Ceren Dolan, 14, District 9 male, evening before the reaping

They can't add up to the distance
That I have been through, just to get to
A place where even if there's no closure, I'm still safe
I still ache from trying to keep pace
Somebody give me a sign, I'm starting to lose faith

~~Home by Machine Gun Kelly feat. Ambrassadors

Ceren was a person who would describe others as outsiders or even strange. No one had ever seen or heard him. Its pure existence was a mystery, perhaps even the largest of the entire district.

Ceren's family lived in a large, sprawling house on the outskirts of the district. He had everything you could wish for: a private library, a private room and a pizza oven that his mother used at least once a week. He was happy, but he lacked one thing. An essential thing that every child needed. A friend.

Ceren had only his parents. His mother did not work because her husband, as the district's Supreme Peacekeeper, made more than enough money. The Dolans lived on the goodness of the Capitol, which they always claimed. Ceren understood this and thanked the Capitol every evening at dinner for the gifts. Today, however, his parents did not pray.

Scyon and Demetra Dolan had their hands folded, but their lips did not move to prayer. They looked sadly across the table, the pale skin of their faces flickering white between the candles. Ceren looked quite spartan on his plate, which looked quite spartan with fresh vegetables and a thin piece of meat. What Ceren didn't know was that the food on his plate had to be enough for an entire lower-class family. He didn't know what it looked like in District 9, he could only look out of his window into the garden. Ceren knew, of course, that the district was responsible for grain production, but he had never seen a field where anyone worked. "And we are most grateful to the Capitol," he said. His father took the fork in his hand and ate what seemed more forced. His mother put her lips on his folded hands. A single tear rolled over her cheek.

"Demetra, I ask you. Not before Ceren," Scyon harshly admonished his wife, turning to Ceren. "You have to apologize to your mother. She's thinking about District 2 and her sister getting married," he said, without blinking. It was a lie, but Ceren slightly slaps her back and turns back to his supper. His mother moved the fork trembling to his mouth. She knew ceren's chances of being drawn existed and it made her ready. Demetra had not waited twenty years to lose her only child to the Hunger Games. Ceren thought there would be a eulogy on Capitol Hill tomorrow, not the harvest. He knew nothing of the reality and cruelty of the world against which Scyon fought so bravely. She looks at her husband. His eyes were tired, his skin had become wrinkled and his white hair made him look like a frail old man. It made her sad that tomorrow she might lose not only her son, but also her husband. Scyon had tried to shield his family from the district's rebels to protect them. He was a hero who deserved a gold medal. She sat at her son, who innocently ate his vegetables and drummed with his feet against a chair leg. Ceren was too good, too innocent for the games.

"Mum, are you going to praise her tomorrow?" he asked, looking at her with big brown deer eyes. Demetra rused himself and forced himself to answer. "Of course. We must show our gratitude to the Capitol, so the marketplace will be full. Keep with me, Ceren." Her son nodded dutifully. Hard to believe that he was already fourteen. He behaved like a nine-year-old, but Demetra was not allowed to rebuke him. Scyon had expressly forbidden her from reprimanding his son. At home in District 2, Ceren would be a laughingstock. There, the children trained for the games to win and had arms that were wider than Ceren himself.

Hopefully, he wouldn't shy away from the crowd, like last year. He didn't know any other youths in the district and no one knew him. He was the phantom who was allowed out every year for one day, then disappeared again until the next reaping. "Mum, I'm fed up. Can I go to my room?" asked Ceren, the plate only half emptied.

"Of course. But please come down again before you go to bed," she said, as he walked into the dining room with a smile on his lips. Demetra waited until he closed the door, then she put the fork aside.

"Scyon, we have to talk. That cannot go on with Ceren. He behaves like a nine-year-old. In District 2, we would be a laughingstock," she said sharply. Her husband skillfully ignored her and shoved a piece of meat in her mouth so as not to have to answer. His face was red. Demetra knew the conversation would end in a dispute, but she couldn't let the issue rest. It swirled over her head like an annoying bee in search of nectar. "We're not in District 2, he's a good boy," Scyon said, putting the cutlery on the plate.

