District Nine: Grain

Taffy Sweedums, 16, POV:

"Thank you sir and have a nice day," I smile and hand the man his change. He eyes it suspiciously and counts it, making sure it's the right amount.

"Sure. Whatever," He says, walking out of the store with his bag of taffy, still looking at me like I poisoned it or something. Rude. He didn't even wish me luck today, unlike so many of our other customers. I take off my apron and put it under the counter, but not before I pop a peppermint into my mouth.

"Taffy, what are you doing?" my twenty-year-old sister, Lolli, asks, looking at my hand, still cupped over my mouth from when I ate the candy. She looks at the buldge with disgust.

"Nothing," I say. My voice sounds muffled, from my hand and the peppermint, which is pressed against my cheek.

"Whatever. You just go get ready for the Reapings. You need it," Lolli says. My face turns red, and I hurry out of the room. It's not fair. Lolli is so pretty and thin, and I'm pudgy and unattractive.

I run upstairs as fast as I can, my footsteps heavy on the wooden stairs. Like all of the other shopkeepers, we live over our business.

On my way up the stairs, I bang into my nineteen-year-old brother, Licorich. The tray of gumballs he was holding topples over, and all of the gumballs roll down the stairs, making loud banging sounds as they fall.

"Taffy!" Licorich says, frantically stooping down and picking up the gumballs.

"I'm sorry! Here, let me help!" I bend down to help him, but I only end up banging my head into his.

"Ow!" Licorich says, jerking up and rubbing his head. He throws out a hand when I go to pick up the tray, "Wait!" he pants, "I think you've helped enough."

I take the hint and hurry up the stairs, my face an even darker shade of red.

"What was that racket?" my father asks, looking up from the newspaper.

"I-I ran into Licorich and made him drop the gumballs." I hand my head in shame. I'm always doing something klutzy like this, and it's the only time my Father ever notices me.

"Oh my goodness, Taffy! What are we going to do with you?" He rubs his hands over his shiny bald head. I just run into my room and slam the door.

Most people are jealous of me; my pudginess shows that I have enough to eat, I have a nice house, and I never had to take tesserae. But the truth is, my life is going pretty bad. I have frizzy hair, pale skin, and no friends. I'm a klutz, and my family hardly notices me unless I do something wrong. My Dad is always working and teaching Licorich how to run the shop for when he takes over. My Mom is trying to find someone respectable to marry to perfect Lolli. I'm just an extra pair of hands to work in the shop, ones that don't have to be paid.

I pull on a candy-apple colored shirt and pull my hair back in a matching red hair ribbon. I also pull on a caramel-colored skirt, and I'm all set. They aren't gorgeous like all of Lolli's clothes; they're practical.

I head out to the Square with my family. They all talk about the town gossip, but I just trail behind, not speaking. I'm the only Sweedums child still eligible for the Reapings, and I have a total of five entries.

I sign in at the Square. "Arm," the Peacekeeper says gruffly, not even looking at me.

"Here you go, sir," I say politely, holding out my arm. I always have very good manners.

He looks up at me, one eyebrow raised, like I'm crazy. I bet no one has talked to him yet. He just shakes his head and draws the blood sample. "Next," he says when I'm done signing in.

"It was nice talking with you, sir," I say, smiling and going over to my section. The girls all make a wide circle around me, like they don't want to get too close. They think I'm too sweet; annoyingly sweet. To me, this is just another place I don't quite fit in.

Our elderly mayor says her speech, and I am the only one who applauds lightly at the end. Everyone looks at me strangely, but I don't let it bother me. It's a miracle that she didn't forget the words mid-way through. I know I would.

Our escort, a lady with blue hair and tattoos all over her arms, steps up to the stage. She doesn't bother with silly chit-chat- she gets right to the point. "Our female tribute is- Taffy Sweedums."

My eyes widen at the sound of my name. Did she just say Taffy Sweedums?

This is the last thought I have before I fall backwards, fainting.

Clay Watson, 14, POV:

I walk next to the fence surrounding the grain field, dragging a stick against the chain-link. It makes a satisfying clinking noise, and I'm glad for it. It fills the silence that clouds the air like a heavy fog, and helps clear my mind.

Today is the first stage of The Hunger Games. When the tributes are chosen, and the sponsors have a first view of the competition. Stage One is always long and tedious-wondering who is going to be picked, dreading it's you, and listening to the boring speech that retells the history of the Games, like we don't already know.

I sigh and drop my stick when I hear footsteps behind me. Finally. I turn and see him standing there, holding the gloves. "It took you long enough," I say, going over and fingering the thick material.

