Bean Crow-District 11 (12)

Bean saw his own awed reflection while he gawked at the television. The vivid colors flashed with every movement of the frame. He tapped the glowing concave screen. His eyes crossed as his vision focused on the illuminated pixels. The dull heat emanated over his face.

"Can you even see what's on?"

Bean looked back; the static heat grazed his black skin. Adelana, legs crossed over the leather couch, huffed while the spry boy bounded towards her.

"It's just some boring news."

Adalena cocked an eyebrow. "Kid, do you know what you're here for?"

"I'm not a kid I'm twelve, Addy."

"Don't call me that."

Bean sat down next to her. The screen was bright with a talking bald head pointing at a number of graphs. Words zipped at the bottom of the screen in a bold white blur. With the Capitol skyline twinkling outside the frosty window, Bean rested his head on the armchair. A black throw pillow separated him and Adalena.

"The Hunger Games. You know about that?"

Bean looked over at Adalena. She stared ahead at the television.

"Yup. That's were all those people die."

Adalena sighed. "And you're okay with that."

Bean looked out the bay windows stretching towards the end of the large living room. A flying light fascinated him when it crossed over the city through the clouded night sky.

"Is that like a plane or something?"

Adalena turned towards the window. "Planes were a long time ago. They're calles hovercrafts or something like that."

Bean nodded. "Will you help me during the Games?"

Adalena gasped. They stared at each other. Adalena's hazel eyes shot open while the silence blocked them like a brick wall.

"I never said that."

Bean slumped in his seat. His head hung with his chin crashing onto his chest. "I know."

Adalena scooted herself closer towards the center of the couch. The leather squeaked with every move of her light frame. "I'm not here to be your bodyguard. Look, kid, I un-."

"I'm twelve. I'm practically a teenager."

"Shut up. Anyway, I get if you're upset. I don't want to go into my life story, but my family basically hates me."

Bean perked up and leaned closer. "How? They're family. Why would they hate you?"

Adalena tightened her jaw with a quick sniffle. Bean saw her hand grip the edge of the cool leather. She stared at the crinkles on the furniture surface.

Bean heard a news reporter laugh on the television.

Adalena shook her head. "I don't know. Some people just get matched up with others that don' like them."

"Even if they're family?"

"Especially." Adalena said firmly. "That's why I'm coming home. They'll beg for forgiveness. They'll tell me how sorry they are and how they didn't mean anything. They'll ask if my mother wanted it this way. Then, they'll ask for money and a room at my new mansion. Why would I give it to them? Why wouldn't I throw everything in their faces?" She said quietly.

Bean shrugged. "They're family. You look out for each other."

Adalena scoffed. "Not anymore."

Bean ran a small hand through his thick brown hair. Adalena coughed while Bean stood up. "It's not like there is much else I had to look out for."

Adalena chuckled with an empty smile. "I guess not. Everybody is rich around here,"

The television speakers hummed while Bean looked at the incensed girl. "That's no reason to hate them."

Adalena whipped her head towards Bean. "Why do you think I hate them? I never said I did. "

"People get…you know. They want stuff other do."

"You mean jealous? Sure, I get jealous. Jealous that they have all of this stuff. But I don't hate them. They don't hate us. It's just the people at the top."

"So what should we do? Ask them to help the other districts?

Adalena leaned back on the couch. "Why scream if they won't hear?"

Foster Arkgrime-District 12 (16)

The District Twelve floor was more luxurious than Foster could imagine. The chrome lining on every doorframe glimmered with the white recess lighting built into the ceiling. Even the fans from above blew out a cool draft with a lemon scent buried within the air. The charcoal tiles on the walls contrasted with the white marble floor. Foster's bare feet shivered from the frigid floor as he sat at the red table. The crimson tablecloth obscured the bottom of the table.

Foster and Petunia's mentor was a gruff, middle-aged man with a small grey stubble on his sharp chin. His eyes were narrowed while he looked over at Foster who stared down at his golden plate of roasted tempeh and cauliflower.

"The sponsors are looking at an underdog tis year," he said in a raspy voice. "I shouldn't say this to you, but I think we should consider an alliance."

