Cross is the same. I just added him to make things even.


Angora Chenille, 14 (D8F)

It seemed fitting to visit Dash's grave on Reaping Day, even though he didn't die in the Games. He was a sickly child, and when he was eight years old, he just slipped away. We never knew what it was that took him. The doctors in the Capitol probably could have told us, but that was never an option for people like us. It was fitting to go on Reaping Day just because the Games were about death. It was helpful to do our mourning on the day we were already sad and get it all out of the way at once. I always liked to think that Reaping Day was happy for Dash, since he never had to see it. He would have been twelve this year, but he was safe forever. It was convenient for our parents, too, since they could pretend they were crying only because of him and not because they were scared for me. This was the first year my sister Camara was safe, so they only had to be afraid for me now.

"You don't have to be scared," I said to them with Camara split off with me to go to the Reaping center. "There are so many kids. It won't be me. I don't even take tesserae." My family's tailoring shop got enough business from rich people and visiting Capitolites that we were a lot better off than some of the people in our District. Camara and I didn't have to work in a factory all day, so we weren't so pale and our bones weren't weak.

I waved to our parents as we left and put a spring in my step. I always acted like Reaping Day was no big deal, and that I really believed what I said about the chances. I wanted to make sure I was the kid they didn't have to worry about and fuss over. It was hard enough to be scared your kid would die without having to comfort a scared kid. Really, of course, the chances didn't matter. If there was any chance at all, we were all afraid. I had a bigger chance of getting hit by a car or choking on some bread, but that never seemed as scary. Sometimes people aren't very logical. It was the same reason I never looked up exactly how many kids were eligible each year. Whatever number I got would be scarier than the vague idea I had in my head.

Every year, Camara and I walked around a bit together before we went to the Reaping center. I first went when I was eleven, when she was eligible but I was too young. Now she was going with me when she was too old. The first time, she told me all sorts of things to remember in case she died, from what dress to bury her in to what to tell the boy she had a crush on. I started adding my requests the next year, and we'd been updating them ever since.

"Make sure Mom and Dad don't spend a lot of money on my gravestone," I said. "Tell them I just want some flowers planted over me. And don't let them throw away my drawings, even if they make them sad at first. Put them away so they can have them later," I said.

"Okay. But what if you win?" she asked.

"What?" I said. We'd never talked about that before, not since we were too young to get Reaped. It wasn't something people like us even dreamed about. The Games were only games to the Careers. They were an execution to us.

"It could happen. Sometimes it happens," Camara said.

"I'll take you all to live in my new house," I said. It was the first thing that came to mind, and other things started to flow after that. I'd already gotten out my last requests in case the worst happened. But what if the best happened? It was a lot more fun than talking about death.

"My talent will be designing dresses. I'll draw all the other Tributes, because they didn't deserve to die. I'll eat ice cream ever day and sleep on silk sheets. I'll give my dresses away to poor girls, like the girls from Twelve. And boys too. And I'll get a kitten," I said. I'd been worried about keeping Mom and Dad happy, but Camara had other ideas. She set out to make me happy. I had the best family in the world, even if we were missing one piece.


Cross Spauldings, 18 (D8)

I once was lost and now am found...

Every time I saw the Lost and Found sign hanging above my workstation, that was what came into my head. You had to latch on to the little things in Panem. We only got away with as much as we did because we didn't make waves. Surely the Peacekeepers knew what the "sewing room" in my uncle's basement actually held. It just wasn't really worth going after as long as we didn't proselytize in the streets or lobby at the Games Center. We spread the word through quieter tactics, like get-togethers over tea or book discussions that didn't actually discuss the latest best-seller.

"Excuse me." The man in front of me didn't actually think he'd done anything that needed to be excused. He said it in that way that made it clear I was the one who should ask to be excused for wasting his time, having not produced his lost object before he had to come all the way down here and retrieve it.

"Can I help you?" I asked. The Justice Hall was about the only place a Lost and Found could be. Anywhere else, if you lost something, you weren't getting it back. Here the people were rich enough to be feared.

"I hope you have my watch," the man said, leaning over my desk on both arms. "It's very valuable. I suppose even you could tell that. If it's been stolen, I'll need to speak to your superior."

"I'll take a look," I said. I bent under my desk and retrieved a box of assorted riffraff. Underneath an umbrella, I dug out a leather watch with some sort of precious metal lining the face.

"Gently! That's very fragile!" the man said as I lifted it out. Yeah, so fragile it didn't break when you dropped it, I thought, but I handed it back to him with a smile.

"Is this it?" I asked. I was supposed to confirm he was really its owner, but he swiped it from my hand and slapped it on his wrist. Someone that rich didn't have to steal a watch, so I wasn't worried.

"Have a nice day," I said as he grumbled. "I'm glad I could help."

"Oh... you have a nice day too," he said, and he stopped grumbling as he walked off. Sometimes you just have to outlast grumpy people and they run out of grump.

A few minutes later, Claira came to get me. I had one of the nicer jobs in Eight in that I was allowed a lunch break, and we scheduled our activities accordingly. We held hands as we walked back to my uncle's house. We were long past the shy stage of being sweethearts. Once I was able to provide for her, we'd be married.

Our tiny church room was an exercise in subterfuge. Everything had to be ready to be taken down at a moment's notice. There was a pile of fabric in one corner ready to be thrown over the three benches that served as pews so they'd look like normal sewing benches. Our cross was two knitting needles stuck together with putty loose enough to yank apart and nonchalantly knit with in seconds. We always had a half-finished quilt on the floor in case we had to pretend we'd met up for a very non-religious and non-suspicious quilting bee. It looked nothing like the towering cathedrals that sometimes still popped up in art class, but it was the holiest place I could imagine.


Make sure to message me if you reserved the TWO FEMALE! I think I actually didn't reserve it, so I'll be opening it back up soon.

WIKI UPDATE: I made it to Hailey.