A/N- WELCOME BACK EVERYONE! BIG SMILES, THE STORY HAS RETURNED! As I'm sure you are aware, I have been very busy with some extra important exams recently and was forced to take a short break from FanFiction. Alas, that break has come to an end and now I am free to write again! (and what a great feeling it is too!) I don't think I have ever taken so long to write a chapter and writing the final sentence of this was such a relief because I was so determined to get this finished and posted for you all! So now this is done, I can get this story back up and running and get through the last few Reapings to bring the arena much closer... I have so many plans and I can't wait to write them! But first, for now, here are the District Ten Reapings with two wonderful tributes submitted by thederangedramblingsofme and Axe Smelling God :)
David Peterson (17), District 10 Male POV
I frown down at the small device that sits in the palm of my hand. It's so different to the sorts of devices we have in District Ten; the most complex things we get are milk pasteurisers (they are far too complicated than they need to be, seriously)! But these foreign gadgets are what get the cogs turning in my mind, they are what interest me in life, not the machines that turn udder-fresh milk into something more consumable. Sometimes I think that perhaps I was born into the wrong district and that instead of living in a giant farm, smelling cow waste and swatting away the melees of flies that hover around that waste; maybe I was supposed to be born in District Three, the home of all things technological and well, interesting.
"Where did you say you got this from?" I ask my friend, Mateo, holding up the device so he can see what I am referring to.
"My Dad was given it by someone." He replies, looking up from a bunch of wires he is poking around. "It's a new communication device that he is trialling for use in the livestock farms. Apparently it has come straight from District Three."
"Communication device, eh?" I say, peering at the external structure of the device. My eyes scrutinise over the handheld object, searching for something I recognise. Then I notice the small, faint red circle in the top right hand corner. "Aha! I've found where the radio waves are emitted!"
"Great, so I was right!" Mateo says triumphantly, punching the air with a jokey fist. "I knew that my Dad was trying out a new communication device, so I guessed it would be that one."
"Won't he be angry with you for stealing it?" Owen asks, joining the conversation and being the usual 'voice of reason'. "You should have asked him, you know."
Mateo rolls his eyes. "I didn't steal it, I simply borrowed it for our entertainment. I'll return it later. Besides, it's not like he will need it today, it's the Reaping so no-one will be working in the far fields."
"That is true." I back him up. "Isn't it so cool though? Do you reckon we could open up the back and take a look inside?"
Mateo frowns. "Hm, not sure. What if we can't get it back together again?"
"Oh we'll easily get it back together!" My best mate, Reid, jumps into the conversation, abandoning his sketch pad. "I can quickly sketch it so we'll remember how it fits back together.
"Go for it then." I say, unscrewing the back from the device and holding it up for him to see. Reid peers at it closely, examining each and every tiny twisted wire whilst his hand speedily sketches it onto the paper. It only takes him a minute to copy it roughly before he gives us a nod as if to say 'dig in'.
And I do just that. Taking the device in one hand, I allow my free hand to explore the jungle of expertly woven wires, following where one wire begins to where it ends, coming across many loops and crosses along the way. As I start to lift up some of the wires to examine what's underneath, I can't help but admire the patience of those who created it. Imagining the time they must have spent meticulously putting this device together and the extreme concentration that must have fuelled that is beyond praise. For me, that is true talent. Forget all about the Career Districts who see the ability to kill as a talent; what I have in my hand is real talent. The ability to use the brain to its full potential is far more precious and rare than being able to handle a sword.
The sound of the door opening drags my attention away from the device and I look up to see my Mother walking in. She smiles briefly at my three friends, then turns her attention to me.
"David, it's almost time for the Reaping. I think you should—" She stops her sentence as her green eyes, the same ones I inherited, spot the device in my hand and the wires that tumble out of it, falling between my fingers. "What is that you have?"
I glance down at the device. "Oh... it's just something Mateo brought for us to look at."
"Is it from District Three?" My mother asks, a disapproving look etched onto her face.
I nod meekly.
"David, you know that I don't mind you taking an interest in technology. But that's as a hobby. This, "she sweeps her arm around the room "is becoming an obsession now."
