Attention: I need three boy tributes from districts 11, 12, and 13. Details in the Author's Note below.
Camelia Maplewood's Reaping
The glinting sun rays spray sunshine through the open window and spill light on my pale face. It's already morning? I want to stay here forever... The sound of birds chirping outside, water bubbling in the nearby spring, and and the warm sun. These drowsy moments are what I cherish most in life. No need to worry, be sad, or get annoyed at something. Everything is just perfect.
In the distance, a car horn sounds. It's probably the mayor... He's most likely the only one in District 8 who can afford to buy a car. Even a wheelbarrow is luxury here.
For a few minutes more I lay still, letting the strands of my stringy brown hair fall over my face and tickle my nose. Then my alarm goes off.
Annoyed, I roll over on my back and slam my fist on the alarm clock until it unplugs and crashes to the floor. Then I brush my blankets off me and stretch, loosening up my muscles for the day ahead of me. Smiling faintly, I step into my worn slippers and walk to the window. It opens with a screech and I glance at the district below me.
The spring that I had heard is just a leaky hydrant. The birds are just the leaves rustling on the black pavement.
The awful smell of air immediately hits my nose. Our family lives in the exact center of District 8, and it's the most urban district. Filled to the brim with stinking fumes, large block apartment complexes and huge sewing factories, it is just plain awful. If I had a choice, I'd live in District 7 or 11. Those districts have the most vegetation. In my entire life, I have literally seen no more than five trees.
I close the window and make my small bed quietly. My bed is just an old mattress with some tattered quilts to keep us warm. Even in June, it is still cold here.
Once I finish making my bed, I exit my room which is no bigger than a walk-in closet. Outside my room, my brother, Lupin, is slicing up a mango for today's breakfast. He looks up and grimaces at me.
Lupin is ten years old, with pale green eyes like mine and short tangled hair. He is tall for his age and very smart. Unfortunately, he is considered a nerd somewhat, so he doesn't have very many friends. Even so, he is polite, silent, and doesn't let anything get in his way.
When Lupin is finished cutting the mango, he serves me half and immediately chows down his share. We hardly have enough to eat here. My mother died when I was five years old, so mad with grief, my father spent less time at home and more time drinking. I rarely ever see him anymore. In a way, I feel bad for my father. He just loved my mother too much. But I do blame him for never taking care of Lupin and I.
I eat the mango slowly, trying to savor the taste. Ripe fruits like these can almost never be afforded. Not even with the money I earn from working shifts at the clothing factory where we stitch together fabrics which are cheaply sold in stores at the plaza. Nearly all of my time is spent at the factory. Somehow I manage to get good grades in school even though I am absent half of the time.
Lupin stands and walks over to the sink where he carefully washes the dishes. It's his day to work on chores.
Our house- well, living space, is a tiny condominium which doesn't even have one bedroom. Lupin sleeps on the couch in front of a rusty television that hardly ever works. The refrigerator is filled with our personal belongings, because we can't afford the electricity it takes. Our cupboards are full of tesserae which I take for my brother and father, even though I haven't seen my father in weeks now. All together I have my name in there twelve times. Which isn't that much compared to the other people I know. One girl in my school has nine siblings and takes tesserae for all of them. Last year her older sister was reaped to be in the games and she was the first one dead.
Sighing, I lay my head down on the table and rest. I have an eight hour shift at the factory, plus school, so I have literally only a few hours to sleep. Oh, well. As long as Lupin and I have enough to eat, I'll be okay. Lupin has a job somewhat, by selling apples and oranges at a market down the street. It doesn't bring in much money, but we're appreciative about what we can get. We never complain.
Once Lupin is finished with the dishes, he sits next to me and brushes my hair with a sandstone comb. I never bother with brushing my hair and looking pretty. It has never helped with feeding Lupin or getting wages at the factory. That's why so many others consider me unattractive. My hair is always tangled and scrawny when I enter school and my clothes are ragged pieces of cloth sewed together.
After a few minutes Lupin stops combing my hair and I drearily stand and walk to the bathroom.
"What time is it?" I ask my brother before I open the door.
Lupin glances at the clock. "You have two hours 'till the reapings," he says. I nod and fill a basin with hot water for a bath. For the first time in months I allow myself to look beautiful. If I'm reaped, I want to be able to get sponsors. That's why hideous people rarely win nowadays.
After my bath I apply some eyeshadow and makeup. Then I tie my hair into a long braid and walk to my closet. Because of lack of room, hanging above my bed are my clothes strung from a short wire. I select a plain green dress which my mother wore once.
Suddenly, as I step to the kitchen, there is a loud knock at the door. Quickly I open it, afraid to see peacekeepers. Instead, it's my father.
There's something about his bedraggled look that makes me wonder if he's been living in a dumpster. But before I have the chance to speak or even move, he collapses onto the floor. Well, he's been drinking again.
