So after this, four reapings to go! Wow. Our girl Sara is from Thomas J. Flynn and our boy Luis is from istheplacewhereIloveyou! Hope you guys enjoy, R&R!
D12 FEMALE: SARA ROSS
"Father! Father!" I awake to my older sister's cries.
"Grace, shut up!" She's not even awake, though, and she continues to speak.
"No, Father, don't leave! He wasn't right, he didn't hurt you, Father- come back!" Her pitiful wail sounds like a two-year-old. That's how old she was when my father died, leaving my pregnant mother to take care of a toddler, Grace, and soon, me. I sit on the edge of my bed and listen to Grace whimper some more. She doesn't like being woken up rudely.
Our father was a recognized member of the Dark Days' rebellion. When a member of his squad was captured, he refused to leave his ally and after weeks of battle rescued him without further loss. However, the man had been hijacked and killed all but one member of the squad. My father did not survive. Grace may have been two at the time, but she remembers it all vividly. The man had attacked in front of the squad's families and several bystanders were injured as well. I've hated the Capitol ever since for what they did to my family, hated it so much that not even torture could drag out the fury. It's too deeply ingrained.
And what they did to Archer never helped. He was a nephew of one of the other squad member and he shared the same views as I did. We started dating two years ago and then, just eight months back, he disappeared. All the records say that he ran away to join the Peacekeepers, but nobody really believes that. In the Seam rumors spread about hijacking, mutating, and gruesome murder. I just know that, thanks to the Capitol, I've lost two of my loved ones. And I hate them.
I cannot stand Grace's unconscious cries now, so I duck out of the house without another word. My mother notices me leaving. "Sara? Sara, where are you going? Don't get into trouble, young lady!" Sometimes I think she's afraid that I'm going to incite a rebellion on the lowly, dusty streets of the Seam. I may act rebellious, but I just want to be with my friends.
"There she is!" Three kids wave frantically from another section of town. "Sara! Sara! Over here!" My closest friend, San, runs over and squeezes me in a hug, her boyfriend Micheal walking close behind. "Where were you?"
"I was waiting to see if Grace was going to stop talking in her sleep."
"Your dad?" Micheal says quietly. Even though he's the newest member of our group, Micheal knows our stories. I nod in reply.
"Well, as long as you're not gone, we'll be fine," Tara rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, "Just two more reapings, can you believe? We're almost free!"
"Not for you, silly!" San shrieks and we grin. Tara tends to forget she's a year younger than us. When we first met her, she had us all convinced she was our age! But the joke's on her now, I suppose.
"So are we ready to head out? My family won't be there until a few second before it starts, I'm guessing." Since Grace got out of the selection home free, she won't bother getting to the reapings on time, and Mom won't leave her home alone and asleep. We walk to the town square, a fair distance since we live in the middle of the Seam. I may not look the stereotypical part with my blond hair (although Tara is the epitome of 'Seam girl'), but this is all I've known. Except on reaping days, when all I know is scrubbed-down houses and sheer and utter terror. One day a year ever since I can remember.
We pass a few eighteen-year-olds, joking about how they are the last group to not be born into the Hunger Games. I don't see what the big deal is, since they can't remember that time anyway, so I just ignore them. They were born the year my father died. Tara pokes me in the side, jolting me from my reverie.
"Hey, careful! You know the Peacekeepers can tell a disloyal citizen from the look in their eyes!" she says.
"They can?" Uh-oh. How much do they know?
"I'm joking!" Tara laughs, "They can't tell. I was just trying to get your attention again. You were drifting into nowhere land. You'd believe every conspiracy theory there ever was!" San and Micheal laugh along with us.
Tara splits off to the other sixteen year olds, leaving San, Micheal and me to stand there looking at each other awkwardly. "Well, I guess I should find my spot, too," the boy says, disappearing silently into the pulsing crowd. San and I push through to find a place to stand, chatting animatedly about stuff before the escort steps forward. The Treaty of Treason is automated in Twelve this year, being read by a robotic voice over the speakers.
"Welcome everyone to the District Twelve reapings!" a lime-green woman with purple lips steps out into the sunlight. She brushes a speck of dust from her microphone and, bubbling with excitement, announces that she will draw the 'lucky girl' first. I clench my teeth. The Capitol is my enemy; it would be no treat to be drawn. However, my rebellious side falls to fear as she reaches for a name. Tara grabs my hand and the squeeze is reassuring for both of us.
"SARA ROSS!" My mother and sister realize before I do and scream from the crowd. Tara is shell-shocked and doesn't even try to hold me back. My legs move of their own accord. Could this be rigged in some way, to drive two members of my family to their doom? I swallow a cry as the Peacekeepers shove me the rest of the way to the front of the crowd.
