Varys Ballantine, 14, District Nine
So things have gotten a bit out of hand.
It started off innocently enough. When their families combined, Varys just wanted to be friends with her new step-brother. But Florian was quiet and closed off, and getting so much as a word out of him proved to be impossible. That was until she hatched a plan.
"Wouldn't it be funny if we messed around with our mom's crops so that people think creatures from another planet are coming after us?" That was the first time she could remember seeing him smiling.
They ended up executing their plan by raiding the pantries for salt and sprinkling loopy patterns into the crops. By the time that it became noticeable that certain plants weren't growing, the two of them had almost forgotten about the whole thing. Varys expected that a few weird people would believe in their story about aliens visiting and then before long they would all forget about it all.
What she didn't expect was for the entire district to go into mass hysteria. In no time at all the whole district was in a frenzy, with people preparing for the incoming apocalypse or invasion or whatever.
The first few days it was funny, but it didn't take long for Varys and Florian to start feeling guilty. The whole district is in chaos, so many people are terrified, and it's all their fault.
"What are we going to do?" Varys asks, sighing. She has her head on the ground, staring up at the pale blue sky.
From the corner of her eye, she sees Florian shrug. With his sandy brown hair, he almost blends into the wheat stalks, and how perfectly still he's able to lay just adds to the camouflage.
She flips onto her hide, resting her head on her propped-up elbow. She scrunches up her nose thoughtfully. "I mean, even if we want to tell everyone that it was just a joke, how do we do it at this point?"
"I'm not sure they'd even believe us," Florian says.
She sighs. "Yeah, probably not."
"They'd say we're being mind-controlled by the aliens."
"Maybe we really are being mind-controlled by them."
Florian hums thoughtfully. "Like, we actually did discover aliens but now they're trying to make us think it was a prank we did to keep themselves secret?"
"It's possible."
"If they want to be secret, why would they draw crop circles?"
"If they didn't want to be a secret, why would they draw crop circles?"
Florian shrugs again. "It doesn't really make much sense when you think about it."
"Yeah," Varys says, shifting back onto her back so her head faces the sky. "Try telling the rest of the district that."
The two of them go quiet for a little bit. Normally she would already be getting antsy by now. Her feet would get the wiggles and she'd start bouncing up and down, needing to move or talk or do something. But with everything that's going on, she's started to appreciate the peacefulness of just doing, saying, and thinking nothing at all.
For Florian, it's no change from the normal. He could sit in a field all day long just looking up at the sky with a dopey look on his face. He's kind of a dope. But he's her dope, the only person that she can actually trust with anything. It's strange. They've only known each other for a few months, and been friends for even shorter than that. But already it's hard to remember what life was like before. She never really was able to hold onto any friends, and she knows Florian was the same way. If only it didn't take them destroying the sanity of all of District Nine for that to happen.
"Varys?"
"Yeah, Florian?"
He sits up and scratches the back of his neck as if he just had a sudden realization. "Our moms are so gonna kill us when they find out, aren't they?"
She nods her head. "Yeah."
"Darn," Florian says, laying back down. "I was really hoping I'd have a fifteenth birthday. That always seemed like a good age to be."
She and Florian have to keep their heads down at the Reaping. It doesn't help much. They're bonafide celebrities at this point, and the moment they arrive at the town square a million questions are being shot their way.
Especially with her and Florian's moms there, Varys is too embarrassed to answer any of them, so she's grateful when Florian is the one to respond. Most of them are the same silly questions they've been asked before.
How did you find the crop circles?
Did you see the aliens?
Where did they come from?
Have the aliens tried to contact you?
Florian responds with his usual verbosity by shrugging, shaking his head, shrugging again, and shaking his head again. Eventually, they manage to push their way through the crowd, and Varys' mom grabs her and wraps her in a tight hug.
"Be safe, sweetling."
Varys doesn't have anything to say in response. She's afraid that if she opens her mouth to talk to Mom then everything will spill out. The whole stupid mess that she dug them into. She can't stand the idea of seeing her mom disappointed in her.
Instead, she walks over to Florian, and grabs him by the arm, dragging him away from his own mom who's in the midst of repeatedly kissing him on the forehead. Florian doesn't fight it, gratefully allowing himself to be dragged away.
Neither of them says anything to each other while they wait in line. Florian winces when they prick his finger. Varys barely even notices the needle. It's Florian's turn now to lead them through the crowd. The kids don't mob them as aggressively as the adults did, but there's still the feeling that everyone's eyes are on them. She never would have thought that she would dislike getting attention this badly.
The mayor takes the stage, and he looks incredibly confused when a few people from the crowd scream out at him to tell the truth about the aliens. He glances back at the handful of victors with him on stage, and they both shrug bemusedly too.
"Well, I don't know what that's all about, but let's read the Treaty of Treason, shall we?"
