Xavier thames P.O.V

My work in the fields is never done. I try to pick the rest of the cotton before sundown, but sometimes it feels like the field gods are against me. I could try something else, but I know that Jonathan will be kind to me. I've been working in this same field for over six years. Here in the District, it seems that working out here is the only productive thing to do. It isn't easy, but it helps out the people in the factories. On top of that, it helps out my family. I don't want to brag about being the only source of money for the family, but we can't eat if it wasn't for this job. At least Jonathan understands.

Speaking of which, he rides up to me on a horse. I take the basket of cotton and show it to him.

"My apologies, sir. I was not able to get the right amount for the day."

Jonathan laughs. "Calm down, son. You've been here too long and work too hard to be whipped for a bad day. Make sure you keep it up next week, though."

I nod and smile at him. "Thank you, sir."

"I know it's a little early to take off, but tomorrow is a special day, so you should be toiling for food at home." Jonathan says.

I say my thanks and depart. I get out of the field and onto the main road. The dust kicks up from the rough wind, kicking up little pebbles around me. As i head out, I walk past one of the small shops by the square. The square is where all the rich folk go for their goods. People think I'm jealous of them, but I'm really not. I'm just glad that my hard work doesn't go to waste. When I step off the curb of the sidewalk, I see a painter on a ladder. He seems to be making a mural of some sort. There are some curvy letters in red paint. It is large, and it looks like it's trying to get me to do something. It might be one of those adv...those things that people use to sell things.

He dips his paint brush in red, but it must have had a slippery handle, because it falls to the floor. He starts to slide down, but I didn't want him to have to walk all the way down. I hustle over and snatch it up from the sidewalk. I look up, and he reaches out for the brush.

"Thank you, son. 'Preciate it."

I tip my straw hat at him. "No consequence to me. You're very welcome."

"Before you leave, you mind doing me a favor?"

"Not at all, sir. I'll help whenever I can."

"Can you step back and tell me if this wall looks right?"

My back tenses up, and I feel my mouth go slack-jawed. I can't tell him the truth. I'm going to have to just see what happens. I hate lying, but I'm afraid of what they'll think of me if they find out. I nod at him and take a step backwards. I squint my eyes from the setting sun.

"I think it looks just fine, sir."

The man smiles. "Absolutely. What I mean is, does the lettering look right? Is it aligned just fine."

"I don't understand. The wall looks fine."

"Well, I always mess up on the 'I.' Can you tell me if that letter is dotted correct and all?"

"No, sir. I can't."

The man furrows his eyebrows. I feel like he is looking right through me, seeing what I'm actually trying to keep from the rest of the world. "You alright, boy? I thought you said you'd help."

I shake my head. My eyes growing a little red like the sky above the wispy clouds. He keeps staring at me. I don't even know why I am so nervous and sad. This isn't rare in this District. It's probably the same for half of the other boys my age around here.

"Go ahead, boy. What's wrong?"

"I don't know which one the 'I' is."

The man and myself just look at each other, separated from each other by this fence built, brick-by-brick, by the very people I help: The Capital.

Koring Evans P.O.V

Why are all of these people still going to the reapings? There is no point in doing it. We're all going to die soon, anyway. So who cares if we just get shot off the street. It already happened to me before.

Alright, not to me. But in front of me. Me and my best friend decided to have sex, and a peacekeeper saw us. Stupid homophobe shot her head off. Anyway, enough about that. Let's just get to these stupid reapings. These need to go by as fast as possible so I can get back to the orchard and finish my quota for the day. That's another thing. Why does everyone have a quota? We're never going to have enough food, so lets just get what we have and be done with it.

Suddenly, I feel someone rush up to me. I have this weird sensation grip my foot, and I whip myself around. It looks like my twin, Hilling, was trying to dunk another cooler of water on me. Heading towards the reapings. When I get back, he's dead.

"Why the hell are you doing this now?" I ask.

"It's the only time I can do something like this and get away with it." He says in a meek voice.

Damn my twin and his insecurities. How could I stay mad at him? It's so hard to stay mad at people, but i do my best anyway. After turning around and dumping the cooler on him, I set myself toward the reaping area. I get the usual prick on the finger. this time, I actually try to sneak past the lady at the station, but a fucking peacekeeper snagged me before I even crossed the dotted line. I hate needles.

I get to the spot, scowling at everybody around me. Good news is that nobody bothers me. That's because I don't need anybody. And they certainly don't need me.

Blah, blah, blah, Capitol idiot. Yadda-yadda-yadda, games video. Stupid reaching in slow motion for the paper. Why does he always go so slow? Why is the world around me so stupid? Most of this stuff is common sense. People don't realize that the stupid things are so easy to fix. Of course, there's the reading of the name. And of course it's my name, and know they walk up to th-."

Fuck me.

I briskly walk to the stage. Like I'm a hit-woman out to kill my targets, and they're all the douchebags standing on the stage. I get up there, and look at the lady. Then, i turn around next to me, where the wall of the courthouse is located. Raising my hand, I smash the grey stone with my fist. Actually, maybe I shouldn't have done that. It hurts like a virgin bitch.

I don't even care what happens next. I check out at the next name. Some ghetto guy walks up in his jean overalls. I roll my eyes when we shake hands. Everything is so stupid. Just let me take in the whole world, all of it's imperfections. At least I can pick them apart.

I will say, there is one good thing. I can finally get my frustrations out. This may just be the release I'm looking for. Or maybe I'll just die. Can't win for losing, can I?

Yes, sponsoring is now open. Check it out.

The correct answer for the question in District 4 Reapings was: Toby Turner. Sorry, Miley, but twerking powers just won't cut it. Toby has survived quite a few situations, anyway.

Time for the question of the chapter! Yay! In Puerto Rico, there is a traditional dish called mofongo. What is the vegetable used to make it? I assume Google will come to the rescue for most.

See you soon. And send in more tributes. Get your church groups involved. get that hobo that lives in internet cafes involved. Let's fill this up with people!