Paj Hma, District 10 Female- LadyCordeliaStuart
There isn't anything worse than Reaping Day. It looms over us all year long, and sometimes it's hard to sleep knowing one day it will come. The first two or three months after is a respite, but after that it's always in the back of my mind. And now it's here.
Most days I only play pretend after I'm done with my work, but today I slip into my alter ego as soon as I get out of bed. I wasn't Paj, the happy farm girl, anymore. I was Hlessi, a brown rabbit who knows enemies are everywhere and has to stay alert for danger. I imagine there are foxes under the table and hawks waiting outside the door. It keeps me from thinking about the real danger.
Ma is stirring a pot of porridge as I head out the door. She doesn't say goodbye. I know she's trying to stay strong for all of us, and I tell myself she doesn't say anything because she doesn't need to. I'll be home before long. Pa is more tenderhearted. He presses my head to his chest and I pretend I can't see him crying.
It's a long walk to the Reaping center. There's little cover, and I keep watching the skies for birds. I'm happy when I join the crowd of other children. There's safety in numbers. I stand on my toes and wait for Thyone to come. If she was a rabbit, she'd be dark as the night and her fur would be shiny like stars. Some of the girls around me whisper while she walks onstage. I want to talk, too, but Thyone is from the Capitol. She's part of the Owsla, and I have to listen to her. She introduces herself and the Games.
The girl next to me is crying. I take her hand. "Pretend you're someone else," I whisper. "Like me." She presses close to me like I'm her sister and we wait for Thyone's pick. Her hand hovers over the bowl. If it wasn't real, the peril would be thrilling. She calls my name, and I understand what it is to go tharn. I freeze, like a hunter would stop being able to see me and turn away. My heart beats shallow and quick, and I can't seem to move or think. Someone pulls on my arm and I follow him to the stage. I don't know what's happening, and I feel everyone's eyes on me as stand exposed and alone. I guess a boy joins me, and then I'm caged in a room somewhere.
Ma and Pa come into the room. Ma carries Zaj, who waves his arms but doesn't fuss. He starts to when I run to Ma and squish him as I weep against her. Pa is crying too, and Ma sits me down on the bench. Ma brushes my hair aside. I think she's embracing me, but then I feel something press against my ear. I look at her hand and see a silver earring shaped like a rabbit. She clips it on my other ear.
"I love you," Pa says over and over. He doesn't stop until they leave. Before they go, I manage to say it back to them. It's something we say all the time. Any time I go anywhere, even to bed, he always says it and I always reply. This time it's like a memorial. Peacekeepers come and escort them out, nearly dragging Pa. I would be clinging to him, but I'm still with fear.
All my fantasies are real now. There are predators hiding around every corner. I'm going to have to run and fight for life like an animal. I am the princess of a thousand enemies, and all the world is my enemy.
Carson Durmello, District 10 Male- Dutchess Frost
I redo the brown buttons on my shirt for the third time. I have been fiddling with the button at the top, by my shirt collar, for the last few minutes- I am too scared to do anything else, and it is annoying me. I straighten my brown, buttoned-down shirt that makes me itch uncomfortably, and dust off my black pants, which are starting to collect dust from the reaping area. I scuff my brown shoes on the dusty ground, but stop myself. No fidgeting. What would my mother say?
I risk a glance behind me towards my parents. I see my father's kind smile and short brown hair. His face is lightly wrinkled and there's a trace of stubble on his chin. My mother, Hylla, on the other hand, looks downright murderous. She is wearing a plaid, dull blue dress with lace. Her blonde hair is done up in a bun, and her arms are crossed over her chest. She looks like she is pondering how to kill me simply by staring me down.
I turn back to face the front along with the other thirteen-year-old boys in my section. They all look just like me, but much taller. At my tiny height, I can barely see over the twelve-year-olds in front of me. But honestly, I don't mind. I flick my hair so it purposely hangs over my forehead, covering my green eyes. Staring down at my shoes, I slowly sway on the spot, waiting until the reaping can be done and over with.
"Welcome!" The District 10 escort pipes excitedly, skipping up to the microphone. I don't bother looking up. What's the point? It's the same speech as every year- and I remember almost all of it. If I would bother to waste my time talking, I could talk alongside the escort without missing a beat.
"Let's select our female tribute!" The escort trills after several announcements. I incline my head slightly. Now I catch a look of the escort- absurd pink hair and large electric blue eyes. I look down again.
"Um... let's see here... Paj Hma!"
I peek up to see a small girl with brown skin and black hair pulled up to the stage. She seems out of it, and I wonder if she's not completely with us.
"Ah, welcome, Paj, good to see you, how old are you, dearie," the escort coos, shooting off a series of questions.
"14," Paj mumbles. I'm surprised- she looks much, much, younger.
Wiithout missing a beat, the escort calls, "The male tribute," and skips over to the glass bowl. I watch the delicate hand pluck a piece of paper from the side of the bowl. I hold my breath. How often is my name in there? Maybe twice?
Yet, with all the bad luck I could have, this is the worst. "Carson Durmello!"
I exhale, trembling in my shoes. Keeping my head down, I trudge out of the line, forcing my legs to move as fast as they can. Keep it together, I think miserably. He is about to be sent to his death.
Staring down at the dusty ground again, I ascend the stairs and now face the shoes of the female tribute, Paj. I slowly look up. She smiles warily at him and sticks out her hand.
Slowly, I shake it. It is warm.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes from District 10!" Without waiting for a cheer, our pink-haired escort pushes us offstage. I quickly look behind me to see my parents.
My father's face is a few shades paler. The corners of his mouth are turned down and he looks like he is willing himself not to cry. I can't help but cry as well. I want to run out of the escort's grip and race to my father, but I know I'd never make it, and it would only spell trouble. But my mother makes my stomach plummet.
My mother is grinning.