Sorry it's been so long since I updated! You know, college. Or maybe you don't. I don't know your life. Anyways I'm not quite sure how I feel about these two. I like them and all, but how do they shape up to the other 14 Tributes we've met? Why don't you let me know in a review? Pwetty pwease?
District 8 Reaping
Anton Findling, 18
I really enjoyed my walk around the neighborhood this morning. I always wake up at 5:30, walk, shower, eat, and I am at work by 7. I finished school last year, so now I have to work in the factories. I hate it. I sit for 8 hours a day threading machines. But today I don't have to go to work. The factories don't open until after the Reaping.
This is the last year my name will go into the ball. I'm excited, because I'd rather not go into the Hunger Games. I mean, I think I could win. I just don't want to kill anyone.
Today my walk lasted twice as long. I went outside our neighborhood and walked through Factory Row. Factory Row is probably a good 5 or 6 miles long, and is filled with factories on each side. It's a really dirty, slummy, place. I hate it.
~v~
I enjoy my shower. Usually, it is quick. But today, I get to enjoy the hot water. I soak in the steamy shower for what feels like hours. I feel my muscles slowly begin to relax and loosen up. I need more mornings like this.
As I dry off, I look at myself in the mirror. I know I'm kind of a freak. I'm tall and athletic, but my skin and hair are a pasty white color and have to wear incredibly thick glasses. I have a condition called albinism. It's always been an extremely rare condition. But the doctor told my parents I was the first recorded case in nearly 300 years.
I go downstairs, and enjoy a quite breakfast with my parents. It's always a quite breakfast, since I don't speak. I know how to talk, and understand others perfectly. I just see no reason to. My vow of silence has earned me the nick name Ghostie, thanks to my sisters. My oldest sister Caryn is a Peacekeeper, and we hardly see her anymore. But Bianca is a teacher, and she comes over for dinner all the time.
You would think not speaking would really hinder any relationship with my family, but it hasn't. They seem to know what I need to say by just looking at my face. If there is something important I need to say, I just write it down.
Before I know it, it's time to head to the Reaping. I don't want it to be this time, because then I have to go straight to the factory. I really hate working there. But not enough to start talking to get a better job.
I stand with the other 18-year-olds, and recognize a few from school. But no one approaches me. They know it's useless.
Soon, the mayor starts talking. I try to enjoy the last hour or so I have before being forced to thread machines until midnight.
Zahra Donato, 13
Ugh. I don't want to wake up. I can hear my alarm clock screaming, but I don't want to get out of bed.
"Rise and shine sweetie," I hear my mom say from the doorway. "It's time to get up."
No. I want to sleep more. So I decide it's time to turn on my baby voice.
"But Mommy I didn't sleep well last night. I am sooooooo tired still couldn't I sleep just a little while longer?"
"Of course Princess. I will come back in a half hour."
Score. I fall back asleep and before I know it my mom is shaking me awake. I know better than to fight it. I've learned how to manipulate my parents so well that I know which battles to pick. I'm always right.
I head downstairs to see my family waiting for me to start eating dinner.
"Thank Eebowai she's up! Now we can eat!" My family isn't originally from Panem. During the Dark Days, the Capitol was low on soldiers and went to the continent of Alaslasia, where my great-grandmama and great-grandpapa are from. They came over for a promise of a better life, and fought for the Capitol. In return they were dumped in District 8 after the Dark Days, and forbidden to speak of Alaslasia. If they were caught, they could be killed. That's what happened to great-grandpapa. Even though we can't tell others, a lot of the culture and language has been passed down. But we dare not speak the old language outside of our house.
"Oh Daddy, you didn't have to wait on me!" I sweetly smile. My brothers give me the dirtiest looks, but I don't care. They can be as mad as they want. It's not my fault I'm the baby of the family.
"Sweetie, we will always wait for you."
Being the youngest, and the only girl, is so amazing. After breakfast, my mother calls me into her room. My mother is a seamstress. Even though District 8 is all about the textiles, you would be surprised how much people would pay for handmade cloths.
"Honey, look at this dress for today. I made it just for you. Close your eyes."
I close my eyes and my mother helps me pull on the dress and moves me in front of the mirror. I open my eyes and am in awe.
"Oh my goodness mommy it's BEAUTIFUL!" And I'm not even sucking up to her. It really is gorgeous. It was a white dress, covered in pink roses. Dog roses, to be exact. I love dog roses. They use to be really common, but they have become really rare over time. I've never seen one in person before.
"Oh mommy, it's WONDERFUL. No other girl in the District will have as beautiful dress!"
And it's true. District 8 is really poor. I mean, it's not as bad as District 10, 11, or 12. But there are a lot of families that don't have enough to eat. Families that have to have their kids sign up for tessera. Which I'm thankful for. The more tessera, the better my odds are on Reaping Day.
"I'm glad you love it. You're going to stand out so much today! But you need to get showered and ready. Now scoot!"
I make my way upstairs and into my bathroom. Being the only girl, I got a bathroom all to myself whereas my brothers had to share a bathroom. Life rules.
~v~
After I'm clean and dressed, my family walks over to the center of town. We spend the walk just talking to each other, laughing, and just loving each other. Although we never talk about it, we're all afraid of today. I couldn't imagine watching one of my brothers in the Games. And me…. I'd die in the Bloodbath. Eventually we reach the center of town, and have to split up. I find my friends Taylor and Lisa and stand with them.
