Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks to GeorgeMellark6 and districtfours for these tributes!
Terra Flint (18)- D12F
Work is what keeps me sane, so Reaping day is the ultimate nightmare for me. No markets open to rob, no rich townies out and about with their guards down. Everyone is stressed today, and they're never easy to steal from. All on the day when I need it most, when my stress levels are at their annual highest. So instead of spending my mornings with Roman and Lucy pickpocketing people in the town square, I'm getting ready to head there for the Reaping.
I feel slight discomfort rise in my throat as I think about standing in the Square as the escort in her ridiculous pink flowery outfit picks a slip of paper. I've done this six times before, but Dornan says that the last time is the worst, and I see what he means now. I twirl my silver ring around my finger anxiously, and immediately stop. I don't want anyone to see that I'm not as carefree as usual.
"Are you ready for breakfast, Terra?" Dornan's soft voice issues through my bedroom door.
I open it and smile at him, his blue eyes and olive skin that are reminiscent of my own. "I'll be right there." He returns my smile and leaves for the kitchen, the main room in our rotting shack. We're lucky enough now to have seperate bedrooms, a luxury we didn't have at the group home.
Outside my window, I feel a cool breeze blowing in from the broken glass. On my lone dresser, my collection of trinkets that I've stolen over time. I shiver as I put my hair into two pigtails, one over each shoulder. My curly hair is hard to tame, but I manage to straighten it out enough to put it in a suitable hairstyle for the Reaping. I sigh and hope the ceremony will be over as soon as possible.
As I step out into the kitchen, I realize the door is open, letting in the pale sunlight as it streams across the floor and its creaking floorboards. The table is set with our only two plates and forks, some fried eggs and bread set out for us.
"It looks good, Dornan," I say.
He turns around from the counter, where he's chopping a large carrot. "Thanks," he says with a pleasant smile. As I pull my chair out, I recall that this is the first time we've had a meal together since the last Reaping. The air is a little still and uncomfortable, but I keep a neutral smile on my face as he sits down next to me. It's not like we mean to have drifted apart in the past few years; I still want to have a close relationship with my brother.
"How has work been?" I ask him, placing some eggs in my mouth. A breeze drifts in from outside, bringing with it the scent of concrete and grass, the sounds of dogs barking.
He looks at me with surprise, his eyebrows raised. "Fine. Good, even. I might be up for a promotion soon."
I perk up. "More money?" A promotion might mean more food, better clothes, a new window for my bedroom so I'm not lying awake freezing at night.
"Maybe. I'm not sure yet, but my manager says I'm one of the best workers in his crew."
"Damn right you are," I say, high-fiving him. He grins a little, but I'm not sure if it's from pride or if he realizes, as I do, that we still interact like teenagers. He's twenty-six now, having worked in the mines for eight years now.
"How are you feeling?" he asks me, chewing on a piece of carrot noisily.
"Oh, I'm fine," I say. "I just want it to be over. I get so bored when I'm not out in the streets… but Peacekeepers are everywhere today."
"Just take the day off," he says. "I'm sure you and your friends can find something else to do."
"What are you going to do?" I ask curiously. I always spend so much time outside of the house with Roman and Lucy that I don't really have any idea what he does when he's not in the mines.
"Sleep," he says simply. "Hopefully all day."
For the first time in a while, I can see the exhaustion in his eyes, the lined wrinkles of his face and the coal dust that never truly leaves his skin. He seems to have aged thirty years in the past decade, while I've spent our time since the group home running around in the streets with my friends.
"You should," I tell him. "I'll try and get us something for dinner."
"I'm sure you will," he says with a small smirk. Dornan doesn't care that much about what I do during the day, no matter how illegal; as long as I bring food and money to the household.
"Terra?"
I look up to see Lucy standing in the doorway, her shadow casted over Dornan's face. She gives him an uneasy smile, not really knowing him. I shove the last of my food into my mouth and hasilty stand, pulling on my light jacket. I smile apologetically at Dornan, but he doesn't seem bothered. He waves me onward with a light, "Go do whatever you want. I'll see you after the Reaping."