"You know how it is. I couldn't risk getting caught," his eyes dart around nervously, but I know no one will be here this early. Not on Reaping Day.

"Not bad. I'll give you five coins," I say, going for a low amount.

"Seven," he says, narrowing his eyes.

"Six, and that's as high as I'm going," I clench the gloves in my hand. I have no intention of giving them back; it's just a matter of if he gets his money or not.

"Fine," he says, sensing my thoughts. I take the coins out of my pocket and dump them into his hand. It's a good thing he didn't insist on more, because I only brought six coins. I nod my head at him and walk in the other direction, slipping the gloves into my pocket. These are quite nice; they'll protect my hands from the hard exterior of the grain.

Guy deals in the black marketing business. He steals things from the merchant's stores, then passes the word along and sells the stuff for half the original price. It's a great deal, but it's risky. If you get caught, you could get hanged. But I still know I'll end up just like Guy- a thief who sells stolen goods.

I walk home and duck through the front door. My mother, oblivious as always, kisses my cheek. She smiles at me like I'm the whole purpose of her life. "Hey, Clay. Have you seen the money? I lost six coins, I just can't seem to find anything lately..." I shake my head, and her forehead creases. "What will I tell Lincoln? He always tells me to be careful..." She runs off and starts looking under the furniture for the missing money. I roll my eyes and head to my room to get ready for the Reapings. She is clueless, but I suppose that any woman who has a kid at sixteen with a thirty-year-old man is.

I comb back my hair but do nothing else. I don't have any nicer clothes, and I'm not dressing fancy for something stupid like this. I don't even take my gloves out of my pocket, because if Lincoln finds them, he'll flip. All spare money has to go towards his gambling, part of why we're o poor.

I head to the Square and sign in. When the Peacekeeper sees me, he narrows his eyes, but doesn't say anything. I just raise my eyebrows, daring him silently to bring up the incident. He doesn't, though, and I smile innocently before heading to the fifteen-year-old section, remembering the day with humor.

He had been walking by the fence, guarding it late at night. I'd snuck up behind him, taking his gun, (which he carelessly strapped to his shoulder) and turned it on him. He fell to the ground, whimpering like a baby. He said he'd do anything, as long as I didn't shoot him. I said that if he were ever to hear anything about any suspicions about the market, that he would shut them up. He was reluctant at first, but it wasn't hard to persuade him. One shot, narrowly missing his left leg, was enough to shut him up. I'd taken the gun, threatening to kill him in his sleep if he told anyone for good measure.

I'm lost in my memory, so I almost don't realize the escort stepping up to the stage. It's hard to miss her, with the blue hair and tattoos. I'm glad I missed the stupid speech, since our ancient mayor says the same thing every year in a dull monotone." Our female tribute is- Taffy Sweedums."

I snicker. She's the daughter of the sweetshop owner. She's fat and ugly, nothing like her hot older sister. I look over at her section and watch as she turns even whiter. Her eyes roll back and she faints. I actually laugh out loud, one little bark of amusement. Everyone looks at me like I'm crazy. They don't say anything, though; they know not to mess with me.

The Peacekeepers pick her up and take her away, and our escort plows right on like nothing ever happened. In fact, they're not even out of the section when she reads the next name. "Our male tribute is- Clay Watson."

I freeze for a second, not sure what she means. Do they know I bought the gloves...?

I shake myself a little and walk up to the stage. No one volunteers. I'm not really sure what to do, because the tributes usually shake hands around this point. I have no one to shake hands with, so I just give the cameras my best death stare.

Looks like this Stage One was interesting after all.

Taffy Sweedums, 16, POV:

I wake up several moments later, in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by unfamiliar people. "She's awake!" I hear someone holler in a hushed tone, an awkward combination.

"Whazzhappnin?" I try to speak, but everything is foggy, and I'm not sure they can understand me. Miraculously, she understands, and she delivers the worst news I have ever heard.

"You fainted, dear," the doctor looks at me with concern, and a little sadness. Everything hits me at the same time, with the force of a wrecking ball. I was reaped. I am going to the Hunger Games. I fainted on live TV.

"Since you aren't feeling well, we are going to have your goodbyes here," the doctor says, leaving the bedside with her clipboard.

I look around with frantic eyes. I want to call her back, but I seem to have lost the ability to speak. My parents and siblings come in and kneel at my bedside. Lolli, being twenty, was too old to volunteer; but I know that even if she could, she wouldn't.

"Oh, Taffy," my mother sobs. She's never paid me any attention before, but its nice to have her care now.

