hand to take a look.

A pause, a sigh, and a sad look up at me through dark brown eyes. Hers were nothing like mine. I had my father's, bright and amber eyes - the most impressive ones in my district, I'd been told. "You shouldn't be wearing this in public," she told me, sounding sorry, but she made no move to take it off of me. "Not with all these Peacekeepers around, they might recognize it."

I returned the silence briefly before pulling my hand away, leaving her soft, warm hold, and stepping into my own isolated space, creating distance between us. "They don't care enough to memorize faces," I started, looking away at the opposite wall, just to take my eyes off of her. I knew my mother cared, and she was doing the best she could. She was trying to keep me safe. She didn't understand how important this all was to me. "Let alone a stupid ring." Plus it was my father's ring. Either it stayed on, or my whole hand went with it.

The silence that followed what I said was not uncomfortable but far from easy. It was unsure, mostly from her side. I could hear the gears turning in her mind, thinking of how she could convince me. She didn't want her precious baby boy that way her husband had turned out - dead. Unfortunately, it was a little late for that. I stole crops, I brought them home so we didn't have to starve, I believed in a future beyond what we had right then. I had long since turned out like my father.

"Milo..." she sighed, taking away the space between us again so that she could raise a small, strong hand to my face and cup my cheek. "Please just be careful."

More silence.

I could hear Aunt Maizy's breathing the next room over. She was probably listening to us. Aunt Maizy was a meddlesome gossip, and a horrible one at that. She needed to get in everything and everyone's business, especially mine. Especially mine and my mother's.

I moved away again, heading to the door and that was when Aunt Maizy came scurrying out in her nice clothes, putting a hand on her sister - my mother's - back and guiding her towards the door as well. "I'll be fine," I muttered to her as we walked out.

x x x

The woman who took my blood did look at my ring and I saw her stop for a moment as she looked. It didn't last long before I cleared my throat to remind her that she had a job and she had better continue on with the hundreds of other kids waiting to check in. She scanned my blood with her fancy Capitol technology and then sent me off. I didn't have any siblings to part with or any friends my age so I walked silently to the crowded area of sixteen year old boys. Everyone I knew was years older than me, most of them adults, and the youngest were eighteen.

That's not to say that I wasn't liked - though I wasn't by some, mostly because of my father and how much I followed in his footsteps - District Eleven just wasn't a place where one was friends with everybody. It was too big of a place to know everyone and those you did know were either too busy working or too busy being an asshole to be friends. At least, that's how it was for me. I guess I fit into the asshole category.

By the time everyone was gathered in the square and properly squared off, it was 4:30. It took forever for the Reapings to get going in Eleven, but that was mostly because of how large the district was. I could never even imagine walking over the entirely of District Eleven and some people had to walk far to get to the Justice Building.

There was a new Escort this year, as there was every few years. I suppose they get paranoid about being killed as the Escort the year of the riot had been, so every two or three years a new one rolls in. One thing was always the same: the Escorts were always dark. Maybe because they didn't want us to feel like we were excluded from the Capitol because we weren't pasty or creamy or powdery. I knew there were other dark-skinned people throughout Panem but Eleven had the largest population. And even with their "efforts," the Capitol still looked pretty pasty, creamy, and powdered to me.

She had masses of hair and if it were straightened, I'm sure it would have gone forever. She had tight curls that grew out as opposed to down and she let grow free. Her hair was died in a gradient, greenish-blue colors like a glass bottle or something that started dark at the roots and got lighter the further down. She had comically wide brown eyes and a small, curvy stature. She wasn't too terrible looking.

"Hello, hello!" Were we really supposed to relate to her or something? The Capitol was so stupid. "Hello, District Eleven! My name is Persephone Clack and it's a pleasure to be here so that I may have the honor of escorting two brave young District Eleven tributes to the Hunger Games!" Her Capitol accent was so thick that I would have laughed if we were anywhere else. I knew better than to laugh during the Reapings.

"I've brought a movie made in the Capitol, would you like to see it?"

Apparently someone was feeling particularly cheeky today because I heard some boy shout "No!" back at her. I half expected a Peacekeeper to turn and start shooting immediately. Even I knew better than to make fun at the Reapings. It was a solemn event and I was nothing if not a little sensible.

Persephone looked scandalized, her eyes growing even wider and her lips pursing as she looked in the direction of the voice. After a moment she cleared her throat, put on a smile and said, "How funny you Elevens are." Whoa. Elevens? That was pretty damn rude, and that's really saying something - me calling something rude.

