Caio is Four oops. He was sent as a Two but got shuffled.


Atticus Scipio- District Two male

They picked Orpheus. They really picked Orpheus over me. Overpheus, with his worthless "trapping" and "strategy" skills. Careers don't set up a snare and wait ike frightened cowards for a Tribute to blunder in and then kill them while they're helplessly tangled. We take what we want and we kill people to their faces. The committee said they were looking for something different and a more "measured" approach. Spineless, every one of them. I could kill half a dozen Tributes before Orpheus had one of his wimpy "traps" set up.

I was seething as we set up for a grappling session. The results had been announced last week, and everyone was either fawning over Orpheus or glaring at him jealously. I, the second-place volunteer, was forgotten entirely. No one had ever really been fond of me at the Academy. They were either intimidated by me or vainly trying to intimidate me.

"Let's see what you got, volunteer," I said, squaring off to Orpheus.

"You know we're not allowed to," he said. Runner-ups weren't allowed to fight the chosen volunteer, for obvious reasons.

"Scared?" I asked. I'd picked my moment carefully. After the volunteers were announced, supervision was down. The instructors didn't need to waste time training non-volunteers, so a lot of them spent most of the day preparing strategies and stuff for the Games. The only one with us now was Domitian, the student-teacher in his first year. He'd lost his own chance to volunteer to a stress fracture, and he didn't mind at all if someone else had to share his misery.

"Orpheus is yellow," Catullus called from the ring of already circling students. Others joined in, spoiling for a fight. The Career pack wasn't named in vain. Careers were a pack of wolves, always jockeying for position and more than ready to cut someone else to step on top of them. If either of us got hurt, that meant a bigger chance for someone else.

Orpheus scanned the crowd, his big strategic brain running numbers. The volunteer families were the richest in Two. Even when their child lost out, they still felt the District duty to donate sponsor funds. There were eyes everywhere. If people thought he wasn't able or willing to defend his position, that would be it for him.

Orpheus launched into attack, trying to get the first move. I met him in the middle, and we scrambled for position. In all fairness, he knew more about fighting than I did. I preferred to use a spear and not let my enemy get that close. But I wasn't trying to win.

After a few exchanged blows, I shoved him back, tangling our feet together so we both fell. I wound my elbow around his arm and twisted as we fell, so we landed on our sides. His arm was twisted awkwardly, and his body weight came down on it where it lay across my arm, like a branch bent over a knee.

I smiled when I heard the noise and felt the wet release of bone. Hurting people didn't give me any particular evil pleasure, but getting what I wanted did.

Orpheus kicked away from me and stood, holding his arm. "He did that on purpose!" he screamed.

"Fell over?" I asked, still smiling. Everyone in the room knew he was right, from the student teacher checking Orpheus' arm to Donnatella looking at her new District partner with barely hidden distaste. My father knew, too. But he was on the committee, and he'd get me out of it, like he always had before. It didn't even matter if I'd done it now. Orpheus couldn't go, and I was the next best bet. Simple as that.


Donnatella Bronos-Palassaqua- District Two female

The only people I could really be myself with were my best friend Phoebe and my daughter Kallista. I wanted to cry as I looked at them, all of us so happy and together. Careers said they didn't have silly emotions like that, but who did we think we were fooling? The only reason we volunteered was for emotion. Either we liked killing or we cared so much about the opinions of others that we pretended to. I was more in the first camp than the second, though I wouldn't say I really liked killing. I liked training and fighting to be my best. The Hunger Games was the purest, highest-stakes way to do that, but if it wasn't for the Games, I would have gone my life without killing anyone and not felt robbed.

"I guess I have something pretty important to tell you," I said to Phoebe. Kallista didn't look up from where she was putting together magnetic blocks.

Phoebe stiffened and didn't move her eyes from where she'd been looking at Kallista. "I guess I know what it is," she said.

"Yeah," I said. Phoebe had always been supportive of me, and we'd both suspected this would happen. I knew she didn't disapprove or hold it against me. She was just scared, like any best friend would be.

"I know you'll do well," she said. I felt the slightest pain that she hadn't said 'I know you'll win', but that was reality. All of us, except those few that pass arrogance into insanity, know that.

Phoebe was the first one I'd told. Not my parents, who forced their childhood failures onto me and wanted me to live their dreams. We hadn't been the same since Kallista was born. You don't get over your mother throwing you and your daughter out and calling you the shame of the family (but still wanting you to volunteer). I hadn't told Kallista's father, either. It would have been hard to, since I hadn't seen him in three years. He wasn't ready to be a father, and never gave a thought to if I was ready, either. But that was a long time ago, and for all I resented him, I had to make a few allowances. Few of us were very mature or self-aware at fourteen.

"Are you still up for it?" I asked. We'd danced around the subject before. There was no place in the world better for Kallista to stay than with my best friend.

"Of course," she said. "I'll watch Kallista as long as we need."

Those five words echoed long after the room was silent. Either for a few weeks, or forever. No in between. I felt the same guilt I'd wrestled with for months, wondering if I should wait another year. Those precious memories of her mother would mean everything to Kallista. But that was it. If I knew she had that little bit extra, I might lose just enough concentration and determination. It was funny how happy I was that I'd had her at fourteen. At three years old, Kallista was just old enough to remember me, but young enough not to know how scared she should be.


Atticus: 5'11, Muscular. Short cropped brown hair, Light brown eyes, Scar on cheek. White skin

Donnatella: 5 feet and 10 inches. She's mixed race, with light brown skin, black eyes, and her black hair is in a pixie cut.

I am evilly pleased that Atticus is unlikeable, since Atticus is such a trendy name right now with everyone all claiming they LOOOOOOVE To Kill a Mockingbird and thinking they're so unique listing the book literally everyone in America has read and most love. Nothing against To Kill a Mockingbird- it's a great book and I honestly think it's deeper than I understand and I should read it again- but get some individuality, people. Love To Kill a Mockingbird because it's great, but Atticus is gonna have four other kids in kindergarten with the same name. And that's my unasked for opinion on the name Atticus. Another fun fact: my experience of To Kill a Mockingbird is also colored because instead of identifying with Atticus like most people say they did, I identified with Boo XD