District One

Morning prior to the Reaping

Evander Luxx — 8:00 AM

"Whoa! How did you even do that, Ander?"

Evander smiles as he picks up his knives and smiles at Luster. The boy, aged twelve, has been his next door neighbor his entire life, and it's not uncommon for him to sneak around Evander's house until the older boy comes out and shows him whichever trick he learned in the Academy the previous day. He isn't exactly fond of demonstrating his talents at wielding weapons, though — he would very much rather focus on boxing, but his teachers at the Academy insisted that he should learn how to fight in case he ever wanted to volunteer for the Games. Luster has always admired every single one of his demonstrations, sighing about how he wishes he were old enough to train with him and Maximillion, Evander's best friend.

"So what do you think is gonna happen today?" Luster questions, trotting behind him. "You don't think someone like me could get reaped, right? Like, I wouldn't mind getting reaped if it meant some Career was gonna volunteer for me right afterwards, but since there are no volunteers allowed this year — what would I do if I ever got reaped?"

Evander smiles at his friend sympathetically. "Don't worry, Luster. Your name is only in there once, and there's plenty of boys in our District. I'm sure you won't get reaped."

He thinks about the poorer Districts for a second. It must be tough, living in a place where no one would volunteer if you got reaped — the children of District 1 never lost a wink of sleep worrying about being sent to the Games, whereas most twelve-year-olds in the more peripheral Districts must have felt downright terrified about the idea of hearing their name come out of their escort's lips. He sighs, and quietly wishes he wouldn't worry about the other Districts and the inherent inequality that surrounds them like he usually does — his father often mocks the way his face contorts in distress whenever he watches the news, and he even blames the boy's mother for their child's softness.

"I should go get changed," Evander mumbles finally, and ruffles Luster's hair distractedly before offering him one last smile. "See you later, all right?"

Luster nods and trots back to his house, holding one of Evander's knives close to his chest. Evander loves the kid like a little brother, because he feels as though he is one of the freshest minds in District 1 — most of his classmates are bigoted rich kids who can't see past their own privilege, but there's something about Luster that sparks hope inside Evander's naturally empathic heart, and he can't help but smile at the sight of the boy sloppily kissing his mother's cheek in the middle of the street before entering his house.

Evander quietly slips inside his house too, hoping his family isn't awake yet. His father would typically be away at work by now, but Reaping day is practically like a bank holiday and they're all allowed to sleep in. Evander pictures his father lying in bed like a corpse, with his mother quietly curling around him like she always does — he has never quite understood how such a soft, caring woman could fall for someone as rough as his father, but he gathers that Apollo Luxx must have been an entirely different person when they first met. It's not like he hates his father, though — they have a rough time getting along because Apollo thinks his son is too weak to become a decent Career, especially ever since the Quarter Quell was announced and they all realized that Evander's older sister, Emma, wouldn't be able to volunteer in her last year being eligible for Reaping, which heavily annoyed her and her father. Evander had always hoped his father would cut him some slack if his sister volunteered and came back as a Victor, but he now gathers that he has become his family's only hope.

"Hey, sleepyhead."

Evander half-smiles at the sight of his sister Emma, still in her pajamas and rubbing hey eyes quietly. They're both very much alike, but Emma has got more of their father in her — she's determined and demanding of the people she loves, but also inherited from their mother a semi-pathological need of protecting her little brother from their father's complaints. She has always been fiercely supportive of his choices, and Evander has always approved of hers in return, even if he has never believed in the Games like his father and Emma do.

"Hey." He kisses her cheek and hugs her for a second, identifying his sister's characteristic smell of fresh soap and little remnants of sweat from all her karate practicing. Her arms drape around him, and Evander smiles quietly. "You're not upset about today anymore, right?"

"Nah." Emma shrugs, ruffling her brother's hair like she used to when he was shorter than her. She isn't exactly small, but he still hovers over her like their father does because of the height difference. "I'm all right, I guess. I'll just find a job, get married, have a couple little kids for you to spoil. You know, the usual District 1 lifestyle."

"I know it's not fair for me to say this, but… I'm glad you're staying, Em. I was worried sick about you going to the Games and — well, not making it back."

Emma does a sad smile as she opens the fridge and examines its contents. "Yeah, I guess. I just really wanted to do it, you know — I'd never planned anything for myself after volunteering because the chances of coming home were quite slim, and now I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I don't know who I want to be, because all I've ever been is a Career trainee."

Evander grimaces, but nods. He understands what his sister is saying — most kids at the Academy deem the possibility of volunteering for the Games as a lifetime achievement, and they don't usually plan ahead of that because, as confident as they may be, most of them know that there are other twenty-three tributes being thrown into the Arena and who will want to get home just as fiercely as they will. They simply want to die young, to die heroes like their parents and grandparents did before them — young death is a shipwreck, and old death is but an arrival to a safe seaport, Evander gathers as he distractedly picks at the breadcrumbs that were left there last night by their absentminded mother.