"Lupin," I call. "Can father use your bed?"
Lupin enters with an annoyed look as he stares at father. Together we drag him to the living room onto Lupin's bed and pull off his torn sweater and dump it into a bin to wash. This is a once-a-month tradition whenever he comes home, drunk. Really, we need a lock on the door. Lupin dresses in a small suit and together we exit the apartment and head to the square. Before we're even halfway there, I hear a shout of recognition and see Easton running towards me. We're both fourteen and he's my best and only friend.
We look nothing alike. Easton is tall and built with large square shoulders. He has blond hair and deep blue eyes. His father owns the local bookstore, in an old run-down building housed at the edge of the district.
"Happy Hunger Games!" he exclaims jokingly. Easton is never one of be afraid. Not of the peacekeepers, not of the reapings, not of anything. My guess is that if he were reaped he could win, because he's strong, friendly and would easily join the careers' group. Easton's also very smart, but doesn't earn as good grades as I do. He'd probably end up poisoning the careers and winning for something like that.
I grimace at him. For Lupin and I, The Hunger Games is not something to be joked about. It's something to hide from, and something to pretend isn't real. Joking just makes it worse, because it makes the games seem humorous and exciting. Which they aren't, and never will unless the gamemakers themselves are dumped into the arena to kill each other.
"Hi," I say warily. Lupin spots one of his friends and runs off with a quick, "good luck."
"Why do you always have to make the games seem like a joke?" I say irritably, once Lupin is out of earshot. "It's bad enough having to watch kids kill each other.
Easton glares at me. "Would you rather be scared half to death?" he snaps, annoyed.
I shake my head as we enter the square. It's already almost full. Neither of us say anything as our finger is pricked and we head to our stations. "Well, good luck," he says and I enter the sixteen year old girl section.
Most of the other girls present are the prissy popular ones obsessed with fashion and boys. I have never been like them, and never will. Ever. They all ignore me, as usual, which is perfectly fine with me. I certainly don't want to fall under their influence.
For the next twenty minutes I switch between standing awkwardly and exchanging nervous glances with Easton from his section. Finally, Crystalline, this year's escort, hops up from her seat on the stage and prances over to the small microphone.
"Welcome, welcome," she says, excited. "Now, before we choose our lucky tributes, let us begin years ago, when Panem had not yet existed. Everything existed in chaos, and no one was safe..."
After about twenty minutes of droning on about the games, she finally stops. "Now," Crystalline announces clearly as she pronounces every syllable perfectly in her annoying Capitol accent. "It is time to choose our tributes. As usual, the ladies will be chosen first."
As if to make the tension last longer, Crystalline takes her time walking to the glass jar. Her black hair sparkles against the sunlight. Small flakes of glitter fly off her delicate, pale face and drop onto the stage. A bee buzzes by my ear. All I can hear is my own heart pounding, and now, she has a slip and is walking back.
Once again the escort takes her time unwrapping the slip of paper. I imagine Lupin, staring at the screen nervously. Finally she takes in a breath and clears her throat.
"Camelia Maplewood! Come on up, you lucky girl!"
My heart freezes. There's no chance I can win this. None at all. I turn my head. All of the popular girls are staring at me, disgusted. My head swivels the other way. Easton is looking aghast and terrified. Slowly, silently, I walk to the front and carefully step up the stairs. All I can feel is shock. No sadness, no fear, no anger at the Capitol for doing this to us.
Somehow, once I'm onstage, my eyes lock with Lupin. He is full of fear. There is no chance he can live alone. Especially with a drunkard dad. He'll starve or become beggar...
This is the end of both of us.
Harold Tribune's Reaping
"Harold! Wake up and walk the dog! Get up! It's past eleven!" My father's voice scolds me from the window. Grumbling to myself, I open my eyes and allow myself a moment of rest before I stretch and put on my glasses. Then I glance out the window
Dad is watering the immense lawn and Harry is reading a book at the picnic table. Lola, our one year old puppy, is chasing the water house and wagging her tail enthusiastically.
Yawning, I quickly change into clean clothes and hurry downstairs. As I open the back door and step outside, Lola crashes into me as she attempts to eat a lightning bug which is circling her head as if to tease her. Laughing, I hug her and she climbs on my back as she tries to gobble down the bug. Suddenly a shoot of water sprays my back, completely soaking me. I look up. It's Harry, laughing at me with the water hose. Grinning, I run at him and yank away the hose as I spray his face. Giggling and soaking wet, Harry runs away but I catch him and spray his back with the water. Lola then attacks him in an attempt to eat the stream of water.
"Are you two going to take the dog on a walk or not?" comes a voice from above. Dad is leaning out his window and smiling down at us.
