Sullivan Roxlinthe, age 15
District 3 Male
I had always known that my sisters were up to something. Their experiments, their blatant air of evil. Honestly, I'm not sure how my parents didn't notice that their daughters were insane. I just wanted normal little sisters. Instead, I got Eve and Zil.
One boy in my section looked at me and snarled, "Those are your sisters, right?" I nodded, already knowing where this conversation was headed. I had been having it with several different people for years. I had always been associated with my sister's creepiness, mainly because I was their brother. But I never wanted any part of it. I wasn't like them. It was as simple as that.
"Are you gonna volunteer, too?" the boy asked. "Be just like your insane little sisters?" I simply shook my head. I didn't want to deal with this right now. Not during the reaping. Especially since Pepin had now chosen the first male slip. And Eve and Zil were staring me down like two hawks and snickering.
"The first male tribute for District Three is Sullivan Roxlinthe!" Pepin announced.
My sisters were up to something. While all of my shock and horror was boiling up inside of me, they were grinning and looked like they were trying to hold back laughs. What was wrong with them?
Slowly, I walked out of my section and into the aisle. It sounded like my mother wasn't reacting very good to having all three of her children in this Quell. But through my haze of fear, I barely heard her. What had I done to deserved getting reaped?
As I mounted the steps, Pepin asked for volunteers. I knew that nobody would step forward to save me. Only my sisters were crazy enough to volunteer into this Quarter Quell. It was only enforced when I passed them, taking my spot as a tribute, and Zil grabbed my arm.
"Took a little too much tesserae, huh, Sullivan?" she asked, and my stomach dropped. They rigged me into the Games. And they were going to kill me.
Albert Fuse, age 15
District 3 Male
There were so many fifteen year olds on stage. Seemed like Three didn't have a very good chance of winning this year, with all of the younger tributes. And besides, I knew most of the tributes on stage, and they could barely do anything. They were all intelligent, but I was better than they all were combined. It was a known fact.
To try and keep my mind off of the reaping, I started daydreaming about what the arena might be like. The various traps and arena gimmicks used by the Gamemakers had always fascinated me. I had even designed a few arenas of my own, but I knew that the Capitol would never use them. My arenas were far too simple to gain the Capitol's approval. Would it be rural or urban? What would the mutts be like? How big would the arena be to accommodate all of the tributes? Just thinking about it made me giddy with excitement.
Pepin strode over to the boy's reaping bowl, and picked another slip of paper. Instantly, the square fell silent. I smiled, and put my head down so that other people wouldn't see. Sometimes the reaping was so entertaining. Take this year, for example. There were two volunteers, four fifteen year olds, and only one eighteen year old picked. There was something about the uncertainty of the reaping that I liked.
"The second male tribute is Albert Fuse!" Pepin announced.
I looked up. Me? Of course it was me. I flashed a smile, and started moving into the center aisle, projecting confidence. Me, a tribute in the Games. Just think of all the attention I'll get. Being a tribute means that you'll be one of the Capitol's favorite celebrities, if only for a few weeks. But still! Fame! Attention! And for me!
Make that five fifteen year olds for District Three. And one of them was coming back. Me.
When I reached the stage, I glanced at my fellow tributes. If I could get on their good sides, I could use them in the arena. Use and discard, just like a majority of my friends. I barely knew the kids on stage with me. Using them should be easy enough.
Link Dell, age 14
District 3 Male
So far, so good. Two names down, with four to go. And neither of the names called were mine, so there was a plus. All I knew was that if my name was chosen, I was going to flip out. When something doesn't go my way...well, let's just say it isn't pretty.
Sometimes, I was glad that I had no siblings. Like today, and every other reaping. It meant that I only had myself to worry about, instead of myself and any number of siblings that I might have had.
A few of the boys around me weren't reacting very well to the reaping. Honestly, I couldn't blame them. This year, everybody's chances of being reaped were higher, with a lower chance of actually escaping the arena. It was enough to make anybody scared, especially the kids with tesserae. Me, I was lucky enough to not have to take out any tesserae because my family wasn't dirt poor like a majority of this district.
Pepin picked another paper. I only had three slips. It wasn't me. I knew it couldn't be me. Why would I be reaped? Closing my eyes, I whispered to myself, "You're completely safe."
"Mister Link Dell, the third male tribute for the Sicth Quarter Quell! Where are you, Link?" Pepin said, and my eyes flew open. I looked around, hoping for a volunteer. When nobody stepped forward and the Peacekeepers started looking for me in the crowd, anger began bubbling in my gut.
"Are you serious?" I screamed, several boys around me jumping in shock. "Nobody will volunteer?" The Peacekeepers found me, and they grabbed my arms. I yanked myself away from them, still screaming, "No! No, no, no! I'm not going into the Games. I will not! I refuse!"
The Peacekeepers finally got a hold of me, and dragged me to the stage. I struggled, but I eventually tired myself out, and let the Peacekeepers drag me to the stage. I guess I had to accept it. I was a tribute in the 150th Hunger Games. And I had to win.
Mac Skanner, age 18
District 3 Male
Everytime a name was read, I had to let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't me, at least so far. Maybe my optimism - if somewhat forced - was what was keeping me from the Games. Maybe that was keeping me safe. I had to believe it, though. I just had to.
I glanced back into the crowd and looked for my family. Or, my step-family. Because my mother wasn't at the reaping, she was at home, in a coma, like she has been for the past few months. My little step-sister, Joystixz, or Joy, caught sight of me and waved. I waved back, that simple wave another part of the constant lies I tell her. I don't want her to know just how dangerous her life was, so I lied to her. It was bittersweet.
