A/N (Glossy): I'm getting a lot of Reapings soon, so send yours in if you haven't already.
Jessamine Grey, 18 (written by HestiaAbnegation11)
District 8 Female
I visit his grave sometime that day. The day he died. I stand beside his grave, the small angular thing in the District Eight graveyard.
Alec Ronaldo Rodriguez
14 Years of Age
5-19 Hunger Games years
Sobs wrack my body, and I am convulsing, remembering the day, the day the 19th Annual Hunger Games were picked.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree?
They strung up a man
They say who murdered three.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree?
Where dead man called out
For his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree?
Where I told you to run,
So we'd both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.
X-FLASHBACK-X
"Alec!" I shout laughing and running through the winding streets of District Eight.
"Jessamine!" He screams in a high pitch scream, pretending to be like a girl.
"Your voice is soooo high!" I say as he makes a funny face at me.
"Happy Hunger Games." He says in a mock-serious voice.
"And may the odds be ever in your favor!" I squeal as he tickles me.
"We better get down there, or else they will come to our house, like last year!" He exclaims to me, last year we didn't get there on time, so we got a severe scolding.
"You're probably right." I say as we finish our run, ending up at the Hunger Games desk.
"Name." The Capitol lady says.
"Jessamine Grey." I say at the same time Alec says "Alec Rodriguez."
"Thank you." The Capitol lady says as she draws our blood and we giggle, going past the Capitol lady and Alec puts his hands over his head and walks like he's a stick person. He's mocking the Capitol lady.
I guffaw and he tries to cover it up with a little cough, and Bonus Boxwell shouts "Welcome! Happy Hunger Games! I will get right to the 'bonus!'" He says laughing at his own joke.
I don't laugh, it's the Hunger Games. The sick thing that they make us compete in every year. "First the boys." He says smiling.
"Darwin Jenkins." Bonus says and a small boy from the merchant part of town walks forward. There is quite a division in the parts of District Eight. There are the merchants, the seamstresses, the dyers, and the workers. I am in the seamstress class and Alec is in the dyer class. He makes a whole bunch of different dyes, it is almost mesmerizing!
Earlier that morning he gave me a white and grey sleeveless dress, and I stuffed it in my closet, I would only wear it on important occasions.
"Now for the girls!" He says real excitedly, and I felt like a pin would drop and the whole town would stand up in revolution.
District Eight hates The Capitol. Almost more than any other district, including old District 13, which we sometimes still see smoke rise from that direction. We sometimes participate in revolutions, Alec and I, but most of the time we steer clear of them.
"Harriet Veranda." Bonus Boxwell says as a girl from the worker class walks up. She is kind of pretty, in a different way, black hair, ice blue eyes, and a plain brown dress.
"Thank you, District Eight, home of seamstresses and dyers." Bonus Boxwell says grinning at us. Harriet does the okay sign, with the thumb and pointer finger bent together and the other three sticking up and raises it. Alec follows suit, and soon all of us have raised our okay sign.
They push Harriet and Darwin away from us, away from the families, who will be pressed to their TV screens. District Eight might win. We won the 3rd, 13th, and most recently the 16th. Woof Olmo, won that one, by hiding and killing the last two tributes.
Alec and I leave, and that day, he did something he never dared to do before. He leaned in and kissed me, and I smile to myself, and we murmur goodbyes, going back to our houses.
I go out to our little berry farm, we never starve, at least not as much as some people. When we can, when we have enough, my mom and I give some to Alec's family. My mom squeezes the juice out of the strawberry and we put it in some juice. I sip out of my little cup and she says "A relief, that you and Alec didn't get chosen. I know someday I will be torn from you."
"Oh, mom!" I say and lean into her.
That night, I go to bed in my tiny bed, which I can barely fit now. At 12:00 I hear screams and I wake up, and see fire blazing outside, and I see Alec outside the house. I know what happens before it does. A Peacekeeper flies out of nowhere and stabs him in the stomach. I scream, and I feel like my throat goes raw, and I don't talk, not for a year.
x-Flashback End-x
I lay flowers down onto Alec's grave, admiring his bravery, and the flowers are blue, his favorite color. I kneel, letting my blonde hair fall to the ground, and I look up at the gray, bleak sky. "Hey." Someone says behind me.
Hey Abigail." I say wiping tears from my eyes.
"Good to see you." She says, not smiling, knowing why I was here.
"You too, how's the family?" I ask, her family is the mayor, so she has enough money, but she likes to work.
"Good, mom's still a little shaken, after the letter." Abigail says like its common knowledge.
"What letter?" I ask, curious, which I can't help but be.
