District 2 Reaping

Journey Sideras, District 2 Male, 18:

I let out a giant yawn when I wake up and stretch my body. Sitting up, I immediately wince. My muscles are aching from all of the training I did the night before. The practice dummy still stands next to my bed with a giant dent in the skull from where my fist collided with it. I had gotten a little bit too hyped last night and put too much power into my punches. I gingerly stretch my bruised fingers. The purple knuckles are painful, but there's nothing better than a little pain to wake you up.

I stumble out of bed and walk over to the mirror propped against the wall. Glancing into it, I inspect my appearance; my black hair may be a little messy, but it looks messy in a tousled, intentional way. My jaw has a bit of stubble on it, but it only serves to make me look tougher. I suppose it will suffice for the reaping. I'm not eager to hop into the shower this morning, especially since I'll get the chance on the train to the Capitol.

When I open my bedroom door and step out into the hallway, I'm almost knocked to the ground as Darius slams into me.

"Watch it!" I mumble as he passes by me without a second look. Following right behind him is my sister Charlie, wearing a toy Gladiator helmet slightly too big for her. She holds a wooden sword, which she swings wildly as she chases after Darius. The tip of the sword accidentally swings across the hallway and hits the lamp. When I see the lamp start to tilt, I leap across the hallway and catch it right before it hits the ground.

Charlie's teal eyes quickly flicker to see what had transpired. When she sees that all is well, she leaves without so much as a thank you. I sigh as my siblings run into the kitchen. They're so careless… They're lucky I'm the one my parents focused on training, because they'd be screwed in the Hunger Games. They may enjoy watching it and celebrating each year, but they'd be in trouble if either actually volunteered. Darius likes to say that he wants to volunteer one die, but I don't think he's serious. We all know that I'm the Sideras with the fighting talent.

I've spent pretty much every year of my life studying the Hunger Games. Even when I was a baby, my parents would let me watch the Hunger Games with them as a way of conditioning my mind to live and breathe the Hunger Games. As soon as I became old enough to walk, my dad placed a wooden sword in my hand and started teaching me to fight. All of my life has led up to today… the reaping for the 189th Hunger Games.

I'll be completely honest; when I step into my kitchen, I expect more of a greeting than I receive. My parents are fixated on the television, which is currently playing clips from some of the most iconic Games, while sipping their morning coffee. Darius and Charlie run in circles around the breakfast table, jabbing at each other with their wooden weapons. I roll my eyes at their immaturity. I know they're 7-8 years younger than me, but surely I wasn't that childish at their age, right? Darius thrusts his toy spear across the table at Charlie, but it hits the sugar jar instead, spilling sweet crystals all over the table. My parents are too enraptured by the television to notice.

I start to move to clean up the sugar, when a sweet voice stops me in my path.

"I've got it."

I'm absolutely baffled to see my cousin Callie enter the room and begin to sweep up the sugar.

"What are you doing here?" I demand. Callie's not an unusual face in the home, but seeing as she's planning on volunteering this year as well, you'd think she'd want to spend her last morning with her own family. Of course, Callie doesn't think this will be her last breakfast at home. For some reason, Callie is under the impression that she has the chops to win this year, even going against me. I've seen Callie fight; her technique is good, but she doesn't have the guts to deliver the killing blow. She always hesitates when she thinks there's a possibility she might harm her sparring partner.

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here?'" Callie inquires.

"I mean, why aren't you with your actual family?" Callie wrinkles her nose at this comment.

"You guys are my 'actual' family, too. I promised I'd take Charlie and Darius to the reaping."

My eyes dart between Callie and my siblings, completely baffled. "Huh? Why?"

Charlie and Darius take this moment to cease sparring and hop over excitedly. "This year Callie's volunteering!" Charlie chirps, as if I didn't already know. "She's going to win the Hunger Games!" Callie smiles slightly at this.

"I'm volunteering, too, Charls," I explain.

"I hate that nickname," Charlie gags. "What do you mean you're volunteering? Callie's volunteering. If you go in with Callie, you can't win."

"I sure as hell can," I brusquely insist. "But thanks for showing me the support I need."

"No problem," Darius grins, oblivious to my sarcasm. As Charlie is distracted, Darius takes this opportunity to jab her in the back with his spear. Charlie yelps and charges back at him with her sword raised high. And just like that, the chaos is resumed.

Callie Sideras, District 2 Female, 17:

In order to win the Hunger Games, you must be a monster.

That is the philosophy I've grown up hearing. It's why nobody expected me to excel when my parents enrolled me in the training academy. My parents simply started training me with my other siblings, determined that at least one of us would volunteer and win the Hunger Games. Out of seven children, all of who are regarded as some of the best trainees in District 2, one ought to bring home the win. Who would have expected sweet little Callie Sideras to have the best chance of that?

You see, I have this thing where if I want something badly enough, I will go to hell and back to accomplish it. From everything from nursing an injured bunny back to health to becoming the chosen volunteer for the 189th Hunger Games.

Everyone tells me I'm a natural at training, except for one flaw - I'm no monster. My parents, my siblings, my trainers, they all tell me that in order to win the Hunger Games, I must toughen up and become heartless. But I don't believe in that philosophy. I'm going to prove to them that I can win the Hunger Games and still be a good person.

