District Seven Intros: Bad Choices
Terra McIntosh, 18.
District Seven Female.
Today could almost be the perfect day.
If she didn't have to see her mother, that is.
The sky is a placid blue, the color of a blossoming flower in springtime or a feather on a bluebird's wing. Little clouds dot the sky like tufts of cotton, and the wind is unusually warm for it being so late in fall. The golden sun beats down on her like a stream of light from heaven, illuminating the top of her wavy black hair. It shimmers like a shiny metal when she tilts her head. The day is so perfect it could be on the front page of a children's storybook: blue sky, green grass, bright sun.
In the distance, her niece and nephew chase each other around in endless circles like dogs chasing their tails. The older of the two always catches up and tackles the younger one, then they stand and start again, the cycle continuing. She watches them with soft eyes, reclining back in the soft grass. They shriek and gurgle with laughter, warm and jubilant. It fills her ears and makes her smile; that is until she is reminded of her own son.
She's not smiling anymore.
Footsteps pad behind her, and she twists her body around to face a tall man with a giant grin: her brother. His smile fades slightly when he sees her, but it quickly returns when he looks back to his kids playing happily a few yards away.
"They're so cute now, aren't they? I wish they could just stay this way forever," he murmurs.
"Running in circles?" She replies with a bitter tone, taking her brother a bit off guard. But he shouldn't be. Whenever he tries to talk to her about his kids she's always a bit bitter; her jealousy fumes like a raging fire, and for some strange reason, her brother can never see it.
"No, young."
"Oh," Terra mutters, looking back at the pair. "Yeah, I guess you don't want them to be old and screwed up like me."
Her brother's expression turns stern. "You're not screwed up, Ter."
"Yeah, I am."
There's no reply, only the sound of giggling in the distance. Her brother Landon clicks his tongue and turns back to the children, his face expressionless. He knows she's screwed up; no one normal gets pregnant at fifteen, kicked out of their house the same year, and then accidentally kill their baby a few months later. Accidentally. Or rather, she likes to think of it as an accident. That's the only thing that keeps her somewhat sane when everything is crumbling around her.
"You can't control the past Ter," Landon responds quietly after some time. "Speaking of which, Mom's on her way. She'll be here around noon."
Terra swears under her breath, arching her neck back so her head is hanging down toward the ground. "Why can't she just leave me the hell alone?"
"Because she loves you."
"She didn't love me three years ago when she kicked me out," Terra hisses bitterly, sitting back up straight, her arms crossed in anger.
"She did. She was just—just—her vision was just a little blurry was all. She had trouble seeing you for what you were. But she's sorry now Ter, and that's why she's coming here today. She's trying to make it up to you."
"Well she can't make it up to me," she snarls, leaping to her feet. "It was her fault—all of it! All of it was her damn fault! If she didn't kick me out then maybe I wouldn't have treated Vale—"
Landon cuts her off. "Just change into something nice okay? She hates seeing you upset."
"Whatever," Terra growls, rolling her dark eyes. "And it's her fault, I just want you to know that. Vale's dead because of her, so if you think I'm going to put on some kind of show to make it seem like everything's alright, then y—"
"Just put something nice on."
"Fine," she hisses before stalking away, leaving her perfect brother to play with his perfect children in the perfect meadow behind their perfect house. She feels her nostrils flare up just thinking about the perfect life he has.
That could have been her. This life—all of it, could have been her's.
Too bad the world had to screw it all up for her.
She flings open the door to the house, letting it crash against the back siding loudly. Rosa, her sister-in-law, is startled by the sudden noise and looks up from her book. Terra doesn't bother to say hello. She's always hated Rosa anyway. The woman was just too nice to be genuine; Terra has never seen her mad or upset, not even at Vale's tiny funeral. And now that's she pregnant with her third child, she's worse than ever. Always laughing and singing to her baby—it was just disgusting. When Terra was pregnant, she was so miserable and full of raging hormones she couldn't go one day without screaming or crying. How could Rosa always be so happy?
"Hey Terra, how's your day going?" Rosa asks, smiling cheerfully as she passes.
"How about you guess?" Terra snaps.
"Good?" Rosa asks back, flashing her another signature sweet Rosa smile. Terra bet if the world was ending in a minute, Rosa would still be smiling and joyful. The woman never panicked. Ever.
"Wrong," Terra hisses back, then slams the door behind her as she enters her bedroom. Laying on the top of her bed is a pink dress lined with pretty yellow and orange flowers. Rosa or Landon must have laid it out for her after she left to go watch her niece and nephew play. She remembers the first time she wore that dress she was attending a dance at her high school with Wren, her then-boyfriend, and she had saved up entire months to just buy it. She had looked so pretty in it.
