District 9: Harper Lamb (12) Pov-
I can still smell the warm summer breeze that rustled through the trees that day. The day my father died.
I can still feel my five-year-old arms swinging at my sides.
The first half of the day my father died was great. It was a tradition that I got to choose my breakfast every year on my birthday. There was little question what I would pick. My mom's waffles were my favorite food in the world, and they were the breakfast I picked whenever I had a choice.
Mom and I were sitting around the table and laughing when the phone rang. Mom got up and answered it. Even though I didn't know what was going on, the horrified look on my mother's face was enough to tell me that it was bad. Really bad.
"Get on your shoes, Harper," Mom said, shaking madly and looking like she was about to cry. My mom never acted like that.
We both got onto our bicycles and drove half a mile to Dad's farm. The farm was probably my favorite place in the world. I loved to feed the hens and roosters and watch him cut the grain with his sickle.
When the bright-red barn came into sight, I screeched to a halt. The wheels of the bike were misaligned, and the bike wobbled a bit before stopping completely. Right away, I knew something bad had happened. Where was Dad's jolly voice welcoming us to his farm? Where was the clucking of the chickens? Where was the roar of the tractors?
The door of the barn swung open. I smiled as wide as the moon, expecting to see my dad. But it wasn't Dad that came out. It was Aunt Kate. She was my father's brother. She lived far away and never came to our place unless something bad had happened.
Aunt Kate told us the bad news through tears. My father was dead. He had been riding his tractor when he toppled sideways and fell off. In his descent, he had pulled the steering wheel sharply to one side. He couldn't move out of the way fast enough before the tractor bowled him over.
I remember thundering all the way back home on my bike and locking myself in my room. The smell of the half-eaten waffles from downstairs was beautiful. My father was dead. Nothing should have been beautiful.
Everyone said the wounds would heal with time. But, seven years later, I remember everything as clearly as if it were yesterday.
"How much longer, Anna?" I shout.
"Shouldn't be longer than a few more minutes," she replies, coasting down the hill.
"You said this would be a short ride." I put my bicycle into high gear to build up more speed.
"Yeah, I lied," she admits, a laugh tumbling from her lips.
Suddenly, a road comes into view. I hurriedly pull on the breaks. The wheels of the bike must be misaligned again, because it wobbles back and forth for a few moments before finally stopping. Just like it happened the day my dad died…
It feels like I've been punched in the stomach, and before I know it I'm on the ground. Memories of my father's death come rushing back. I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't see straight.
"Harper! Harper!" Anna shouts with panic. She can't be more than five feet away, but it feels like a million miles.
"Deep breaths!" She inhales deeply through her nose to demonstrate.
I inhale through my noise and slowly out through my mouth, instantly making me feel calmer.
"Are you ready to get back up?" Harper asks.
"I think so," I reply, shakingly taking her hand.
"Thanks for that… for helping we whenever the memories come back."
"It's nothing. But we'd better hurry if we want to get good spots at the reaping!"
District 9: Luc Everett (16) Pov-
I dig the teeth of the rake into the damp earth. Using both my legs and arms for strength, I drag the tiller across the earth. Once this whole area is tilled, the farmers will come in and sprinkle the grain around with their big machines. For now, I'm just a slave to people born richer than me.
I stand up and wipe a layer of sweat from my forehead. A shrill whistle pierces the silence. It's time for lunch.
I set down my rake and jog to The Hub. The Hub is a huge wooden building in the center of the grain field. Apparently it used to a wheat storehouse, but now it's where we go to eat lunch. I melt into the crowd of people to pour into the building. It's stifling hot inside, and with so many cramped into such a small place I can't help looking forward to going back out into the wide, open field.
"Luc!" a familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around sharply. My father has eyes that can tell you his entire personality with no words at all. He's loyal and caring and a protector. I couldn't ask for a better Dad.
"How's the work treating you?" Dad asks as we get in line for our noon meal.
"Fine. Tilling the soil is as thrilling as ever," I answer.