'I've never said Ceren isn't a good boy. He is patient and friendly and has enjoyed a better education than the other children here. But that is not the point. He must finally learn about the Hunger Games. We have to do it..." Scyon interrupted her before she could finish the sentence. "We don't have to do anything. Ceren will not be drawn. Next year it will not be drawn and the years after that will not be. So please keep your mouth open now, you're going to give me a headache," he said, getting up to turn out of the conversation. Demetra got up so quickly that the chair tilted backwards.

"I'm not going to have that conversation with you again, Scyon. Ceren needs to get to know the place where he lives. Is the district really as dangerous as you say?" she asked skeptically. District 9 was not a rebel base like District 8. Red spots formed on Scyon's neck. "Listen to me, Demetra. When I say that it is too dangerous for Ceren and you, then so be it. The rebels are just waiting for an opportunity to strike. We're not going to give in now," he replied forcefully, not even taking a breather.

"One day we have to. Ceren will eventually notice that he is not demarcated because of his immune system. When the day comes, then..," Demetra said, clutching the table until her hand began to hurt.

"If the day comes, I will tell Ceren. But the day is not today and tomorrow it will not be. And now please, I have to rest after the long day at work," Scyon replied, settling into the upholstered armchair.

Ceren liked adventure stories. He wished nothing more than to go on his own adventure. Perhaps he could show the rebels in District 9 that the Capitol will defeat them. Ceren, the hero, yes, that was his dream. He brought only two companions. He couldn't take his parents with him, they wouldn't even leave him on the doorstep, but a girl and a small dog would help him bring justice. Tired of the whole readership, Ceren folded the book and looked out into the night sky.

Anya Hanzar, 13, District 8 female, 1 month before the reaping

But there's a side to you
That I never knew, never knew
All the things you'd say
They were never true, never true
And the games you play
You would always win, always win

~~ Set fire to the rain by Adele

Anya was annoyed by her family. Every day after school, she forced herself to go home, knowing that she was being welcomed by a reworked Anne who had been chasing her little brother through the house all day. There would be disgusting bread to eat, which Anya had to choke down. There was just dinner and she was about to turn it around.

"Give me the salt back!" - "Be still at last!" - "What was it like at school today?" - "Anne, please don't look at me so grimly"

Anya put her head in her hands and prayed that her parents would finally get through. She had a headache. Anya would like to yell at them all so that she could eat in peace. With a groan, she dropped the spoon into the thin vegetable soup, which reminded more of a broth with a carrot in it. Anya held her ears and prepared for the voluminous finale. As if at the command, her little brother Adam began to cry. He hit the table with his little fists, his face turned red from screaming.

People always said it would be a blessing to have a big family. Anya wanted these people to realize how damn wrong they were. A large family was annoying and exhausting. Someone was constantly arguing with someone, the money was always scarce and there was no peace. Anya wondered what caused her parents to have five children.

When her siblings' screaming was supported by a drumming from the apartment above them, her father intervened. "Today was a busy day for everyone. Let's communicate with each other like normal people."

Immediately Allie and Aran began to protest that they were normal. Adam had calmed down and was fed by her mother, even though he was five. Anne turned a blind eye when Anya's gaze hit hers. She was tired of the long shift of work in one of the many textile factories. Anya couldn't blame her. The school had been exhausting and after doing the homework, which was far too much by the way, Anya wished herself even some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, she had to leave the house for this. She doubted that her parents would let her go after dark, so Anya ate the thin vegetable broth. Her father had just calmed her siblings, so she jumped up and went into the hallway to get ready. Her mother followed her with little Adam on her arm. "Where do you want to go so late? It's going to be dark soon," she demanded to know, looking grumpy at the dirty boots. "Don't pretend to be interested in me. I'm back at ten. Good appetite yet," Anya said, slamming the apartment door behind her. With quick steps, she walked down the stairs when the family tangle was back in full swing.