"Dad got it from the Capitol earlier this week, it said that if there was one more uprising in Eight, he'd be," Abigail chokes up, her finger sliding slowly across her throat.
"Oh! Abigail!" I sob, and go willingly into her arms.
She cries into my faded t-shirt, and I realize this is true friendship, the willingness to be there when someone is hurt, or sad. "Well, then they need to do a better job of quelling the unrest." I say mock shaking my head in disgust.
Abigail laughs and she stands up, brushing off her golden dress. "So, reaping day, right?" She says?
"Yeah, I have got to go back home and get my clothes, hope you have a happy Hunger Games, Abigail." I say, not saying it like the Capitol, for the grief of bringing up memories of Alec.
"You too!" She shouts, pedaling away on her bicycle.
I walk back home, and see my mom standing in the doorway. "How was your visit, Jessa?" She asks me?
"Good, mom. I ran into Abigail Greenbreeze while I was there." I say shrugging, going up to my room.
"Oh, how was she?" My mom asks.
"Good, as usual, but her dad may get the boot." I say thinking of a world without Mr. Greenbreeze, the kind mayor as our mayor.
"Oh. Well, I better let you get ready, it's a big day today, and we're going to have strawberry pancakes for breakfast." She says.
"Great!" I say.
I walk upstairs, and feel an urge, and walk to the closet. I pick up something I haven't ever worn before. The sleeveless grey dress. I slip out of my normal clothes and put it on, taking the remaining pins in my hair out.
"You look beautiful, my darling." My mom says, clutching her chest.
"Thank you mom." I say grinning at her.
"I haven't seen you wear that before. It's a beauty! Where did you get it?" She asks, curious.
"Alec made it for me, three years ago." I say, feeling dead inside my chest.
"Oh, honey. Let's get to the reapings, we don't want to be late. Again." She says laughing.
We go down to the Reapings, and I look at the people around me, and I let the Capitol lady prong my hand. I stand by Abigail and Bonus Boxwell comes up to the stage "Welcome, to the 'bonus' stage!" He shouts.
I wince at his vain attempt at humor "First up, is the boy from the bonus district!" He booms and the whole crowd winces and groans.
"Nolan Batiste." He says and a nerdy looking boy walks forward and my heart swells. He is at most 13 years old.
"Now, for the girls, is" He pulls a name out "Jessamine Grey!"
I walk up to the stage and say limply "Jessamine Grey," and shake his hand.
I only have two visitors at the Justice Building, which are my mom and Abigail!
"Have a wonderful time in the Capitol, darling, enjoy it while you can." She says and clearly you can tell she is being watched.
"I will mom, and I will try my best to get back. District Eight is wonderful." I say wistfully.
"Oh! I forgot, I got these from the bakery today, for you, just in case." She says handing me a box of cookies.
I smile and accept them, "Thanks mom."
A peacekeeper comes and tells her she has to leave. "Bye, honey!" She shouts.
"Abigail!" I shout as she runs in, her brown hair bobbing against her back, against the red dress.
"I'm so, so sorry!" She sobs into my shoulder, and I squeeze her hand.
"It's okay, maybe I will win." I say.
"No one wins the games, Jessamine. No one." She says.
"Yes, they do, there is one victor every year!" I say, willing it to be true.
"Of course, but your spirit is destroyed in the Games. Hardens you into something you aren't. Just remember, remember, that, when you're in the Capitol, to remember yourself." She says and pulls out a ring and hands it to me.
"Alec gave it to me, but he wanted me to give it to you sometime, someday, if something happened to him."
"Thank you Abigail." I say as she exits.
The Hunger Games. The great challenge I face. The one thing we all fight. I realize, why District Eight has fought this all along. And realize, I must fight on the same side as my district.
Nolan Batiste, 13 (written by DonnaNobleoftheTARDIS)
District 8 Male
Purl's cries awake me well before sunup. She can't help it, she's just a toddler. Of course, Ariadne, my older sister, doesn't stir. I'm pretty sure she could sleep through a firebombing. None of my little brothers are awaken either. I guess that means I'm the lightest sleeper here.
"Shhh," I softly whisper as I climb over two of my brothers (the five of us share a group of mattresses on the floor of our tenement) to get up and reach her. She's tossing on her pallet, her jerky movements making the small trundle shake. I touch her cheek with my bony but warm fingers, and she already begins to settle.
"Nola," Purl mumbles in her three-year-old language. "Brother. I'm sick."
I shake my head, amused. "You always say that. Tummy ache?"
She nods. I decide to scoop her up in my arms. "Breakfast will be special today. You know why?"
She stares at me blankly, her cheeks red, and sighs.
