Inner beauty should be the most important part of improving oneself.
-Priscilla Presley
The Butchery, June 16th, 9:00 am
Lydia Collins (18) POV
District 7 female
I try not to think about what's going on outside of my house. My father and I have an agreement- he does the slaughtering, another employee named John does the skinning and the gutting, and I do the sectioning. When I was younger, my father always told me that I would have to work in the butchery with him, and it was always something I dreaded. I never wanted to turn 14, because that's when I'd have to start killing animals. Thankfully, I never had to. My parents always knew about my love for animals, but because they wouldn't have to pay me to work for them, I still had to work. That's why we have the agreement that we have- they don't want to force me into killing an animal.
Even as a little kid, I enjoyed the company of animals more than I liked the company of people. Animals never go behind your back or talk about you. They're there for you when no one else is, and will love you unconditionally. When I was younger, I would sneak out to where the animals were and just stay with them, apologizing for their fate and promising them it would be okay.
John brings me a hen, plucked completely of her feathers, head cut off and innards pulled out. Pursing my lips, I grab my knife and begin to section off the breasts, legs, wings and thighs. When the better quality meat is sectioned off and put into labeled containers, I begin to cut off the neck, tail and other cuts that will be cheaper. Lastly, I strip the bones and put the meat scraps in a bucket that will go in tonight's dinner, and put the bones in a bucket for stock.
I go into the back to see if there's anymore animals coming my way, and find out that it was a short day due to the Reaping. Mentally exhausted, I retire upstairs to get ready for the Reaping. I go into the bathroom and wash my face. I showered last night, so I don't really feel the need to shower again because I wasn't really active or dirty, so I just walk into my room and shut the door. I sit on my bed and grab a brush from my night table, brushing through my straight brown hair until the brush goes through without a problem. I contemplate braiding it before deciding to just leave it down. I take off my brown T-shirt and jeans that I was wearing while sectioning the chicken and cross to my closet, pulling out a white dress with a blue sash on it. I reluctantly pull it on, struggling to zip it up since it's behind me. Eventually, I get it to work, so I step into a pair of blue ballet flats. Lastly, I put on a leather bracelet that my best friend Elliot gave me and walk downstairs to make some food.
I thunder down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, expecting to see my parents there. Instead it's just my mother, sitting at the table, eating a bowl of tessera grain while reading the newspaper. She smiles up at me, then goes back to reading.
"You look nice, dear," she says, scooping up another spoonful of grain. My mother has always been quite cold to me, wishing for a daintier daughter; one with less muscular arms, one that enjoyed dressing up, one that aspired to be a housewife. Instead, she got stuck with me, which she never failed to remind me.
"Thank you," I say. I walk to the cupboard and grab a bowl, then go to the stove and scoop the rest of the grain into my bowl. I open the fridge and grab the container of wild berries collected from a park nearby and drop some into my breakfast. I sit down at the table with my mom, reaching blindly for a section of her newspaper. My eyes dart over the words without really reading them, and before too long, my food is gone.
"I'm gonna go to Elliot's house," I say. "Me, him and Maddie are gonna hang out before the Reaping."
"Alright," she says. "Make sure you come right home after the ceremony. Your dad needs you to do some more work."
"Will do," I say.
I walk out of the kitchen door and down the street to Elliot's house. He doesn't live far away, so it doesn't take long to get to his house, but when I do, I find that Maddie is already there, the two of them sitting together in Elliot's lawn. I've always been a bit jealous of her. Maddie's mother is my father's cousin, and we're only two months apart, so the two of us have always been together- playing together as kids and hanging out as we got older. Maddie seems to be everything that my mother wishes I was- confident, beautiful and polite. I always spent half of my time either with her or Elliot, so I thought it would be a good idea to introduce the two of them, hoping they'd be friends so we could all hang out together, but these days, it seems like the would rather hang out with each other than with me- not a good feeling from your second cousin and the boy you have a crush on.
"Hey Lydia!" Maddie calls.