"Why don't you dry off?" I tell Harry and then set off with Lola on a leash. My life in District 8 is perfect. We live in the outskirts of town, where there's less factories and more greenery. The apartment complexes turn into ordinary two story houses. Usually the people in this neighborhood are rich merchants, like my dad. My mom, however, died in an accident when I was ten years old. It was awful.
Lola bites on a bright orange leaf from the sidewalk and keeps it in his mouth as if it is some kind of prize. I smile to myself as I continue walking down the street.
A few minutes later I pass my friend Charlie's house. I have tens of friends at school; I'm one of the more popular people. My grades are good enough that I'm considered smart, but I'm not nearly as bright as the other kids in my classes.
A bug flits past my face and I brush away my dark brown hair which matched my mothers. My eyes are hazel colored, and I am tall and athletic. I guess I could be a high contender in the games if I were to be reaped, but I don't even have to worry about that. My family is too rich for me to need to take tesserae. At fifteen years old my name is in the glass bowl only four times.
After ten more minutes I reach home again. Lola spits out the orange leaf in her mouth and licks my face as I untie her from the leash. Then she bounds into the house wagging her tail. Everything Lola does is just so... obnoxiously happy. Maybe that's why Harry likes her more.
At the moment Harry is sitting by the counter eating some cereal. I walk past him and up the stairs to my bathroom, where I take a short and hot shower. As I step out, I change into a horribly stiff and uncomfortable tuxedo which I wear every year to the reapings. I absolutely despise fancy clothes, but hey, at least we can afford them.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It's 12:45 now, so I should leave in about a half hour. That will give me plenty of time. Quickly I comb my hair back and put on some cologne. Then I head downstairs for breakfast.
Dad is sitting next to Harry at the table. Harry has short brown hair and gray eyes. He's not very smart for his age, but he's popular at least. Harry is short and very funny, like me.
I sit down and serve myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast. When I'm finished I jog upstairs and brush my teeth until they're sparkling clean, then grab my gold watch and go to the door.
"I'll see you after the reapings," I tell dad and then exit the house at 1:15 on the dot. It takes about ten minutes to reach the downtown area of District 8. It's not very large, but our house is situated almost at the very edge of the district.
Just as I reach the plaza, I spot Charlie and Veronica. Out of all of my friends, they would have to be the ones I'm closest to. Veronica has long, flowing brown hair which reaches her back, and shining green eyes. She's very tall and possesses pale porcelain skin. Veronica is the smartest kid in our entire class, and is an avid reader. In fact, I think Veronica is my only friend who is a girl.
Charlie is the complete opposite. He is tan, with brown eyes and dirty blond hair. He is tall, strong, and rough. Charlie enjoys sports like I do, but isn't nearly as smart. Well, he's clever, but never even tries to learn anything at school.
I have been friends with both Charlie and Veronica since the second grade.
Veronica dashes over and Charlie follows. "I hate this!" she exclaims. "It's all so nerve wracking! But we obviously won't get reaped. It will probably be that poor Georgia girl who lives in that orphanage... Oh well, I never liked her anyway."
"I think the boy will be that pre-teen beggar who always comes by our house," says Charlie. "I feel for him. But if I get reaped, I think I'd last a while in the games."
"You would win," Veronica laughs. Suddenly a loud booming trumpet-like bellow erupts from the nearby speakers, signaling time to go to the reaping. The three of us hurry into line and get our fingers pricked.
"See you later," Veronica says and hurries to her correct area. Charlie and I head to the fifteen year old boy section and wait for the reaping to begin. Dad and Harry will probably be on the sidelines of the square by now, waiting. Charlie and I make small talk until Crystalline makes her way to the mic.
Crystalline has a bubbly attitude like most of the other escorts, but it seems as if she isn't completely obsessed with the whole Capitol attire. She's wearing a plain white dress. With her black hair, she almost looks like salt and pepper.
After discussing how the games begin, she chooses the girl, who is a year older then me .
"Now, let's choose a boy to represent District 8," she says calmly. Slowly, Crystalline walks to the glass bowl, grabs a name, and makes her way back to the microphone before reading the name aloud.
"Harold Tribune!"
Silence in the square. Everyone knows who I am. I just stand, stunned. Veronica bursts into tears from across the square and Charlie gives me a huge sympathetic glance.
"Harold Tribune? Where are you?" says Crystalline as she searches the audience.
"Right here," I manage. I give a fake grin and march up to the stage and wave at the audience. At least I won't seem so weak to the Careers.
I don't even dare shoot a glance in my family's direction.
Author's Note: Yeah, I need three boy tributes from districts 11, 12 and 13. I made almost all of the other tributes myself, except for a few my friends made, so yours will probably be favored. When submitting a tribute, PM me with the information about the tribute. PM me for the format. The most detailed tributes will be chosen. Thanks! And also, sorry for not updating for such a long time. I won't be able to update as often anymore, because summer is coming to an end and I still have a camping trip planned.
