I am going to apologize in advance for the terrible writing. This is one of the chapters that I told myself I needed to rewrite over and over again, but I just never got to it. I probably will, don't worry.

Jaquemontia "Jackie" Bindweed, District 6
District Six is interesting. There are four or five clumps of city, interspersed with trees and barren wasteland. The trees are all kind of shriveled. There's a lot of smog here. The people are kind of withered too.
Like I said, District Six is interesting.
I don't really like the city. I prefer to wander in the wasteland. Nobody bothers me about that. I think they're kind of glad. I suppose that's my fault. I've never been what one would call friendly. There's just something about me that repels them. So I wander.
Unfortunately, I have to live in the city. I go to school there, and the Reapings are there. Like today. The Reapings. Nobody wants to go, least of all me. I have to go to the heart of the city, and stand for hours. That's another thing about me. I don't like standing. That's not to say I'm lazy. I just prefer walking. It's something about staying in the same place. I've always been a wanderer.
Nobody ever asks me about that. I'm the quiet one, the one who nobody will talk to, or is afraid of. That's okay, though. I prefer to be alone. Which is why I hate the Reapings. Standing around, for hours, among hundreds of people whom I don't wish to talk too. That's essentially what the Reapings are.
I kind of like being alone. People bother me. They make an awful lot of noise. Everyone makes a lot of noise. To me, silence is so much prettier to my ears. That's what's always set me apart. Even from my mother.
I just don't get family relations. What makes my father and mother so much more important to me than my friends? I don't know. And I don't feel it. She's always kept her distance because she must know that I don't feel any love for her. I don't feel any love for anyone, at least not anymore.
So, on the day of the Reapings, I get up by myself, and I feed myself breakfast. Then, I go out in to the wasteland. By myself. Eventually, I go back. She's not there. I dress myself in my finest clothes and comb my hair. I think, when I was younger, she used to braid it for me. Now I almost never see her.
I go to the square by myself.
I'm cordoned off. Fifteen-year-old females. We're close-packed. Even so, no one looks at me. No one talks to me. And that's okay. I don't want to talk to them, really. I know them, though. I tried not to learn about them. I said I didn't care. Somehow, though, it got to me. There they are, the girls I grew up with. Susan, two ahead and one to the left. Her dad is dead. She has five cats. Jace. Right next to me. She's the top student in my class. Ria, directly behind me. Her little brother is supposedly a genius. Yami, who's sister died in the Games three years ago. I told them that I didn't care when I met them. I know about them anyways, though.
I know about the Mayor, too, and the escort, and the judge, and the fat candy store man, and the mailman. And the kids on my street and the teachers at my school. I say I don't care, but as I don't generally talk, I listen. And I know all about them.
The mayor is out in his crisp uniform. He's fairly rich, as mayors go, and buys a new suit every year for the Games. Today, it's pinstripes. He's reading the Treaty of Treason. His double chin is wobbling. I don't need to listen to him. He says the same thing every year, and I've memorized it. He doesn't care, either. As soon as the reaping is over, he always goes to the bar near the square and nearly kills himself with alcohol.
Our escort is notorious among the townsfolk. He's scarily tall, taller than anyone I've met. He only ever dresses in black, with long wavy hair in a dark reddish color. He's super pale, and he has the sort of face that gives children nightmares. People around town always say that the reason that District 6 is afraid to get reaped is because then they'd have to shake hands with him.
Someone rolls out the glass balls. He grins widely, and I'm sure that several kids whimper behind me. His teeth are embedded with some sort of red gemstone, as if his visage wasn't creepy enough.
There's something different about our escort. He always reaps the boys first. Whenever the girls are reaped, he grins at them in that way that makes you want to run and hide with many layers of thick clothing on and with a knife in hand. He clears his throat and reaches in to the boy's ball. When he speaks, his voice is high and catty.
"Our boy tribute is Akecheta Sturgeon!" A tall, muscled boy walks quietly out from somewhere behind me. He moves smoothly and silently, surprising for someone of his size. He shows no emotion, simply glares at those who dare to look at them. He climbs the stage and stands stiffly behind the leering escort.
With another horrendous facial expression, he reaches in to the girl's ball. I look around. Will it be someone I know? Will I care if it is?
The escort mispronounces my name so horribly that I'm not even sure it's me at first. When he reads it the second time, it's more clear, and I'm sure that there's no one with a name even remotely like mine. I move like a robot, i'm sure, when I go to the stage. I hadn't even considered, in all of my time, that it would be me. I'm fairly high class. I only have my name in there a few times. I hadn't even considered the possibility that it could be me.
The terrifying look on the escort's face almost makes me want to turn back. I don't, though, and stand next to the boy tribute. When we shake hands, his hand is warm, with a firm grip that almost breaks my fingers.
I'm happy to enter the justice building. It gets me away from all the stares.
I get a private room. This is when my family is supposed to come visit me. I'm not entirely sure what to say when my parents come. I've never shown them much affection. What could I say? I don't care. That's what I keep telling myself.
But no one comes up. I don't get a single knock on my door. The only one who comes is the guard telling me it's time to go. My eyes start burning when I realize that no one is coming. When I reach a private place, I finally begin to cry. I've told my self that I don't care about others. But the reality is that when I'm faced with death, not even my own mother cares.