Lillian Derwent, 17
District 4 Female
Seagulls circled in the air, squawking loudly, and occasionally swooping down in an attempt to swipe some innocent beachgoer's lunch. A few old men sat on an outcropping of rock, sun hats over their eyes and fishing poles by their sides. Lillian surveyed it all with a frown.
There were too many people hanging around, and they needed space! She and her friends had been planning this volleyball game for months! And she refused to reschedule again. They'd already delayed it for two weeks when Luna sprained her wrist. Lillian was getting her volleyball game.
"This sucks," she grumbled, scowling. Beside her, Lillian's best friend Winter giggled.
"Oh come on, it's not that bad," she teased.
"That's easy for you to say!" Lillian cried. "You don't even play. You're just the ref!"
"We could play soccer in the empty lot behind Mags' place," another voice suggested. The girls turned to see two sandy-haired boys jogging towards them.
"Hi Mick," Lillian said grumpily. "Hey Ollie." Her boyfriend Oliver laughed and kissed her cheek.
"Mick is right, soccer is a fine choice," he pointed out. Lillian leaned into his shoulder and sighed.
"Yeah, okay… I just really wanted to finally have some time on the beach."
"We could come early tomorrow morning," Winter suggested, but Lillian shook her head.
"I can't. They're still doing trials at the Academy to choose a female volunteer. My time slot is pretty early."
She glanced sideways at Oliver as she spoke. He was still pretty sensitive about the possibility of Lillian volunteering, and she really didn't want to fight with him today.
Winter seemed to pick up on the tension, because she nudged Mick back towards the road.
"Come on! We have to find Luna and claim the lot before someone else gets there."
There was a large patch of land just outside the Victor's Village, bordered on one side by large mansions and by Mags' flower gardens on another. But she always let kids play there, as long as you didn't squish her flowers.
They tracked down Luna along the way, and luckily, no one else was there. Luna tied her long black hair up and tossed the battered ball onto the grass. She'd found it floating in a tide pool almost three years ago, and their group used it for almost everything. Soccer, volleyball, and anything else they could think of.
Lillian had always been a bit of a dirty player, and she wasn't afraid to get dirty either, so by the time the game neared its end, she was covered in grass stains and mud. She brushed some light brown strands out of her eyes and looked to Mick.
While Winter was her best friend, and Oliver was her boyfriend, Mick and Lillian had always been an unstoppable team. She was the best soccer player in the entire school, and Mick was the best of all the boys. That was usually why Luna never let them play on the same team.
But apparently she'd been feeling generous, or maybe she was just as worried about Lillian volunteering as Oliver was, but she allowed Mick to be on Lillian's team. And they were dominating.
Someone yelled nearby, and the game slowed to a halt as everyone looked towards the noise. The sun was beginning to set, and three boys were standing around a small bonfire, whooping in excitement.
One of them pulled out a bottle, and Lillian heard Winter's worried voice saying "They shouldn't drink when they're so close to the cliff," but it sounded far away. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the bottle, and when one of the boys lifted it to his mouth, she flinched slightly.
Images of her father's reddened face and bloodshot eyes filled her head, and she forced herself to take deep breaths.
"I have to go home," she blurted, a little too loudly. Everyone turned to stare at her, and she tried to smile. But judging by their expressions, it was most likely more of a grimace.
"Why?" Oliver asked, stepping forward. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah! I just, um, I have homework to do!" She was practically yelling, but her focus was elsewhere. She lunged forward to kiss Oliver's cheek, then spun on her heel and took off running.
Her house wasn't too far from the Victor's Village, but at a full sprint, it was far enough for Lillian's lungs to ache and her legs to burn. She staggered up the porch stairs and slammed the front door behind her.
The door rattled in its frame, an echo of the childhood she was running from. Memories of her father surged through Lillian's head. A glass bottle shattering on the floor, bloodshot eyes narrowed in rage, the cold glint of a knife, the sting of sand against her cheek and in her eyes as she was thrown to the ground.
A gentle hand on her shoulder made her gasp, and Lillian looked up, locking eyes with the stern, severe, yet familiar, face of her uncle.
"Uncle Jake," she breathed. He smiled slightly and pulled her to his chest.
"You're okay now," he murmured. "He's gone." Lillian relaxed in his embrace, grateful for his words, but she knew better. She'd never be fully free of her father.
Anneliese Noor, 17
District 5 Female
A sharp, biting wind was whistling through District 5. Anneliese's icy fingers drummed against the balcony railing as she gnawed on her lower lip and carefully studied the pages of her book. The edges of the manual's pages fluttered in the wind, but she ignored the erratic movements.
Usually, sitting on the cramped balcony in a windstorm would be only slightly more comfortable than sitting naked in the snow, but it was far better than being indoors. Anneliese could hear the chaos of family members shrieking at each other, pots clanging as Aunt Alysa "cooked", and the repeated knocking of Andy's knee against the bottom of the table.
