Here we have it. The first reaping, a few District 2 and 4 to come, with District 5 and 12 both reserved. So a huge thank you to RusttyStteele and LCit gets better for those characters. Updates coming soon. These two are my characters and I am pretty happy with them. Please enjoy and feel free to review.
When You Lose a Father
Jessper Nixx (14), D6M:
I can't forget the sight of a peacekeeper putting a bullet through my father's head. No one cried at the service. If you could call it a service. The peacekeepers were quick to move it along. No one should be allowed to mourn an executed rebel. Not even his children. I don't know where Elia is, probably off taking care of Mom somewhere. I don't care. Not about either of them. They didn't do anything for dad. For me.
Isla and Darren both look as mad as I feel, meaning today is just another day. Correction: Darren is mad, Isla is portraying her nervous tick. Right hand twitching with nerves. She has nothing to be nervous about.
"Hey," I greet. Isla jumps, eyes going wide as he spins around to see me. She doesn't calm down even when she realizes it's me. She always has that sad, lost dog look in her eyes. Recently, it's been combined with this crazed fear. I think it has something to do with her mother. A cold hearted bitch with a fist of steel. I see the dark bruise around her slightly swelling eye and I knew her mother must have gotten very drunk last night. I hope the woman is dealing with a wicked hangover. It's the least she deserves, for everything she's done to Isla. Gotta feel bad for the kid. I guess that's the whole reason I'm Isla's friend. Darren is a whole different matter. Just another one of Isla's body guards, but we're all completely okay with the arrangement.
"Jess," Darren looks me up and down, running a hand through his short black hair, "You look like shit." Yes, the scratchy button up I that's trying to choke me and ill fitting slacks. Stupid reaping. I can still feel the gel my mother ran through my hair, trying to calm my crazy red hair. Just like she did at the funeral. My fingers comb through my hair, trying to make all the pieces stand back up. I like it better like that. Wild, free. El says it makes me look more like Dad. Just like that, the anger I've been feeling since the funeral, since I saw the peacekeeper send a bullet through his skull- it all spills out.
"Looking pretty stiff yourself, Darr," he had no siblings, meaning that he didn't have to worry about being reaped this year, but he still had to dress nice. All for the pageantry. He looks stupid, in a dress suit borrowed from his father. I'm sure I don't look much better, but at least my shirt fits. Even if my shoes are a few sizes too small. Isla is wearing a paisley dress is too big, one sleeve slipping down her shoulder. My stare seems to make her fix it, pressing the billowing sleeve up her arm.
"Wanna make something of it?" Darren steps forward a few steps, looking me right in the eye. We're the same height, though he tries to convince everyone that he's taller. His hand comes up to give me a hard shove, but I catch his wrist. "Remember, I'm faster than you."
I remember what drew me to him in the first place. Out on the school yard back when we were kids. That chaotic, spiteful energy. All the girls, and a few of the guys were scared of him. Even some of the kids in the older grades, like El's. I had never seen anyone like her. I knew I wanted her as a friend. Years later and were still just as close. I'd say we're even closer.
He shrugs, placing her free hand on my cheek. Out of options, Darren presses a hard kiss to my mouth. I return it, tightening my grip on his wrist, placing the other one on her back. When I pull away, I see Isla's face over Darr's shoulder, uncomfortable and kind of afraid. I promised him we wouldn't be this intimate around him. Sighing, I let him go and take a step back, "Later," I whisper. He smiles, nodding.
I don't really know what we are. I don't like labels. Darren is a close friend. A friend I just so happen to touch a lot, and make out with just as often. "You guys ready to go?" They don't need to ask what I mean. The reaping. The town square
"Yeah," Darren sides a hand into mine, only to take Isla's as well. Isla jumps, before accepting the contact. She never did like physical touch, she's gotten better, but it's still difficult for her sometimes. Darren was always better with Isla than I was. Don't get me wrong, he's a cold bastard, but every once in a while his heart pumps enough kindness into his brain that he does things like that. Why Isla speaks to either of us in the first place.
"Great. Let's go."
Elia Nixx (17), D6F:
I haven't been to the square for the past month. Not since Dad's blood spilled over the ground. I remember that night perfectly. His vacant eyes. The white uniforms stained in red. All the peacekeepers blatant abuse of the factory workers. I can still hear the breaking of bones from their batons. Still hear the bullets being unloaded from their guns. My father wasn't the only person put to death that night. I see the face of my best friend, her unseeing eyes. Naia. It haunts just as much as my fathers. I can feel myself shaking, losing my breath. The world is spinning around me. That's when a face comes into focus. Short black hair, big blue eyes and pale skin. It's the face of Baxtor Whitten.