"You want some?" Emma motions at the yoghurt she's currently eating, and smiles when her brother nods. "You're worried about the Reaping, eh? Well, don't be. I heard some bitch in my class was going to hijack the Reaping so that she'll get reaped anyway — there's probably some other dude who's done the same thing with the male bowl, so I promise you're gonna be fine."

Evander's eyebrows rise in surprise. "What? How did they even do that?"

Emma shrugs as she takes a seat on the countertop, eating spoonfuls of her yoghurt as she speaks. "I dunno. I'm not friends with her or anything, but we've trained together a couple of times — Celeste Duval, she's Jasper Duval's only kid. You know, the guy who owns that immense jewellery in President Snow Street?" Evander nods quickly, and Emma laughs quietly. "Well, my friend Harper told me she like, bribed some Peacekeepers that she had sex with a while ago or something like that for them to switch the female bowl to one that solely contained her name. That's why I know I'm never getting reaped. But like I said, I've done my share of thinking and I feel like I'm okay with it now. Sure, it pissed me off back in the day — but at least I'm not playing dirty, right?"

Evander nods quietly, astonished by his sister's explanation. He has always known that certain families hold an immense power in their District — the Luxx family is in no way poor, but they've always been strictly middle-class, and that's precisely the reason why his father feels as though a Victor child would validate their name among their neighbors. It appalls him to think that the bureaucratic network that he has always firmly believed in is nothing but a web of lies and bribery, and that some people are so easily manipulated and corrupted by money or other hedonistic pleasures. He shakes his head quietly, and then sighs before opening his yoghurt.

"So you think we're safe, then?" He asks finally.

Emma smiles. "I'm sure of it, Ander. Just relax, all right? We'll go for a walk and buy some ice cream or iced tea afterwards."

"I don't think Father would approve of that," Evander does a sad smile and glances down at his yoghurt. His father takes Reaping Day very seriously, being the fiercely Capitol-aligned man that he is, and he would never let his children out of his sight even after the Reaping was over.

His sister just snorts and shrugs her shoulders. "We're well past the caring-about-what-Father-thinks stage, right? I was supposed to make this family great and now I can't, so I guess we're both failures to him."

"I don't think he feels that way, though," Evander argues. In spite of his father's general harshness towards him, his loyalty to every single one of his family members outweighs everything else in the end. "He loves us, Em. He's just… well, not great at showing it."

Emma shrugs and tosses her empty yoghurt can into the trash. "Well, I don't care. You know I've always thought he really should cut you some slack — and he's been acting horridly passive-aggressive towards me ever since the Quell was announced. So yeah, who cares?"

Evander nods quietly, agreeing to his sister's words. Who does care, after all? They will probably just hang out with their friends for a bit before the Reaping and then go home with their parents like every other year, and he knows it's ridiculous for him to feel worried about getting reaped. And yet there's a nasty little thought nagging at the back of his mind, telling him that he might somehow wind up in an Arena with other twenty-three teenagers who will most likely want to murder him. He tries to push the thought away as he finishes his yoghurt, but the mere possibility of it makes him shiver.

Evander will soon learn to follow his instincts, but for now he simply offers his big sister a bright smile and silently tells himself that everything is going to be all right.

Celeste Duval — 9:30 AM

Celeste knows that she shouldn't be grinning as hard as she is right now, but her reflection in the mirror screams 'Victor of the 100th Hunger Games' and she's loving everything about it.

She even twirls around and laughs at the way her blue skirt sways around her, revealing her toned thighs and her impeccably shaved legs. Their maid has helped her curl her hair and it now falls in long blond bangs around her face, making her look both seductive and confident, and her bright red lipstick and mascara give the final touches to a perfect Career look. She wanted to tone it down so as not to make it look too obvious, but she still needs to looks smart for the occasion — the entire country will be watching her, after all, and she has always been known for her good looks and impeccable fashion style. Her mother has treated her like a doll all her life, growing up a round-faced and undeniably cute child, but Celeste truly began to shine once she hit puberty — losing all her baby fat and training at the Academy made her one of the most beautiful girls in her District, and at age eighteen she is one of the most popular students at the Academy, and had even gotten picked to become this year's volunteer for her District. She grimaces at the memory of the way the Capitol had revealed that the Fourth Quarter Quell wouldn't be allowing any volunteers, and she remembers the snicker that some of the less popular girls had aimed towards her when they all found out during one of their training sessions. But of course, Celeste quickly had it all under control. She is acquainted with most of the younger Peacekeepers of her District, and she even fooled around with one of them a while ago — she doesn't do dating, but she sure does enjoy a decent sexual encounter, especially if she can benefit from it afterwards. It didn't take too much convincing to make the young man help her switch the Reaping bowls so as to ensure she would become their District's tribute, and she even enjoyed the small thrill that formed at the bottom of her stomach when the Peacekeeper had told her everything had been taken care of.