A murmur started throughout the crowd of teens and she must have caught on that she did something wrong because she immediately corrected herself. "Let's start the movie, shall we?" Almost instantaneously, the large screens changed from shots of the crowd to the movie we had all seen a million times. Hardly anyone really payed attention. When the torture was finally over, Persephone spoke again, acting as if she had never done a thing wrong.

"Now! What we've all been waiting for! We'll start with the girls!" There was a slight limp when she walked but I had more important things to think about. Like how if I got picked, I would have a lot worse than a limp. We all waited with bated breath as she opened the piece of paper, looked down, and then back up at the crowd as if she would personally be able to pick out who's name was on the slip.

"Dakota Mallory? Is there a Dakota Mallory?"

I some other girl shout, "No!" but nothing else was done to prevent. A small twelve year old girl from the very back, shakily made her way up to the stage, staring out at everyone with big eyes pleading for help. I felt bad for whoever had to kill that sweet face, and I felt bad for any family she had that had to give her up.

Persephone awkwardly patted the girl on the head as if congratulating her for not breaking down into tears even though she looked pretty close to doing just that. "What a brave young girl!" she exclaimed into the microphone with her sickly sweet smile. "Now. The boys." She limped away from Dakota and my eyes followed her the whole way there. She plucked a name and I was suddenly grateful for all the food I'd stolen, and all the tesserae I'd never had to take.

"Milo Knox."

My heart fell through the ground.

Like the "no!" that had been shouted for Dakota, I heard my own mother scream out an, "Oh God!" and then the loud sounds of Aunt Maizy shushing her while my mother loudly sobbed and screamed into her shoulder. I did not show weakness. Maybe I twitched at first, but I collected myself as quickly as I could and made my way to stage in quick, strides. I held my head high, swallowed any emotion, and stood on the stage inches above Persephone and feet over Dakota.

What Persephone said next made me assume that she had once escorted for career districts because she asked the stupid question of, "Now, do we have any volunteers?" I had seen on television once that they ask that question before they even pull names in District Two. It was pointless asking it here. No one would step up for a trouble-making, lanky rebel boy and a shaken twelve year old girl.

I was proven wrong when an eighteen year old stepped forward, a wobble in her voice as she announced that she volunteered.

Carissa Bossi

It was a small job and I felt ridiculous breaking in for something as measly as a loaf of bread when I could easily steal crown jewels, but I was hungry.

I didn't fumble with the lockpick at all. Years of practice and I easily managed to slide it in, wiggle around a little, and hear the satisfying click of the door unlocking. Most people in Twelve locked their doors in fear of thieves. In fear of me. That was exactly what they should have been afraid of but they were going about it the wrong way considering I could unlock just about any door anywhere.

It was early morning - I always woke up early in the mornings - and most people were either getting ready for the Reapings or still sleeping to try and pretend they didn't exist. There was a permanent overcast over District Twelve that made it difficult to distinguish the difference between early morning and late afternoon, and most took advantage of that to pretend that their fears and anxieties of the Reaping didn't exist until later in the day. (i.e. "Mom, it's still cloudy out! It must be morning! Reapings aren't until later, nothing to worry about!)

The house I slid into this morning was silent as I creeped through, ever light on my feet. District Twelve houses were small but not horribly so. There was no one sleeping in the front room or the kitchen, so that was good. I left the door open in case I needed a quick escape and looked around the small area just to see if there were any other escapes. A window next to a cabinet, that was about all. I could probably scramble through it if I needed to.

I slipped into the kitchen, cringing when I hit a groaning floorboard. I stopped completely, staying silent and still until the silence and house's own silence and stillness joined me. I slid through the dark kitchen, quiet as I could as I moved things around, looking for something to eat. I opened another cabinet and, inside, found a full loaf of bread! I reached out to touch it and found that it was crisp and still a little warm. I internally rejoiced as I carefully lifted the bread, and closed the cabinet doors a little too loud.

I turned and was met face to face with a boy. He stood over me like a bear, his presence intimidating and he was completely blocking my path to the window. I was pressed to the counter and couldn't run for the door without being grabbed. My mind immediately began turning for ways out of this.

"Who are you?" the boy demanded - I noticed immediately that, for such a big guy, he had a soft voice - and I cursed myself for not hearing someone coming. How could I be so stupid? I'd been so careful and yet here I was, a fucking bear-like boy who'd somehow managed to sneak up on me now trapping me. I'd have to get my ears checked, goddamn.