"Really? The heat isn't bothering you?" Dad insists.
"Come on, Dad. A little optimism can't hurt. We're not starved yet."
The line moves up a few feet. "Wow! You're tanned!" Dad remarks as though it's the first time he's noticed.
"Yep. Pretty much impossible not to be with how much time we spend outside," I explain.
"You're a great son, Luc. The best son I could ask for," Dad says, his voice overflowing with affection. His lips turn up slightly, revealing a smile. But it's a sad smile that reflects only despair. I don't say anything. It's hard to find things to be happy about in District 9.
District 9: Harper Lamb (12) Pov-
Yeliza Shale is a lady who likes to listen to herself talk. Once she finally stops her babbling, I'm actually glad once she starts her journey to the girls' reaping bowl.
"Harper Lamb!" Yeliza reads.
It feels like a wave of cold water has splashed over me, squeezing the air out of my lungs and obscuring my vision. The shock is indescribable. Every thought my brain forms is cut short by another, like a television being flipped quickly between channels.
It takes a long time to reach the Justice Building. It's not just because the twelve-year-olds are the farthest from the stage. I'm procrastinating all of the questions that Yeliza is going to ask me.
"Got any pets, Harper dear?" Yeliza asks.
"Nope. But I'd like a cat someday," I answer.
"Oh, cats are lovely. My friend owns three of them. Do you play any instruments?"
"I play flute for the school band."
The interrogation seems to go on forever. Sweet relief crashes over me when she finally sets down the microphone and starts toward the boys' reaping ball.
District 9: Luc Everett (16) Pov-
The reaped girl fidgets nervously on the stage. I'd be lying if I said she isn't something to look at. With her short, curly brown hair and deep brown eyes, I can already imagine sponsors putting their bets on her. Though she looks young, possibly even twelve. People that young almost never win the games.
Yeliza fishes her hand into the boys' reaping bowl and snatches out a tightly-folded slip of paper. The square draws in a collective breath.
"Luc Everett!"
My legs move me to the stage. But I don't feel like I'm moving them. All I'm thinking about is what it feels like to die.
"How are you today, Luc?" Yeliza asks.
"Great," I lie.
"Do you think you can win?"
"Yes."
"What are you most looking forward to in the Capitol?"
"The food."
"What about the lights at night?"
"Those too."
From the opposite side of the microphone, Harper gives me a reassuring smile, like she knows my pain.
District 9: Harper Lamb (12) Pov-
"Holy crapkittens, girl! You're going into the game with Luc Everett!"
"I know, I'm so lucky, right?" I say, but it's more of a joke than anything else. I'm the most unlucky person in the room.
"That boy is super cute," Anna continues. "I'll never forgive you if you don't smooch him at least once in the Capitol."
"Oh, shut up!" I shout playfully. We both laugh.
Izzi Jo has a very different method of saying goodbye.
"You have to show off to the Capitol," Izzi Jo says purposefully. "They want a good show. That's all they want. Be the most relevant character and there's no way you can't win."
"You hear that?" Izzi Jo shouts, flashing a rather obscene gesture to the nearest camera. "You just want a stupid…"
"Shhhh!" I say, shoving my hand over her mouth. "You can't say that in here!"
Izzi Jo has been rebellious for as long as I can remember. It's probably a miracle she's not been arrested thus far. I wish I could be as fearless as her.
District 9: Luc Everett (16) Pov-
Lewis and Lance sprint into the Justice Building together, their footsteps echoing around the tiled room.
"I'm sorry I didn't volunteer," Lance says, his body shaking with sobs. "I mean, I would have, but…"
"It's fine," I say. "I can handle this by myself."
"You've got to make it home!" Lewis urges. He doesn't cry. He just stares at me with wide, tired eyes. I know how he feels. The world really is an unfair place.
This is the longest chapter yet! A huge thank you to QueensDoItBetter for both of these tributes :D
Question 1: What is the name of Harper's aunt?
Question 2: What instrument is played in Luc's field to signal it is time for lunch?