Anthony Morgan (18) D4M

Today was the day and I was surprised I managed to get as much sleep as I did last night. The knowledge that the Reaping was today, the knowledge that I would be the one on the stage and off to the Capitol. How could I fall asleep when I was just too excited?

Eventually the sunlight was streaming into my window and I couldn't keep my eyes closed any longer. Time to get up and get ready. And get some breakfast; I was starving. If I got out early, I could spend some time chatting up the babes before the Reaping, scoring a date here and there. Who didn't want to cozy up next to a future Victor?

My parents were already awake. I gave them both a hug and sat down next to my mom. She reached out and gave my hand a squeeze, which I just returned. It was her little nonverbal way of telling me she was proud. That little squeeze from her said more than a thousand words ever would.

My return of the gesture was filled with meaning as well. It was a promise from me to her. A promise to come home as a Victor and make the Capitol pay for everything they did to her. Once I got my way, she'd never struggle in silence again. She'd never be their slave.

Dad handed me a plate full of fruit, scrambled eggs and a bagel with smoked salmon on it. "Eat up, kiddo. This is the last homemade meal you'll be getting for a while. Also, put on something a little nicer than that. Remember, you're representing our district."

I stared down at my outfit. "What's wrong with it? It's sexy. Girls love a guy in slacks."
"Girls love a sharp dressed man even more."
"I'll believe it when I see it."

Mom laughed silently, and then her hands started flying around in weird signs I never really understood. I had tried picking up the complicated hand language of the Capitol's tongueless servants, but I never got past a few words. Normally, Mom pantomimed her words out in a way that made more sense to me.

Dad just watched her hands. "Right. Don't worry, Kirstia, I already have something." From his pocket, he pulled out a watch on a chain that took up his entire palm and handed it to me. "This was a gift from my own father when I was your age. And now, I'm giving it to you as your arena token. Promise me you'll take good care of it."

Guys don't get a lot of chicks carrying around a piece of junk like that, but chicks did like a sentimental man. I stuck the watch in my pocket anyway. "Thanks, Dad. I'm gonna head out for a bit. See you guys at lunch."

Despite the Sun beating down on me, it wasn't even that hot. Regardless, the idea of splashing around on the beach was pretty tempting. I didn't really need to brush up on my training or anything because I was set. Spending more time next to scanty bikinis rather than sweaty training gear sounded way better.

"Hellooooo ladies! Who wants to go swim with a Victor?" I ripped my shirt off and threw it into the sand, to the pleasurable shouts of the swimmers beside me. Oh yeah.

I wonder what the broads in the Capitol are like.

Ceto Preston (18) D4F

Day in and day out I trained at the Academy. Week after week and year after year. I poured my heart and soul into the one thing that I was better at than my brother. And what did I hear? He isn't trying as hard. He doesn't care as much. He could do better. I was tired of it. I was sick and tired of hearing that the only reason I could possibly be better than my brother was that he didn't care to be better than me. As if he could do half the things that I did in the Academy. As if he was half the fighter I was.

I tried to let it run off me. I tried to pretend their words didn't hurt every single time they were repeated to me. After long enough, I'd harden myself enough that it would be the truth. I wasn't entirely right. The words still mattered and I still found myself glaring or wanting to punch a wall whenever my family pulled crap like that. I just also realized that that anger didn't define me. And that it was really satisfying to throw a trident at a target to get my anger out.

Over and over again I whacked a dummy with my trident. I could tear one to shreds but it would mean nothing. A dummy was a dummy and a human was a human. Doubt loved to trickle into my soul while I ripped apart the stupid mannequins. They didn't bleed. There should have been blood packets hidden in them. How would I react once a real human was falling apart in my hands? Tearing apart cotton didn't train me for that, and neither would fake blood, but at least there'd be some of the same shock the first time. At least I'd know how I'd respond to that surprise.

"You. Are. The. Best." I punctuated each word with another stab of my trident. I noticed the weird glances pointed my way and ignored them. Let them think I was some cocky, overconfident jerk. Let them think I thought I was the top of the world. I knew what I needed and that was positive self-talk. I could get called weak at any time by anyone. Only I would tell myself the truth: I was the best female fighter in Four, very likely the best at all. That was why I was chosen to volunteer. I had earned it.

By the time I put down my trident I was practically dripping with sweat. Some quiet part of me noticed that my hair was ruined. I looked terrible. Still, I could shrug that off. You're gorgeous and you're the best, I insisted to myself. I let myself breathe after hours of panting. I'd worked myself to exhaustion and I'd do it again the next day. I could day it every day until the day before the Reapings. I could last that long. On the day of, on my one break day, then I could worry about looking my absolute best.

Big shoutout to 66samvr for helping me write this chapter! Friends are where it's at