"But—"
"I'm not saying you should stop it entirely." She sighs. "I just don't want you to think that you have a future in technology because you don't." My eyes drop to the floor. "Look, I don't mean that in a harsh way, you're a very intelligent boy and I'm proud to have you as my son. But I'm just saying that you need to stop pretending that you're from District Three when you're not. You're from Ten and when you're older you'll be working in the cattle fields with your father, not working away in some techno-lab or whatever they call it…"
"Laboratory." I correct her automatically, then regret it the second after I've said it.
My mother's jaw tenses and I see her swallowing back her words, reconsidering what she was going to say. Normally, she would have just come out and said the first thing that came into her mind, but because my friends are here, she appears to be thinking before speaking.
"Ok, I've been lenient enough with this technology…habit." She says. "But I think it may be going too far and I don't want you to become like one of…them."
Silence rings in the room and from the corners of my eyes I can see my friends' heads dropping, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with each other and with me. I lock eyes with my mother and open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.
"David…" My mother's face is painted with a look of regret. "I didn't mean it like that… You know how this time of year makes me feel."
I swallow, though my throat is already too dry. My aunt, Mother's sister, died in the Hunger Games when she was only fifteen. I never knew her, but my mother has told me that they were close as sisters. She didn't get far in the Games, only lasted the first two days, but the two tributes from District Three had killed her by electrocution, so since then my mother has always been sensitive towards District Three, even though it happened years ago and not all District Three citizens are like that. I guess it just brings back the memories.
Again, I try to say something back to her, but I can't find the right words so I stay silent. Sensing the tense atmosphere and the awkwardness between my friends, my Mother clears her throat and makes for the door.
"Just make sure you get to the Reaping on time." She says, leaving the room. "I'll meet you there in a while."
Petunia Evens (17), District 10 Female POV
I swing open the large doors of the closet and I'm greeted by an array of colourful fabrics that make even my summer-yellow dress seem plain. I'm past gasping at this collection of clothes now that I see it almost every day, but the first time I opened up the closet I had gasped so loudly that I scared Lettice, who thought I was gasping at a spider or some other 'putrid creature', as she calls them.
"What would you like to wear today, Lettice?" I ask, gently fingering one of the dresses and wishing that I could bring something like this home to my sister, Adne.
"Something really pretty." The thirteen year old replies. "Daddy says that I need to out-do all the other girls because I'm representing him."
Lettice's father is the Mayor of District Ten and despite being quite lazy with his own appearance, he always wants his daughter to look her best, which is exactly why he hired me. Since his wife, Lettice's mother, walked out on their marriage to live with one of the Peacekeepers she had an affair with, I have been working as an assistant to the Mayor, filling in the jobs that his wife used to do like dressing Lettice. This job was quite a blessing really, it helps to bring in extra money for the family because working on the cattle farms at the moment, like my father does, isn't very substantial, so every extra penny is appreciated. I also really enjoy this job; what's not to like about choosing dresses and plaiting hair?
"What about this one?" I suggest, pulling out a beautiful pale green dress with an ivory ribbon around the waist. "This colour would really compliment your hair."
Sliding off the edge of her cushion-covered bed, Lettice walks over with her usual superior strides and stops in front of me, inspecting my choice. Her dark eyes skim over the dress, scrutinising each tiny detail on the hand-crafted masterpiece. After a few moments of 'hmm-ing', Lettice nods her head. "That'll do nicely."
Handling the dress as if it is made from glass, I undo the buttons down the back and hold it out for Lettice to step into it. She does so with such grace of a Capitolite that I wonder if she imagines herself as one of the many rich and well-dressed citizens of the Capitol. I tug the dress up her slender body as she wiggles into it, her thin, long arms threading through the sleeves like a needle poking through fabric. Once the dress is snugly on I take the ribbon in my fingers, rubbing my fingertips along the soft, velvety material and then fasten it securely in a neat bow.
"What do you think?" I ask, taking a step to the side so Lettice can examine her reflection in the mirror.