Petunia sat down and grabbed Foster's hand as she sat down next to him. "With who? Nobody wants to pair up with Twelve."

The mentor nodded. "I realize that. They avoid you like you're a mutt. But let's be honest. Talent is not going to win us anything. Unless it's candle-making, I doubt you two could fight ay of the Careers."

Foster started wringing his hand that was clasped by Petunia. "It doesn't matter. Just keep us close to each other and we'll manage," he said.

The mentor stood up and chugged down the rest of his white wine. He hiccupped and put the glass down. "Appearances are everything. You do look a bit intimidating with that burn mark on your face, but you still can't fight. With your sister latching onto you, the big problem is what the crowd will go for."

"People don't care about appearance's that much," Petunia said. "Most victors get by fine without being supermodels."

"I'm not saying you're ugly," the mentor said. "Honestly, Twelve is going to have a lot against it. Play up the loving siblings angle, and maybe you will hit the top twelve. Look, it's not that I'm not optimistic, but I'm tired. Last year, one of the tributes punched me. If you have any ideas, let me know. I have to sleep."

He rubbed his dull brown eyes and trudged out of the room. Petunia frowned at the exiting man who disappeared through the doorframe. She got up and walked to the sink. She turned the two switches and ran warm water underneath the silver faucet.

Foster propped his head up with an arm and kept looking at the plate on the table. "He has a bit of a point," he said.

Petunia said nothing.

Foster lowered his head further; obscuring the edges of his eyesight with the colorful table cloth. "Although the past two winners have kind of been decided by appearance than intelligence. Or strength for the most part. I think we should try the camoflauge tomorrow. Because, you know, that worked so well for the other guy from Twelve two years ago. They never did show us how he got those in the arena."

The edge of the cloth bunched up next to his elbow, but Foster kept talking to himself.

"I guess working in the apothecary didn't help much in training for anything. But we do know a lot about herbs and drugs. That's a horrible angle. Nobody cares if we know about plants. Damn it. I wish we knew something about bows or whatever is popular around here. I think knives are the big thing now. Let's find some knives tomorrow and stab those dummies for a fe-."

"Foster."

The lanky boy flinched when he felt a hand on his inner thigh. He flung the table cloth up and saw Petunia looking up at him with a big grin. Her blue eyes sparkled slightly as she rocked on her knees. She sat in between his legs and started to lean forward.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out from under there," Foster said in a shaky voice.

Petunia laughed. "Why are you so nervous, big brother? I thought we were supposed to play up an angle."

Foster cringed as her hand moved farther up his leg. "Did you hit your head on something today? Stop touching me. Whats wrong with you?"

"Isn't this what we want, big brother?" Petunia said with a sultry breath. "The Games haven't seen like this."

"This isn't what I meant, Petunia," Foster almost shouted. "Nobody wants this in the Games. With siblings?"

Petunia's grin widened. "If that's true, then why haven't you moved away yet?"

Just as Foster was about to leap out of his chair, Petunia put her knees on his feet and kept him anchored. "Besides, our mentor may hear you if you shout. Don;t want to be found out yet, do we?"

Foster grunted. "This isn't like you, Petunia. The Games ha-."

"Shut up," Petunia said as her hands went towards the leather belt on Foster's jeans. "I hear what you do with Gilda in your bedroom. I'm way prettier than her. Let's face it, big brother. We're twins. We need each other. Not just in the Games, but out here in the real world. It would be a crime against nature to want anybody else."

Foster gripped the edge of the table like a snake squeezing a victim's neck as he heard a loud zip. "I look way better than her. I bet I'm way better at this, too."

"Petunia..."

One last giggle.

Jason "Jace" Castellan-District 3 (18)

Jace found it odd how the roof was not unlocked. When he ventured up the narrow stone staircase and pushed open the mint green door, he drew a quick breath as he stumbled out onto the rooftop. The cool breeze flew by him and disheveled his choppy blonde hair. The dark rooftop contrasted with the twinkling white light surrounding the tall building. Neon purple and green signs flickered around the horizon while impatient cars honked underneath him. The soft rumble of the building's air condition units hidden a series of pipes and vents massaged Jace's black sneakers.

