Chantilly Darling, 16, D8F - 5:40AM, 01/07/207

Chantilly opened her eyes while the sky was still dark. Barely, she thought, Cree and Brennon are probably awake already.

As the lights from the surrounding textile factories crept in through her window, she gazed at the trophies and ribbons on her wall. When confined to her room, they shone like diamond and lapis from 1. Next to her siblings' awards, they looked like coal from 12 and denim scraps even the cattle owners from 10 threw away.

Chantilly put on her morning outfit, laid out in her small room the night before, a perfectly chosen shirt and leggings. Colour coordinated, obviously, and stylish enough for no one to judge her, but breathable and less valuable. She threw her hair into a high ponytail - not a hair out of place - and jogged to the nearby basketball court as the sun rose.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up!" Brennon hollered.

"Did the queen need her beauty sleep?" Cree joked.

"Oh, boo-fucking-hoo," she responded, raising her eyebrows at her older brothers. "I've been up before you for every day since last Reaping, so don't pretend you're so much better than me."

"I'm not pretending I'm better than you, I am better than you." Cree said.

"And I'm better than this one, so you're the weakest one here," his twin added.

Chantilly shot up. No one insulted her. No one told her she wasn't perfect.

Especially if they were right.

"You know what? Screw you guys."

The game began as it always did. The boys knew that preying on her deepest insecurities would unleash a fighting energy in her, despite how harmful it was. It helped that it was also fun for them, too.

Chantilly planned every move with precision. She played with her brothers constantly, they were very predictable at this point. Fake right, break left. What else was there to get?

She used her small stature to evade Cree, and used the perfect amount of force to get the ball into the net.

Just then, the eldest of the Darling siblings, Saisha walked by.

"Saisha!" Chantilly said, panting. "Want to join to make even teams?"

"No, thank you. I don't have to worry about being Reaped anymore. The rest of my life doesn't revolve around sport and exercise. Frankly, it never did. Dad's passion can't control mine anymore," she replied, in her classic, long-winded rant.

"Uh, while you don't pay rent, yeah he does." Brennon corrected.

"And what are you doing here anyway?" the older twin asked.

"If you must know, one of my designs involves athleticism to appeal to certain audiences. I don't expect you to understand the appeal of wearing things for art, but, if you want to get into Capitol design, it's vital."

"Yes, dressing kids up for slaughter, my favourite pastime," Brennan said sarcastically.

"By the way, dearest sister, we're in 8. What makes you think we can get into Capitol industry?"

"Well, if someone wins the games…"

"Nope, not it!" all three of her siblings said simultaneously.

"Mother knows people, you know. She has a lot of connections."

Chantilly, who had been awfully quiet until this point, was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "At least the three of us will succeed by merit and not by taking advantage of Mother."

Saisha left in a huff, as the other three Darlings finished their game, ignoring the looming danger of the Reaping.

Chaz Keenum, 17, D8M - 8:00AM, 01/07/207

Chaz slowly walked over to his best friend, Trae's, house, his stomach heavy from his filling breakfast. He knew he was lucky to have enough wealth to be full, but he hated the constant pressure. Another discussion on taking over the business.

Didn't they understand he wasn't good enough? They had seen his grades, he was never good enough.

Trae's house came into sight, the sandy roof sticking out amongst its neighbours. He picked up his pace in eagerness, and knocked repetitively at the door.

"Dude, shut up! I'm here." Trae looked at his friend, exhaling and rolling his eyes. "What do you need?"
Chaz leaped onto Trae's couch. "I just had another talk on stocks, bonds, and golden parachutes, and how I'm expected to run the company and I am going to die so I might as well just Volunteer. Actually I won't because obviously I would have to have a death wish but what is that compared to flunking all my math and economics classes? But the inevitability of death," he wiggled his eyebrows, "is a constant. Wow! One singular math thing I remembered. What was I worried about? I'm only almost a complete failure."

Trae, suppressing his laughter, spoke in dulcet tones, contrasted Chaz's spiraling speech. "Dude. Deep breaths."

"Breathing? Oh, no, I can't do that either. Haven't you heard? I'm on track to fail 8, Panem, and my family's legacy."
"You know," Trae said, recognising the necessity of a distraction, "how about we write a story?"
"Despite how I can't write?"
"Says the top of the class in English?"
Chaz glared, but his eyes were shining with humour. "Once."
"I hate you, I will kill you I-"
"Is that your word, sir?"
"Die."
"Once die…" he said slowly, pretending to piece together a coherent sentence.
"Once Dian. I don't know what you heard, but it was certainly Dian," Trae insisted. He was happy that this seemed to be helping Chaz calm down.

"Disappointed"
Spoke too soon.

"Her"
"Family"
"Cat." Trae said, trying to steer their story in a less realistic direction.

"By"
"Creating"
"The"
"Worst"

"Business"

"Colour scheme" was Trae's only idea to distract Chaz from his breakfast discussion.

"Hey, that's two words! You cheated."

"Excuse you, I'll have you know that 'colour scheme' is counted as a phrase in Panem's language. As we both know, phrases count as a singular word in this game."
"Yes, tell me more about the bylaws of telling a story one word at a time. I can't wait to see documents on the matter in fluent legalese." Chaz said in a Capitolite accent.

"Legalese isn't a language in the Capitol, Chaz."
"You don't know that!" he said defensively.

"But it's not. Why would the Capitol make up a language?"
Chaz switched into his mock-Capitol voice immediately. "It's because we are infinitely better than you peasants." he spat. "We don't care about any of you, just fill the void in our souls with your meaningless companies, even though we could have your head for not satisfying us with our frivolous demands, and you'll bring shame upon your family for the rest of time, if there's any left, that is." Chaz hunched over, beginning to sob. He took quick, shaky breaths. His body shuddered with his all-encompassing self-hatred, and his tears coated his face.

Trae jumped beside his best friend.

"Bro. Bro. Do you think your parents would be so prepared to put you in charge if they didn't think you were ready?"
"That is exactly what they're doing!" he squawked.

"Hey, hey, dude. It's over six months away. I'll bet that by then you'll have some epic superpowers that'll let you be the ultimate corporate king."

"And epic shades?" Chax joked, the river of his tears slowing.

"Those are the only powers I think you'll need, dude."
"Thanks, bro. Oh fuck!"
"What's up now?" Trae said, maintaining his calm demeanour.

"We have to get to the Reaping,"
"No, no. District One will be starting now, though."
"How do I miss that every year?"
"Maybe next year. You never know."
"Do you want to watch theirs?"
"Why would we when I just finished the autobiography of President Sfortzand?" Trae said, trying to avoid putting greater stress on his friend. He didn't need another spiral on the most stressful morning of the year.

"Finally! Took you long enough!"

So, it's been a while. I could give an excuse but frankly I don't want to but I am truly sorry to leave you all hanging, especially contemporarydancer2 and Tyquavis, the amazing creators of Chantilly Darling and Chaz Keenum our tributes for District 8! Unfortunately, I procrastinated starting this chapter and it is shorter (the actual Reapings get very repetitive and I think that's what I may have been dreading) even though I adored these character submissions (still do). I love my insecure rich kids. Hopefully I wrote them well enough! I'm a little rusty, guess that happens when you leave for four months. Happy Easter if you celebrate, Happy April if you don't, and I'll hopefully write our District Nine soon! (Don't bet on me though, I'm no Troy Bolton). Also, check out my IRL friend, applecustardbun's story Black Cat Origins on AO3 (it's in the universe of MCU Spiderman and she has a consistent upload schedule).