As Lettice preens in the mirror, admiring her appearance, I can't help but steal a glance at my own reflection. I'm never one to make a fuss about myself, I'm always too busy working on either Lettice or my sister Adne's appearance, but I can't help noticing the thinness of my cheeks and the way my hair falls in limp curls down past my shoulders. I am no way in competition with the likes of Lettice, despite the four-year age difference. Suddenly feeling ashamed of paying myself attention, I turn back to Lettice and shake off my previous thoughts like water off a duck's back.
"Thank you, Petunia." Lettice says lightly. "I look lovely."
"So you do." Says the deeper voice of the Mayor and I look to the door to see Lettice's father standing in the doorway dressed rather messily in a patchy suit with his tie skewed to one side and his shoelace undone, trailing on the floor beside him like the tail of a mouse. "You may leave now, Petunia, I'm sure you need to get your own sister ready for the Reaping. Am I correct in assuming she is the same age as Lettice?"
I nod. "Yes, she is."
"Well, you had better run along to her then." He says, reaching into the pocket of his blazer and pulling something out in a closed fist. "Here, take this."
I walk over to him and open up my hand, outstretching my palm. "What is it?"
"Let's call it a little bonus because it's Reaping day." He says in a lower tone, dropping a handful of copper coins into my palm. I stare at the money in my hand, shocked at his generosity, but don't try to return it because of the insistent expression on his face that tells me just to accept the money and leave.
"Thank you so much." I say gratefully, closing my fist over the coins. "I'll see you tomorrow."
As I slip out the room, the Mayor calls after me, "good luck in the Reaping, Petunia!", but I'm already halfway out of the front door to shout a reply.
Once outside, I glance at the old watch on my wrist; the leather band has faded with age and the end of the strap is starting to fray, but the tiny gold hand still ticks on the clock face and I can see that I only have half an hour until the Reaping begins, which means twenty minutes to get my sister ready, five minutes for myself and then five minutes to walk. Sounds do-able.
I don't live far from the Mayor's house, so I arrive home in a few minutes. Adne is already waiting for me when I open the front door, sitting on the top stair with her feet tapping lightly on the stair beneath.
"You've been ages!" Adne exclaims as I close the front door behind me.
"Sorry, Lettice was—" I begin, but Adne waves it off abruptly.
"Just hurry up, or we'll miss the Reaping!" She says bossily, turning and running into her bedroom and leaving me to follow.
With a chuckle, I climb the stairs and enter her bedroom. My sister has always been the bossy one, gaining that trait from our mother, whereas I'm softer like our father. Our mother was never very maternal in her ways; she still tends to be a little selfish now, but I forgive her, not everyone can be naturally maternal. But I always made sure that Adne didn't feel deprived of a motherly figure, making myself act more as a mother to her rather than a sibling. I always thought that it's better to have a sibling as a mother than have no-one at all.
"Right," I say, standing with my hands on my hips, "let's get you ready for the Reaping."
Adne and I have to speed-walk to the Reaping, time being very restricted due to my duties at the Mayor's house earlier. Luckily we only live a few minutes away from the main centre of the District, so we arrive just in time and join the back of the rather short queue to sign in.
"Petunia." Adne turns to me as we wait in the queue, her pale green eyes moist with new-born tears. "I'm scared."
I hold my arms out and she steps into them, wrapping her own tightly around my waist. I can feel a dampness growing on my dress where her tears have soaked into the fabric.
"Don't worry about it." I say soothingly, stroking her hair fondly. "You won't be chosen, your name is only in there twice. And if you do, then I'll volunteer for you."
"But I can't let you." She mumbles into my body. "You'll…die."
"No I won't, I'll make sure I get home for you." I tell her. "I won't ever give up on getting home."
"Ahem." A sharp cough from in front tells us that it is our turn at the front of the queue. Adne peels herself from me and shakily holds a finger out to the woman. I see her flinch as the needle pricks her fingertip, then watch her be escorted to stand with the other thirteen year old girls whilst I get my own finger pricked.
Licking the tiny spot of blood from my finger, I walk over to near the back of the crowd and stand alongside the seventeen year old girls. I don't know that many of them, but I offer a generous smile to those who catch my eye.
