Arkane Erransaw (16) D11M
I woke up and went downstairs to get breakfast. My entire family ate breakfast together, something I didn't like. I wasn't particularly fond of my parents, and they weren't particularly fond of me. Our mutual tolerance for each was enough for me, but we were going to eat breakfast together. Dad probably did it to keep up appearances, and to save time and cleaning in cooking and washing the dishes. For whatever reason, we were going to eat together, sitting awkwardly and talking about little nothings on the day of the Reaping.
"Hope you don't get Reaped, son," my dad said to me around mouthfuls of food. We could afford nice things, like eggs and bacon, for breakfast. Dad was a Peacekeeper, married to one of his own, giving us quite the income and quite the reputation. Every day he wondered why we weren't in Two, his favorite District, and every day I was too polite to remind him that it was because he wasn't supposed to reproduce. He was lucky to have a job at all with a son, and he probably only did because he worked twice as hard to make up for it, and because he never showed me any favoritism.
"I hope you don't get Reaped," my mother said, too, equally monotone. She took a drink from her glass and smiled at me, oddly enough. She wasn't one to show much emotion. She was one to drain it out, pretend not to have it. She had to work hard, too, proving herself after betraying her country, as she liked to call it. As if it was a big deal to have a kid. As if Panem was a country that was worth not betraying.
"I can say the same," I said jokingly. I was going to volunteer soon if I wasn't Reaped. My parents were jerks, abusing their power and being a plague upon the Districts, but I could do what I could to make up for it. I could save the life of one kid and make my legacy slightly better, maybe even win along the way and make people take out less tesserae. Wouldn't that surprise my parents? They wouldn't actually be rid of their son.
"I'll miss you if you do," my dad said, stopping my joking. He didn't usually say things like that. He trained me illegally, because he didn't want me dead, but he didn't pretend to like me. He didn't say that he liked my presence. He was just quiet, distant. He wasn't sentimental.
"Wouldn't we all?" I replied, still joking. I didn't always use my filter, but it was smart to use there. I was too polite to say that I wouldn't miss them, that I was going to volunteer next year to spite them. I was smart enough to keep quiet about that thing, even though I hadn't kept quiet about them being awful, about them wasting their power for evil. But I could keep quiet for that one thing.
In the end, it didn't matter what we said. It didn't matter that I wanted to volunteer. It only mattered that I got Reaped two years early, breaking my wishes and my parents'.
Amelia Gomez (17) D11F
Horses were good. Horses were steady, constant creatures, always trustworthy. They all had their own personalities, yes, and they could sometimes be in a bad mood, but they would have good reason. Maybe there was a thorn in their shoe, or maybe someone forgot to groom them. They weren't like humans, who would be in a bad mood because you told them their dress wasn't the prettiest thing in all of Panem, even though it was definitely the truth. They were simple and calm.
Even though people would definitely mock me for it if they heard about it, which I knew from experience, because some people had heard about it, I talked to my horses while I worked on them. I had to work quickly, because it was Reaping day, and I had to get every chore done early in case I never came back, but I still had time to greet them all. "Hello, Spirit," I said quietly to the horse my brothers had named. They didn't know that horses didn't like that type of name, and Spirit was nice enough not to show it. He was a gentle creature, ready to be loved by me with all of my heart.
"You're not ever going to laugh at me, are you, baby? You won't call me mean," I said, brushing Spirit's hair. He was a spirited horse, but he was still fun to be around. He loved being brushed almost as much as I loved brushing him. It was nice to have a simple task to do instead of worrying about the more important things, and it was nice to get away from the world for a while and just worry about being nice to a horse. He often nuzzled me while I brushed him, and he always wanted treats from me, so I always brought him one. Just one sugar cube.
Alicia walked out of Night's stall, the horse I had named when I was younger and dumber. "She's doing pretty well, but she needs some extra food for her pregnancy. And don't ride her," my sister reminded me, knowing how tempting it was for me to jump onto one of my favorite horses and feel the exhilaration as the wind flew through my hair. I couldn't do it when Night was pregnant, though. She had lost her last foal after I had spent many sleepless nights and failed tests trying to nurse it to health. I wasn't going to let that happen again.
I walked into Night's stall, opening the door and leading her to the pasture. "You need extra special care now, don't you? You're going to have the prettiest babies in the whole world, you know that. And I won't let Mom and Dad sell them like they sold Diamond, because I'll convince them they're my best friends, and they'll sympathize. You know that works," I murmured as I walked Night. They would be my best friends, like all horses were. The simple creatures were all friends.