"It's Reaping Day. We get to eat eggs! Make sure your tummy can have some eggs this morning. We only get them once a year, after all!" I told Purl. She smiled as I made a doofy face of over-excitement.
One a year. Reaping Day. My second Reaping.
In District 8, Reaping Day holds a bit of solemnity that I'm sure the richer Districts don't have. For us, Reaping Day is like waiting to go before a firing squad. I could feel it last year, even though I was all of twelve. At least I was braver than Ariadne was in her first Reaping…she vomited, even after someone else was called.
I guess that's why I don't understand why Mom and Aunt Latch insist on feeding us special food. I always saw Reaping Day as a day to be solemn, not celebrate. Especially because two of us are eligible to be picked for the annual death match. Especially because Ariadne and I have both taken out tesserae this year.
Ariadne and I are the only two of our family who qualify this year, though next year our next brother, Singer, will be eligible. His twelfth birthday is next week, so he squeaked by this year.
Purl worms her way out of my grip and makes a beeline for a small corner of the room, where her ragdoll sits by the window. She takes it up and begins rocking it, whispering "Reapy Day…Reapy Day…"
Our whole apartment consists of three rooms: a living room, a bathroom, and a small bedroom that my mother and her sister (my aunt Latch) share. Like most of District 8's working class, we live in a high-rise tenement building, overcrowded and under-heated. I always considered us lucky that we had the 'Penthouse' (or, the top floor…lucky level 13!). Though our family is lucky. One family two floors below us have nine children with the same space we have. Sometimes, to make myself laugh, I picture some of the Stetson kids sleeping in the cabinets or in the coat closet.
My father died last year (just before the Reaping, actually) in a factory fire, and that's when my spinster Aunt Latch came to live with us. She's okay as far as caretakers go, and you can tell she tries. But sometimes I really just wish for an older man to look up to. Being the 'man of the house' kind of stinks.
There will be no school or work today (well, no work for the kids in the Reaping, anyway). I just want the stupid ceremony to be done with so I can go to the Closet with my two best friends, Stitch and Tenny. The Closet is the part of District 8's Main Town where the school lies, and kids like to hang out there, climb around, paint on the old building walls, through rocks, whatever. It's called 'The Closet' because high walls surround the neighborhood on three sides.
After another hour, Ariadne awakens. She's sixteen, but has always looked older, as if she could pass for twenty at times. Right now, that's not the case. Her hair is mashed and tangled. Her eyes are wide and afraid as she sits up and looks over at me.
"Reaping Day," is all she says.
I nod. "Reaping Day," I answer.
The worst part about Reaping Day is dressing up.
I'm a thirteen-year-old boy, so of course, wearing a dress-up shirt, slacks, and a tie is miserable. Granted, it's not very hot here today, but the air is still thick and foggy, and it suffocates me as much as this damn tie around my neck.
Ariadne took a lot of her time with her hair, which is every bit as black as mine, but thick and curly. She wanted to wear it in a bun for the first time ever today. She used sewing needles in place of hair pins in order to keep her hair in check. After the fact, she merely tossed on her faded rose-petal dress like it's an apron.
It took me all of fifteen seconds to pull my straight, thin, dark, long locks into a ponytail.
By ten in the morning, everyone is up and ready to head to the square in front of the Justice Building for the Reaping Ceremony. I'm not feeling too anxious. Even with my name in there five times (I took out two tesserae this year), it's five slips of paper among thousands. I've always been a calm, logical person. Ariadne is too, so she is taking this whole day in stride as well.
After Ariadne and I sign in (my finger stings from that awful blood stick thing), we share a brief hug before going off towards our age groups for the Ceremony. Ariadne is with the older girls, and I go up front where the younger boys stand. I hate it there. So many of the boys forget themselves and weep, this being their first, second, or third years in the Reaping. I never cry. It's a waste of energy.
Bonus Boxwell, the Escort for Eight, is a pompous, frilly little fairy prince. What a joke he is, always so peppy and excited. He literally has the job of arresting and escorting two kids to their inevitable deaths, and he squeaks and squeals up on the 'Bonus' stage like a little girl on her birthday. Ariadne and I love making fun of him. When I imitate his bouncy gait, Purl giggles, which makes looking like an ass worth it.
"Welcome to the BONUS Stage!" He announces as he waltzes onto the platform rising above us. As with last year, his following speech about courage and sacrifice becomes an unintelligible mass of vowels and 'wah-wahs.' The day is cool and misty. Some of us are beginning to shake because of the cooler weather. Can't he just draw two names and be done with it so we don't have to stare at his powdered marshmallow face for another year?
Also, he refers to everything as the 'Bonus'-this or the 'Bonus'-place. He really needs take a good look in the mirror and stop falling in love with himself.