"Oh my god Zahra that dress is GORGEOUS! Your mom is a GENIUS when it comes to clothes," Taylor exclaims. If I'm not mistaken, there is a hint of jealousy in her voice.
"I know, isn't she amazing? I will ask her to make us matching dresses!"
Taylor and Lisa squeal. I know my mom probably won't make the dresses. But for now, it appeases my friends.
Soon after the conversation about my dress, the ceremonies begin. I don't pay attention to anything being said. I'm too busy looking at the other girls around me. None are dressed as nice as me. I smiley smugly. I love standing out in the crowd.
Before I know it, the Escort is on the stage. Huh. I don't recognize her.
"Heeeeeellllllllo District 8. My name is Lucia, and I am the new Escort for District 8! I hope that I can start escorting Tributes and soon to be VICTORS from this BEAUTIFUL DISTRICT!"
I look around. District 8 isn't pretty at all. It's all factories and buildings. She obviously has a warped sense of beauty. Her skin is dyed a bunch of different colors. Like a patchwork quilt. I wonder if she did that just because she is Escorting District 8.
Lucia reaches into the glass bowl on the left. The girls bowl. My stomach starts to tighten. I'm nervous.
"And our female Tribute is…. ZAHAR DONATO!"
What? That's impossible. My name is in the Reaping twice. So many kids have tessera. This has to be a mistake. But no one says anything.
"Zahar, come on up!"
I make my way towards the stage. Breath. Just breath. Don't cry. Be strong. Donato's are strong. I take my place on the stage. I manage a small smile. I don't think anyone is buying it though. This isn't fair. I shouldn't have been reaped.
Anton Findling, 18
I watch the little girl walk up on stage. She's small. She can't be older than 14. But she is clearly from one of the richer families in the District. Her dress is unique and pretty. She has no visible bones sticking out. Most people do not have pretty clothes or no visible bones. And hardly any have both.
Part of me feels bad for her. She is obviously young. She is obviously going to die. But part of me doesn't care. She hasn't had to struggle. To fight for anything. Let her fight for her life.
"ANTON FINDLING!"
I hear my name? What's going on? Oh. I've been reaped. I start to walk towards the stage. Huh. I've been reaped. I would have thought I would care more. But don't. I mean, the odds are I'm going to die of a nasty death in the factory or by starving to death in old age. The Games don't really seem like that bad of an alternative.
"Alright face each other and shake hands!" shouts Lucia. I just stare at her for a second. She is…. Multicolored. Bunch of different colored patches. The Capitol is so stupid.
I shake the little girls hand. She looks up at me terrified. I'm tempted to say something of comfort, but I don't have the time. We are rushed into the Justice Building for our goodbyes.
My goodbyes are short. The only people that come are my parents and sisters. My parents are both extremely worried. Bianca is tears. I'm not quite sure why she is crying. Yes, I'm her brother. But she doesn't really know me. No one knows me. Then Caryn kneels in front of me.
"Anton, you're smart. You may never speak, but you have always had a light behind your eyes. I can see it burning bright. Fight. Win. Then speak. You have so much to say. You can be something little brother. You can really, truly, be something. I know it."
Her speech is heartfelt. I see a tears forming in her eyes, but they don't fall. I suddenly realized, she isn't who I thought she was. I don't know her. I don't know Bianca. I don't know my parents. Just like they don't know me….
My family starts to head out. They've said their peace. What else is there to say?
I make a rash decision. Just as they are about to open the door-
"I love you guys."
My first words in 13 years.
Zahra Donato, 13
I sit at the table, playing with my soup. I'm making the crackers wage naval war with each other before they disintegrate to the bottom of the bowl. I'm not hungry.
My goodbyes weren't long. Filled with lots of tears. From my family and my friends. And of course from me.
My daddy told me to be strong. That he knows I'm a fighter. He pointed out that there hasn't been a 13-year-old winner in nearly 50 years, that it's time for someone so young to win again. That doesn't comfort me.
The boy, Anton, doesn't talk at all. Lucia just goes on and on about how exciting it is to Escort, how she thinks we have a real shot at winning. I wish she would shut up so I could try to think about something besides the Hunger Games.
"Uh, Lucia. Would you be a dear and go check on dessert? And see if Thom is ready to come out of his compartment?" Cecelia asks. Cecelia is one of our mentors. She seems really sweet.
"OK, Sure! We need Thom so we can start discussing strategy!"
The last thing I want to do is talk about strategy.
"So how to you feel?" asks Cecelia.
"Terrible." I mutter. "I don't want to think about this."
"Well, you're going to have to start thinking about this. I really want to see one of you come back out of the arena."
"HOW?" I shout. "I'M LITTLE, AND HE DOESN'T TALK! HOW IS EITHER OF US GONNA WIN? WE'RE DOOMED."
As I burst into tears, Cecelia gets up and hugs me.
"There there, there there. I know this is tough. I remember my time everyday of my life. It's awful, but never impossible. You just have to focus on what you can do, and make the most of it. That's what we're gonna do sweetie."
I let her hug me. I need to feel someone's arms around me, even if it's someone I don't even know. I wipe my tears, and look up. Anton is just staring at us. Out of nowhere, he rushes out of the room and rushes back in. He has a notepad with him.
He scribbles something down, and holds it up.
"I'm down. Where do we start?"
