Apollo Courfeyrac- District Eleven male
It was the day before the Reaping. Aside from the obvious, that was always a big deal in my gang. It was usually someone or other's last, since they were all older than me. That person was the celebrity of the day, enduring jokes and roughhousing from the rest of us jealous dummies. This time I was the star, but no one was happy. I was the star because it was my first Reaping.
"They never pick little kids," Harvest said, and he ruffled my hair. "It'll be just another normal day for you, squirt. Except standing in a crowd for an hour. I'm glad that's over for me."
"If they pick you, I'll volunteer," Rufus said.
"Yeah," I said, and I smiled as he hugged me. We all knew Rufus was full of it. He was the biggest and strongest of us and he'd never lost a fight that I'd seen, but he still thought he was the biggest baddest guy in all of Panem, and that just wasn't true. But he believed it, and he was a good guy, and we liked him, so we pretended. No one really volunteers for their friends, but it didn't matter. I wouldn't get Reaped.
"What do you think happens to all the kids who die?"
Of course it was Silas who asked. He was the "thinker" of us. Most of us would probably burn out in a gutter somewhere, but Silas would be the one who made it. He'd invent something or write a book so deep even the Capitol would like it.
"Heaven, I guess. That's where good people go," Harvest said.
"What if they're bad? Like the Careers?" Silas asked.
"None of them go anywhere," Rufus said. "You just die."
What's it like to die? Everyone dies. We all think we won't, and I still thought I wouldn't even though I knew everyone thought that. That was something to think about when you were old, not when you weren't even a teenager yet. I was interested in throwing rocks, and playing with my friends, and maybe girls but not really yet. Important things.
"Whatever," I said, and kicked a can at the wall of the alley we were huddled in. "Let's go see if the bakery took out their garbage yet. This is dumb." I ran off down the street, listening until the others started following. We weren't going to find any answers the rest of humankind hadn't turned up, and that kind of talk was boring. There was stuff to do in the world. I couldn't concentrate on a useless discussion when there were so many things to distract me, like stickball games or thrown-out bread.
Wisteria Rose- District Eleven female
It was funny that someone who loved children so much only got pregnant herself because of an accident. I just really liked a little "adult entertainment", you know? Once you can't concentrate enough to count anymore, four shots… might actually be seven shots. I didn't do that every day, or even every month. I wasn't an alcoholic, but it only takes one time. I really wasn't an alcoholic now, since I hadn't drunk in more than eight months.
"Mom really thinks I should marry Wicker," I said to my brother's grave. "He's a really nice guy. Of all the fathers I could have picked, he's not bad at all. I just don't want to marry him. I like seeing him and being with him- obviously, ha ha- but not every day. Not waking up next to him every day and eating every meal with him and never being able to go where I want whenever I want. He's a good guy, but he's not for me." It was funny how resistant I was, since I was a total shrinking violet and had never so much as flirted with anyone else. I just didn't want to marry him, and that was that. He'd never asked me, either. He was committed to our child and intended to give support, and I thought he would agree if I said I wanted an "official" family, but he hadn't made the first move. I guess we both knew that marriages were built on love, not sex.
Trillium didn't respond. I visited my brother not for any logical reason, but purely an emotional one. I knew he was dead and didn't get anything out of this, but I missed him and I still loved him. It made me feel better to visit him, like we were still together. I felt like he'd be sad if I forgot about him.
"I got you some flowers," I said, laying the wildflowers on the flat stone. I hated how senseless it was. The Capitol had a cure. The Capitol had a cure. Leukemia should be in a history book next to smallpox, and it could be. But we weren't really people to them. What does it matter if a District kid dies? He's just a District kid.
Walking back into the orphanage after leaving my brother might have been a painful reminder of the kid who wasn't there, but instead it always filled me with warmth. All those little kids, all my little charges, were always so happy to see me. They ran around every room of the old orphanage, filling it with light and movement. When I talked to them, they didn't twist their words and hide behind fake faces. They had simple needs and talked plainly. I understood them so much better than adults. Gala might have been the orphanage mistress on paper, but I was the one the kids came to.
I laid a hand on my protruding stomach as I watched them play. The baby may have been an accident, but it's not a bad thing. Look at all these wonderful kids! Soon I'll have one of my very own. I'm going to be a mother, and I can't wait.
Wisteria: Wisteria has dark brown skin and medium brown eyes. She is short and slender, but not underfed. She has poofy, frizzy black hair. She is thirty-four weeks (between eight and nine months) pregnant and has a large baby bump.
Apollo: he's just small and dirty. He's around 5 foot, and has dirty blonde hair that's almost never combed. He has icy blue eyes, which are small and narrow. He's not desperately skinny like other kids his age in the district, but isn't too healthy.