Looking at it now, frayed and dirty, it just reminded her of false hope and broken promises.
Her and Wren always said they'd get married. It was all they'd ever talk about: the wonderful life they were going to have once she moved out and Wren got a stable job.
But apparently, that life didn't include a baby. Or at least, it didn't to him.
Terra blinks out of her stupor, the room coming back into focus. She looks at the dress again before tossing it aside. She should wear it, she really should; it would make her mother happy like her brother said. But does she want to? No. So she won't.
Instead, she slips on a dirtied shirt and tattered shorts. Looking at herself in the small mirror on her dresser, she frowns. She doesn't really need to grimace—her brother used to always tease her when they were little that she suffered from resting grumpy face, but the frown makes her look even more miserable. And she is. Terra wants to show her mother that she is miserable, and she was the one who made her feel this way.
Her mother, Landon, Wren, her father, Rosa—everyone. It was everyone's fault that she was like this, a sad, hollowed out version of her former self. They made her like this, and she's going to make sure they know that.
Call her petty or stubborn, but that's what she is. There's no changing her now.
She hears a soft knock on the door and instantly knows that despite how hard her mother tries, their relationship isn't going to change either.
Bruno Muller, 13.
District Seven Male.
"I beat you again!" Bruno exclaims, throwing his hands up into the air victoriously. He then pumps one of them forward, grinning wildly. So far, he's undefeated in their daily lunch arm wrestling competition, but that's not a surprise to him. He always wins, so much so that he decides defeat doesn't even need to be a word in his vocabulary. He doesn't use it—or practice it anyway. He's just a natural born winner.
His friend Annona frowns, rolling her forest green eyes playfully. "God Bruno, you don't have to be a jerk about it. We all know you're strong, okay?"
"Yeah I am," he replies confidently, winking at her. She sticks her finger in her mouth and pretends to gag, which makes some of their friends at the table gurgle with laughter.
"As if," she snorts. "The only reason you win is because you're a cocky bastard and if you were to lose, you wouldn't be able to take it. Your giant ego would pop if we actually tried."
She then throws her dime at him, hitting Bruno square in the nose. Lately, they've been gambling with their lunch money, which the school deemed illegal a few years before when a bunch of kids bet each other's tesserae slips. However, Bruno doesn't care. He's always liked to live a little bit on edge, and the thought of knowing he's breaking a school rule makes his blood rush red with adrenaline.
He blinks and picks the silver coin out of his lap where it landed, holding it into the air. It glints in the sun streaming through the cafeteria windows, lustrous and shiny. He then puts it back down on the table, glancing up at his group of friends with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Fine then. If you are really just letting me win, then don't. Double or nothing, and if you win, I'll stop talking about how great I am."
His friends circling the table cheer.
"Yeah, take him down, Ann!"
"Yeah Annona, you got this!"
Annona turns back and gives him another mischievous grin. "I—I don't know, I don't really want you to lose to a girl. You'd be completely broken."
"Oohhh!" one of his friends exclaims loudly. "Do you need some aloe for that burn?"
Bruno rolls his eyes, his lips curved into a giant smile. "I'm not glass. I don't break easy, unlike you."
"If you say so," Annona replies slyly, ignoring his jeers. She juts her arm out and places her elbow on the table, tilting her hand forward. Bruno throws the dime back in the middle, adding another one of his own. Then, he takes her hand, gripping it tightly. She squeezes it back, daring him on.
"Alright!" one of their friends announces, grabbing his napkin and using it as if it were a checkered flag at the beginning of a race. He waved it in front of their interlocked hands, "On the count of three you can begin! One . . ."
"You ready to lose?" Annona jeers lightheartedly.
"Two . . . "
"Do I ever?" Bruno replies cockily, closing his eyes. "I can beat you easily, even with my eyes closed."
"Three!"
All their friends begin to cheer as the match begins, the two of them pushing as hard as they could against each other. Bruno grits his teeth as he feels the pressure of Annona's hand pushing on his own, yet, despite her increased effort, he's still much stronger. Within a few seconds, he feels his hand on top of her's, pushing her down toward the flat table.
Suddenly, he hears someone call his name.
"Mr. Muller!"
Oh crap.
"Mr. Muller, stop it immediately!" one of the lunch monitors calls, rushing over to him. He jolts open his eyes just in time to see most of his crowd of friends scatter in all directions, running for other tables where they can blend into the crowd. However, Annona doesn't back down, her fist still clenched and pushing desperately against his own in an effort to win and save her own pride.
"Mr. Muller! Ms. Brook! Stop it immediately!"