As he turned towards the other side of the dome of lights obscuring the stars, he saw a small frame with long hair blocking part of the white rays. She stood by the edge with her arms crossed, protecting herself from the cold.

Jace sighed as he trudged towards her. "You can't jump."

The girl shrugged without turning around. "I know. Someone tries it every year. They have some barrier or some shit around it. Powered by an electromagnet at the bottom of this building. It would be more efficient if it was powered at the top instead. Maybe with a nuclear generator."

The small girl turned her head around. Jace noticed her porcelain face shimmering in the light before he stood next to her. "My dad worked at a nuclear plant. He taught me a thing or two."

"So if the arena is a nuclear plant, you should win."

She sighed. "If I don't die. Five usually doesn't do well."

"Neither did Twelve? Look what happened."

"You mean both of them dying and having the District incinerated with a nuclear bomb? I wouldn't say that's a victory."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Okay. Look at Nine, then. That's a Victor that hasn't plunged us into another rebellion."

She nodded. "There's a problem that one of my teachers used. It involves an old man and a mountain. The idea is that we need to prove that the old man will, if he starts his travel up and down the mountain at sunrise, cross the same point at the exact same time. You know how you do that? You just imagine another old man starting his journey at the same time the other man is going. You know their path's will cross at some point, so that's how you prove it."

Jace stepped to his side to give her more space. "Sounds good to me. Don't know how that applies to what's happening now."

She turned towards Jace. "If Katniss was dead like they told us, why did the revolution die? Wouldn't it have gotten stronger? She would be a martyr. But this guy from Nine is not doing what she did. Yet, I think they're going to cross the same path at some point if they haven't already. Metaphorically, of course."

Jace put his hand on the shorter girl's shoulder. "Look. I'm glad you care about all that, but it doesn't help either of us. You're from five, right? Carol?"

"Chloe Garret," she said.

Jace nodded. "Good. And you're fifteen. None of this stuff about rebellion is going to help you. you need to focus on getting strong or running. Most of these people are just glorified bullies who are allowed to kill people. Being smart doesn't help as much as you think."

Chloe looked down at the cracks on the concrete roof. "You think so?"

"Most of the smartest people don't make it. It's sad, but the victor is usually a boring sand bag."

"Not the past two," Chloe said. "I'll be like them."

Jace frowned before blinking his grey eyes. "Luck. Neither of them were the strongest or smartest."

Chloe slumped her shoulders. "I know. And I have problems thinking I am. I don't think I'm that smart, but I'm going to try to be different and actually have a backbone. I don't know why I'm telling you this. You'll just slit my throat when we head in."

Jace looked down at Chloe and hummed. "Maybe not. I don't want to be completely alone."

Chloe looked up as Jace started to walk away and leave her in the cold wind. "Let me think about it tomorrow. We may get along okay."

Jace shoved his hands in his pant pockets and trotted back towards the safety of the building. He yanked open the door and heard the echo of his steps bounce around the stone walls.

Thank you for your patience once again.

So here we are. Over a year later, and the Games are only set to begin soon. I apologize if I have been to slow. But I hope this only increases your thirst for seeing the Games like my thirst for wanting to rite them.

Can I count on you to stick with me? So many SYOTs go unfinished, but I have already proven I won't allow that to happen. Will you keep reviewing and keep racking up sponsor points?

And to anybody just joining in, get others involved! You won't regret it, and you can change the Games to with sponsoring.

To anybody who hasn't read in a while, please let them know. If you see a reviewer not review recently, don't be afraid to give each other encouragement. It only takes a minute to review, but it can fuel my writing to incredible levels.

Also, ask questions! Do things from the sponsorship list!

BTW, I saw Mockingjay part 2. I will share my thoughts in the next chapter, but did you like it? WHy or why not? Also, do you think the fandom will die down or grow stronger.

Thank you, and I hope you will stay with me. You're the toughest, yet best, reviewers for any SYOTs. You make my writing worth the hardship or effort.

See you soon!