I nod in understanding and head outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air and already feeling my true self returning. I'd like to be closer to my brother, but nothing compares to being out here on these streets. Lucy smiles at me as we head for Roman's house.
"I think we should go raid the Hob while it's closed," Lucy says with a grin. "Have ourselves a feast. That nasty old lady who wouldn't give us mushrooms deserves it."
"She does," I agree. "But I think the Peacekeepers will suspect us. We should take the day off and scout some targets for tomorrow."
Lucy knocks on Roman's door, a slab of rotting wood on a crumbling shack, like most of the houses here in the Seam. The door opens, Roman's grinning face appearing. He gives us finger guns as he closes the door behind him, ignoring the yells of his mother from inside. We leave as quickly as possible, wanting to avoid her wrath. We've done this so many times that it's like second nature. The only difference is that Lucy and I are in dresses and Roman is in a red dress shirt instead of our usual street rat outfits.
"Do we have a plan for today?" he says.
"We're picking out targets today," Lucy says smugly. "Who should we scope out?"
"Peacekeepers," I say, my voice harder than usual. "I need more trinkets." That's what we call the worthless things we steal to simply get back at someone, not to sell. And for everything that the Peacekeepers have done to us over the years, Hunger Games included, they deserve to have it
Both of them give me a side-eye. "Is something wrong, Terra?" Roman asks in a low voice, like someone might hear.
I snap back into reality, giving him an uneasy shadow of my usual smirk. "Yeah, something's wrong; I'm here with you idiots. But we really should look for some easy Peacekeeper targets while we're at the Reaping."
"I second that motion," Lucy says.
Rylex Steele (17)- D12M
Like most Reaping days, I wake up to the smell of pastries baking and stew cooking on the stove. My mother's talents are greatly desired on holidays, especially Reaping day when no one wants extra stress of cooking for their families' celebrations. Her cooking is legendary around Twelve. It's the only thing that's kept us from living in the Seam.
I yawn and lean up to stretch my arms, blinking sleepily. It's rare to have a day off from the mines, and while it's a shame that I have to spend part of it standing in the Square, I still appreciate getting to sleep in. Amongst the other smells floating in my bedroom door, I can make out the pancakes that are specifically for me and smile.
I quickly pull on my Repaing clothes, the only nice outfit that I have. It's strange not to be wearing my mining uniform, heading to the mines at the crack of dawn and settling my helmet over my head. Instead, the sun streams through the cracks in the wooden house, the sound of birds and dogs outside making me smile. I so rarely get to see the district during the day.
I wander into the kitchen, where Ma is waiting. She turns from stirring a pot of soup and smiles at me. "Good morning, Rylex dear. Are you hungry?"
"Always, Ma," I say with a grin. "You know that." I sit at the table and immediately begin shoving pancakes into my mouth, groaning in approval. "You really are the best cook in the district."
"You are the sweetest," she says in her tremulous voice. She painstakingly comes to sit across from me, reaching across the table to take my hand. I can see the worry in her eyes, but I don't acknowledge it. I've spent most of my life being strong for her, because of what happened to my father, my brother, and her own injuries. I can't let her see any fear inside me.
"It's not just me that thinks so," I say, nodding pointedly to the pots of various foods that are steaming on the stove, full of meals for other people.
She smiles, stands again with a pained groan that catches my concern, but she ambles back to her food just fine. She's been basically immobile ever since her other son died five years ago on the television, a Career slicing open his throat in the bloodbath. My own throat closes at the thought, pushing it away with another forkful of pancake. I try to think about Alden as little as I can, staying as positive as possible. I only have to get through today.
I'm sure Ma is thinking about Alden as well, but she doesn't mention him. It's better to live in the present instead of in the past, when my father died in the mines, my brother in the Games, and the distress that both of these things have brought her. I don't want to pile on the misery, especially now that I've started working in the mines. The possibility that I'll end up in an accident hands over my head everyday, but I can't allow myself to dwell on it.