The Reaping is the same as every year, the brightly dressed escort recites her annual speech and then proceeds to select the tributes for this year's Hunger Games.
"Ladies first…" She says cheerfully, dipping her dainty hand into the bowl and plucking out a slip of paper. "Petunia Evens."
I look around as faces turn to stare at me, catching sympathetic looks, as well as those looks of relief. That is the look I have on my face: relief. I'm not relieved to be reaped because I want to go into the Hunger Games, who does? But instead I am relieved that no younger girls were chosen in my place. There is nothing worse than a young child being thrown into the Games. I'd much rather take their place than watch them die too early. So despite the fears of never returning home, I walk up to the stage calmly, with a small smile of gladness that I'm allowing a younger girl to live an extra year.
David Peterson (17), District 10 Male POV
Mateo, Reid, Owen and I walk to the Reaping together, shuffling along the dusty roads in a solid group, no-one drifting off to one side or racing ahead of the others. This is the way we usually are; one close group. We know that we are different to all the other boys in our district who are far more out-going and sociable than we are and it is because of this that we are considered to be 'The Outcasts', at least that's what people tend to label us. But I don't mind as much, I'd prefer to be myself and have few friends than know everyone and be someone I'm not.
"So, you guys nervous?" Mateo is the first to break the awkward silence.
We all nod, because if we didn't then we'd be lying. We are older than most of the kids at the Reaping, but that doesn't mean we have any less of a chance of dying in the Games. If anything, we have a higher chance because we have more opportunities to be reaped, due to our ages and number of slips in the Reaping bowls.
No-one says anything else as we walk up to the Reaping, probably because we're all nervous and also pretty quiet normally so this isn't as awkward as it seems.
When we reach the main square, we split into half between the two queues and wait to sign in. Reid is in front of me and I watch him wince as his finger is pricked; he isn't fond of blood and always has to turn away when watching the Games and blood is seen. I remember once when we were kids, Mateo was messing around with one of the pitchforks and ended up slicing a three-inch deep wound into his leg that sent a rush of blood pouring out of his calf and creating a red pool on the floor around him. As soon as Reid saw the blood, he passed out almost instantly, so Owen and I were left with two unstable friends instead of just the one.
Once I've signed in, I stand with Reid and we wait for the others to join us. They come soon enough and we stand packed together as we always do, dodging the middle fingers gestured towards us by the other older boys who find it funny to pick on us for being quiet. The Reaping passes quickly, as it always does, bringing the dreaded moment ever closer.
"Now, the boys!" The escort says, abandoning the girl who was reaped, Petunia, to go and select her partner.
And her partner turns out to be me.
"David Peterson!" Is called over the crowds and I feel my heart sinking with each shaky breath I draw in. My friends offer me weak smiles, but I can see the tears welling up in their eyes despite their efforts to contain their devastation. As bravely as I can, I step out of the crowd and make my way up to the stage, keeping my head hung low to hide my face.
As I walk onto the stage, I keep my eyes looking over the crowd to avoid the intense gaze of the escort that would only result in me breaking down in fear. I try to keep my eyes looking to the floor as I shake Petunia's hand, but her warm and gentle smile urges me to show her some recognition, so I simply flash her the weakest smile I can muster before turning away again. I daren't speak because I can already feel the growing lump in my throat that I don't think will leave until I die. Which, of course, will be very soon because people like me don't win the Games.
A/N- So, two slightly different tributes here. David, with his quiet nature, will he be able to muster up the courage to do well in these Games? And Petunia, with her maternal and caring nature, will she struggle to cope with the brutality of the Hunger Games?
Please let me know what you thought of these two tributes and thanks to the two authors for submitting them! I hope I did them justice, haha! If not then blame my brain for being put under exam stress :P
Only four more tributes left to see and District Eleven is next... What will these next two tributes bring to the Games?
Thank you for your patience and I promise that I won't be going on any breaks for a while now; I have a vast summer holiday now so that means much more writing time! Woop woop! Virtual cake for everyone!
Thanks, FireflyLlama x