Ethan Gennin, 16, District 4
"Mr. Gennin, unfortunately, you're free to go. I hope you've learned your lesson," one of the guards muttered as he released me from my cell, his tone filled with annoyance as he added, "Same kid bailed you out."
I just rolled my eyes and walked out to find my best friend, Max, waiting for me, his arms crossed, "What were you thinking Ethan? Hitting a peacekeeper? This is your second strike! One more and you'll be stuck in that cell permanently, no bail. You're lucky your sister told me what happened."
"Just shut it, Max. I'm not in the mood to be lectured," I replied with the slightest sneer.
He just ignored me, and continued on with his speech, "When are you going to grow up? I get it. You're life is a mess, but you can't keep letting your anger get the best of you. For heaven's sake, you nearly nearly broke a boy's neck once! I can't keep bailing you out of jail every time you want to disrespect authority."
"Look, I'm 16 years old. I make my own decisions and I never asked you to bail me out," I replied as we headed out of district 4's holding cell prison.
He glared, "If that's your way of saying 'thank you', you're welcome."
I sighed, "I'm not sorry, but I've just had a lot on my plate lately with the reapings being today and everything else."
"Yeah, I can't believe it you count as 'upper class' just because your dad was mayor once upon a time," he replied, choosing to ignore my previous rudeness. That's why Max and I managed to get along. He'd lecture me, but somehow always managed to subdue my anger.
Walking down towards where the reapings were taking place in silence, I felt the anger slowly fading away. I wasn't sure what I would do if I was reaped, but I knew that if I was, I wouldn't be put into these games without a fight.
The reapings wouldn't take place for a while, so we headed to the market to get something to eat. Our grain shipment from district 9 had just come in, so today's meal would most likely contain bread, which would be a pleasant change. Looking around, I noticed a small, unattended fish stand with three loaves of bread just sitting there.
"Up for a free meal?" I asked Max, as I began walking towards it.
"Ethan, I don't steal and don't you dare mess with that stand. You touch that stand and I swear, I will never bail you out again," he replied as he walked away giving me a warning look.
All of a sudden, the anger that I had released began building up in me like a balloon filling up with air. Ignoring Max's warning, I stalked over to the stand a picked up bunch of fish along with the loaves of bread and tossed it into a nearby empty barrel.
My anger continued to build and I began kicking the worn wood that held together the stand. Starting to laugh, I enjoyed destroying the unattended stand and watching it fall to it's knees. Before I knew it, the wooden stall was in complete shambles. With that, I picked up the barrel of fish I had stolen and turned around. I noticed a girl staring at me with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open, her eyes brimming with tears.
She tried to form words, but she couldn't come up with anything, so to fill the silence I simply laughed, "Sorry," I added sarcastically, "My bad."
Lifting my chin high, I marched away from the destroyed fish stand and headed towards the reapings area.
From behind me, the fish stand girl yelled out, "I really hope you're reaped. You deserve it."
After sitting through about half an hour of idiocy, the escort finally went to the female bowl and began sifting through the bowl for a female name. The escort was a tall man with deep, booming voice and once his large hand selected a name, he read it out, "Elysia Avery."
It didn't take long to look through the female rather small female section a pick out who the name belonged to. Some dumb brunette headed up to the stage looking mildly surprised.
The escort gave her the slightest of smiles, which she managed to return. The sooner she died, the happier I'd be, she was already starting to annoy me for some reason.
"Now for the boys, Ethan Gennin," He called out. I didn't move, "Ethan Gennin?"
I scoffed this would not happen. I refused to go into the games.
I started to run, however, the nearest peacekeeper tried to restrain me, causing me to punch him square in the nose. By then, another group of peacekeepers had surrounded me, forcing me up to the stage, then into the justice building. I tried to clawing my way away from them, but they one in the numbers so I was forced into a room all to similar to the cell I had been in this morning.
From inside the cell, I mean room, I could hear that the escort was attempting to calm the crowd and quickly finish up the reapings.
Screw the escort. Screw the Capitol. And mostly, screw the Games.