I smile, and start moving more quickly to get to them. "Hi guys!"
"We were just talking about the Reaping," Elliot says. "Are you nervous?"
"Not really," I say, adjusting my dress. "It's not super likely that either of you will get Reaped."
"You're not nervous for yourself?" Maddie asks, furrowing her brow.
"I would do fine in the Games," I joke, cracking a smile. "You two need all the help you can get."
The two let out a laugh that gradually fades, and suddenly, we're all slightly worried.
"What if-" I begin.
"Don't," Elliot says.
"But what if one-"
"Lydia, it'll be fine," he says. "It's our last year of eligibility. After this, we're safe."
"Elliot's right," Maddie says. "We're all gonna be okay."
The Burt Residence, June 16th, 12:45 pm
Edison Burt (12) POV
District 7 male
"Mom, can I go for a walk?" I call into the kitchen. My mother is cutting up fruit to have with our tessera grain- a special breakfast for Reaping Day. Despite this, I'm eager to get out of the house. It's not that I particularly like the outdoors, it's just that the stuffiness of the house combined with the most intolerable air of depression and anxiety that the day brings makes sitting still insufferable.
"I don't know," she says, turning around, raising an eyebrow. "Can you?"
"Yes, Mother, I can," I begin, looking up to meet her eye. My mother isn't all that tall, but I'm quite short, making her taller than me, much to my dismay. "And since you understood my intended meaning perfectly, I should add that colloquial irregularities are common in any form of speech. Your being particular over the distinction between can and may is purely pedantic, and arguably pretentious."
A confused, flustered look crosses her face, and I know I've won.
"Whatever," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Be back before the Reaping."
"I make no promises," I say, grabbing my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder.
"Back before the Reaping or you're grounded," she says, sounding more serious.
"Alright," I say, rolling my eyes once my back is turned. She won't go through with it.
Exiting the kitchen with a backpack slung over my shoulder, I walk through the living room to the front door. I turn the rusted doorknob all the way around and push the heavy wooden door open with my hip. Immediately once I walk outside, the sun is blindingly bright. Since the Reaping starts relatively soon, I don't have much time to do anything, so I just start walking at a lazy pace to the Square, glancing over my shoulder every so often to make sure my parents or brother, Rick aren't following me. They'd make me go home. The longer I'm outside, the more the sun begins to hurt my eyes, and for a minute, I try walking with my eyes shut, just keeping one foot in front of the other and trying my best to stay on the narrow dirt path.
Suddenly, I bump into something and stagger backwards, opening my eyes to reveal the large form of Saunder Lewis, a muscular fourteen-year-old who worked in the lumberyard. It seems that his sole purpose in life is making me miserable, but I've accepted that by now, and I can deal with it for the most part. Behind him stands his two close friends, Thom and Jastin.
"Whatcha doin' there, little guy?" Saunder asks, sneering down at me menacingly.
Wordlessly, I push past him. I know that if it came to a physical altercation, he could break me in half without even trying. In an argument, I would have the upper hand if he wasn't so intellectually inferior- I've tried on many occasions to best him in a verbal standoff, but to no avail, as he didn't understand anything I had said. Thus, so as to not waste my time nor his, I try to leave.
"Where are you going?" Jastin asks with mock sympathy. "Gotta help your idiot brother with his math homework?"
"Don't talk about my brother like that," I manage, weakly.
"Yeah, Jastin," Saunder says. "Don't make fun of Rick like that. It's a lot of work to learn what two plus two is."
At this point, I'm upset. It's not that I'm especially close with my family, but I still don't like it when people make them the butt of their jokes, just because I'm different from them. I search my mind for a comeback, but it comes up empty. There's not much I can think of in defense of my brother, because he really isn't the smartest guy in the world.
"I guess you'd know from experience, wouldn't you Saunder?" a girl's voice says. I look around for her- Willa Harvis, my next door neighbor. A girl of 13, she merely tolerates me, finding me about as insufferable as everyone else does, but she manages to put up with me, making her more of a friend than anyone else I've ever talked to. She walks up from behind me, quickly moving to stand in front of me to face Saunder, Thom and Jastin. "Why don't y'all just go home? If any of the three of you gets chosen today, do you really want it to be your legacy that you were mean to kids?"
