MARGARETH ALICE WARLOX, DISTRICT 8 FEMALE
My dreams usually involve my father. Either him or those filthy bastards from District 4. I hate every single one of them- from the ancients to the newly born babies. It's their fault my father is dead. He was a Peacekeeper, and got sent to that scumhole of a district to deal with a minor rebellion… And he got shot, leaving him paralysed and disabled. He lost his job, and my dear mother couldn't deal with that. She walked out on us. He died not long after- either of a broken heart or his injuries. And I got sent to live with my aunt and uncle.
Getting up out of bed, I check the locket around my neck. Sometimes, I get scared that I've lost it- my father gave it to me before he died, and it's all I have left of him. It's got a clock and an A inside- he always called me Alice, even though it's my middle name. He liked it a lot more than Margareth, my mother's choice. Playing with it between my fingers for a second, I imagine that he is with me for a second and close my eyes. Then, I open them and walk over to my dressing table.
I stare at myself critically in the mirror. Four years ago, when I was twelve and I still had parents, I would be moaning and complaining about how my hair is too frizzy, or my eyelashes aren't dark enough. True, true, I was a spoilt brat. But that all changed since I've been with my aunt and uncle and I think I've changed for the better.
"Margareth Alice Walcox, hurry up!"
With a low snarl, I begin to run a brush through my red hair. When it's eventually tamed and smooth, I pull on the Reaping dress my mother used to wear and pinch my nostrils. It's got her scent on it, and it reminds me of her too much… I feel tears coming to my eyes and blink them away. Although I can never admit it, I still miss her sometimes. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I hastily avoid the corset I can see hanging in my wardrobe. My aunt says it's proper for "young ladies" to wear a corset, but nobody else does, and I think it looks stupid. Nobody else wears them, and I get teased mercilessly when I bother. Then, giving myself one last despairing glance in the mirror, I walk towards the door and slam it behind me, to give my aunt and uncle a warning that I'm coming.
When I eventually get down there, I find my aunt and uncle staring at me with their uniform glares. I stare back, and cross my arms over my stomach, in an attempt to conceal the fact that I'm not wearing a corset. If they realise that I'm not wearing one, my aunt will slap me round the head. And belive me, she's got an iron fist. They watch me out of the door with those eagle eyes, and I act as natural as I can, sucking in my stomach. When I eventually get out of the door, I let out a sigh of relief and slump down on the fence. The sharp prongs hurt my behind and I let out a loud swearword, then grin. My aunt and uncle would kill me if they heard me swearing like that. But some of the things I do would shock them.
For example: I'm going to volunteer.
Giving the house one last, distasteful look, I begin to walk down the street towards the Reaping and quickly find myself joined by my two best friends, Lou and Jason. They grin and walk either side of me, but there's something a little mournful about the way they walk. I've told them I'm going to volunteer: since my father was a Peacekeeper, he showed me how to use a blowgun. I hear you laugh, but Maysilee Donner did alright, didn't she? Truly, all I want to do is wipe out those District 4 kids, then I'm good. I couldn't give less of a shit about anyone else.
"You still planning to… you know… volunteer?" Lou gives me a nervous look. She's never been entirely enthusiastic about me volunteering, understandably. We've been best friends since we were little children, and I'd hate it if she volunteered. Jason is her boyfriend- they've been dating in secret for about a year. They're dating in secret, because Jason is, according to both of our families, supposed to be engaged to me. That's another reason why I want to volunteer- so I can get away from this whole engagement thing. He comes from a family of Victors, and my aunt and uncle want the money.
"Course she is," Jason grins, reaching forward to ruffle my hair. I dodge away from him with a laugh, and he winks at both of us. "Never seen a girl that good with a spitwad in all my years."
"Wouldn't call it a spitwad, asshole." I laugh, then, doing a faux sexy stare at Lou, I whisper, wiggling my eyebrows, "You might want want to shut your boyfriend up."
Both Jason and I burst into laughter, although Lou looks rather confused. She's got a talent for not understanding innuendo, and it's always enjoyable to confuse her with it. Since her parents are even stricter with her than mine, she doesn't… get out much, let's say. Neither do I, but Jason fills me in on all the details.
When we eventually reach the square, it is already full to bursting… I gulp, remembering that Malvolio will be here again. He's our District escort, and there isn't a soul in this entire distict who doesn't despise him with all their heart. He's… he's horrible. Cruel, bullying, and just plain evil. One day, somebody is going to push him off his damn pedestal and break his neck. He tells us to be quiet in his sickeningly patronising way, before a bored expression comes onto his face and he begins to talk in his monotone, nasal voice. He talks about the Dark Days for a while, and I'm practically itching for him to call out the names. I'm going to volunteer… I'm going to do it… A small, nervous grin comes onto my face as I grip Lou's hand, hard. Can I really do it?
"Let's start with the girls…" he goes up to the Reaping ball and plucks out a piece of paper, looking at it down his nose. He opens it, before saying in an entirely uncaring voice, "Safi… Safia… Saffiella… Oh for God's sake, who was common enough to name you such a ridiculous name?" he sniffs. A large girl of eighteen Safina, who has muscles like a boar, cracks her knuckles menacingly and begins to walk up to the stage, but is halted as I shout,
"I volunteer!"