When our escort draws the girls' slip of paper, I can feel everyone's eyes on me. They know that I'm the chosen volunteer, but I know that a few still believe that I'll chicken out. All of my fellow trainees continue to underestimate me, even when I've defeated every single one of them in sparring matches. You'd think by now, they'd catch on to how badly I want this.

"Reina Cristovar," our escort, Rook, reads. Even though I'm anxious to volunteer, I don't immediately do so. My parents told me to wait for Rook to ask for volunteers, as it will make me look patient and polite for the sponsors. It's a little bit nerve-wracking having to wait, since I know plenty of girls are eager to take my place if I don't go through with it, but the academy requires them to stay silent until they're certain I will not be volunteering. The academy always wants their best trainees entering the Games, and they get very upset if a less-able trainee takes the chosen volunteer's place.

"Are there any sponsors?" Rook asks, scanning the crowd eagerly.

"I volunteer!"

I step out into the aisle so that he can see me; I'm kind of short, especially compared to a lot of my fellow trainees, so I was completely hidden in the crowd. Rook raises his eyebrows when he sees me, but beckons me up regardless. I know what he's thinking: I don't look like a typical volunteer. My small stature and discreet muscles are very deceiving. I step up onto the stage beside Rook, and wave cheerfully at one of the cameras zooming in on my face.

"Hi! I'm Callie Sideras and I'm going to be the victor of the 189th Hunger Games!" I chirp. Am I playing up my cheerful side a bit too much? Maybe. But if the rest of the tributes think I'm dumb and underestimate me, it will make it so much easier for me to take them out when the time comes.

"Fantastic," Rook says, though I can tell he's already doubting my capabilities. "Now, let's find out what lovely man will be joining Callie."

Rook hurries through the drawing of the male name—we're all aware whomever it will be is going to be replaced by a volunteer within moments.

"Brock Quintus." The words barely leave Rook's lips before Journey comes barreling out of the eighteen-year-old's section.

"I volunteer!" he bellows, bounding up the stage. I can't help but judge his impatience. I'm sure his parents gave him the exact same advice mine did, Journey just chose not to listen. Journey stands on the opposite side of Rook and grabs the microphone from him. "I'm Journey Sideras, and I'm going to be the victor of the 189th Hunger Games."

I already see Rook's eyes lighting up when he recognizes the surname. His eyes dart between us, likely trying to decipher whether we are siblings or if it's some sort of coincidence. We don't look related—Journey's hair is wavy and black, whereas mine is a neat brown pixie cut. His teal eyes are a completely different shade than my hazel ones, and he has no problem fixing his face in a constant scowl while I always try to look friendly.

"Are you two related?" he finally asks.

"Cousins," Journey explains gruffly.

"Ah. Well, that should be interesting. District 2, I present to you your tributes for the 189th Hunger Games: Journey and Callie Sideras!"

The crowd claps politely. There's always some jealousy over the volunteers in our District, which leads to low enthusiasm initially. Usually the District brightens up to its tributes as the Games progress, and if one of their tributes returns home, they're immediately enveloped in warmth and praise. As soon as Rook decides the crowd has clapped for an appropriate amount of time, he steers us back into the Justice Building.

Rook directs me to the first door on the right. I take a step inside and a bunch of Peacekeepers slam the door shut behind me. The room is nicely decorated, but if I'm being completely honest, it's nothing unfamiliar to me. My family has always been quite wealthy, so I'm used to the extravagances of the upper class. I take a seat on the leather couch, but I'm far too excited to relax. In an hour or so, I'll be out of District 2. Even though my upbringing was posh and nice, I've never had the freedom to leave the District and explore Panem. I would love to one day see each District and explore the wilds bordering them.

The door opens and my family floods in. I can barely acknowledge their entrance before I'm crushed in a giant group hug. My brothers are cheering, my sisters are singing some sort of Hunger Games celebratory folk song, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see my parents crying.

"I'm so proud of you, Callie," my mother sobs, pushing my siblings aside in order to wrap her arms around me. "Our family finally has a Victor."

"I haven't won yet," I remind her, even though my family's enthusiasm is infectious and I'm already getting confident.

"Oh, you will. It's only a week or two, and then you'll be our own little Sideras Victor," Dad proudly proclaims. My brother Brutus ruffles my hair, which would normally bother me, but today I accept the sign of affection.

My brothers all trained for the Hunger Games, as did my sisters, but I'm the only one who truly excelled enough to be chosen as a volunteer. The rest are either trainers or on their way to some other Games-related profession. Their dependence on me to win is almost unnerving. What if I do fail? They would be so disappointed…

"Just remember to keep a clear head," Maia says. "I know you sometimes let your emotions get the best of you, but just remember that we're all here, cheering you on."

"And don't be afraid to take out Journey if it comes to that," Belisarius says quietly. "Obviously, that situation wouldn't be ideal, but if you two are in the finale together…"

"I don't think I need to worry about that," I admit. "Hopefully another tribute takes him out."

One of the Peacekeepers guarding the door alerts us that our time is almost up. Each of my family members gives me one last hug and a piece of advice I've already heard twenty times, then leaves in a gleeful procession. Finally, I'm left with just my youngest sister, Riven. Riven is the only member of the family who doesn't care about the Hunger Games. She's by no means anti-Games, but she doesn't share the passion that typically runs in the Sideras blood.

"Just don't let yourself become a monster," Riven whispers in my ear as she hugs me goodbye.

Thank you for all of the reviews last chapter! These two tributes are courtesy of david12341. Which one do you prefer? Which do you think will do better?