For once, Varys is glad to hear that speech. It's a nice distraction away from everything else, and she starts to hope—naively, probably—that the Hunger Games will be enough of a distraction that everybody will just forget all about the whole aliens thing. Then once things settle down enough she can finally come clean and tell the truth to her mom, and they can have a good laugh about it, and things can go back to normal.
And she likes to make fun of Florian for living with his head in the clouds.
The speech ends all too soon, and when the escort takes the stage Varys buries her head in her hands. Florian awkwardly pats her on the back.
"Well that's just unfortunate," he whispers.
"Hello, District Nine! My name is Disoura Valentine!" She flourishes with the announcement, showing off her full appearance. Her skin is dyed a fluorescent green, her black hair is in a bun, and her dress is made of some sort of shimmering, strange-looking material. A few murmurs rise in the crowd, but they're quickly silenced as she announces she's going to be selecting the tributes.
She must sense that the crowd is a bit uneasy, because she decides to save time by grabbing both the slips and announcing she'll read them both out together. Varys still has her head buried in her hands when she calls out through the microphone.
"Our tributes for the 68th Hunger Games are Varys Ballantine and Florian Sawyer!"
She almost laughs. She lifts her head up tentatively and looks over to Florian, who looks entirely unsurprised and unbothered. While it might be a sign that she's catching onto the hysteria of the district, she actually feels relieved. One way or another, she and Florian were going to escape this whole disaster and just get away from it. No more guilt about the problem they created, or fear about what's going to happen when the truth comes out.
She shrugs at Florian and extends a hand for him to take. That's how the two walk up stage, hand in hand, calm, and ready to finally put this all behind them. But of course, it couldn't be that simple.
From out in the crowd, somebody shouts, "They reaped them because they found out about the aliens! They're trying to silence them! The aliens are already in control!"
Varys feels dizzy. She almost falls off the stage, but Florian squeezes her hand tight and practically drags her up the stairs, the entire district turning to mayhem behind them. The escort looks thoroughly confused and is glancing between the two of them, the mayor (who's equally confused), and the Peacekeepers that are moving into the rowdy crowd.
"Oh great, we started a riot," she moans in a quiet voice.
"It could be worse," Florian says meekly.
A glass bottle flies in from the crowd and smashes against the floor a few inches away from the escort. She shrieks. Varys almost falls to the floor, but a wall of Peacekeepers suddenly surround her and Florian, keeping them upright as they move them to the Justice Building.
When they push them into the building and move to close the doors, Varys catches one last glimpse of the town square. Bottles and bricks are flying every which way. Peacekeepers are moving into the crowd with batons. The mayor is still standing on stage and looking around like a lost puppy. The door slams shut, and Varys buries her head in her hands.
"I hate District Nine," she mumbles.
Umber Carraway, 18, District Eleven
He wakes up to the sound of shouting. The sun is already high in the sky, pushing through the windows and glaring as it reflects off the dusty glass. His back cracks as he sits up and lets out a long yawn. He rubs his eyes and dangles his legs off the edge of his bunk. Nobody else is still in the sleeping room. Probably off getting involved in whatever commotion woke him up.
On queue, the shouting goes silent as glass shatters in the next-door room. Then the shouting picks back up, and the unmistakable sound of a fight begins. He's a green bandana, so he should technically go check to see if it's his gang that's involved in the fight and needs help. But that isn't the type of person he is.
Umber had the gargantuan misfortune of being placed in the craziest, most dysfunctional orphanage in all of Panem. Somehow, this single orphanage has skirted along with what seems to be zero oversight or hierarchy from the government or any sort of adult. With that power vacuum, all sorts of different gangs have started vying for control. Hundreds of kids, and a half-dozen different gangs marked by the color of your bandana.
It gets old really quick.
He gets along though. All it takes is a low profile and the ability to keep your head down, and he's managed both of those just fine so far. Aside from Helio, he doesn't so much as talk with anybody, and even Helio isn't exactly someone he'd call a friend. They're a part of the same gang and have an understanding that they'll watch each other's backs. Beyond that, the two of them are on their own.
It would be a lie to say he liked things the way they were. He didn't like having to isolate himself all the time. He hated that he had to put any of his dreams or ambitions on pause while he struggled to stay alive until he saved up enough money to get out of the orphanage and as far away as possible.
But he was close. He's spent the past few years as a runner, delivering messages throughout the orchards and fields without getting caught by Peacekeepers or other gangs. He's done his job well, and it's put enough money in his pocket that he's close now to getting out. One last Reaping. A few more weeks. Then he'll be free.
The ongoing fight makes it easy for him to slip out of the orphanage. He passes by Helio on his way out the door, and the two exchange a nod. Helio is sitting on the steps fiddling with some string and a needle, but he stops when Umber passes by.
"You see what's going on?" Helio asks.