Kenna Karlise, 16, District 9
The golden sun blazes down on me, my tattered clothes offering no protection from the heat. On all sides I'm surrounded by small shops, and directly ahead of my the Justice Building and reaping area.
Behind me someone shoves into my, and I stagger for a moment. After regaining my balance I steadily make my way to the center.
Right in front of me a small line of kids are getting their blood taken by Peacekeepers. Behind them is a small stage with two empty looking reaping bowls, 4 chairs for our mayor and few remaining victors and a podium.
All around the makeshift stage are dreary, grey banners with the Capitol insignia on it. On top of the Justice Building are a few camera men. Just beyond the small town center you can make out row upon row of golden grain, the suns rays bouncing off of them, illuminating the whole field...
Another shove sends me forward, and I give out my hand to the Peacekeeper, wincing a bit as he pricks my finger.
He gives me a nod and I silently make my way to the nearly empty 16-year-old section. Normally the reaping area is packed full and manages to be both vibrant and terrifying at the same time, but today it's neither. Its more...sad kinda. The few kids here are all silent, the only sound a few choked out sobs from the little kids.
I don't belong here, that much is clear to me. Me being in the reaping bowl was an accident. My dad died a month before I was born, but when he was alive he held a position in the government. A clerical error made it so he was never taken off his position, so now I'm here because of it.
Most all of the kids here are from the few processing plants that haven't been moved to the Capitol.
Food processing used to be our main industry, but about 25 years ago some of the workers aloud something called bolitinum, and 83 Capitol children died. A month later they aloud another disease in, this time killing 94 kids. 177 kids; over half the amount of our kids killed by the Hunger Games.
It goes without saying that soon enough almost all processing plants were shut down.
Good riddance to them. The plants polluted the land, making half the district a wasteland, the other half a grain field that we're not aloud to do anything but work in.
If only I lived somewhere else. I mean, I love district 9, it's beautiful, but we're never aloud to actually observe its beauty, not aloud to be in it. Instead I'm locked up in old dusty and dark shacks that reek of death and sickness, packed to the brim with other orphans.
Being able to live somewhere where I can live in the wild, being able to immerse myself in nature, would be fantastic.
The tapping of the mic snaps me back out of my daydreams, and I see the escort strutting up to the podium as the mayor takes his seat. Missed the speech it seems. Darn.
The escort, a flamboyant looking guy with blue streaks in his jet black hair, gives a smile to the crowd. "Welcome everyone, to the reaping of the 175th Annual Hunger Games!" He's practically bubbling with excitement, and I politely clap, joining the scattered applause.
"Boys first!" He says, bounding over to the bowl, grabbing a slip quickly.
After making his way back to the podium, he unfolds the slip. "The male tribute is... Cliff Easton."
Nothing happens for a moment, then, a boy dashes away, running towards the crowd. He only makes it a couple of feet from the roped off area before he gets clubbed in the head with a Peacekeepers baton.
They half to pretty much drag him up, and the escort plasters a smile on his face, though its clear he's embarrassed.
"Well, uhh, now for the female tribute!" He hurries over to the reaping bowl, and with his cheeks a crimson red, he grabs a slip. He gets back to the podium, and reads it quietly for a moment before coughing, and turning to the mic, his voice frantic. "The female tribute is Kenna Karlise."
I let out a sigh. Whatever, its not like I wasn't expecting it. I've put in far more tessera than anyone else here.
Being sure to keep my legs from shaking, I walk up to the stage. The escort looks relieved that I'm not embarrassing him, while my district partner is barely conscious, leaning against one of the Peacekeepers. He must have got hit hard.
I give a weak smile to the camera, and the escort beams out at the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the 175th Hunger Games!"
A/N:
Hi all, Butterfly here! Hope you enjoyed that chapter :) What did you think of these tributes? Finals just got over on my side so sorry for the shortness! Reviews are the best!
David12341 here, I've had to write 4 pages of separate essays the last 2 weeks, so sorry for the short chapter and delay, next one will be soon!
