Jay Bird, 14

My younger brother Jet steps out of the bathroom, his hair still dripping wet, leaving a trail of water droplets on the floorboards. He's only just turned twelve this past week and today is his first reaping. Needless to say he's pretty nervous.

"Do you think I should wear the white shirt or the blue one?" He asks me.

"The white one, the blue one has the tatty sleeves remember?" I tell him as I try to pick out my own reaping outfit. So far I've narrowed the lower half down to a comfortable black skirt of my mother's, but I'm having a terrible time finding a top to go with it.

"Will you teach me how to knot my tie?" He asks again, holding out a navy blue strip of fabric in front of him. I falter for a second when I recognize it as our fathers, one of the only formal pieces of clothing he actually owned. I know from hearing the story countless times from both parents that he wore that very tie on the day of their wedding. Seeing it is enough to bring the painful and all too fresh memories of my father's death back into my mind.

"Jay…are you ok?"

I catch Jet staring at me and shake the thoughts away. "Of course I am, I just got lost in a daydream for a second there."

"It didn't look like the fun kind."

"Mine hardly ever are."

I take the tie out of his hand and wrap the fabric in a loop around his neck, before knotting it in place, carefully taking him through each step as I do so. This really should be something my mother shows him, something she teaches him to do, however since our father's death she's been forced to work longer hours at the meat packing plant, often into the late hours of the night. Last night was one of those times, so she's still tucked up in bed with my younger sister Madoline.

She's got her job, I've got mine; keeping the house in order.

"Do you reckon I'll get reaped?" Jet mumbles as I make the last adjustment on the length of his tie.

"God no. You're the luckiest kid I know."

"What about you, do you think you'll be fine?"

"Of course. I'm pretty lucky too." I reply to him, trying to say it as casual as possible, as though it's a preposterous question to start with, but even I can't make it sound as confident as I want to. I've taken out tesserae for the whole family, plus myself. All up that's fifteen whole slips and while there are kids out there with far more slips in there than me, it doesn't make me feel any safer.

"So, did you want me to walk you there today?" I ask him, trying to move the topic of conversation to something else.

Jet looks at me like he knows exactly what I'm doing but goes along with it anyway. "Yes please, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't. I'm meeting Max in about half an hour, do you think you'll be finished with your breakfast by then?"

"Yeah that should be fine," He replies, checking over the job I've done with his tie. "Thanks Jay."

"Don't worry about it."
He smiles at me and disappears into the kitchen. I turn my attention back to the chest of drawers and the mammoth task ahead of me; choosing a reaping blouse. Out of a grand total of three possible choices you'd think it'd be easy, but every year I find myself faced with the same terrible indecision.

Lord help me if I ever need to make the kind of decision my life relies on.

Gray Atrium, 16

"Are you sure we've got time for this?" My younger brother Ethan asks as we make our way to the healer's house. Around us dozens upon dozens of kids are making their way to the town square for the reaping, all of them looking anything but happy. A few of them look at us with confused expressions, no doubt wondering why we're heading in the complete opposite direction.

"Look Ethan, you don't have to come if you don't want to. I'm just sick to death of everyone telling us we can't see dad yet." I bark at him. He shrinks back away from me and I instantly feel bad for snapping. "Hey I'm sorry man, you know I don't mean to be awful like that."

"I know I know; you get moody on reaping day."

"It just makes me nervous, you know?"

"Yeah, I completely understand." Ethan says as we round the bend into the street where the old healer woman, Margerith lives. Seeing as District 10 is one of the poorer areas the in town apothecary only really caters to the people who can afford it, and that's a very select few. For the rest of us it's off to old Margerith's house whenever we get struck down with an ailment. My mother says she and her husband, who has been dead for years, never had any children of their own and didn't mind lending the extra space in their shack for a few of the sick here and there. My father has probably been there longer than most; roughly a year and a half now. He got a real bad injury on the job two years ago, which led to some kind of mystery illness that's left him bed ridden for what feels like forever.

They keep telling Ethan and me that he's going to get better soon but I'm starting to think that's a bit of a lie. People don't usually get that sick after a work injury. They just don't.

When we reach Margerith's shack Ethan is the one who knocks on the door. We both stand awkwardly on her doorstep, waiting for her to answer. At first it doesn't sound like there's a single person alive within the house, then suddenly there's the sound of feet shuffling along in our direction. The door snaps open hurriedly and an old woman is standing before us.

A faint scent seeps out through the entrance that smells like herbs and incense, mixed with what I know too well is the smell of lingering illness. Margerith at first doesn't seem to recognize us, scrutinizing our faces with the utmost look of suspicion before her eyes fill up with a soft sort of sadness. "You're Errol's boys."

