** Well, well, well, look who is back from the dead again! I hope you all had a lovely holiday if you celebrate, and I wish to apologize for yet another absence on my part. School got really hectic unexpectedly and I needed to focus on actually passing my classes. I promise you guys that I have not abandoned this story and that if I ever do, I WILL tell you guys. Rest assured, this story shall continue. I'm so grateful for all your submissions and continued support through all my absences. I'll try and treat you guys with some extra chapters coming up soon. I apologize once again. Enjoy the chapter!**

Lydia Ivy, 16, District 12

There were few things to do in District 12. Most were too poor to take up any exciting hobbies and the Capital watched the District so closely that most were too scared to ever do anything out of the ordinary. Lydia remembered the rebellion, having been very young when it started. The woman that led it, The Mocking Jay, had come from this District. Because of this, the Capital had increased security and practically controlled the lives of everyone who lived there. Lydia had found that the only way to escape the boredom and the constant feeling of being watched by Capital goons was to disappear. She would run as far away as her thoughts would take her every chance she got. Sometimes she did this by reading or daydreaming or just sitting and staring off into nothing. There were certainly some that regarded her as odd for this, and perhaps it was the reason she never really had any friends, but her mind was the only place she ever really felt safe.

"Hey! Girly!" A hoarse sounding voice cried out, falling on deaf ears. "Can you get out of my way?"

Lydia, standing outside the bakery, had disappeared into her mind again. She was too far away in her daydreams to hear the boy shouting at her.

"I said, get out of my way!"

Suddenly, the young girl was forcefully shaken out of her own mind. The boy, tired of waiting and clearly frustrated by her ignoring him, decided to walk towards his destination anyway. His broad shoulders slammed into Lydia side, nearly knocking her down. As he passed by, the overwhelming stench of body odor and coal overwhelmed her senses until he finally disappeared down a path to her right.

"Ow…" Lydia said softly as she rubbed her shoulder in pain, "What a jerk."

Now that she was thoroughly shaken, the reason that had brought her to the marketplace returned to her mind. She had come to buy some pastries for her mother. It was a family tradition that every reaping day her family would scrape together whatever extra coin they could and buy some sweet pastries. Normally, they never could afford to splurge on such things, seeing as the family was on the verge of poverty, but an exception was made on such an awful day.

She turned around and made her way into the bakery. The sound of a little bell rang through the shop as she opened the door, making everyone turn to look at her. The baker, Mr. Sallone, was busy helping another customer whom Lydia instantly recognized.

"Mrs. Wilson!"

The old woman smiled wide at the younger girl, "My, my, Lydia Ivy! It's good to see you."

"Good to see you as well, Mrs. Wilson."

"You two know each other?" asked the curious baker.

"Why, Ms. Ivy is one of my smartest students. Top of her class!"

Lydia blushed, flustered by the compliment, "I don't know about that…"

"Nonsense, Ms. Ivy," said Mrs. Wilson as she handed a handful of coins to the baker in exchange for some sweet rolls, "You must stop being so humble, you are one of the brightest girls in the district, act like it!" With that, Mrs. Wilson exited the store, leaving her student to finish her errands.

Lydia stepped up to the counter and placed a small sack of coins in front of the baker. "I'll take your sweetest pastries, please!"

Drake Spring, 17, District 12

Drake pushed his overgrown black hair out of his eyes and fiddled with his house key, unlocking his front door and entering his home. Except, this wasn't his home. Drake hadn't felt like he had a home in nearly nine years after he watched his childhood home burn to a crisp. He remembered that night, waking up to his father frantically shaking him in his bed and rushing out of their home as the smoke burned their eyes and nearly choked them to death. He never forgot that glimmer of hope he felt once they got outside safe, the hope that everything would actually be alright- then his mother realized his two-year-old sister, Fern, was still inside. There was nothing either of them could do to stop her, his mother rushed right back into the burning home to save his beloved sister. She died holding her in her arms. Since that day, Drake never really felt hope anymore. He didn't know it was still possible too after watching such good people die in such a horrific way. Evalina, his mother, was possibly the kindest woman you would ever meet. She would be 42 now and cared about her family more than anything.

Drake entered his room and walked over to his bookshelf. There wasn't much on it, just a few books about mining and some adventure novels they managed to save from the fire. His eyes fell the charred cover of one of the adventure books. Memories instantly flooded his mind of his mother reading it to him before bed. It was a nightly ritual and his favorite childhood memory. Little Fern even joined them sometimes once she was born, after all, she rarely ever wanted to be apart from her beloved big brother.

Everything was different now. Drake had changed more than he had even realized. He thought back to his walk through the marketplace on his way home from the mines. He remembered getting so frustrated at a little girl that he practically knocked her over.

She had it coming

Drake thought to himself

Stupid girl was acting like she was deaf or something

She was the rude one, not me.