It had cooled down. District 8's brick houses didn't insulate well, so it quickly became very cold in the apartments in winter. Anya slammed up the collar of her jacket to protect her face from the cold. She turned around the corner towards the warehouses for finished clothes. Later she would also work in one of the factories, something else was out of the question, because her family was not one of the richer in the city and could not afford training for an administrative job. Anya didn't want to work in a stuffy factory. Anne had told her that there was hardly any airing, that it was hot and that there were only short breaks. The factories sent the last smoke of the day into the air, which through the darkness looked like part of the Milky Way. She had learned at school that there was more than just Panem. There was a universe with different planets, with an infinite number of stars that could be observed with a telescope in District 5. But the sun was most fascinating. It was a huge gas ball that could cross the planets and break into thousands of small suns at any time. Aran always said that Anya reminded him of the sun, as she broke into thousands of feelings at the slightest disturbance and the devil broke out.

By the time she arrived at the abandoned warehouse, Liane and May were already there. Anya had many friends, which was because she was quite extroverted and could easily reach out to others, as opposed to her siblings, who showed her true character only at home. May waved at her and held up a white paper bag that could be seen in the dark like a flashlight. "Sorry, the dinner lasted longer than I expected. Hey," Anya hugged her friends.

"Who screamed the loudest today?" asked Liane, giggling, and put two more effervescent tablets in his mouth. Anya smiled into the darkness. "I think it was Allie," she said, "but Aran was close to breaking the record." The girls divided the remaining tablets. "Where did you get the sweets from? At the Cavallos, they're overpriced," Anya asked curiously, thinking back to the day six years ago when she ate her first sweets.

"Look, they're so colorful! I bet the blue balls taste like blueberries!" Allie pressed her face against the glass pane of the shop window. Her warm breath left the disc fogged. The girl held her little sister's hand and slung the brown scarf tighter around her neck. Allie didn't seem to mind the cold, but Anne and Anya stood close together, knowing that they would have to sleep under the thickest blankets and in their warmest clothes tonight to wake up in the morning. Fine ice crystals had formed, which were now slowly falling from the sky. "It's called snow," Anne said to Anya, who looked very threatening with big blue eyes in the grey sky, which was caused by the toxic exhaust fumes of the textile factories. Anya was no older than six or seven years old, but snow wasn't often in District 8. Today was a special day, not only because it was snowing, but also because it was only a few days until the beginning of the new year. Her parents were given four bags of a little bit for her to show the children that the Capitol could delight them once a year. "I can see Mummy!" exclaimed Allie, who was now waving through the window. "Hopefully, she won't take the sour lemon candies that you can barely chew," Anne whispered, dragging Anya off the sidewalk. The girls didn't have to wait long, and their mother came out of the store, the bag full of small gifts and purchases that had to be enough for the four holidays. Her mother swiped Allie's mouse-brown hair and pulled three bags out of her bag. "They are for you. But don't eat all at once, otherwise you'll get stomach pains," she admonished the girls, smiling at her three daughters. Anya's father had walked with the elder Aran to the train station to find some wood for the oven in the kitchen, so that the family would at least have something warm to eat. Completely fascinated by the bright colors of the different candies, Anya did not notice how her sisters and mother pulled her along.

That evening, Anya had hidden under the duvet with her thickest socks and a far too big sweater by Aran. She had tried every candy and had concluded that she liked the soft foam kisses best, closely followed by the bright yellow lemon candies that Anne couldn't stand. Anya had hardly dared to come out of the bedroom the next day, her face pale and her stomach heavy from all the sugar she had eaten the night before and always her mother's warning not to do that. Anne had pushed her back to bed and suppressed laughter when Anya complained about the abdominal pain.

"My neighbour had bought it for her granddaughter, but she died unexpectedly two weeks ago from pneumonia. So, she gave the candy to Cindy and me," Liane explained sadly, and Anya suddenly thought no more about her fondest childhood memory, but about the cruel reality. District 8 was not as beautiful as in the Documentaries of the Capitol, which always ran for harvest, but gray and oppressive with children who died far too young because their parents could not afford the expensive treatment. It made Anya angry, but at the same time there was a relief in her that she would never be this girl.

At least that's what she hoped for.

Another chapter finished!

What are your thoughts on Anya and Ceren? Did you like the way I introduced Ceren? Any tips what I could do better? We are halfway through the introductions, with only the boys from 2, 3, 5, 8, 11 and 12 and the girls from 6,7, 9, 10, 11 and 12 missing. That leaves six chapters until the first train ride!

Love, Athena