I stand totally still. Have I… have I actually done it? I stand, rooted to the spot, just staring at everyone. Everyone is looking at me, wide eyed… I realise that I am wide eyed too, and I'm shaking. A pulse of fear runs through me and, for a moment, I consider taking it back and letting Safina go in… But then the memory of my father comes to me. Lifting my chin high, I contort my face into a look of pride, before beginning to walk up to the stage.
COBAIN RENARD, DISTRICT 8 MALE
I start my morning with a run, as I always have. Head down, eyes on the ground, I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right- as long as I keep going, I get fitter. Sure I run out of breath, but my father showed me a trick… Well, it's not really a trick. If you breathe in once with your nose and then breathe out twice through your mouth, and alternate, you never get a stitch. It doesn't always work, but it usually does. He likes me to run for an hour a day, like he did as a boy, and then train with my bow and arrows and do sit ups. He says I'm a good marksman. My grandfather Woof, who won the Games a generation ago, agrees.
But I can never live up to them. Not unless I volunteer for the Games.
I'm from a family of Victors, and although that means I've always had enough to eat and never had to worry about not having a roof over my head, I have some pretty interesting relatives. My grandfather, my grandmother, my father, my aunt, and my cousin form up about fifty percent of the victors from District 8. And now I've turned eighteen, they want me to join the bundle. My mother says I should take no notice of them and do whatever I want to do, but this is what I've trained to do all my life. Run. Shoot arrows. And that's all I need. I've never been to school so I can't… well, I can't read or write or anything like that. I wish I could, but when I asked as a kid, my father told me that it was pointless and a waste of my time.
There's only one thing I'd rather do than any of this. Sing.
It's pathetic I know, and I'd never admit it to anyone. People would say things, and my father wouldn't like me to be doing anything other than training. But my mother sings, she sings a lot. She works in one of the factories as a seamstress and she sings as she works, she sings as she sits in our garden and prunes the flowers, and she sings as she cooks. My mother has a beautiful voice- it's high and clear, like a mockingjay's. Up until I was eleven I'd sing along with her, until my father caught me, cuffed me round the bed, and called me a "sissy". I'm not gay or anything, I've had girlfriends. But they've all been the same. All they want is for me to win the Games, be a victor, and bathe them in money.
"If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs,
The bark on the trees was just a little bit softer,
And the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,
He cries to the moon, if only, if only,"
I sing quietly as I run around the Victors village, marking my fifth lap as I reach my house. Slowing to a stop, I walk inside and go upstairs to get changed. It's the Reaping today and… and it's about time I volunteer. It's my last Reaping, so I might as well- maybe I could even win. I've trained since I was four years old, and I'm strong, and I'm ready. Even though I like singing, doesn't mean I can't kill a person if needs be.
Walking into the bathroom and pulling off my clothes, I get into the shower and wash off the run's sweat. When I'm eventually clean, I walk to my room and get dressed in my Reaping clothes, before running a comb through my frizzy blond hair. It goes out in zigzags around my head- I'm a weird looking guy, I suppose. That's probably why people call me "Zigzag", because of my insane hair. My face is pretty normal.
After I'm ready, I walk downstairs and grab a slice of bread and an apple, eating both with relish. My grandfather is sitting at the kitchen table, and I wave to him.
"Morning, grandpa." I say quietly, and he cranes his head towards me. He's… um… slightly deaf. As well as being a little bit senile in his old age. But I love the old man.
"Ehhh?" he says. I don't bother to reply, knowing my quiet voice could never be heard by him, and head out of the door towards the town square, I smile at Cecelia who is leaving her house. She's a victor too, just won her Games six years ago when she was eighteen.
I used to have a bit of a crush on Cecelia.
We walk towards the town square together, conversing in quiet voices. I tell her about my plan to volunteer, and she smiles and lets me know that she'll be mentoring. When we eventually get there and split up, I walk over to the other 18 year olds and wait. Malvolio comes up onto the stage and does his usual thing, being rude to everyone and anyone, before he calls a name and there is a volunteer. I watch carefully to see who it is, and raise my eyebrows in surprise. It's Margareth Walcox- our fathers used to know each other! She's two years younger than me, I think… I have memories of us as little kids playing together in my garden. A slight pang of doubt fills me. Although I don't know her and I doubt she'd recognise me… should I say something? Will I be able to kill this girl who I used to be friends with? I steel myself up, getting ready to volunteer.
"Asi-"
"I volunteer!" Walking as speedily as I can up to the front, I go and stand onstage with Margareth and Malvolio. She's looking at me as if she recognises me a little bit, scrutinising me carefully. I look away, a little embarrassed. I don't really like it when people scrutinise me like that. But then as the crowd roars, I can't help but let a smile come onto my face. I'm usually quite shy but this… this is something different. This is like being famous.
Did you like them? Who did you like more? Any bets on who is going to win at this early hour?
Let me know in a review
Next chapter, District 9 Reaping, is currently in the works and will come out soon. District 10 Reaping may be out later tonight too, although I'm certain about District 9.
Thanks a lot, Lachance