I immediately answered, just as quickly trying to make myself look withered and hungry and sad. "My name is Kris." Taking a chance, held out the bread with shaking fingers. "I'm so sorry, sir," I whispered, trying to sound like I was crying. "I'm from the orphanage -" That was true. I had been in an orphanage until I was ten so it wasn't like he could go there and complain that one of the orphans stole from him. I wasn't there anymore. "It's so overpopulated there. I was starving... I didn't know what else to do."

There was a heavy silence as I sniffled and whimpered, and he just stared. A moment later, he snatched the bread from my hands and I cursed myself for not jamming my knee between his legs and running for dear hell back to Slip and Gambit. He sighed heavily, broke the thing in half and gave the smaller of the two halves to me. Oh.

"Go ahead. Take that." He was nice. And stupid. "Don't steal from here we again. We need this food as much as you do." He stepped back. "Go."

So I did the sensible thing and ran like hell.

x x x

So that should give a pretty good idea of what my life was like. I went around stealing what I couldn't afford - and that was everything. I didn't need money because I was a successful thief and all the little scars on my hands from lock picking were victories to me. I stayed with my "guardian," Gambit. He was the head honcho of us thieves, and his gopher, Slip, had taken a liking to me too. They look after me.

I steal. Gambit steals. Slip tells us where to steal from. And we bathe in the luxuries that we could never afford. Well... "luxuries" being used a loose term, since we could only steal from Twelve. Not a very luxurious place, really.

We still had to go to the Reapings like everyone else, unfortunately. I didn't dress as nicely as most kids did. I had the means to, I just never felt like it, really. I wore dark, tight pants, some nice shoes that I'd stolen from someone and a button up. They said that I looked like a boy with my short hair and small chest. I wasn't quite tall enough, though, and I had a pretty feminine face. If anything, I just looked like another Seam kid - tan with grey eyes and dark hair.

The walk to the Reaping was always uncomfortable because I had a little bit of a spacial issue when it came to being surrounded by other people. Still, I walked on without letting onto anything goddamn if I was going to let anyone know that I was uncomfortable or anything but blending in. I was always blending in. I wanted it to stay that way.

Twelve wasn't huge and it was never too crowded within the roped off areas. There weren't too many fifteen year old girls and for that I was grateful. I'd rather have my personal space bubble in a group of fifteen year old girls than be rubbing elbows with crazy, dirty adults who didn't care who I was, they would stand as close as they damn well pleased. Gambit had always had personal space issues, or rather he had issues respecting personal space, and it never stopped bothering me.

We'd had the same Escort for as long as I could remember. This year she had hot pink hair, pale as ever skin, and an array of sky blues and bright purples and pinks covering her. Purple nails with blue dots, pink stockings, blue blouse, purple skirt, spotless, stark white shoes. She looked like a rainbow, rare occurrences in Twelve, had puked on her.

She was getting older now, with laugh lines around her eyes and a few other noticeable wrinkles in her skin. I was sure that she would get rid of them as soon as she was done with these Games and she was comfortable in the Capitol again. "It's a pleasure to be here in District Twelve for another year!" I could hear the tension behind her voice when she said it. It probably wasn't that much of a pleasure. She had been waiting countless years to go somewhere like Two or, hell even Ten was better than Twelve. But she was here another year.

She made small talk with no one in particular, jumped when a crack of thunder came from above, and then hurried through it. I could only imagine her face if it started to rain and wash away all her makeup. "Now... ahem..." She sounded nervous, glancing at the sky once more, and I'm sure she meant to say something but she simply scurried over to the bowl on the right side of the stage, plucked a name, and hurried back to the microphone.

A smile came to her lips again and a small, embarrassed chuckle. God, it had been thunder, not a roar. But it was going to rain soon, that much was obvious. A little water never killed anybody. "Carissa Bossy." My mind immediately started working on how I could get out of this, and that was when I realized that I couldn't get out of this.

I couldn't believe this. Me? How could I get picked? I'd never taken out tesserae in all my life, I blended in, I was only in the bowl four times. Compared to other girls who must have been in there more than fifty? And I was picked? I felt trapped. Never had I found myself stuck in a situation that I couldn't escape from, that I couldn't use quick wits and a quicker mouth to run away from. I couldn't do that hear.

What if I died?

