Author's Note: Ok, here we go with district seven! I believe every Hunger Games needs a little romantic tension. Here's Dylan's chapter, this will be interesting since you'll get to see each side of the story with Grace's chapter next. I give you...Dylan Ross! Read, review, and enjoy. :D
"Oh Dylan, you're so cute!" Coos Taylor as she clings to my muscular arm.
"Oh, shut up Tay." I laugh.
"Do it again, please?" She giggles, giving me goggle eyes.
I roll my eyes and lift my arm, flexing my muscles at her.
She laughs hysterically and we continue walking.
"Ok sweetie, I guess I'll meet you at the reaping then." I say in a voice like oozing honey.
Taylor nods and turns sharply, waving to me as she walks down the road.
Inside my house I sigh and go upstairs to get ready for the reaping. I'm sure I won't be chosen; after all, my dad is the mayor of district seven.
I change my clothes into a simple grey shirt with a collar and some khaki slacks and button the shirt in the mirror.
I look up and quickly adjust my dirty blonde hair back into its proper place I rub my dark navy blue eyes with my soft brown eyelashes (at least that's how Taylor describes them) and sigh again. I guess I just hadn't realized how tired I actually was today. I sit down on my bed to relax for a few minutes. I think back to this morning. Amy and I had gone for a walk when I saw Grace. I instantly began to steer Amy the other way. Grace and I have a bit of a history.
Grace is a beautiful girl, but she's tough to catch. I asked her out a while back and she didn't say yes. Well, it ended up being a pretty big blow for my ego. I mean, I'm still healing from the wounds she gave my heart.
"Son, I'm leaving now. You better come too. Can't be late, especially being the mayor's son and all." Comes my father's voice from downstairs.
I don't even bother to answer. I'm not my father's biggest fan. We barely talk ever since mother took her own life. To this day I'm still not exactly sure why she decided to end her own life so early, but I have my guesses.
Father never paid any attention to her, ever. She was alone most of the time, unless I was home from school. Father always cooped her up inside. He made her stay at home most of the time. Gave her no choices.
That's my theory. In a way I don't blame her. Who'd want the person who's supposed to love and cherish you to control your whole life? I do miss her. More than anyone can imagine. Every since she left our world I've been different.
When I eventually make it outside most of our district is already in front of the justice building. I don't really understand why Father was worried about being late. Our house is a step away from the square.
"Dylan!" Come several shrill cries.
Taylor, Amy, and Lindsey flock to me and I smirk.
"Hello ladies." I say in a deep, manly voice.
They laugh as we begin to head toward the check in lines.
Once I throw a few kisses and winks to the girls I head to sixteen year old guys' section where I meet up with my best pal Thomas.
"Hey Dylan."
"Hey."
"Ready for the reaping?"
"Ready as I'll ever be. What happened to your arm?"
Thomas glances at the red gash on his upper arm, "Ah, it's nothing. An axe got me while we were harvesting the lumber today."
"Yikes, you should get that checked out. I'm going to mention that to my dad when I get the chance. He always ignores me when I try to tell him our district needs more safety precautions."
"Thanks Dylan." He smiles, then turns his attention toward the escort.
I do the same.
Our escort is basically dressed like a tree, complete with a branch headdress. She shows us the Capitol video then prepares to pull the female tribute.
I glance around at the faces of my district and catch a look at Grace across the way with the other sixteen year old girls. She's standing there stony faced, but just as beautiful as ever. Her long, brown curls fall around her light, warm brown skin. She has the most perfect lips I've ever seen…
"Grace Ramon!" Breaks my daze.
I frown for a moment, trying to piece together what's actually happening. Grace's facial expression changes from hard and cold to frightened in seconds as she begins to walk onto the stage.
My heart begins to beat faster than usual as I watch the escort pull the boy tribute's paper from the reaping bowl. I've got a crazy idea.
"I volunteer!" I shout loudly before the escort can even announce the name on the paper.
She grins and waves for me to join her onstage.
I look over at Thomas who looks as if he could pass out at any second then continue to stand next to the tree lady.
"What's your name you brave soul?" She asks in a much to dreamy sounding voice.
"Dylan…I'm Dylan Ross." I say proudly and raise my fists above my head, grinning into the cameras and showing off for the Capitol.
A cheer rises from our crowd, especially from Taylor, Amy, and Lindsey.
Finally I'll get the fame I deserve and maybe even approval from Grace at the same time. I smile brightly at her and hold out my hand for her to shake. She shakes it quickly and firmly, giving me a disgusted look all the while.
I never quite understood why she disliked me so much.
Thomas, Taylor, Amy, and Lindsey come to say goodbye first. They wish me luck and tell me they'll miss me. I'll certainly miss them.
"Be careful with that axe and stay in one piece." I say, grinning at Thomas.
"Same to you." He says more serious now.
We hug and he waves as him and the girls head out the door.
My father comes to say good riddance last. He grabs my shirt and pulls me until I'm inches from his face.
"What do you think you're doing, you idiot? Trying to make me look bad in front of everyone? You can't win. You're weak, just like your mother was. You're not my son!" He yells at me and the peacekeepers have to come and pull him away. He's still ranting and cursing as they drag him out.
"My mother was stronger than you'll ever be!" I yell back, my blue eyes raging with fire.
The doors close with a thud and I'm left standing alone, holding on to the one thing my mother left me. It's her ring. I put it on a chain and have worn it ever since.
"I'll make you proud." I whisper into the silence.