Sharing an apartment with twelve other people was draining at best, and infuriating at worst. She needed to focus, but the family's priorities were clearly elsewhere.
Anneliese sighed and brushed a loose strand of red hair out of her face. The wind was making it impossible to keep her hair nice, which added to the pile of frustrations she was carrying.
She tried to force her attention back to her book, but her fingers were nearly too numb to turn the pages. Anneliese sighed and leaned back in her uncomfy metal chair, tucked her hands into her armpits, and stared out at the gray skyline of District 5.
The reddish rock spires were visible at the edge of the district, and she knew there were more beyond the fence, along with deep canyons and gorges. But in the central area, there were only cracked roads and gray buildings.
The noise of the power plants was always present, a low hum in the air. The dam in the North Ward wasn't audible from the apartment, but when you were in front of it, it was nearly deafening.
That was where Anneliese' future lay. Finish school, get a job at the dam, and then work until she was old and deaf. They already had to shout when they were talking to Uncle Judah.
Someone banged on the window, making Anneliese jump. She turned to see Angus frowning down at her.
"Dinner!" he yelled. Then he banged on the window once more, just in case. Anneliese took a calming breath before stepping inside, into a whole different type of storm.
Their family was too big to fit at one table, so the small folding table had been dragged out of the closet, like it always was when Aunt Alysa cooked. She refused to cook unless everyone ate together. Unfortunately, Aunt Alysa's "cooking" usually wasn't edible.
Anneliese sat in the closest chair and put her head down, hoping to avoid the brunt of the conversation. But luck was not on her side. Alison and Aunt Alysa were.
Her aunt immediately launched into a recap of all the gossip she'd collected throughout the day. As a receptionist in the Justice Building, she heard all the exciting district news. Though Anneliese didn't consider most of it very exciting.
"...And Mrs. Lim came in today to file her son's certificate of death. Apparently it was suicide. That poor boy must have been quite torn up after last years' Games."
Anneliese closed her eyes. Facing her aunt felt too difficult at the moment. Jensen Lim was the class clown of her grade. Or he was, until his identical twin brother, Jefferson, was reaped for the 51st Games. After that, Jensen grew quieter and more withdrawn. Eventually, he stopped coming to school. And now he was dead.
The Hunger Games were awful, but they were just a part of Panem. And Anneliese had come to terms with it. Dying was already a part of living—the Games just sped up the process.
She stoically sat through the rest of dinner, and mercifully, the attention never fell on Anneliese. She was able to escape to her room, where she reached under her bed and pulled out a thin rubber mat. There wasn't much space on the floor, but Anneliese unfolded the mat in the cramped space between her bed and Aurora's. Then she sat and began to stretch.
Gymnastics had always been a hobby of hers, and now it was what Anneliese loved most. In the past, she and Minnie would practice together, and Minnie's father had even built them a balance beam. After Minnie died, he told Anneliese she could keep using it, but she refused. It was too painful.
Anneliese continued to work on her splits and backbends until the door banged open. She fell out of her backbend and sat up quickly, wincing at the dull pain in her neck muscles.
"Aurora, could you be quieter?" she asked her little sister sharply.
But the 7-year-old paid her no mind. She just pushed past Anneliese and roughly yanked open the top drawer of their shared dresser.
"Aurora, get off my mat. You're getting it dirty," Anneliese snapped.
"Stop being such a grump!" Aurora whined. "I'm just trying to get the checkers!" Anneliese snorted in annoyance and rolled up her mat as soon as Aurora got off.
"Stop being such a pest then," she muttered, but Aurora clearly hadn't heard. She just grinned broadly up at her sister.
"Want to play?" she asked. "Alison always says 'maybe', but she never actually plays."
"Then she's smarter than I thought," Anneliese snapped. "Now, get out!"
As Aurora fled the room, whining about how everyone was so mean about playing checkers with her, Anneliese tipped her head back and exhaled loudly. Just another day in the chaotic hell that was her household.
Nikolai Keane, 16
District 9 Male
The hot District 9 sun beat down on the dirt roads and tired forms of its citizens. Everyone was weary. The workload in the main city center had doubled after a factory fire a few weeks ago. The main building was still under Peacekeeper watch.
"Do you really think someone started it on purpose?" Calista whispered. She tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Who would be dumb enough to do that?"
"I don't know, but stop talking," Nikolai hissed back. "They're gonna hear us." Calista pouted, but he turned his back to her and Ansel. Two Peacekeepers were stationed outside the building, which had been sectioned off with a dyed blue rope in the dirt.
Taking a deep breath, he stood, casually brushing his hair back as he made his way down the street. He kicked a rock along as he walked, humming off-key. As he approached the burned factory, one of the Peacekeepers stepped inside. The other approached him, hand on his baton.
"Hey, kid, no one's allowed over here."