"First up…the boy from the BONUS District!" He squeaks excitedly as he dips his hand into a bowl.
Oh my God, please get laryngitis, I think sardonically.
The boys around me noticeably hold their breaths. I look around me and back up to the stage just in time for Bumbling Bonus Boxwell to take the Tribute's name up to the microphone.
"Nolan Batiste!"
Silence.
Wait…who?
"Nolan Batiste!" Bonus chirps again. Boys in my cluster turn to look at me. Do they really think that I'M Nolan Batiste?
Hold on, aren't I Nolan Batiste?
"Come on up, my boy!" Bonus urges. I look to my right, where two Peacekeepers are heading for me. The other boys in my group are stepping aside, easing their access to me.
Quickly, without really thinking, I dart away from the oncoming PKs and mount the stage from the left side on my own, very slowly. I look around the crowd. Several of them are shaking their heads in shame, clearly upset because I'm a tiny boy with scraggly long hair from the working class side of town. I'm clearly already dead in their eyes. They pity me.
How embarrassing.
My mind finally lets my fate sink in as Batshit Bonus Boxwell draws my District partner's name. Unlike me, she's older, perhaps older than Ariadne. I couldn't quite grasp her name…Jessalynn? Jessica? She's pretty and blonde, unlike dark little me. Regardless, she is clearly on the verge of tears, even as she shakes my hand.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Bastard Bonus Boxwell chimes to the crowd before escorting us into the Justice Building. Before the doors shut behind us, I swear I hear Purl crying "Brother….brother…"
I get two minutes to say goodbye to my whole family. Not much time for individual goodbyes when you have five siblings, a mother, and an aunt swarming in, their tears already adding to the humidity in the room.
Mom and Aunt Latch are both blotchy and red-faced. Ariadne holds Purl, who doesn't look distressed. She probably doesn't understand what is happening. Instead, she looks a little bemused. My brothers Singer, Damask, and Bobbin stood side by side with looks of pity and fear on their faces, particularly Singer, who could very well be in my place this time next year.
Aunt Latch held a small parcel. She stepped forward first and handed it to me. I could smell it from here. Sausage bread from one of the vendors in the street. My favorite. Sausage was such a rare treat.
"Eat it on the train," she instructed, her voice unwavering. "I hear Capitol food is rich enough to make you vomit."
I nod and give her a brief hug. Aunt Latch and I were never particularly close, but we are still family, and I am still about to participate in a nation-wide death match against kids probably three times my size.
Singer, Damask, and Bobbin all step forward at once and silently hug me goodbye. They are little boys, I don't expect them to be comfortable with sharing their feelings. Singer does whisper in my ear: "Win, Nolan. You can fly."
Of course I can't literally fly. He refers to the fact that I always win races in school, and the teachers always call me 'Monkey Man' for the way I can swing and climb about swiftly.
"I will fly," I reply.
Ariadne comes forward and hands Purl to me. She kisses my cheek. "Brother come home soon?"
"Yes," I say.
Ariadne sighs as I hold Purl for a moment. "I still don't understand why she likes you best."
I wanted to reply with, "She'll forget me after I die anyway." I stop myself before I speak. That's probably not something my family should hear.
I don't want to hold my baby sister too long. Every second makes it harder to let her go. I kiss her forehead and quickly hand her off to Ariadne, my sister who lucked out again.
"Don't get dscouraged because you're small," she says. "If you're faster, they can't catch you. If you're small, they can't find you. It's not about who kills who. It's about who outlives who."
I nod, Ariadne sounds like she's trying to quote someone famous and not quite feeling what she is saying. She realizes that if someone CAN catch me, I'm toast. I know it.
Finally, Mom comes up to hug me. Mom is the strongest human I know. She pulled through our father's death with courage and a smile for us kids. She volunteers for third and fourth shifts so that none of us go hungry. Now, her first son might be a dead boy walking, and she is doing pretty well at holding back her tears.
If my mother was ever made to fight in the Hunger Games, I have no doubt she would win.
"Show 'em who you really are, Monkey Man," she says with a steady voice. I smile and hold her a little tighter.
Suddenly, the PK guarding my door comes in to end the goodbyes. He abruptly shoves Ariadne and Aunt Latch out the door. If I knew I wasn't at risk of getting gunned down where I stood, I would have jumped on his back and broken his stupid neck for laying a hand on my family.
After I am alone in the room again, I kick the door and scream.
~.~.~
The rain picks up as my District Partner (I guess her name is Jessamine) and I are escorted to the train. While I climb aboard, I turn around and say with a bold voice, "I'm coming home to you, District Eight. I am coming home."