My brother stares at me with a pained expression, as if wondering what type of flowers to put on my grave. They don't humor me; its not like I have a chance of winning. My father stares at me with defeat. "When I think of this morning-" he chokes a little. I am brought back to the past, which feels like years though it was only hours. To when they were all exasperated and impatient at me, the way they always were. I can see that now they regret it.

I still can't speak. I wonder when I will get my voice back. My sister speaks next, lips tight, "Taffy, I brought something for you." She holds out a drop of chocolate, sitting on her palm, perfectly formed. They're my favorites, even better than the taffy. I take it and pop it into my mouth. The chocolate feels good, and I remember from somewhere that chocolate is good after you faint.

"I'll miss you guys," I finally speak. It sounds like so little, but the words have a lot of meaning. My brother takes my hand and squeezes it gently. I see a small bump on his head, from where I banged into it earlier. I rub it gently with my free hand, and he flinches a little at the tender spot.

The Peacekeepers come in then. I'm surprised at first, because I've never dealt with anything like this. Having no friends to cry over if they were reaped, I don't really know what to expect. But I feel like the light is being punched out of me when I watch them leave me here alone, with these strange doctors.

"Don't go..." I choke out, but its too late. They can't hear me anymore, not where I'm going.

Clay Watson, 15, POV:

I'm escorted into the Justice Building. It's nice in here, and I can't help but think of the best ways to steal this stuff, left so carelessly on shelves or tables.

I sit in my room, staring around at the fancy furniture. I'm not going to be one of those babies who cries when their family comes to visit them. I really couldn't care less about them.

My mother comes in, looking stunned, like she can't believe this is happening. My father follows behind her, trying to hide a smile. I know he couldn't wait to get rid of me, since I'm just the troublesome kid he never wanted. I don't know who's more excited that I'm leaving- me or him.

"Oh, Clay, I-I don't know what to do," she sits down and folds her hands in her lap, her mouth gaping and her eyes staring at nothing. She has always been a little naive, always trusting in her black-market son and her twice-her-age husband. She is the very picture of someone so shocked but so dim.

"Don't worry, Ma. I'll be home soon," I rub her shoulder, and she looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears and her chin trembling.

"I don't want you to leave me," she looks so sad, so heartbroken, that for a second I feel a flicker of something, something warm and feathery. I brush the feeling aside, and hug her, one last time. I look into my father's eyes over her shoulder: his cruel, uncaring eyes. In them I can see that he can't wait for me to leave. His little delinquent.

"I love you, Mom," she smiles at me, that same innocent smile from this morning, like I light up her life. I feel bad for looking down on her all these years. I want to say something to make up for it, but I can't find the words, so I don't.

"I love you too, Clay," The Peacekeepers take them away. My father's arm wraps around her waist, and she leans against him. At least she'll have someone, even if he is a gambler. He may hate my guts, but he loves her with all his heart. Not much, since it's all a black hole, but still.

I'm surprised to see Guy come in. He's twenty-something years old, not really a close friend or anything. He's just the guy I go to when I need something cheap. An acquaintance.

"Hey, Clay," he pats my back awkwardly. From the bulge in his jacket, I can see he just stole something from the badly guarded building. No wonder he came to visit me.

I roll my eyes at him. "What did you take?"

He sits down, excited. "I got this really nice vase. I can probably sell it to the antiques store and make a fortune."

The corner of my mouth pops up, but then I remember something. "Hey, Guy?" He looks up at me, curious. "Can you give these to my Mom? I don't think they'll let me take them with me, and I want her to at least have them."

"Sure," he nods and holds out his hand, but I won't give them to him just yet.

"On your honor?" I ask.

"My honor as a thief," he rolls his eyes, but I feel better. This is one promise I know he'll keep, because if there's one thing he's earned, it's his ability to keep a promise.

The Peacekeepers come in then. Obviously, they're oblivious to the bulge that was obvious to me. He turns and winks once before the doors shut. I'm left alone now, not even the gloves to comfort me.

Time for Stage Two.

Author's Note: I really liked writing this chapter. They're not your typical tributes... Anyway, I went back through my previous chapters, and I'm realizing just how awful my grammar/spelling was... Oh well. Still not going to proofread. Thanks for all the reviews-it's nice to have some feedback, and I obsessively stalk my new chapters for reviews... not kidding. I'll have the next chapter up soon, less competition for the computer this weekend (woot woot!) Okay, if you're still reading this, I have a challenge: You know those mutts I described in chapter one? Well I don't know what they are yet, so if you have an interesting mutt, let me know. K bye!