The boy was pulled from his thought by the sound of the front door unlocking. He stood in his doorway and watched his father enter the home. Like him, he was covered in soot and coal dust from the mines. His father named Adam always arrived home much later than Drake, despite both of them working in the mines. This was because Adam always picked up long shifts and odd jobs, desperately trying to provide a good life for him and his son. Even on reaping day they both worked, doing whatever it took to get by.

"Hey, Dad," Drake muttered.
His father practically stumbled into the house, exhausted from his long day of work. He acknowledged his son with a half-hearted grunt and a wave before making himself a glass of water and plopping down on the sofa.

There was part of Drake that resented his father for always being too tired to interact with him, but deep down he assumed that he still loved him. He couldn't help but wonder if he would forgive him for what he was going to do today. Then again, no one cared much about him anymore- no one since Juliette, that is.

The Reapings

Ever since the rebellion, there was increased security around the reapings at District 12 and volunteers with often viewed with great suspicion. Katniss Everdeen, the Mocking Jay, had been the District's first volunteer in nearly thirty years and the destruction she caused was obvious. Ever since then, a rumor quickly spread around that the Captial had it out for anyone else who would dare volunteer in District 12. People whispered about the District square that President Nix had even passed a secret law that stated that no District 12 volunteer ever be allowed to win the games again. Of course, these rumors didn't mean much to Lydia. She never planned to willingly become a tribute in the capital's games, not in a million years. There was the factor that meant she would have no hope of having someone take her place if she was ever reaped, but the chances of being reaped in such a large district were already minuscule- what was the point in worrying?

Lydia did as she always did during stressful times and let her mind wander as she stood near the edge of the sixteen-year-old section. To others, it appeared as if she was admiring the flag of Panem, hanging proudly from the stage before her. In reality, her eyes were cast just above it, admiring the crystal blue sky and the birds- mocking jays, ironically enough- that treated it as their playground. She just hoped that some rude stranger wasn't going to run into her again.

Drake wasn't lucky enough to have such effective coping strategies. He tugged at his grey shirt nervously, the sensation of the fabric between his fingers somewhat calming. However, it only brought him comfort for so long. Soon, he moved onto squeezing his hands, letting his chipped nails dig into his rough skin.

"Drake?"

He looked up and saw another young boy approaching him. It was Flint Holbrook, his former best friend whom he hadn't talked to in years. The two had a falling out after Drake's personality change. It didn't matter much to him anyone though, he didn't need anyone anymore, and the one person he did need was already dead.

"Drake, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Flint."

"H-how have you been? I know that we haven't talked since… since Juliette-"

"Don't talk about her," he snapped, only realizing how angry he sounded after he spoke.

Flint took a slight step back, frightened by the sudden tone shift. "I'm… I'm sorry."

There was a long pause where no one spoke, the mentioning of that name only bringing more anxiety to Drake. Finally, he croaked out a small response. "You look good, Flint."

"Thanks, I guess."

Suddenly, the Panem national anthem began to play and Flint disappeared into the crowd. Drake was thankful to be alone with his memories once again. The whole reaping ceremonies brought back memories of that day, and the worse was yet to come.

"Hello, District 12." The monotonous escort read of a set of notecards before him. He was very plain compared to Effie Trinket, but she was executed long ago. Lydia had always thought that his rendition of the history of Panem was particularly boring. Even the escort himself seemed bored while he recited it. "Now, it is time to pick the female tribute for this year's games…" He set down his notecards for the first time and scooped the first card off the top of the bowl. "Lydia Ivy."

She looks like her.

Drake watched, pain radiating through him, as the young girl walked up to the stage. She looked so similar to his Juliette. She wore her hair the same way and appeared to be of Native American descent, just like she was. Her face even bore the same fearful expression of shock and despair that Juliette did when she was reaped.

"Now, the male tribute…"

I promise, Juliette. I will avenge you.

"Ben Stone."

Drake pushed his way through the crowd, his cold and determined demeanor returning as he set out on his mission.

"Drake? Where are you going?" Flint said as his old friend passed by. "Drake!"
The young man stood in the center of the walkway and raised his hand high in the air. "I volunteer as tribute!"

The entire district became pin-drop silent as everyone set their eyes on him. The escort fumbled with his notecards, clearly unsure on what to do in this situation, and the Peacekeepers eyed Drake with batons at the ready. He calmly walked up to the stage. Still confused, the escort didn't even invite him up to announce his name to the crowd. He just skipped to his final notecard and stammered, "Er… shake hands!"

However, even as the two tributes shook hands, neither of them were there in that moment. Lydia's mind was back in her home, lying on her bed, pretending that this was all just a dream. Meanwhile, Drake only had one thought left in his mind.

I love you, Juliette.

**A huge, huge thank you to IciclePower33 and CandleFire45 for submitting Drake Spring and Lydia Ivy. You guys will find out a little bit more about Drake's reason for volunteering and this mysterious Juliette later on, and will Lydia's ability to escape reality hurt or help her in such a hectic arena? Only time will tell... See you guys in the next update! Thanks for reading!**