Bruno knows he should run; he knows he should book it right now as fast as he can. If he leaves now, he might be able to make it through the double doors just in time and disappear from the lunch monitor's sight without him catching up to him.
But he can't leave. As long as Annona's hand is still interlocked with his and in the air, he can't give up. Not now. He can't lose. She has to give in first. He can't be the one to run. His friends will call him chicken for the rest of time if he does. If he loses to a—to a—to a girl.
And he's so close. Just one more inch and her hand will be on the ground and this issue will be solved forever.
All eyes in the cafeteria are turned toward the two of them. He knows he's being stupid; he's too stubborn right now for his own good, but he can't give up. Not when almost the entire school is watching. He needs to win. If not for the money, for his pride.
He's so close now. Annona's hand was practically touching the table, her knuckles grazing the grey surface. Just one more second, then—
He feels a hard hand yank on the collar of his shirt, jerking his up to his feet. Annona squeaks and runs away, disappearing into the crowd of wide-eyed students. She's short so she blends right in.
He's whipped around so his wide eyes are staring right up into the lunch monitor's narrowed ones. He tries to run away but the teacher's grip is strong—even for him, the self-proclaimed "strongest kid in the seventh grade."
"Gambling again, Mr. Muller?"
"No," the young boy squeaks. He's taller and stronger than most other kids his age, but right now, below the lunch monitor's angry gaze, he looks smaller and weaker than ever.
The grip gets tighter. "Don't lie to me. I see the coins on the table."
"We—we weren't gambling. T—that was our lunch money," he stutters, looking away to avert the man's harsh gaze.
The lunch monitor shakes his head. "How about you tell that to the principle and your parents? I'm sure they'll be just thrilled to hear that lie."
Crap. Anyone but his parents. If his dad finds out, Bruno will never hear the end of it.
And with that, Bruno's whisked off to the principal's office, the monitor's grip of his shirt tighter than ever.
The principal's office is a small room at the front of the school, with wooden arches and the school motto carved into a false golden plaque beside the room: preparing bright students for an even brighter future. Bruno rolls his eyes every time he looks at it. Despite being sheltered from most of the bad things that happen by his dad, he knows enough to know that there's no bright future in Panem, especially not after the rebellion.
"Sit here," the monitor orders, pointing to a fading bench just beside the door. "We already called your parents; your dad should be here in a few minutes so you two can talk with Mrs. Peony together."
Bruno feels his heart drop. Yep, he was never going to hear the end of this.
A few minutes later his dad arrives, a skinny yet balding man with a permanent scowl plastered on his face. However, today it's even more prevalent, his lips almost curved all the way down to the bottom of his chin.
"Who pressured you into doing this?" Is the first thing his dad says, standing him up and examining him as if he were hurt.
"No one," Bruno replies, pulling away from his dad's grip.
"Was it those bullies?" His dad asks, completely ignoring his response. "Oh, there were so many bullies when I was a kid! I knew I should have homeschooled you! First, it's gambling—next its drugs—then it's alcohol—and then you're practically already dead!"
Bruno crosses his arms over his chest. "Dad, I'll be fine. There are no bullies."
"Then who was it?"
"It was me and my friends."
"Then you can't see your friends anymore," his father declares immediately. "I obviously didn't teach you that, so it must have been your friends. They are bad influences Bruno, and I don't want you getting hurt again."
"But I didn't even get hurt!" Bruno protests. "It's just mindless fun dad, why is that so bad?"
"Because it is! I need to protect you, Bruno, I don't want you ending up going deaf like your mother did! You are going to do as I say, okay? If that means no seeing your friends anymore, then no seeing your friends anymore. "
Bruno doesn't respond, tapping his foot in annoyance against the ground outside the principal's office.
"Bruno?"
"Fine," he growls, though it's not like he's actually going to. His father might be overprotective, but he can't control everything about his life down to the smallest detail. Last week it was no eating candy because he read somewhere that it could make him sick. This week it's no seeing his friends. What's next? He can't leave his house anymore?
"Come on Bruno," his dad orders, ushering him into the principal's office. He follows him inside like the obedient child his dad thinks he is.
Yet, his dad can't control him forever.
A/N: These two were very fun, I hope you enjoyed them. I did change them both a little bit to fit some ideas I have for later in the story, so if their submitters have something they didn't like, just shoot me a PM. And I did leave a few things in the dark for you to wonder about, hehe :) But overall they were fun to write, and with that, we only have 5 more reapings to go!
Believe it or not, I'm still working on a blog. It's just going really slow. I'm hoping to have it out by the end of the tribute intros, but no promises.
Tell me what you think and I'll see you in District 8!
paper :)
PS: 101 reviews in 8 chapters is amazingggggg! I love you all!