"Promise me you'll come back right after the ceremony is over," Mas tells me, her back turned.
"I will," I say. Ma is too weak to leave the house, and the Peacekeepers let her stay and watch the broadcast on the television instead. I imagine she'll be too exhausted after so much cooking and moving around that she won't be able to get out of bed for days.
After finishing my breakfast, I stand and give Ma a kiss on her temple, on the wisps of her prematurely gray hair. She gives me a long-suffering smile and waves me off. After opening the door, I almost run into Siggo, who is waiting for me right outside. I steady myself with my hands on his shoulders and laugh.
"Sorry, Siggo," I say, standing up straight. He gives me a sideways smile, but the twinkle in his eye in a little dimmer than usual.
"Hey, Rylex. Are you ready to leave?"
"Just leaving now," I say.
"Bye, Mrs. Steele!" Siggo calls into the house as we bounce down the porch. I take note of his hollow cheeks and can't help but wonder when the last time he ate. Siggo has a huge family and not much food to go around, but never accepts my offer of bringing him food from Ma's kitchen.
"Hey, Rylex!"
Many people greet me and as we walk down the street, headed for the Square. Some of them are people we work with in the mines, others are simply people I've come across at the market or in their shops, or just made conversation with at some point.
"I never get you to myself," Siggo says dryly as another girl waves at me from across the porch.
"We spend most of our time together," I tease. "That's not enough for you?" It's not a lie- we're on the same crew in the mines and are together practically every second when we're not sleeping.
"Even then I have to share you with Plosa," he says with a wink. I roll my eyes and speed up slightly so he has to stretch his much shorter legs farther to keep up.
"Plosa doesn't have a choice," I say. Plosa is our crew manager, more like a friend to his workers than a boss. But he ends up spending lots of time with Siggo and I in our downtime. He's not much older than us, only in his early twenties, so he's easy to relate to.
"Of course he does," Siggo says incredulously. "He could hang out with anyone in the crew but he chooses you. Just like everyone."
I huff and turn away, not denying it. Siggo thinks mentions my popularity around the district a lot to compliment me, but he doesn't realize what effort I have to put into being uplifting and positive all the time. People like me who have been through hardships have to try everyday to remain optimistic, even if I'm naturally positive.
"I didn't mean to upset you, Rylex," Siggo says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I turn around to give him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. We need to hurry before the ceremony starts."
As we pick up the pace, I try to smile as much as possible at passerby. God knows everyone needs a little extra positivity today. Most people recognize me and wave back, their blank eyes brightening for a moment before returning to despair. I try to push down my own feelings of melancholy as much as possible, not letting them show on my face. Siggo and I are silent as we wait in line to get our fingers pricked, save a slight wince from Siggo as the bead of blood drops onto the paper.
I lead him with an eye smile to the seventeen-year olds' section, where we stand until the mayor steps up to give his usual speech. As he drones on and on, I glance into the crowd and spot Plosa, who is standing near the ropes on the outskirts of the Square. He winks at us and I suddenly start to suppress giggles. Siggo realizes what I'm doing and starts to laugh as well, both of us trying to stay quiet. Some people shift beside us, but only look on with amusement and fondness.
As the escort approaches the mic, I panic start to rise in my throat again, but I swallow it down, feeling my stomach rolling with nausea. She's covered in flowers this year, purple and pink and white. She gives us a garish grin as her lips hover just above the mic.
"I'm so excited to be here!" she squeals, but I can see the insincerity in her eyes. She probably wishes she was in any other district, even Eleven or Ten. She snaps her fingers as if to try to get the point across faster. "My favorite district! Shall we start with the girls?"
My mind starts racing with the possibilities. I know many of the people here in Twelve, even just casually, and I've seen many acquaintances leave and never return. Thoughts of my brother fill my head, and despite how strongly I try to push them away, they cling to the inside of my skull and bounce around painfully.
"And the lucky girl is… Terra Flint!"
