Daniel Lyons, age 18
District 7 Male
My last year. I could barely believe that this was the final time I would be standing in these pens, waiting to hear the name called and praying that it wasn't mine. If I had survived all six years before this one, I could make it through. And even if I was reaped, I could make it through the Games. You just had to believe, and work hard.
There was a saying that my father told me right before my first reaping. As I stood, terrified, about to enter the reaping pen for the first time, he said to me, "Nothing worth having comes easy. If you're picked, remember that. Having a life to live if something you should fight more, Daniel." That stuck with me, and sport of became my motto. Nothing worth having came easy. Good grades, a good job, money, food on the table - it was hard work. But I knew that I could achieve all of this. It wasn't an unrealistic goal, not an impossible one, but rather one that only the elite could get to.
I was one of the elite. One that persevered instead of giving up.
My eyes sought out small details to keep me busy. I studied the girls on stage, trying to read their strengths and weaknesses. One of the sisters, the younger one, Spring, was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her head whipping back and forth. She had tons of energy, probably ADHD. That could help keep her alive from the speed in her brain, but against a Career, she may be doomed. And Ava was biting her lip, her eyes filled with desire. What's the one thing people do when they're not supposed to? Talk. She was definitely a people person.
I watched Eltheia walk to the opposite side of the stage this time, and pick a slip from the boy's reaping bowl. She strutted her way back to the microphone, and unfolded the paper. "The first male tribute is Mister Daniel Lyons! Where are you, Daniel!"
Nothing worth having came easy.
My life flashed before my eyes. I saw myself graduating, marrying a beautiful woman, working in the lumber yards, growing old, and peacefully dying. There was no happy ending to my story now. I pursed my lips, and headed up to the stage. If nothing worth having came easy, then I was going to fight out there. Fight and work hard simply to live.
Grover Rowan, age 14
District 7 Male
A boy next to me dropped something. Instantaneously, I stooped down, and picked it up; an old, dull coin, cold to the touch. I flashed a huge smile, and handed it back to him. "There go you!" I said cheerfully. The boy smiled dryly at me, then quickly turned away. I frowned. What did I do wrong? All I did was give him back something he dropped.
A slight bark caught my ear, and I craned my neck, hoping to see my dog, Charlie. Charlie had been my best friend every since I found him in an alley walking home from school. My parents were never really on board with the idea of having a dog, but they eventually grew to love him like I do. I wish I could say the same for my brother, Nairn.
Nairn was a slacker. There was no better way to say it. He always found excuses to skip work, rarely did well in school - but I didn't do much better - and preferred spending time with his friends and countless girlfriends as opposed to his family. My parents always told me that I would understand why Nairn was like that in a few years, but I didn't believe them. I would never be like Nairn! And, besides, no matter how many times he told me he hated me, I knew it was just sibling rivalry.
"Hey, Grover." Somebody elbowed me in the side, and I looked up. "Want to come with us to the yards after this? We're gonna celebrate." I grinned, overjoyed.
"Of course!" I said excitedly. "Consider me there already." A smile still on my face, I bounced my foot up and down, waiting for Eltheia to read the next name. She flitted her way back to the microphone, a piece of paper in her hands. She unfolded it, and read, "The next male tribute is Grover Rowan!"
No. My heart stopped, and the world started to spin. There was a loud scream piercing the air - Narin. I barely noticed. Somebody was dragging me away from my happy life, and shoving me into a secluded cage of death and suffering. A sob escaped my throat and the Peacekeepers wrapped their hands around my arms and dragged me to the stage.
The cage of death.
Thatch Rolland, age 17
District 7 Male
I studied all of the tributes on stage, trying to figure out the facets of each of their personalities. Nobody appeared the way they really were, especially during the reaping. Nothing was ever how it looked on the outside. Like my younger brother, Jack. He seemed like just a loud, obnoxious kid on the outside, but he really was considerate and kind. Or my friend Carter. He seemed respectable, but nobody would expect him to be doing drugs in the forests.
With me.
The only reason for it was pure boredom. Working in the lumber yards late at night or early in the morning can get boring. The only available resource to spice things up was the weed that grew in the fields. Carter, Jack, and I would smoke day in and out, trying not to be caught be the Peacekeepers or the older workers.
But going behind the backs of the Peacekeepers made me feel bad most of the time. They were only in the district to make sure nobody broke any laws, and I respected that. They were superior to everybody else, even the mayor, who was the most powerful district citizen. I was polite to them, and thought that everybody else should be polite to them, too.
I watched Eltheia as she daintly placed her hand into all of the slips, swirled them around, before coming back up with one in her hand. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. Be a good example. If I showed everybody that I wasn't scared, then maybe they wouldn't be nervous. People tended to look up to me as a leader, and leaders needed to set the standards.
"Thatch Rolland, our next male tribute!" Eltheia called, and my eyes shot open. A tremor passed through my entire body before I accepted the fact that it was my name. I've seen tributes try to run, to escape their fate, but it never worked. You just needed to accept that your name was called. And besides, with so many tributes, my chance of being chosen was much higher.
I made my way up to the stage, trying harder than ever to pick apart the other tributes' personalities. Nothing may be as it seemed, but soon enough, everything would be revealed. I would make sure of it.
Jackson "Jack" Grover, age 16
District 7 Male
I stood at the edge of Barker's group of friends, trying my hardest to reach my brother. To them, I was just Jack, just Barker Grover's twin brother who nobody needed. Maybe it was my temper, or my control freak attitude. Maybe it was because I wasn't as popular as my brother, or as smart, or as perfect. I tried hard to fit in with Barker and his friends, but they all had something that I couldn't click with. It was unbearable.
