Chase Farlay, 16
District Eight Male

There's only sixteen kids in my class this year.

We all joke that it's a curse that our group has lost so many to the Games in the past few years, but that doesn't erase our uneasiness about the whole affair. Five kids have been reaped for the Games in the past four years.

That's five more than you expect in your class of twenty-four students.

Most of us don't take the curse seriously, laughing it off whenever it's brought up by an outsider of our group. Six's education system groups twenty-five students into a class for the rest of their lives in the public schools around our district, and all are stuck together until they graduate in the twelfth year. So we've known each other for most of our lives, some bonding while others keep to themselves, unwilling to make friends in case their families have gang ties or whatnot. Worse things have happened from people befriending those from unruly families.

But when we all approached our twelfth year of age, we started watching our classmates disappear. First it was the intelligent Velvet, pierced through the throat by the girl from Eleven, then little Thomasin, thrown into the fourth Games to make it to the final eight. Minutes after the interviews, we watched her fall into one of the traps in the arena. The coroners couldn't piece her back together for a wake. The boy was from our class as well and he died suddenly, barely living long enough to say a word - the girl from Four cut off his tongue before he could finish his sentence.

Chanelle was chosen for the fifteenth, and she lived for quite a long time - until she was betrayed by her district partner. Tomas Spoole's kept to himself ever since the Games, but he doesn't have to go outside to feel the hatred from so many of Eight's citizens who had known Chanelle. Then Nehemiah was chosen for the sixteenth, and died quickly in the bloodbath. It's quite frightening to some - we lost three more people who had paid to transfer out of the 'cursed class', and another studied hard enough to skip a grade just so he didn't have to be in this class.

Most of us just attend the funerals and pretend that we don't mind, but we all see the spots where those extra desks should be. We know that we've been chosen to die more than anyone else. Some knew the dead more than the others, but we all feel the loss. We feel it in our bones that we could be the next to be asked to step forward at the reapings.

But as for me? I've never minded the curse. After all, how could it affect me? I'm one in thousands, a small little dot in Eight.

Or so people have said. I like to think I mean something, that I'm important. After all, why wouldn't I be? Why couldn't I be? As long as I want it, I can achieve it. Dad always says that I shouldn't be so cocky, but I don't listen to my old man very much.

Where would the fun be in that?

I'm sitting on a worn set of steps, leading up to a stalwart grey factory looming in the light blue sky. The smog has cleared away today, allowing the bright, beautiful yellow sun to shine down on the dark-red school that I attend with the throngs of kids around me. Patches of green grass are scattered around the fence that surrounds the school, little pieces of hope dotting this grey landscape. I don't notice the broken pieces of Eight, but I see the new, the good, the things that I want to see. If we all focused on the good, there would be nothing wrong with the world.

Maybe that's why I'm so happy. I only focus on the light.

I tear myself away from the steps and stand up while stretching my arms, turning towards some of the other kids who are waiting for the school to open it's gates and let us all in from the chilly breeze. I flash a grin at one of the girls, making sure that my hair is slicked back. A thorough pat from my hand reveals that it's all in place, and I saunter over to the girls. "Hey, ladies. I can't seem to see the sun today, you're all so bright."

A girl with dingy red curls and ripped, worn jeans giggles, and I crack a grin. "Pretty nice day, don't you think? Although you all put it to shame."

"Go away, Tracks," Winona shouts from the end of the line of giggling teens. "Or put your money where your mouth is. Bet you that you don't know any of their names."

"Although you certainly should know mine," I smirk, ignoring Winona for the time being. She's harmless. "Tracks, in case you missed it the first time around."

"You mean your silly nickname you gave yourself in the first grade?"

"Well, you still use it," I throw back at Winona, who looks like she's been patted on the shoulder - smug and prideful. "I think Winnie's a little judgmental, ladies. Too much perfume does that to a girl."

"Then stop spraying yourself with deodorant!" Winona smiles at me, knowing that I don't have a comeback. "You're a cheapskate, Tracks. Run back to your band and go play a tune that's as cheap as your deodorant. I can smell that you got from the sesterce-store. It smells like you don't care about it"

"Well - well, it hasn't kept you away, has it?" I grimace inwardly at the weak reply. Winona gets the best of me every time, doesn't she?

Winona stands up slowly, short blonde hair spilling over her sharp, angled cheeks as she walks towards me. She grabs my arm and traces one brightly painted nail up it, enjoying the tingle she makes me feel. She always likes seeing me blush. "Maybe you should stop thinking that people follow you, and realize it's because you chase after them."

Then her lips touch mine, and all I can see for a second are a million shooting stars before she steps away, that infernal cocky smirk still hovering on her lips. "Checkmate, Tracks. Until we feel like trying this game once more, then."

Then the bell rings and she vanishes into the sea of students hurrying to class, leaving me to stand and stare.

I'll move soon, I'll shake it off soon. I won't let myself be late to class because of a kiss that I've had with Winona thousand times over this year.

But first, I want to take it easy.

A/N: And that's another intro! We're starting to move more quickly with this story, aren't we? Anyways, I hope you liked Chase, or Tracks as he likes to be called. A big thanks to paperairline for this guy, and I hope I did him justice!

By the way, the little curse thingy won't be very big in the story. I just wanted to explore what could happen to a class in a phenomenon such as the Games and what coincidences may occur XD Don't obsess over that! Look more at the dialogue!

Anyways, keep submitting! I did a poll on my profile asking if you guys were okay with opening the District Four Female as a pov slot because I've had so many good tributes and want room for as many as I can, and the majority (aka 5/8) said yes! So now, the District Four Female is a new spot to fight for! Go submit :DD

I'm hoping to keep churning out intros, so keep submitting until the 10th of February! I'm loving all of these tributes so far :3

That's all I got for you! I'm doing pretty well with updates for this, so let's see if I can't move this quickly for the next bit! That'd be great :3 Go submit, review, and whatnot, and I'll see you with the third intro. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