Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: Thank you to Sunlight Comes Creeping In and Jakey121 for Ardrey and Cormac, respectively.

District Nine Reaping
Necessities

Lenora Marlay
District Nine Mentor

She couldn't wait to get started.

Lenora tried not to let them see that, though. She didn't want to appear too eager. It was important to make a good first impression – not just for the cameras, but for the district, as well. Many people in the Capitol knew her by reputation, but the people of District Nine wouldn't care that she had correctly predicted the victor of eight of the previous nine Games. They wouldn't care that she had earned her position here today by correctly naming Harakuise the victor of last year's Games.

And quite right, too, because her job this year wasn't to predict a victor; it was to create one. And that started right here, right now, with creating an image of herself as a mentor. She needed to appear confident, but not eager. Prepared to help these children fight, but not hungry for their deaths. And, more than anything, she needed to be ready to tell their stories.

That was the important thing, in the end. Almost everyone, including her predecessor, rambled long-windedly about the importance of finding good allies, of having a good strategy, of winning sponsors. And those things were all well and good, but it wasn't the heart of what created victors. She'd seen victors win without allies. She'd seen the best of plans fall to pieces in the bloodbath. And the attention of sponsors could be as deadly as it could be helpful; three tributes had died last year as a result – directly or indirectly – of their sponsor gifts. No, that wasn't the key.

The key was a good story – not just for the sake of the audience, but for the sake of the storytellers. The Gamemakers. In the end, the tributes' lives didn't depend on their mentors, their allies, or their sponsors. Everything was ultimately in the Gamemakers' hands. And they wanted a victor who had a good story. Remembering that had led her here. And it would lead one of her tributes home.

Because any mother of three knew a good story when she saw one.

Lenora drew a deep breath as Simmity Danterri, District Nine's escort, drew the first name from the bowl. "Ardrey Keevan!"

The eighteen-year-old section parted around a tall, willowy girl in a white blouse and golden-yellow skirt. Lenora quickly scanned the crowd around the girl. She could see three – no, four – girls watching her closely. The girl glanced around, giving them a shaky smile, but no sooner had she taken a step forward than her composure gave way, and she began to sob. Lenora spotted sympathetic looks in the crowd – but not from the girls closest to Ardrey. They were watching the girl with something that was almost contempt.

Still sobbing, the girl took a few more steps toward the stage, and Lenora got a better look at the her. She was tan and freckled, with auburn hair and brown eyes that were still brimming with tears as she drew closer. Finally, as she reached the steps, the girl heaved a deep sigh, dried her eyes, and took her place.

"Now for our young men!" Simmity called immediately, trying her best to draw attention away from the girl, maybe give her a little time to pull herself together. She reached into the second bowl and drew a name. "Cormac Reilly!"

The eighteen-year-old section parted once more, this time for a boy in a light blue button-down shirt and black pants. As Lenora watched, his face, which was already pale, grew paler, and suddenly he was swaying, gently, from side to side. For a moment, she thought he was going to faint, but, instead, he only fell a little before the boy beside him reached out and caught him. Startled, the boy straightened up again, apologizing to his friend, and started towards the stage.

He was about average height – a little shorter than his district partner, but also a bit healthier, from the look of him – with dark brown hair and light blue eyes. By the time he reached the stage, he had managed a tremulous hint of a smile – probably an attempt to make up for his lost dignity.

That was all the Capitol would see, at first – their lost dignity. A girl who had cried, and a boy who had nearly fainted. Two more tributes for the bloodbath – maybe the first two to die, like last year's.

Lenora saw more. As she looked at them, she saw a hunger – not for food, but for anything that would restore a bit of the confidence and composure they had both lost during the reaping. Here were two tributes who would be willing to do anything – anything – to start to repair the image they had all but destroyed.

She could use that.

Ardrey Keevan, 18
District Nine Female

She was stronger than this.

Ardrey gently twirled the bundle of flowers her mother had picked from the meadow a week ago. Wilting. Just as she had felt during the reaping. Drooping. Withered. Lifeless.

And they hadn't cared. Keziah, Acres, Sable, Quince. She had always been strong around them, each of them feeding off the others' strength and reckless attitudes. This was something she would have to face alone, she knew, but she had always imagined that, if this moment came, she would have their support. Their friendship to draw on, to pull her through.

But now all of that was gone.

Or maybe it had never been there at all. Ardrey tucked her knees to her chest as tears came to her eyes again. Had it always been a lie – their friendship? If they didn't care now, when she needed them the most, then maybe they had never cared. Their smiles of approval, their shouts, their roars of laughter – was it all fake? Had she ever meant anything to them?

Ardrey gritted her teeth and wiped the tears from her eyes. She would show them. All of them. The ones who had glared at her at the reaping, disgusted that she had appeared weak and frightened. She would show them. She would be brave – not for them, but for herself. They didn't matter anymore. She was on her own.

Slowly, deliberately, she got up and slammed the door, startling the Peacekeeper outside. No more visitors. They didn't want to see her? Fine. She didn't need them. Maybe she never had.

Ardrey took a deep breath. Then another. She could do this. She could. Not for District Nine. Not for her family. And certainly not for her 'friends.' She was the one going into the Games, and she was the one who would win them.

She would show them.

Somehow.

Cormac Reilly, 18
District Nine Male

He was stronger than this.

Cormac wiped the tears from his eyes. His goodbyes had been going as well as could be hoped for until Clinton had started crying. Finally, Cormac hadn't been able to hold it in any more. The two of them were practically brothers. And now…

Now what? Now they would never see each other again? No. No, he couldn't afford to start thinking like that. That wouldn't help at all. He had to start thinking about how to make it home.

But, before he could start to make sense of his thoughts, the door opened again. Cormac looked up, startled. His family had already come, and then Clinton. He hadn't been expecting anyone else.

But there they stood in the hall outside – friends from school, friends of the family, other people he only saw when they came to visit his family's little shop. Cormac stared. Had they all come for him?

One by one, they came in – a few with gifts, but all with encouraging words. Cormac nodded and thanked them, one by one, and, finally, as the last of them left, he began to smile. He may have ruined his first impression as far as the Capitol was concerned, but the people of District Nine already knew him.

And they cared more than he had ever dared to imagine.

Cormac leaned back in his chair, holding a small, painted rock given to him by one of the little girls who had come. Now that he thought about it, he remembered her – remembered helping her find a doll's dress that had accidentally been thrown out. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time.

But she had remembered him.

Cormac took a deep breath, clutching the rock tightly. They cared. All of them. They were there for him. And there was only one way to repay them: by giving the people of District Nine their first victor.

He could do this. He could. For them.

He would do it for them.

Somehow.

"It never occurred to him that what he saw as defects were actually necessities."