"Hey? " I can't respond, fear and panic pressing the breath out of my lungs, "Hello? You okay?" I nod, still trying to find my voice. Guilt fills my stomach as I look at his face. I haven't seen Baxtor since Naia's funeral. Two weeks. I probably would've if I had gone back to school. But I had to work. Considering we just lost dad, our main provider. With Mom being sick and Jess being out of the house all the time and refusing to do anything for us, I had to find work. Assembling bits and pieces of Hovercrafts and cargo trains. It's not a good idea to have one group work on an entire hovercraft. The head peacekeeper said to give rebel minded souls ideas. That is what dad tried to do after all. What Naia tried to do. She had been working with my Dad in the factories since she was young,
I remember how excited both Dad and Naia had been so excited. They were planning on taking a group of factory workers to District 13 in one of the Capitol's own hovercrafts. They were all convinced it existed, so I wasn't going to say anything about it. I remember the peacekeepers shooting the craft right out of the sky. Then all the survivors of the crash were dragged to the square. Then-
His voice pulled me out of the trance, "hey. I asked if you were okay." I nod, looking up into the caring eyes of Baxtor. It's no wonder what Naia saw in him. Real boyfriend material.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
The look in his eyes went from caring to calculating, "I know you. You were Naia's friend, right? Ella?" His face darkens as he remembers his girlfriend is six feet under.
"It's Elia, actually. Yeah, Naia was my best friend."
"Well, how have you been? Since… everything?"
I shrug, knowing that he doesn't really care. If he did, I might've told him about how my father and best friend were both ripped away from me, my mother's illness had gotten significantly worse after Dad died. How my family is losing money and I haven't eaten since yesterday. How I'm scared for my life and especially for Jessper's. Jessper, my baby brother. My angry, aggressive little brother. How the relationship I had with him, whatever it had been, was non existent now. Instead, I just said, "Okay. It's been hard, but I'm getting by."
"Yeah. I'm really sorry." Why does he have to be so nice? If he wasn't, he might've convinced Naia not to go up in that hovercraft. But then again, I couldn't, and I'm closer with her than I am with my own brother, "Me too. I know how much she cared for you."
"Same to you. It's been hard getting back into things without her." I nod, trying to stop the tears welling up in my eyes. I can't show that weakness to this boy I barely know. Sure, I've spoken to him once or twice, all without ever really saying anything at all. He always felt too nice. A kind of nice where you knew he would go behind your back and betray you. But then I realized he was just that nice. Just that perfect.
"I know. It's hard. Look, it's been nice talking to you, but I have to go, the reaping is about to start."
He nods, "Me too. I need to go find my younger sister."
Baxtor gives me a small, awkward wave before returning to the throngs of people. I take in a deep breath, looking around. Jess said he'd meet me here before he left this morning. He didn't say goodbye. Not to me. Or Mom. Probably meeting up with Darren somewhere.
Finally, I spot his lanky frame and bright red hair. Even at fourteen, he's taller than a lot of the crowd. Especially taller than me. As he approaches me, I see a glint of dad in his stride. It's gone the moment he opens his mouth,
"Hey, Eli."
"I asked you not to call me that," he rolled his eyes, scoffing at me for the hundredth time since the funeral.
If he wasn't my brother, Jess would be the kind of person I'd stay away from. Mean just for the sake of being mean. Aggressive and chaotic. Dangerous.
"Whatever. Let's just get this over with."
We both sign in to the reaping, giving a blood sample before entering the main square. It's all very tedious. I keep Jess close, making sure I don't lose him in the crowd of scared and young kids, all with their own brothers and sisters. My heart is beating in my throat. I'm watching myself as I walk behind Jess. He's ripping through the crowd, and I can see more than just fear of getting reaped on everyone's faces. Everyone around us is also scared of Jess.
The escort, a woman by the name of Cicera Terroz. She had skindyed the dark orange of a tigers fur, with dyed the same stripes as the tiger. She even has slitted pupils like a cat. The click of her heels bounces around the square, the sound being picked up by the microphone she's holding to her lips.
"Welcome, District six, to the reaping will of the 150th annual hunger games!" She holds for applause, but none come. Instead, she sighs, smoothing out non existent wrinkles on her leather corset.
"I suppose we can skip all the fanfare and get right to the reaping." Her grotesque fingernails the colour of blood dig into the bowl of names. Her smile is wickedly wide as she reads out the names.
"The two tributes are… Elia and Jessper Nixx!" My heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest. I'm going to die.
Jessper Nixx (14), D6M:
Well, fuck me. I'm going into the hunger games. I look back in the crowd to see a fuming Darren. Even with his face going red and the shaking, he's still cute. Isla is covering her face, and I get the sense that she's crying. Not this again. I'm sure Darren will comfort her. Maybe he'll even let her stay over at his house tonight. God knows she won't be able to stay with me anymore.
Elia is shaking, "Just snap out of it!" I stride up to the stage, making sure to be just as cool, calm and collected as I can be at this moment. People need to see exactly what I am. A competitor. A tribute in the hunger games. Elia follows behind, seemingly in a trance. Her hand run over her hair, over and over again, the fear in her eyes only matched by Isla.