"Yes ma'm," We both reply in unison. I clear my throat hesitantly.

"We were wondering if we could maybe see him for a while, if that's ok with you?"

The old woman stares at us for the longest time before speaking again, which of course starts to make me feel really uncomfortable. "I don't think that's a wise idea boys, he's not exactly at his best today." She sighs, shaking her head.

"Well we've been told he's a lot better now, so we thought…."

"Listen kid, your dad isn't able to see anyone right now. He's only just managed to fall asleep and I don't want to wake him up. He needs his rest." She tells us, not so much nasty as she is firm.

We must have looked pretty dejected after she said that, because her wrinkly old face softens considerably. "Look, maybe if you come back in the afternoon he'll be well enough for a short visit."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. We haven't seen our dad for nearly nine months now and finally it seems like we've made some progress. "Really? You mean it?" I ask incredulously.

Margerith smiles. "I'm not going to make you any promises but it should be alright."

"Thanks so much lady!" Ethan beams, moving forward as though he's going to hug her but stopping abruptly, obviously thinking better of it when Margerith takes a step back.

"Don't even worry about it. Now don't you boys have some kind of reaping to get to, or am I thinking its Friday instead of Wednesday again?"

"Oh yes right, that we do." Ethan stutters, "See you later then!"

"yeah yeah." The old woman grumbles, stepping back into the strange smells of the house and shutting the door on us. We both turn and walk back down towards the main road.

"Can you believe it Graygray? We might get to see dad again!" Ethan laughs, squeezing my shoulder tight as we come around the bend and filter back into the moving swarm.

"Could you not call me that in public Ethan!" I hiss at him, looking around at the people walking alongside us, all too paranoid one of them might have heard his awful nickname for me. "Actually can you just scrap that whole nickname all together?"

"Oh yes sorry of course. But really how exciting is this!"

I grin at him, feeling the excitement he's showing starting to rub away at my reaping day mood. "Yeah it's pretty awesome Ethan. Let's not get our hopes up too much though alright?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," He says, crossing his fingers over his heart, but I know it's a lie. I've already let my own hopes soar above and beyond what I'd usually allow them to reach; I can only imagine how out of control his are spiralling. Ethan has always been the more optimistic of the two of us.

I'm not exactly the biggest fan of optimism. In a place like Panem it doesn't ever seem to do anyone any good. Walking around reasoning that no matter what everything will turn out fine isn't going to help anyone. It's just setting you up for more disappointment.

Still, I couldn't help but feel excited today; even if I wasn't sure any good would come of it. For once in my life I decided to push the pessimism away and embrace my brothers 'everything will turn out roses' approach to life.

At the very least it improves my mood.

Jay Bird, 14

There are a lot of children in District 10 and because of this trying to find a comfortable place to stand in the square on reaping day is near impossible. My father once mused that we all end up looking like the cattle we care for, all cramped into one small space, our eyes wide and fearful, not one of us looking as though we have any idea what's going to happen to us. I've never liked that analogy much, mostly because it's pretty accurate. Just like the livestock, we are all waiting to be sent off to the slaughter.

I left jet with the other 12 year olds about a half hour ago and I can't help but be a little nervous for him. He's a quiet soul, kind of like me, but different in the way that he winds himself up over the simplest of things. I can just imagine him standing in amongst all those people hyperventilating, completely uncomfortable with the closeness of his peers.

I'm standing shoulder to shoulder with Max, who's all cocky because she managed to sneak into the fourteen year old section. She's a year older than me at fifteen but we've been friends for as long as I can remember, and every year since her first reaping we've been sneaking into each other's sections for a bit of a laugh. It'd probably be a harder thing to do in some of the other districts, but here in 10 well, like I said, things are a bit crowded, so a few stray kids here and there tend to go unnoticed. As long as you get your name checked off by the officials you're usually fine.

Roland, the Escort, makes his way onto the stage, struggling to get his short round legs up over the steps to the side of the stage. He's an incredibly tiny man and rumour has it he had his legs shortened ten years ago when being of below average height was all the rage. Apparently it's not as easy to get them returned to their original state, so when the fashion died out Roland stuck by it.

"Welcome District 10! It's so nice to be back here again!" He giggles at us.

"Obviously excited to procure some more bloodbath victims isn't he?" Max whispers to me, trying and failing to get a laugh. The deaths of the two twelve year old tributes from last year are still fresh in my mind; neither was a pretty finish.