"Nope, it woke me up though."
"Think the Blues and Reds are going at it. Haven't bothered to figure out about what. Figure if it isn't the Greens, it doesn't really matter to us, right?"
Umber shrugs. "Can't say I'm dying to know."
"Right. Oh, by the way, Jax wanted me to tell you to deliver a message. He says to let M'kail know that a patrol will be investigating the Red Orchards storehouse tonight and that the goods need to be moved to the Pink Hills ASAP."
"Sure, I was headed that way anyway," Umber says. He picks up an empty backpack from the coat hook and slings it over his shoulder.
"Anything exciting, or just more work?" Helio asks.
Umber tucks his shirt in and ensures his shoes are tied tightly. "Neither," he says simply. Their conversation stops with that, Helio nodding tersely as Umber jogs down the steps two at a time.
The sun is blinding when he steps outside, and the heat rushes at him all at once. It must be over a hundred degrees out, and his route takes him right through the fields where there isn't a square inch of shade to be found.
He sighs deeply, pulls the hoodie over his head, tightens his bandana, and sets off.
It was a productive morning all things considered. M'kail was upset, but he's cool-headed enough to not shoot the messenger. When he explained that his team was busy all morning and he had nobody to move the supplies, Umber was able to offer his assistance for a pretty penny. M'kail jumped at the opportunity, and was so happy with how quickly he got the job done that he threw in a bonus.
The rest of his morning was a wash, but it was worth it. He had to run straight to the town center after he dropped off the last of the shipment, but he made it with plenty of time to spare. He may look a bit out of place at the Reaping, drenched in sweat and with his hands on his knees gasping for air, but that didn't bother him.
He counted the money while he waited in line, and the news that counting delivered was enough that nothing could possibly bring his mood down. Thirty-four Denarius. Enough to buy a train ticket to the western settlements and find work and a place to live on the plantations. It wouldn't be a perfect or dreamy life, but it was a chance for him to be able to put his nose to the stone and work for a better life.
All that was in his way was this final Reaping and he could be on the next train. He could even go tonight if he wanted, and by the time the morning sun peeked up over the horizon tomorrow, he'd be living a new life. A life where he didn't have to keep his head down out of fear of being maimed or killed.
The Reaping seems to go by slower than usual. The sun doesn't help. It's directly overhead, beating down on them. They're all packed in tight, shoulder to shoulder standing on the black concrete. Up on stage, they're basked in shade, and the feeble old mayor fans himself off as he slowly and meticulously reads through the Treaty of Treason.
Eventually, though, it's over. The escort seems just as uncomfortable as the crowd is, and so he sprints up to the microphone and quickly ushers the mayor to limp away. The man barely looks any older than Umber, and his makeup is melting off his face thanks to the copious sweat dripping down his forehead and cheeks. He wears a tuxedo with all sorts of different fruits and vegetables decorating it.
"Hello, District Eleven! It's a hot one today, so let's get this over with so we can all go and find some shade, how does that sound?"
For the first time in Umber's life, the crowd actually seems happy about something a Capitolite says, not that the man is paying enough attention to notice it. He's already scooping the names out of the bowls and jogging back over to the podium.
"Our female tribute is Ashani Okoro!" He shouts out.
A little girl who doesn't even look old enough to be Reaped steps out of the crowd. She's got scars and pockmarks dotting her face, and she's wearing an angry scowl, her hands forming into fists and a murderous look in her eyes that she sends the escort's way. It's subtle, Umber wouldn't notice if he weren't so close to the stage, but she's shaking.
The escort doesn't even bother asking her a question, instead jumping straight into reading the next name, the slip already in his hand. "And our male tribute is Umber Carraway!"
It takes him a moment to realize what just happened. By the time he's able to process that his name has been called, someone behind him has given him a light shove, and suddenly he's standing in the open, just a few short steps from the stairs.
He's standing there completely still, and he tries to keep it that way. It's too late to show any sort of reaction. The cameras are watching. He can think about this all later. For now, he just needs to keep his face blank and not show any emotion.
It ends up being surprisingly easy, and in no time at all, he's up on stage. He's suddenly grateful for the hurry that the escort is in because he's not sure if he could bring himself to formulate a full response to a question if he was asked.
"District Eleven, your tributes! Ashani Okoro and Umber Carraway!"
The two of them shake hands, but Umber isn't paying any attention to the little girl. His eyes are stuck on the luxurious Capitol train waiting on the tracks just in the distance.
Hi everyone! I'm so close to having a full 24 tributes and just wanted to say thank you again to all the awesome people who sent in characters for me to write! A big thank you this time to David12341, ladyqueerfoot, goldie031, and TheAmazingJAJ for Florian, Varys, Umber, and Ashani, they're all amazing! Only one more Reaping chapter before all twelve districts are done!
-Avery