Thank god, one name I don't know. The girl who appears onstage is eighteen, strong, and angry. Her fists are clenched at her sides, her long dark hair in two long pigtails down her front. Her eyes are blue like mine, quite a rarity in Twelve, and they're filled with rage. But she isn't staring at the cameras or even at the escort accusingly; instead she's looking at the ground with something akin to shame and guilt.
"What a gorgeous young lady! Would anyone like to volunteer for Miss Flint?"
The Square is silent, as usual. Volunteering in Twelve in practically unheard of.
"Wonderful? Shall we move on to the boys?"
Effie prances to the boy's ball, and I can't help but tense up, images of my brother's Reaping playing in my head. I remember being twelve again, my first Reaping when I was nervous for only myself, hearing my brother's name pass from the escort's lips.
"Rylex Steele!"
But… that wasn't my brother's name. I look around in confusion and realize Siggo is staring at me in horror. I let out a huge sigh, all of the fears I've tried to hide over the years releasing at once. I place a smile on my face and walk resolutely up to the stage. Ma is watching from home, carrying enough sorrow for both of us. I raise my shoulders but keep a pleasant smile on my face as I mount the stairs.
I wave to the crowd as I come to stand beside Terra Flint. I don't want any of them to feel sorry for me; after all, I am strong from working in the mines, and I'm likeable enough that the Capitol might warm up to me. I won't let this defeat me.
Terra Flint (18)- D12F
I understand what's happening here. Karma is coming for me after so long, so many heists and break ins around the district, stealing from other robbers or Peacekeepers or some guy that apparently beat his wife last week. I only ever tried to steal from people who deserved it, but I must have made a wrong decision somewhere along the way. Or maybe karma is really on the side of the Capitol and their Peacekeepers.
The wooden door swings open and Dornan walks in, his face stricken. I can hear Roman and Lucy bickering outside, but the sound is drowned out when the door swings shut.
"Hey, Terra," Dornan says. I meddle with my ring nervously around my finger, wondering what he has to say to me. That I shouldn't have taken out tesserae that time when I was thirteen and just wanted to help around the house? Or maybe he was just here to wish me luck.
He sat down beside me with a drawn out sigh, head bowed. "Do you remember when I gave you that ring?" he asks, gesturing towards it.
I look down at the simple silver band. "Not really…"
I just remember always having it, ever since I was little. It was big on my finger when I was a kid, so big I had to wear it on my thumb until my fingers grew larger. I remember twirling around my finger, a nervous habit, as the other kids in the Care Home were scolded for crimes that I committed. I remember Dornan's silent stillness beside me in our little bed, knowing what I'd done.
"It was our father's," Dornan says with a pained smile. I feel my breath catch in my throat: he hardly ever talks about our parents, but being eight years older than me, he has a few memories of them. "He gave it to me before he left us at the Home," he says it in a sad tone. "I still don't know why they left us, Terra." His eyes are swimming with uncharacteristic emotion. "I know that they loved us, but I never saw them again, not even when I started looking for them when I was older. I always tried to be the best brother I could be for you, but I was just a child too. I'm sorry we never really…"
I lean forward to hug him, both of us sitting in silence in each other's embrace for a little while. I don't tell him all the things I should- that I always appreciated him for working for the both of us, allowing me to do whatever I want, even if it some cosmic way I'm sure it ended me up in this situation. I'll tell him all of that when I get back.
Roman and Lucy come next, both of them still shellshocked by the Reaping. Roman gives me a hug, while Lucy stands there and gapes at me.
"Already run out of things to say arguing with each other," I say with a raised eyebrow, drawing away from Roman. "I heard you guys."
Lucy still stares at me, too shocked for words. I sigh and wave her over for a hug as well. "You look like a fish."
"We were arguing with the Peacekeepers," Roman says suddenly, his tone serious. "They didn't want to let in Lucy or some reason. Listen, Terra. You can do this. The Capitol will love you."
"I don't think they'll be fond of a thief," I say doubtfully.