The propo film starts and we all watch it intently. Few of us have the time to even watch the games in district 10, so the propo always ends up transfixing us a little. It's sort of pretty in a way too. The young boys and girls shown in the film have bronze sculpted bodies and perfect shiny hair. It makes the games seem so glamorous, but the truth is far from that. Children covered in dirt, grime and the blood of other's, with little to no muscle definition are the kind of people you really end up seeing on the telescreens. Even the careers don't look as perfectly chiselled as the ones up on the screen.

"Now those are the kind of tributes I'd love to watch!" Roland laughs as the film comes to an end. No one else laughs along with him but he doesn't seem to care. "Unfortunately all we've got are you kids, so without any further ado, It's time to reap one lucky young lady."

Roland ambles toward the reaping bowl as fast as his little legs can take him. The two bowls have been placed on a table lowered especially to cater for his below average height, but it's still just a bit too high and he has to stand on tip toes to reach his hand in. When he finally manages to grab hold of a slip he falls backwards awkwardly, only correcting his footing at the very last second.

"Well that could have been awkward!" He laughs when he gets back to the microphone. When no one bothers to humor him he frowns and then continues on with the reaping. "Ok then, let's get on with it. Our lady of the day is…..Jay Bird."

There is a brief moment where I feel panic shoot through my veins, but before it can bury itself in the very core of me I somehow shut it all down. It's like I've flicked a switch and every single emotion inside of me has turned off.

Max has started sobbing hysterically beside me, but even that's not enough to get through the wall I've managed to build up. I break away from her and the crowd of girls around me, walking to the stage on auto pilot.

Roland offers me a hand up over the steps and I'm surprised by how cold it feels. He's even shorter up close, his head only coming up just to the middle of my waist. It feels awkward looking down at him.

"Well sweets, how do you feel?" He asks me, his voice suddenly seeming far too deep for his small stature.

"I feel…fine" I say, my voice unusually monotone. Fine isn't even the right word to use, if I was being truthful I should have just said that I feel nothing, that I'm neither happy or sad, overjoyed or absolutely furious. I'm completely void of all emotion.

Roland looks at me quizzically, as though he's expecting something more from me, like he's waiting for me to either burst into tears or song. When neither of those things happens he clears his throat and directs his attention back to the crowd. "Alrighty then! I guess it's time for the boys!"

As he makes his way over to the boys reaping bowl, I can't help but hope I can keep my emotions completely out of the picture all the way into the games.

Even I know that's a hopeless thought though. Everything about this is hopeless.

Gray Atrium, 16

The girl's face doesn't change at all from the off with the fairies blank stare she's got going on while Roland totters over to the reaping bowl, and If I'm going to be honest it's creeping me out a bit. Every other year both tributes have at least shown some kind of emotion. Usually it's a mix of horror and mind bending depression, but sometimes you get the brave few who try and smile their way through it. Not this girl though. She's just staring off into space, her expression completely unreadable.

Roland doesn't lose his balance after picking out the slip this time and makes his way back over to the girl and the microphone much faster. The whole square goes dead quiet again as he unfolds the paper and reads over the letters printed within.

"Our dashing young lad for today is a Mr Gray Atrium." His voice bellows through the speakers, striking ice into my heart. In that split second I'm reminded of the three options I now have before me. I can go up there blank faced and emotionless like that girl, cry my eyes out or try and put on a brave face. There's no way I can pull off the poker face, I'm way too emotional for that, which leaves me with two options.

To either cry or to smile.

I want to cry, that's what my body is telling me to do. I can feel the awful slew of emotions trying to fight their way up and out of my chest and through my eyes, I can almost reconcile that it's the right thing to do.

"Let it out Gray." My father used to tell me when I was smaller, when I'd scrape a knee or something and be trying so hard not to cry I'd bite my lips till they bled. "There ain't no shame in crying or letting your feelings go, not even for a man."

I've lived by that rule all my life, right up until today. If I ever felt like screaming or crying or just plain sassing someone I did it. The temptation to do what I always do is strong, incredibly strong. But I'm not going to do it. Not today. I decide to push the tears back down, to keep the pain at bay.

With a wide smile spread across my face I step out into the crowd and make my way up on stage.

This is after all only the beginning of the horrors to come. There'll be plenty of time for crying in the days ahead. Plenty of time for screaming too, I'm sure of it.

I might as well try and smile while I still can.


I've decided I'm going to keep all my author's notes till the end from now on, I think it works better that way, but I don't know, I'll probably still be all over the place again soon.

These guys were a bit tricky to write, but I think that might just be because I'm itching to write something other than reapings now that I'm so close to being finished with those.

With that in mind, There is only two left now! Yaaaaay!

Onwards to District 11!