Then I looked back on the stage, and at District Three's four living victors. We haven't had a victor for two decades, and the girl who won the 130th Games, Pyxel Estrada, took home the crown the year my father went into the Games and was killed in the bloodbath. I've seen the tape several times. I don't like talking about it. Maybe that's why I forced myself to be optimistic all the time. So that I don't end up like my father - dead at seventeen with a pregnant girlfriend back home.
I don't have a girlfriend though. I don't really have very many friends, only a few and I think they were only friends with me out of pity. My introverted and secretive nature didn't make the best combination for making friendships. I'm thankful for my few friends I have, though, even if they saw me as a sarcastic know-it-all.
Pepin's voice broke me out of my thoughts, bringing my attention back to the reaping. "The fourth male tribute is Mac Skanner!"
Don't let the emotion show. I walked out of my section, willing my face to stay emotionless. So close. I was so close to surviving the reaping. Next year I could have been standing around the perimeter of the square, safe at last, hoping that my siblings weren't chosen. I was supposed to grow up, find a wife and have children. I was supposed to grow old with the love of my life, and die an old man.
But I was a tribute. In a few weeks, I would most likely be dead. Time for some more forced optimism.
Kane Slate, age 16
District 3 Male
The kid who was screaming for volunteers was still being held by a Peacekeeper. He wasn't going to survive. As terrible as I felt just thinking that, I knew it was true. There was no way Link was going to survive the bloodbath, let alone the Games themselves.
There were only two names left, and then the reaping was over. I could make it through this reaping. I could do it. And the second the twelve tributes were brought into the Justice Building, I would get out of the square as quickly as possible so I could get back to my inventions. My current one was a double shield, and I was almost finished with it. Had the reaping not been today, I would have finished it earlier today. My drive was there this morning, and I'd find it again.
I pushed my glasses back up on my nose. My glasses weren't my favorite thing in the world. They made me stand out in a crowd, even in District Three, where lots of people wore glasses. I preferred to slip into the crowd unnoticed, and, when an event was over, quietly leave. It was how I lived, and I wanted to keep it that way.
"Kane Slate! Where are you, Kane?" Pepin said on stage. My head whipped up, my eyes wide. I felt myself begin to shake, and I quickly hustled into the aisle, trying not to make eye contact with anybody. A sudden yell made me stop short though.
"Way to go, Kane!" my mother yelled. "Yeah! Let's go!" My face burned, and I walked faster. My mother was always excited about everything, always energenic. She embarrassed me constantly, but I knew that she always meant well. But now wasn't the time. I bent my head down, and speed-walked to the stage. I reached into my pocket and clutched the prototype of my shield. It was always with me, as a sort of good luck charm. It didn't work today, but maybe it would work in the Games.
No, it would work in the Games. Positivity was real, and it was going to help get me through the Games, as far as I got.
Kor Gozlemci, age 13
District 3 Male
The thing I was most thankful for was the fact that I was alive. I may have been born completely blind and brought up in an abusive household for the first ten years of my life, but I still had a beating heart and a working brain and air-filled lungs. And I was thankful for that.
Most of the people in the district were judgemental towards people with disabilities. Including me, and one of my closest friends, Diana. She was in an electrical accident a few years ago, and was paralyzed from the waist down. I was glad that she wasn't reaped. There was no way that she would survive the Games. But I was still a little nervous. I had taken out tesserae both for her and me, even though my uncle, Jaime, told me that I couldn't take any tesserae. But I still did.
My uncle and my mom were the only two members of my family who accepted and didn't mind the fact that I couldn't see. I didn't really mind that much, but then again, I wasn't bothered by much, anyways. My dad thought that I was completely useless, so he beat me, thinking that would make me see. So my mom divorced him, and brought me to live with her brother. My older brother, Uri, stayed with our dad while my mom and I moved in with Uncle Jaime.
The sound of Pepin walking across the stage - amplified by the microphone - filled my ears as I clenched the rope penning me in with all of the other thirteen year old boys. Somebody's hand covered mine, and I looked up, wanting to see the masked face of Grenwich, the Peacekeeper who was assigned to me to escort me to the stage in case I got reaped. I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Don't worry, Kor. You'll be fine." I nodded.
"The final tribute representing District Three is," Pepin said, the microphone picking up the sound of unfolding paper. "Kor Gozlemci!"
Sorrow coursed through me. Why me? Out of all people, why was I reaped? At least, I was glad that Diana wasn't chosen. While all of my emotions were stirring, Grenwich's hand closed over my wrist. "Time to head up, buddy."
I looked up where Grenwich's face hopefully was. I didn't need to see him in order to see the sadness on his face. I heard it in his voice. Trying to keep my voice from shaking, I said to him, "Then let's go."
And, there were the District Three males! Thanks to:
gameshungerplayer for Sullivan,
Golden Moon Huntress for Albert,
Foxfaceisthebest for Link and Mac,
Fluffytail15 for Kane,
and Norbus95 for Kor.
I hope I did them all justice! I did struggle writing this chapter a little bit (writer's block hit after the first paragraph of Albert's POV), so I apologize if this chapter is a little shaky. This chapter's song suggestion is Wings by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis.
Also, I have a poll on my profile for your favorite tribute from each district. The District One poll is up now, and when I get the D4F reaping out, that one is coming down and the District Two one is going up. Remember to review! See you all next time in District Four!