Rolling their eyes and muttering something unintelligible, the three of them walk off, shooting venomous glares over their shoulders every so often. Once they round a corner and leave our sight, Willa turns to me.
"You really need to learn how to fend for yourself, Edison," she says, head cocked to the side and a hand on her hip. "I'm not always going to be there to protect you."
"Yeah, yeah," I say, adjusting the strap of my bag. "No need to clamor on. Wanna get to the Square early and hang out?"
"Sure," she says. We walk in silence for a few minutes before she breaks it. "You know, maybe if you tried to fit in more, I wouldn't need to get you out of these... Situations."
"I know," I say. We walk quietly for the rest of the way, and because we're not in much of a rush, we end up at the Square later than expected. To pass the time, I decide to ask her about the Games. "Who do you think will get Reaped?"
"Probably older kids with lots of tessera," she says thoughtfully. "They're the most likely. Unless someone volunteers, but I doubt that will happen."
"I don't think the people with more slips have that much more of a chance to get Reaped than the rest of us," I say. "There's so many names in that bowl that having a few extra say your name won't really make that much of a difference."
"I guess you're right," she says, pursing her lips. "I never really thought of it like that. Maybe I'll take out more tessera next year. You know, since it doesn't really make a difference."
"Oh, I definitely won't," I say, cautiously. "Even though it doesn't make much of a difference, I still want to greatly minimize my chances of being Reaped."
"Will you make up your mind please?" she asks.
"My mind is made up," I say. "It doesn't really make a difference, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it."
"Fine," she says, crossing her arms. For the remaining time before the Reaping actually starts, we stand together in silence until Willa goes to her appropriate section. I wait in my section alone, the first 12-year-old boy in the Square, waiting for it to be filled with people I know from school. After what seems like an eternity, Lola Redpath steps onto the stage, her hair split into two braids; one teal, the other light pink. Her body is covered in various tattoos of her favorite mutts from the previous Games. I notice that since this time last year, she's added a small tattoo of a Phoenix onto her upper left arm. She dons a bright green crop top, a hot pink tutu and blue heels, looking like a demented ballerina.
"Welcome, welcome, citizens of District 7 to the 227th annual Hunger Games," she says, smiling widely to show off her straight, pearly white teeth. "Last year's tributes didn't do all that well, so let's hope that our tributes this year do a bit better, yes? Now, as usual, we'll start with the ladies."
Lola wobbles to the female Reaping bowl and shuffles the slips around a bit before setting on one. She plucks it out of the bowl, unraveling it as she walks back to the microphone. She takes a deep breath before calling out "Lydia Collins!"
Zombie-like, a girl walks out of the 18-year-old section, her face stark white, her eyes focused on something that isn't there. She steps onto the stage, her white dress blowing around her knees in the wind in the same motion that her straight brown hair blows around her face, feet planted firmly on the ground and staring straight ahead. Lola asks for volunteers, and Lydia's brown eyes dart around the crowd to no avail. No one volunteers, and Lola moves onto the boys.
"Edison Burt!"
How was my name called?! I was one slip out of the entire District. The statistics... It makes no sense! A voice in my head tells me to run, so that's exactly what I do. I walk into the aisle calmly before turning on a dime and sprinting away. As I get to the back of the Square, trying to leave the way I came, two Peacekeepers grab my arms and lift me up, carrying me to the stage. They drop me at the stairs and I climb them, silent tears running down my face, finally accepting my fate. The only thing I have going for me is my intelligence, and that would get me virtually nowhere in the arena. Not to mention I'm only 12, which is basically synonymous with Bloodbath. Lola asks for volunteers, and just like with Lydia, no one steps forward.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the 227th Hunger Games!" Lola yells into the microphone. "Lydia Collins and Edison Burt. Tributes, good luck. And may the odds be ever in your favor."
