Gwenith "Gwenn" Wheaton, age 15

District 9 Female

Gwenn stood right in the middle of the girl's side this year. Three groups ahead and behind. It only reminded her of how trapped she was when it came to the reaping.

The only two living victors, Bran Stalk and Milpa Omri, walked on the stage, along with the mayor and the escort, Persephone. Nine had lost two of their worst mentors in the third Quell, an the whole district saw it as a sign that things could get better. Gwenn did, too. Optimism—and sarcasm—ran in Gwenn's veins instead of blood.

Gwenn stood, silent and nervous, as the mayor made his annual speech. Then Persephone took the microphone, bubbly as ever.

"Happy Hunger Games, District Nine!" Persephone chirped into the microphone. Gwenn cringed at the sound of her voice, which actually sounded like the bright yellow bird she was dressed as. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Persephone took a deep breath. "I love it here! All the farmland, the wide open space. So different from the Capitol."

I bet it is, Gwenn thought. Because in the Capitol you don't have to harvest all this wheat to make sure your family eats at night. Gwenn hated harvesting, but she had to do it to make sure her family—her older sister Cassie, younger brother Ceres, and her parents—had enough money and food to last through the cold months. Even in the middle of summer, Gwenn worked hard to stay alive in that difficult time.

"That reminds me!" Persephone exclaimed. "Let's choose the girl who with be traveling to the Capitol with me this year." Persephone chose a slip. The crowd fell silent. Gwenn's heart was pounding. She was scared of very few things as she normally used sarcasm as a defense. She couldn't just make a few jokes to the Capitol and make them send her home.

Please, any name besides mine. Gwenn thought.

"Miss Gwenith Wheaton! Where is Gwenith?" Persephone called, and Gwenn froze. Her breath caught in her throat, making it hard to breathe. She stepped from her section, trembling.

The walk to the stage seemed like miles. It wasn't until the Peacekeepers pushed her forward that Gwenn started to cry.

Millet Stalk, age 13

District 9 Male

Millet glanced over to his sister. Maize was safe. For good. Now he only had to worry about himself.

He looked up to the stage, where his dad and Milpa were comforting Gwenith, who was sobbing. Millet felt bad for her. Nobody stepped forward when Persephone asked for volunteers. Even though the chances of his name being chosen were slim, Millet still thought about if he was reaped, if anyone would volunteer. Who would want it on their conscience that they could have saved a victor's thirteen year old son but just stood by? Not Millet.

"Now, the boys," Persephone said, crossing to the reaping ball. Millet sucked in a shaky breath.

I only have two slips, he told himself. Calm down.

If the Capitol takes children from the districts, the district people should take Capitol children.

If the Capitol is so rich, they should help the lower districts.

Of course, Millet wasn't concerned about being poor. His father was a victor.

The Hunger Games are wrong. Millet's mind was traveling a mile a minute, as it normally was.

"The male tribute for District Nine in the 101st Hunger Games is," Persephone said, and unfolded the paper. The crowd went so silent, you could hear a pin dropped in a grain field. Millet's stomach turned.

If his sister could survive the reapings, so could he.

"Millet Stalk!" Persephone called. Millet froze. His father's face went slack up on stage.

Millet couldn't survive the arena! He was only thirteen! Millet stood in his section, trying to breathe, until the Peacekeepers came to take him away. As hard as he tried, a few tears slipped past his guard.

When Persephone asked for volunteers, nobody stepped forward.

So that's what it feels like.

Gwenith "Gwenn" Wheaton, age 15

District 9 Female

Stay positive. Positive. Positivity is the key.

As much as Gwenn tried, she couldn't. She kept seeing all the different ways she could die in the arena. Everytime she blinked, she saw herself on the ground, bled white, with various weapons inside her and the ground around her stained crimson.

It wasn't really a positive thought.

Gwenn just wanted to see her family. When Cassie came in, Gwenn rushed into her sister's arms. Cassie held Gwenn for a few moments, then released her, looking her straight in the eye.

"Listen to me, Gwenn," she said. "You can't die in there. You just can't."

The mention of death made Gwenn's eyes burn with tears. Instead of breaking down completely, Gwenn forced a smile.

"Why would I die?" Gwenn asked sarcastically. "I'm gonna be fine."

"Now isn't the time for jokes." Cassie's voice was woven with seriousness. "This is the Hunger Games."

"I know, Cass," Gwenn said. "But I'm smart. I'm willing to kill, I guess." And the more Gwenn thought about it, the more she knew she was prepared for the Games. She was strong from working in the fields. She knew how to use a machete. That was probably more than most other tributes could say.

"I love you, Gwenn," Cassie said, taking Gwenn into her arms.

"Love you, too," Gwenn said, and the Peacekeeper came to take her sister away.

In came the rest of her family. Ceres was fending off tears.

"Gwenn, you can do this," her father said. "You're smart and brave and strong. The Capitol will love you."

Gwenn nodded, smiling a little. She could do this.

"Live," her mother said simply.

"I will. I promise."

Millet Stalk, age 13

District 9 Male

"Millet," his mother sobbed, her arms around Millet. He had tried his best not to cry, but he couldn't hold it back. Even with his father as a mentor, there was no way Millet could win. He was too small and not strong enough.

Small doesn't always equal weak.

Weak doesn't always equal not capable.

"I'll be fine, Mom," Millet said. "Dad will help me. Don't worry. I'll be fine."

"Of course he will," his mother said. "Just please, come back to us. We can't lose you." That made tears well in Millet's eyes. His family needed him. He couldn't die.

To be capable, you need to be strong.

To be strong, you need to be brave.

Maize looked at her brother. She knelt next to him.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered, her fingers under Millet's chin. "Fear will make you useless. Run away from the bloodbath. Stay hidden. We'll help you as much as possible."

Millet hugged his sister. Maize seemed to understand that he needed this. They shared the same sense of right and wrong. Only Millet thought of them constantly. His mind never rested.

"I love you, Millet," Maize whispered. "Don't leave us. Please don't. I love you, and I need you here, in Nine." Now Maize was crying. "Don't go."

"I won't," Millet promised. "I'll be back, just you wait."

"You're brave, Millet," his mother said, just before the Peacekeeper came in.

"Thank you," Millet said, hugging his family one last time.

He could still feel their arms around him even when Persephone knocked on the door to take him to the train.

Okay, last chapter I lied. Now there are only three more districts left until the tributes start their journey to the Capitol. Only six more tributes to meet. I may or may not get an update out for the 6th Quarter Quell this weekend because I get to spend one and a half hours in a car for my sister's soccer tournament. Lots of writing time. So if you're following the 6th Quarter Quell, keep an eye out for that!

Anyways, Gwenn and Millet. Who did you like better? Review, review, review! See you Monday (and hopefully not as late at night)!

-D9T