Carefully, I planned out my route to Barker. Even if I didn't always get along with him, he still was my brother: somebody to look up to, and somebody to make me feel better about myself during the reaping. Then, as meticulously as I'd planned it, I began my slow and steady journey to my brother.
Losing family was one thing that I wish I had control over. If it was up to me, my little sister, Linda, would still be here. She died at such a young age; she was only two when her brain cancer finally took over. Her death had made me realize that, no matter how irritating, family was important. Not as important as Barker may seem to others, but still important.
I bumped into somebody. The boy turned to face me, looking annoyed. He shoved me, and said, "Beat it, Jack. No one wants you here."
I felt my face heat up, and slowly, my hands curled into fists. I shoved the boy back. "You get the hell out of here," I spat. "No one likes you anyways. Go die." With that, I pushed past him, now fueled by anger rather than my earlier stealth.
The clicking of Eltheia's heels against the wood stage filled my ears when I finally saw Barker. I just opened my mouth to say something to him when I heard, "The fourth male tribute is Jackson Grover!"
Immediately, my head whipped to face the stage. I bit the inside of my cheek as I wiped my face clean of emotion. Trudging into the aisle, I bit my cheek harder, struggling to keep my straight face. Despite the fear and rage boiling in my gut, I couldn't help but think that my family was going to lose another child.
Arlo Beamer, age 16
District 7 Male
Some people near me were joking around and mocking everybody on stage. It took every ounce of my willpower not to verbally rip them to shreds. How could they be so rude and disrespectful today of all days? There was nothing funny about these people being sent off to die. But I was seen by all of these boys as the nice, rich boy. I didn't want to ruin that image.
I knew that I was lucky that so many people liked me. Seven wasn't the poorest district by a long shot, but we still had our fair share of poverty-stricken citizens. The wealth that my family came from may have inspired jealousy from others, but I was always honest and a generally good person to try and let others see more than just money when they saw me. After lots of work, it finally paid off.
But I still had to work in the yards, just not as much as others. I worked half of the time that everybody else in the district did, and rarely was it any of the brute force work. My job was to stack logs, or sweep up wood chips, or organize the rack of axes at the end of the day. That was where I met my friend Laya. She's special, to say the least. There was too much you could say to her that would hurt her, but she was normally comfortable near me.
"Hey, Arlo," one of the boys said to me. I smiled at him, showing him to continue. "Are you working tonight?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I have log duty, then I have to fix up the axes. Why?"
"Just wondering," he said with a vicious smirk. I looked away, heart racing. What was that look for? Was it something I did? I thought that I was well liked!
"Arlo Beamer, the next male tribute!" Eltheia announced, and my heart froze. Looked like I wouldn't find out what was going to happen.
Ever.
Aspen Birch, age 16
District 7 Male
I stood in the far corner of the reaping pen, away from everybody, practicing my punches. My clenched fist flew through the air, the exertion of doing it for so long causing cold sweat to break out on my neck and forehead. There was a fight at one of the district's fight club tonight, and one of the competitors was yours truly. And I needed to get in as much practice as I could, because tonight I was going up against The Toppler, one of the best fighters in all of Seven.
"What are you doing?" An arrogant voice crept into my ears, distracting me from my training. I looked up to see a smug looking boy with his arms crossed staring directly at me. Several comments ran through my head - from a feeble "sorry" to a sarcastic "fist fighting the air" - but I eventually settled on the truth: "I'm practicing for a fight."
The boy burst out laughing. "Who, you?" he exclaimed, doubled over. "Why would a goody two shoes like you fight anybody? Did they not do their homework?" I squeezed my fists tighter, trying to control my anger. Huffing, I turned back to the stage, but the boy wasn't finished yet.
"What, you can't take it, fighter?" He said the word mockingly, like it was something he couldn't wait to get rid of. "Hey, isn't your mom that stripper? Who's your dad, huh? The Head Peacekeeper?" I ground my teeth, hurt by the words. It was true, my mom was a stripper, a very popular one at that. But I didn't know who my dad was. My mom never told me. She thought it was better that way. But still, the truth was painful sometimes.
Eltheia dipped her hand into the glass bowl and fished out the last name. The entire crowd went silent, the boys praying it wasn't them, families hoping that their child was safe for another year. I wondered if my mother was hoping that I was safe, but quickly dismissed the thought. She abandoned my years ago. Why would she care now?
"The final male tribute is Aspen Birch!" Eltheia said excitedly. before they had the chance to escape, I briskly wiped the heel of my hand against my eyes, stopping any tears. I knew I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. Hearing your name for a death match isn't the best feeling in the world.
Wow, this chapter took forever to get out. Just a shade over three weeks. Sorry guys. I'm not discontinuing this, but I have reasons for this wait, which I'll explain below. But thanks to:
Candlefire45 for Daniel,
Fluffytail15 for Grover,
platypus27 for Thatch and Arlo,
Foxfaceisthebest for Jack,
and The Fire Blossom for Aspen.
I hope I did them all justice! This chapter's song is No Excuses by Meghan Trainor.
Alright, now on this chapter. A lot has happened in these weeks between updates. First off, I had a bout of everybody's favorite writer-ly self doubt, and I didn't even look at this doc for days. Then when I finally did, I read it and what I read was mostly trash, so in my destructive mindset, I deleted all of what I had and rewrote this. I still don't think it's my best work, but it's all I could manage to get out. Next, school has been pretty insane lately, with tons of projects and tests determining my class placement for next year (which gave me the worst anxiety ever) so I haven't just had the time to write. And what little time there was, I put it towards working on an outline for a novel I'm going to write. So, sorry guys, for the wait. I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner. Until then!
-D9T