I turn my head away when the escort holds out the microphone to me, refusing to speak a single word to this monster. Why me?
D12 MALE: LUIS THOMSEN
That poor girl up there- she seems strong enough, refusing to speak and refusing to cry, although she's sleek and slim, no muscle to be seen at all. But for me there is only one more name. One more name and I'll be free from the Games forever. I tense up as the shallow escort wobbles over to the crystalline orb and plunges her hand inside. One more name and I'll have lived. The slip of paper folds open and the woman's lips part to say the name. Am I selfish for wanting some other kid's name to be on that slip? No, it's just a human desire to live. One more name and I'll be free from the reapings and the Games.
"LUIS THOMSEN!" I swear under my breath, causing the boys around me to look back at me. They have never known me, never bothered to know me. I force down any emotion and walk steadily to the stares. My mask is up; they'll never see I'm working to hold it together. The escort smiles as I don't show hostility, and the girl-Sara- turns around to shake my hand before glaring at the escort and facing the crowd once more. The Peacekeepers take us into the fancy Justice Building, and I plunk down in a room without giving a second glance to the district I'm leaving. After a few moments of waiting, the Peacekeepers admit my first visitor.
"Mom!"
"Luis!" She strides over to me, sitting on the couch cushion beside me. Our family isn't very big on contact. "Son, you know what you have to do, correct?"
"Yeah. Come home."
"And?" The crease between her eyes deepens.
"Oh yeah. Alive." She nods, satisfied, and brushes her lips against my forehead. The Thomsens are not an overly emotional clan, nor a particularly friendly one.
"Are Damian and Calvin coming?" I may call Rose 'Mom', but my father and I don't exactly get along, and he favors my brother anyways. So I call him by his name, Damian. She nods.
"They are authorized to be in here with me, so any second…" They walk through the double doors, both scowling.
"Come home, kid," growls Damian, "Or else I'll be wiping the records."
"What? You'd disown me if I died in the Hunger Games?" I spill a few, more colorful, words before he speaks again, mimicking my words using a little girl's tone.
"You would have failed, right? What's the point of keeping you with us?" He and my arrogant brother- who didn't even say anything- march back out.
"I love you, Mom," I say as she follows them in fury.
"I love you, too, son." The door is flung open barely a second later by my one and only friend, Iona Prescott.
"By the force of the opening of the door, I would have expected someone larger!" I say gruffly. Iona rolls her eyes. We're eighteen, and she's five feet tall. Normally she gets upset when I make jokes about her stature- she's the only person I joke around with at all- but she's much too freaked out to respond normally.
"Luis! Oh, you better come back, Luis! Or I will personally dig up your grave and murder your corpse!" She tends to get really emotional when she's riled up, not just angry or sad- it's like a whirlwind. Or a mine collapse.
"I'll come back. You know me- better wits than half the idiots out there and stronger than the smarter kids! I'll come back- alive."
"What was it you called those kids from One, Two, and Four again? Do you want to ally with them at all? They might want you- you're probably better than a few of them!" I throw back my head and laugh. It may be true that I've got a better shot than some of them, but ally with them?
"The Careers? No way- if I ally with anyone, it'll be with someone honest. I don't trust the Career pack with my life!" I made up the name a few years ago, when some of the kids had announced that they had been training for the Games in their districts. "It's like the Games are their career choice," I had said, "They are the careers!" Iona nods, appeased.
"Will you take this as a token?" She takes off a simple leather necklace she is wearing and hands it to me. I nod. My family didn't give me anything- if Mom meant to she lost her opportunity when Damian and Calvin came in. Putting the length of cord around my neck, I consider my chances some more. My mind accustoms itself to the thought of going to the Capitol and the arena. I'm slightly stronger than most normal tributes and I've got my fair share of mind power. The geniuses usually end up defeating themselves, and the muscle-bound tributes usually are dumb as rocks.
"Don't worry, Iona. I'll come through this, and then I'll be home." I refuse to consider the possibility of dying, even when my friend tells me to not get overconfident. "The odds are as much in my favor as they can," I say, "I'll come back, I'm sure of it!"
"Just make sure you come back whole," Iona jokes, tapping her head with her finger. We laugh at the dry humor. I've distanced myself from everyone except Iona without even trying, so it should be easy to retreat from the deaths of twenty-three kids I barely know. People die pretty often down here in coal-dusted, lonely Twelve, anyways. If I keep my distance I'll come out of the Hunger Games whole and safe.
And there you have it, folks: the fifth-to-last reaping chapter! When the reapings are finished I'll put a poll up on my profile for you guys to vote on your favorites, so be thinking about that, too. :) And while we're on the subject of thinking, tell me what you thought of Sara and Luis!