"Welcome, welcome. Elia and Jessper Nixx?"
I smile, stepping up to the microphone. My voice carries to everyone, even the people way in the back, "That's us."
"How are we feeling about the games?" Elia can't answer. Of course she can't.
Too scared. Idiotic and frivolous. Such a loser, "I'm feeling great."
"And what about you, Elia?"
Elia doesn't answer, just shakes her head, looking from camera lens to camera lens. Scaredy-cat.
"Any pair of siblings ready to bravely volunteer?" The silence is suffocating. No one is going to save us. I don't need saving.
"District Six, I present to you the tributes of the 150th annual hunger games. Elia and Jessper Nixx!"
The crowd breaks out in applause, and we are led to separate rooms for our goodbyes. Of course Mom doesn't visit me. She probably didn't have the strength to get out of bed this morning. Even if she did, I couldn't care. She wasn't there for me.
Isla and Darren are the only ones to say goodbye. It's nice. As sweet as Darren could ever be. Isla could barely get a word out. The entire time. It was annoying, but kind of sweet. Just like the girl in question. I almost felt emotional. Almost. I'm still me, after all. All the same, I hug her. I sometimes forget just how small she is.
Elia Nixx (17), D6F:
I was surprised when Baxtor Whitten came to visit me. He didn't say much, which was fine by me, but there was certainly a lot of forgiving.
Mother enters the moment Baxtor leaves. She's weak, looking worse than she did yesterday. She's so thin, so frail. It's awful. She's been getting worse and worse. I don't know how she'll survive without me.
"Mom," I ran to her side, helping her over to the leather upholstered couch.
"Oh, my baby. My sweet little girl is going into the Hunger Games."
I have to laugh, "I'm seventeen, mom," Her hands are shaking as they reach for mine.
"I love you. I love you so much, El. Please, never forget that. Never forget who you are. How kind you are."
I smile, taking her hands, "I love you, too."
"I'm serious. You've been such a wonderful daughter, I don't have the words. You've helped me out with my illness for years. You were just six years old when you started helping around the house. Then in the past year, you gave up everything to support your brother and I," I look away from her eyes, uncomfortable with the compliment.
"I know." I see the tears well up in eyes, only to find my sight of her goes blurry with my own tears.
Her fingers lightly tap the sofa beside her, and she places a weak kiss on my forehead. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go. I feel exhausted. I need some morphling," of course. the morphling. She's had an obsession with the stuff. She's not addicted, like I've seen so many people before in our district, but she definitely couldn't get on without the stuff. Sometimes, I wonder if she's even sick anymore. If she just says it to make sure she gets her hit of morphling for the day. Then I realize just how awful the thought is. Se's been sick for so long, it doesn't feel real anymore.
She tries to get up, only to find her arms don't have the strength to get her up, "How will you get by without me?" I ask, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "How will you find money. You're still too sick to work. And you need your medication. And-"
She cuts me off as she tries to wave her arm, but it turns out to be more of a twitch, "Don't worry about me, El. I'll manage."
I lead her to the door.
"Are you going to visit Jess?"
"I don't think that's a good idea. He doesn't want to see me."
I shake my head, "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. And you do, too. He doesn't want to see me. See either of us. Elia? Look out for your brother-"
"I will," she raises a hand,
"You didn't let me finish. Look out for him, but don't trust him. At all costs."
On that note, she left me. She left me alone. I'm all alone. I break down and finally cry. Everything is going wrong. This was never going to happen, not if I still had Dad. if I had still Naia. At least I can join them once more in death.
Jessper Nixx (14), D6M:
The peacekeeper pushed open the door, a silent sign strongly implying it was time for Isla and Darren to leave. Darren and I waited for Isla to stand and exit before he got closer to me.
"So, I guess this is goodbye."
"Don't be so sure. I have a chance of going home. If everyone is as weak as El, it'll be a piece of cake." He nods,
"I hope you're right." Just like that, he's kissing me again, hands in my hair, messing up what was left of the slicked back, perfect hair. I push him into the wall, wanting him to feel every point that we're connected.
I'm not sure how long we're making out for, but it's long enough for a couple peacekeepers to come in and pull him off me. I get up off the couch, "Goodbye, darr."
"You better come back. I'll be really pissed if you don't." And just like that he's gone. Two peacekeepers still stand there,
"Jessper Nixx, please come with us." I know where they'll take me. The train station. I don't need escorts. So, out of pure spite and revenge, I get one in the jaw and the other in the gut.
"That's for my father, jack asses," they both groan in pain, pulling out their batons and getting ready to strike this idiot that thought he could take them. Good thing I'm not stupid,
"Hit me, and you'll have the Capitol on your heads." Silently, they put the batons back in their belts, silently showing me to the train station.
It felt good, and I can't wait to do it again. I'll have twenty-three other kids just like me in that arena, and all of them can pay for the bullet put through the back of my dad's skull. They'll pay for all of it.