"You're funny and you have a quick mouth," he insists. "Promise you'll do the best you can."
"No, I'll try to be the first one killed," I say sarcastically, snorting when I realize I proved his point. "I'll try to come home. I promise."
Rylex Steele (17)- D12M
The first time the door to my little waiting room opens, I'm surprised to see the mayor's apologetic smile, the door closing behind him. He fiddles with his pocket a little bit, then clears his throat and says, "I'm here with a message from your mother."
I stand quickly, swallowing hard to prevent seeming overeager in front of the district's leader. "You spoke with her?"
"I figured someone should bring you her last words to you. Before you leave, I mean," he adds on quickly, but I can see the pity in his eyes, the assumption that I won't return.
"What did she say?" I ask past the hard lump in my throat.
"She says she has all the faith in Panem that you'll return to her. She forgives you for whatever you have to do in the Games, as it's the nature of the competition. And she… urges you to do it for your brother, Alden."
I wonder if Mayor Undersee even remembers Alden. Does he recall each face and name of the children he sends to their deaths, or does he try to suppress them?
"Thank you," I say. "Will you tell her I will do all of that, and that I love her, and to stay strong?"
"I will go tell her right away," he says, eyes crinkling with a sad smile. "I wish you the best, Rylex."
He disappears without another word. Before I can wrap my mind around the idea that I might have just had my last conversation with my mother through someone else, the door opens again. This time, it's Plosa, his ruddy face already red with exertion and sorrow. I can hear commotion outside, and Siggo's angry voice.
"Rylex," Plosa says, standing tall with a tear in his eye. "You're the best miner i've ever had the pleasure of working with. Won't you come back home as quick as you can?"
"I promise," I say, astonished at his forwardness. Plosa is always kind, but not a man of many words. He gives me a hug, then turns away quickly as if afraid to look at me. "I'm going to let Siggo in now and block the door so you can have some time together, alright?" he asks me gruffly, leaving before I can answer or ask why he would have to block the door.
He forces his way out the door, then Siggo stumbles inside, his face set and determined. True to his word, Plosa seems to be keeping out the Peacekeepers, at least for the meantime.
"They don't want boys your age visiting you for some reason," Siggo explains with a huff at my questioning expression. "But they can't stop me from seeing you."
I laugh a little, taken aback by his passion to see me when we were just together. "I'm glad you came, Siggo. I'll miss you."
"You better," he says fiercely. "You better fight as hard as you can, you hear me?" His hands grasp mine and shake them vigorously. "You have to come back. You will come back."
"I will," I say slowly, looking into his eyes to calm him down. "But even if I don't, don't worry about me."
He growls, but doesn't argue with me. "Just say you'll do your best."
"When have I ever done anything different?" I ask with a grin. I suddenly realize how close he is to me, and I'm overcome with the desire to kiss him on the cheek. I give him a quick kiss, intended as a precursor for what can happen if I return, but he huffs again and pulls me in for a real kiss.
The commotion outside grows louder, and I can hear Plosa yelling to us to hurry up. I'm confused, but also pleased when Siggo pulls away and gives me a smile before heading to the door.
"Don't let them arrest you," I call after them, but I'm sure they'll be fine. Stupid rules like this are hardly ever followed here in Twelve, especially if they're new. They'll just get off with a warning.
But my own fate will be much worse if I don't focus on how to return to Twelve, to my mother, to Siggo, even Plosa. To honor the memory of Alden, who died too early in a way that was too violent for him. I will find my way back.
I hope this was a satisfactory last Reaping! Can you believe they're finally over? Who are your favorites tributes from what we've seen so far? What are your early predictions? I'm curious to know :D
I'm back at school now, so updates likely will be less frequent as they were in the past two weeks, but once summer rolls around they will come much quicker. I have three research papers due in the coming weeks and I may be passable at writing fiction but I suck at writing academic papers. Pray for me.
I'm excited to move on to the train rides! Our district partners will be interacting for the first time, and soon we will be in the Capitol.