My legs started moving without my mind telling them to do so and I walked to the stage, feeling somewhat embarrassed about not having dressed nicer. More so, I was thinking of how I could win. I had to do this so I had to figure out a plan. I would have to map out my escapes, see who I would kill and who I couldn't kill. My eyes scanned the crowd for Gambit and Slip, and when I landed my eyes on the older man - the one who had taken care of me for so long - he only looked back solemnly and gave me a nod.

I did not know what it meant.

Cole Tenacity

It had been a strange day for me so far.

First, I woke up to the sound of someone in my kitchen. Upon sliding out of bed and checking Cierra's room and then my parents', I found that everyone was still sound asleep. Knowing my house better than anyone, I crept into the front room and into the kitchen, not making a single sound. There was a girl in my kitchen. Small and thin, wearing close-fitting clothes, boots, and short hair, she was grabbing the bread that my mom had made late the night before.

Fully intent on getting the thief out, I stepped up behind her but felt bad when she nearly jumped out of her skin at seeing me. Turned out that she was just a poor orphan girl who was starving. I had immediately pictured Cierra in her position and gave in, giving her half of it. I had worked hard to get that bread. I lied about my age to work in the mines - they don't care much as long as you're working - and worked hard. Living in Twelve wasn't easy, especially when I had a sister who needed special attending to.

So the orphan girl left with her food and, now that I was awake, I went on to make breakfast for my family. I didn't tell anyone about the girl and just claimed that I had eaten it during the night and I was sorry. I was easily forgiven.

Alright, so maybe my day wasn't too strange but I'd never had to go face-to-face with a thief in my house before, so it was at least new to me.

Another thing was that it didn't often rain on Reaping Day. It was summertime and that didn't exactly mean that the weather was going to be great but the rain was often reserved more for springtime. Still, it looked like there would be a summer shower that day. That did not seem to please Daisy, our Escort (strange Capitol name, isn't it?).

I was currently standing next to my best friend, David. My immediate question when I had seen him on the way to the Reapings was, "Where's Kyra?" But that only got me teased. Kyra was David's younger sister, my age at seventeen, and the girl of my dreams. She was constantly coming around my house because Cierra enjoyed her presence. As did I. David liked to tease us about getting married and we both denied anything.

He obviously wasn't in my section but we were close so we stood near each other with just a rope dividing us.

He was respectfully silent while Daisy spoke, and I heard him let out a sigh of relief when Kyra wasn't called. I did as well. For Kyra, and for Cierra. I knew that if Cierra went in she was a goner, even if I didn't want to think like that. She functioned well with us but when she had episodes, it could get pretty bad. She needed our family, and I don't know what I would do without her.

However, when the girl who had been called walked to the stage, looking like she had gears whirring in her brain, I recognized her immediately. I squinted up at her, almost questioning myself for a few seconds. That couldn't be her. She had said her name was Kris, right? This girl was name Carissa. It could be a nickname...

I supposed that I would never have the chance to find out. She was probably a goner - Twelve kids almost always were, besides our lone Victor. This morning she'd broken down in tears just at being caught with bread in her hands so I couldn't imagine her killing someone and being able to get through it. I felt bad for the poor orphan girl.

Daisy was quick to shake Carissa's hand and move on to the boys' bowl. She clearly wanted to get done before rain started falling. And I saw her panic when a big, fat raindrop fell directly in front of her heels on the stage. She practically ran to the microphone, only glancing at the slip of paper for a second before she said the name. She was clearly in a hurry, but it sounded like she was trying to be considerate and sensitive about this whole event.

"Cole Tenacity."

I was a quiet kind of guy. When I pictured myself getting Reaped, I had thought that the whole world would explode. I imagined myself crying and screaming and being dragged to the stage by Peacekeepers forcefully. This did not happen. I was silent and solemn, feeling heavy as I walked up to the stage. All I could think about was Cierra. I would win for Cierra. She needed me, she needed her family complete. I had a job I had to return to. I had to win.

I didn't even need to think about it. I would win.

I climbed the stage, probably looking colder and harder than I had an hour ago. A look of shock passed Carissa's face when I climbed onstage, so I knew it must have been the same girl from earlier. She looked taken aback and stared at me for several seconds before bringing her eyes down. Meanwhile, Daisy quickly pushed out the speech about her brave tributes from District Twelve.

We shook hands.

And the Games had begun.


So I think I'm going to put a poll up on my profile for who your favorite character is so far (this won't impact who wins at all), but feel free to leave a comment with all that!

I'm going to take down the character list but everything you may need should be on the blog and if it's not, feel free to tell me and I'll be happy to put it up there!

Thank you.

~ Lexie