Easy cake, Celeste tells herself as she grins at her reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, baby, you look amazing."

She twirls around with an innocent smile when she hears her mother's voice and runs up to her, enveloping her in a warm hug. Minerva Duval still looks almost as beautiful as her daughter does in spite of her age — Celeste has always thought she must have been an absolute beauty when she was younger, and she even stares at her pictures in the living room with an expression of awe that hardly ever crosses her face. She doesn't admire many people, but she definitely does admire her mother — she takes care of the family business's finances, but she also spends most of her days as a socialite amongst the finest people of their District, and she was even invited to the Capitol once for a cocktail party hosted by the President. Her mother has taught her that she is unstoppable, and that she is ought to make her family proud, and she tells herself that is exactly what she is doing by tricking her way into this year's Hunger Games. She wouldn't have resorted to it if it hadn't been her last eligible year, but she reckons her mother won't mind as long as she comes back to her. And she will, because Celeste is more than ready to win, and those half-starved kids from the poorer Districts won't stand a chance when it comes to fighting their way out of the Arena.

"Why aren't you wearing the dress that we bought for you when we found out you'd been selected to volunteer this year, though?" Her mother questions as her fingers run down the straps of her only daughter's dress. Her eyebrows have moved into a light frown, and Celeste knows that she must be feeling suspicious about her suddenly careless attitude. It isn't like Celeste to just forget about something and move on — much less if it's something that she has been training for all her life. Minerva knows that, and she is perhaps the smartest woman Celeste has ever met, so she must also know that she's up to something. But thankfully, her mother chooses to remain silent on the matter and simply pamper her like she usually would, and like she always has ever since she was a little girl.

Celeste just shrugs and offers her mother a bright smile. "Oh, I don't know. I really didn't see the point in it, you know? I don't want to steal any attention from the reaped girl — that wouldn't be fair, would it?"

One of Minerva's eyebrows rises quietly. "You know you're still eligible for reaping, right? It might still be you, doll."

"Oh, I know," Celeste laughs nonchalantly and presses a kiss to her mother's cheek. "I just don't want to get my hopes up, because our District kids aren't precisely known for taking tesserae. The odds aren't exactly in my favor, are they?"

"There's still a chance, baby. Don't give up just yet."

Oh, but there is, Celeste thinks to herself as her mother kisses her forehead, careful not to ruin her perfectly applied concealer. There is a huge chance that she will get reaped, and she knows her mother will feel proud when that happens, in spite of their constant bantering and arguing over Celeste's rather hedonistic lifestyle and how her mother fiercely disapproves of it in spite of having followed a similar path during her teenage years.

The space between them suddenly feels tense and charged, and Minerva coughs a little before stepping away from her. She has betrayed her perfectly stoic nature in favor of her only daughter, but they both know that the truce is over now — Minerva will go back to being the strict mother that she always is, and Celeste will go on ignoring her reproaches and living the life she deems appropriate for herself. She is an adult now, after all — and there's nothing her mother can do to stop her, even if she sometimes attempts to redirect a lifetime of pampering and overprotection towards a more austere lifestyle.

"Thank you, mother," she finally says, a sober smile on her lips. "All we can do is hope."

"Indeed," her mother nods, the look of suspicion in her eyes never quite fading away. She simply coughs again and looks up at the ceiling before adding, "I'd better go fetch your father. We should be leaving soon if we want to make it there with extra time to meet the Walcotts and catch up with them — I heard the Capitol's lovely around this time of the year, they must have had the best of times there."

"Sure, mother," Celeste nods. "I'll go get my purse."

Her mother looks at her for a moment, her expression almost sad, and then exits her daughter's room quietly. Celeste sighs and rubs her temples with her index fingers when she's gone, glancing at her reflection in the mirror from afar — she shouldn't have any doubts, but her mother always manages to make her question every choice she has made ever since she was thirteen or fourteen. Still, she tells herself there is no way she is not doing this and that she was born to honor her District in the Hunger Games, and quietly smooths her dress skirt before reaching for her purse. She does one of the breathing exercises that her training tutor taught her the previous year — two times in, one out, and she suddenly feels as though that last conversation with her mother hasn't even taken place. She places her purse underneath her arm and opens the door, realizing that she won't come back until she wins the Games. Because she will win, after all.

"Fuck you, mother," she mumbles to herself before closing the door behind her.

Soooo. Idk how to feel about this first chapter, but there it is — I hope you guys enjoyed it! I thought I'd do a chapter per District, making each of them around 3-4k words long and depicting the different stages of the pre-Games process. Meaning that the following chapter should depict the District 2 Reapings, since this one dealt with the morning prior to it. I might also write little interludes from the Capitol, since you lot seemed to enjoy that little chapter I wrote last week, but idk how that's gonna go just yet. Anyway! I'm really excited about this story, and I really can't wait for you guys to see what's in store.

-s.