The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm
Lydia Collins (18) POV
District 7 female
As soon as I get off the stage and into the Justice Building, my eyes flood with tears, and it's impossible to hold them back. I let them run down my face as a Peacekeeper takes me into a room. He pushes me through the door and closes it behind me, and for a while, I'm alone with my thoughts. My knees give out, and I fall onto the ground, sitting with my head in my hands and shaking.
Doomed. I'm seriously doomed. I was just joking around earlier; there's no way I can actually make it out of the arena in one piece. There's Career tributes, people who have trained their entire lives to be in the Games. Girls from District 1 who don't need any skills, and can win off of their looks alone. Boys from District 2 that can kill someone twenty ways without a weapon. People from District 4 with a furious vengeance to prove that they're not the weakest Career District. And then there's me. Average in every way, shape and form, possessing none of the abilities necessary to win the Games. Doomed.
The door creaks open and I quickly sit up, propping myself up on a chair. My parents both come in, my father close to tears and my mother as stony-faced as ever. I've always had a better relationship with my father than my mother, because he accepted me for who I was rather than trying to change me; to mold me into someone I wasn't. They both wish me well, offering me hugs and leaving without a fight when they're told to.
"Make me proud, Lydia," Dad says on his way out. "You can win this. I know you can."
"I love you!" I call.
"I love you too!"
Elliot and Maddie walk in next, and upon seeing each other, the three of us all burst into tears. Rather than speaking, because we all know it won't make it better- none of us are the best conversationalists in hard times- we all just sit on the couch, arms wrapped around each other, quietly crying into one another's chests. It's one of my saddest moments, but if this is going to be my last moment in District 7, I'm glad it's being spent with my best friends in the world. When they've been in there for a while, I look at Elliot.
"I love you," I say, holding his gaze.
"I love you too," he says, without missing a beat. I can tell immediately that we meant it in completely different ways, and that even after years of being completely in love with him, he still doesn't realize my discontent with being just friends. He hugs me again, and a Peacekeeper comes in, taking them both away.
Then, I'm alone.
The Justice Building, June 16th, 2:30 pm
Edison Burt (12) POV
District 7 male
All at once, it feels like everything I know was taken away from me. My world shattered, and the life sucked out of me. I sit in the Justice Building on a plush velvet armchair, resting my elbows on my knees and waiting for my family to come visit me. It takes a long time, and just as I'm sure that I'll have no visitors, they stop in. It's not a particularly sentimental or melancholy get together, as we all just hang around in our separate corners not speaking until a Peacekeeper takes them away. I'm wished good luck, then I'm left alone.
I'm alone for so long that I'm sure that it's because Lydia has more visitors than I do, and that I just need to wait for all of hers to leave. That is, until Willa comes in.
"I brought you this," she says, thrusting a sheet of paper folded into eighths into my hands. I unfold it, and see an image of myself in a space suit on the moon, surrounded by scientific equipment. Willa is there as well, perched on a space rock looking bored while I examine the surface.
"When I'm older, I'm gonna go to the moon," I tell Willa. I was seven, and it was the first time we played together. "I'm gonna go and make lots of scientific discoveries there, and be safe from everything, because President Baxwell doesn't rule the moon. You can come too, if you want."
"Did you draw this?" I ask her, glancing down at the paper, then back up to meet her eye. She nods. "I didn't know..."
"There's a lot you don't know about me, Edison," she says, turning around. "Maybe you'd know more if you cared to listen more than you talk."
With that, she leaves; leaves me sitting there, contemplating my entire life. The door opens again, and before I can think of who might be visiting me, it's Lola with Lydia in tow, telling me to board the train.
Told you it would pick back up in the summer.
Huge thank you to minhosgirl for Lydia and Author of Ice and Fire for Edison!
Questions!
1) Who do you like better, Lydia or Edison?
2) What did you like about them?
3) What didn't you like about them?
4) Any predictions?
-No one says no to Gaston!