A/N Yay! Another chapter on time! Here's District Nine. This chapter is a bit short, but I'll explain at the bottom.
Diara Hulston, 16, District Nine Female
When I wake up, the house is empty, as it almost always is. The first rays of dawn are shining in through the dirty windows, but my father has already left, as always. Because he's a mechanic in high demand, he's always on his way to some far corner of the district, leaving early in the morning, and returning late at night, often after I've gone to bed. That means that I'm in charge of the house. My mother? I don't know my mother. She left a long time ago, supposedly because her alcoholism was too much of a burden. It's not like it's a problem. I'd say that her leaving has been my gain.
I wash my face, comb my hair, and go outside to work in the garden, which I manage by myself. We can't afford to buy all our food, so I grow what we need. I look up at the sky. Not a cloud in sight. I grab a bucket and begin to water the are the potatoes, which we practically live on. I can make anything out of them, so I've only had to take out tesserae once. Everything else is only to supplement them, from the tall stalks of delicious (but space-taking) corn to the green vines of beans and peas. The garden would have to be one of my favorite places. No one ever bothers me. It's just me and my work.
After I finish, I step back into the house. First, I take a precious bit of chicken and cut it up. Meat is expensive, so I only use a bit every day, if at all. Next, I wash and chop the vegetables and set them up on a plate. This way, I can easily throw everything together when I get home.
Usually, I'd go to school, but since school let out a week ago, I go to work. This is definitely a good thing since I don't have to talk at work. I don't like talking; it causes you to get close to people. After you get close to people, you become dependent on them, and you don't know it until they're taken away. If I don't talk or get close, I become independent, and I don't have to deal with any of the problems that come with it. Am I heartless? No. This actually comes in handy in times like the Reaping, which is next week. No one cares if I get Reaped, so no one gets hurt. I don't care if anyone else gets Reaped, so I don't get hurt. Besides, people are annoying anyway, always bugging you and poking their noses in your business. I like my life, thank you.
I grab a slice of bread to munch on as I walk, and I stuff a bit of bread and fruit, as well as a bottle of water, into a bag for lunch before quickly walking outside.
District Nine is a very spread-out district, divided into many little towns separated by miles of grain. Whenever we have to travel, it's a pain, but why would I need to travel. I walk down the wide dirt road, eyes on the road before me. People are beginning to come out for work, and I'd rather avoid eye contact. No reason to make someone feel obligated to say hello.
When I get to the mill where I work, I drop my bag off in the small employees' room and go to my station. My job is to take wheat from the stacks others bring in and feed them into the threshing machine. I know; it's exciting. Such is life in District Nine. Hazel, her wise, old face deep in thought, is already at work on the other side of the belt. She looks up and waves. I wave back. No words necessary.
Senwe Barric, 16, District Nine Male
I grab another sack of grain, rip it open, and pour it into the machine that grinds it into flour. Toss the empty bag, take another breath, and repeat. Kasha, a slightly younger girl workin' beside me, grunts and dumps another bag in.
"Whew," she says, "How much time do we wave left?"
I squint to try to read the clock on the other side of this huge room. "Umm… 'bout ten minutes."
"Thanks," she says before going back to her strange silence.
"Hey... Umm… You okay today?" I say, "You're quiet."
"I'm okay," she insists. She's obviously not okay. But with the Reapin's next week, I don't know if anyone's okay. The Reapin's. Our shame. The Capitol's way of shoving it in our faces that they can lord themselves over us and we can't do anything. A revolution would be nice. I'd be able to stop worryin' about being Reaped. I know it's not gonna happen, but the thought is nice.
"You don't need to hide it," I say, "I get it"
She looks at me. "No, you don't. You don't get it. You won't get it until someone you love gets Reaped."
"Sorry." The silence resumes. Her brother was Reaped a few years ago, and every year around this time, she gets quiet.
Th bell rings, signifyin' the end of the shift. Kasha leaves as quickly as she can, and I grab all the empty sacks to throw in the incinerator. I know; it's a waste, but we do as we're told. There's no use gettin' yourself killed.
When I step outside the factory, I prepare to go home, but Farro sees me and waves, so I walk over to him.
"Hey," I say, "What's up?"
"Maybe I should be asking you," he says, his perpetual smile, "Why so serious?"
I put on a smile. "Just some depressin' thoughts. You know, with the Games and all next week."
"Pshaw," he says, "Don't worry. Don't be so serious. What makes you think you'll be Reaped? Besides, don't waste your time on this."
I shrug, but before I can excuse myself, Sunnoria joins us.
"What'd I miss?" she says.
"Nothing," Farro replies, "Just Senwe here needing something to cheer him up."
"Oh please," I say, "I'm perfectly fine." I try to come up with some excuse to leave. "I'm kinda busy today; my father will probably be drinkin' away. Again. So I'd better get myself back home before it's too late."
"Sure thing. Are you going to be around tonight?" Farro asks.
"Nah, I don't think so. It's hard to get out of the house."
I say goodbye and leave. Don't get me wrong; they're not bad people. I don't hate them. But to me, life just kinda sucks. I work, I eat, I sleep. The Capitol's always watchin' me. I hear my father rant all the time, cussin' out the Capitol and sayin' stuff that'll get us killed. That means it's all probably true. I mean, if the Capitol doesn't like somethin', it's usually a threat to its power. And if it's a threat to its power, that somethin' is probably good for us.
Just the thought that I can be a threat makes me happy somehow. The Capitol loves to pretend we are nothin', but if it has to control us so harshly, we must have some power.
But that's never gonna happen. Most folks don't seem to get it. I think it's because we all want life to be good for us, and a rebellion is not good for us if you think short term.
I reach my house, an old wooden building that seems stable enough. I slowly push open the door, trying to avoid attention. My sister Gwenith is arguing with my mother. Again. I get it, my mother is strict, but seriously? When did arguing solve anything? I slip up the stairs and into my room, closing the door behind me.
In the end, I don't half mind the Reapin's. Sure, spare me the gore. But as long as I don't get Reaped, I'm fine.
Questions:
1. What do you think of Diara's attitude towards life? Is this beneficial or harmful?
2. Other than Senwe's name, what is interesting about his personality that makes him different from everyone we've seen so far?
3. Which one do you like more?
4. Submitters, how did I do?
5. Other than the length, how can I improve?
ANNOUNCEMENT! The chapter lengths are going to get… unpredictable. I want to finish these ASAP, so though my goal is 1000 words per POV, I may not get there if I reach a good stopping point and/or get stuck. I don't want to spend forever on these, and neither do you.
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ANOTHER ANNOUNCEMENT! I've said it before, but my collab with Nadinelikesbooks and shadowhunter824 is still going. It's almost complete; one chapter left, but all three of us would greatly appreciate it if you check it out and leave a review.
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District Ten is next! My favorite District! That should give me enough motivation to write… I hope.
Till next time,
~Joseph