"Sorry sir," Nikolai replied, smiling smugly. "But I was curious about what happened? An arsonist makes for such an intriguing villain, don't you think?"
The Peacekeeper flipped up his visor. His eyes were shockingly blue, piercing into Nikolai's as he leaned forward.
"Listen up. I don't know who told you that, but you'd better shut it down. This was an unfortunate accident. Now get moving."
"But I saw the culprit!" Nikolai protested. "I even sketched him. See?" He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to the Peacekeeper. The man's tanned face turned red as he took in the drawing.
Nikolai considered it one of his masterpieces. It was pencil drawing of a stick figure holding a torch and laughing maniacally while Peacekeepers and District 9 citizens alike fled in terror.
"Alright smartass," the Peacekeeper snapped, ripping the paper out of Nikolai's hand and reaching for his baton. Nikolai prepared to dart away, but the man's other hand fisted into the collar of his shirt.
He closed his eyes, bracing himself for a hit, but a deep, authoritative voice cut in.
"Rudy! Drop the kid!"
The hand on his shirt released, but it came up to grab his bicep instead. Opening one eye, Nikolai saw another Peacekeeper approaching them, arms folded across his chest.
"He's been heckling me," Rudy growled, giving Nikolai a shake. The other Peacekeeper rolled his eyes.
"Rudy, you'd complain about a fly if it hung around for too long. Now, let him go."
With an annoyed grumble, he released Nikolai, who immediately jumped back.
"Uh, well, nice to meet ya!" he said awkwardly. "Panem forever! Bye Rudy!" And then Nikolai was sprinting down the dusty road, back towards his friends.
As soon as he reached the building where they were hiding, Ansel grabbed his arm and yanked him out of sight.
"Nikolai!" he whisper-yelled. "What the hell? Do you have a death wish?"
"What?" he asked, pulling himself out of Ansel's grip and dusting himself off.
"That was way too close! He could have arrested you!"
"Ansel, you're overreacting," Nikolai grumbled, rubbing his thumb against the bone in his opposite wrist.
"Overreacting?" Ansel shouted. Calista let out a little squeak. "I'm so very sorry if you misinterpret my genuine, justified worry as an overreaction."
Heat prickled at the back of Nikolai's neck. His eyes felt itchy and his throat was hoarse.
"You're such a baby!" Nikolai snapped, rounding on Ansel with a glare. "Man up, or get lost. If you need reassurance every five seconds, I don't want to deal with you!"
By the end of his speech, he was screaming. His entire face felt warm and his chest was heaving. Ansel, on the other hand, was standing perfectly still, lips pressed into a thin line. He adjusted his glasses, gray eyes starting coldly.
"Fine. Come find me when you've had a chance to think." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, hands in his pockets.
"Coward!" Nikolai yelled. Ansel didn't react.
Nikolai whirled around and kicked the fence beside him. Hard. It made his foot ache and some of the anger eased. He kicked it again. And again. By the fifth kick, most of his fury had worn off. He turned and slumped against the fence, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Are you good now?" Calista asked quietly. Nikolai nodded once.
"He's going to be pretty pissed at me now."
"Yeah, probably. But you'll apologize. And he'll forgive you."
"You sound pretty certain."
"I am, because that's how it's happened all the other times."
Nikolai squeezed his eyes shut. Calista had a point. He didn't have a good grip on his temper, and he'd yelled at his friends before. But he'd always apologized after, and they'd never held a grudge.
"Yeah, you're right," he admitted softly. Calista smiled.
"I always am. Now, come on. I need to head home, but I want to drop you off first." She held out a hand, which Nikolai took.
As the two of them made their way down the dusty road, away from the main area of 9 and into the small cluster of neighborhoods that surrounded it, Calista spoke.
"How is everything with your mom?"
Nikolai scoffed. His mother didn't deserve the title of "mom". She was manipulative and cruel, and didn't care about him at all.
"Same as always," he told her. "But my dad and I set a date."
Calista stopped suddenly, pulling Nikolai around to face her.
"Wait, really? Nik! That's awesome!" She yanked him into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you!"
"Well, you should be proud of yourself too," he said, cheeks warming up. "You're the one who told me to get in touch with him."
Nikolai's dad had been a victim of his ex-wife's verbal abuse too. He'd left when Nikolai was little, unable to bring his infant son with him. As a kid, he'd dreamed of living with his dad. But his mom crushed that dream very early on.
But three months ago, after an inspiring conversation with Calista, he'd gone to the Justice Building to ask for his dad's records, and sent a letter to the listed place of residence. He'd gotten a very emotional reply two days later.
Since then, they'd secretly been corresponding through letters. And now, they'd come up with a plan for Nikolai to move. Over the past few weeks, he'd been smuggling a few of his possessions to school, where either his dad would come pick them up, or Ansel or Calista would drop them at his house. And after the reaping, he'd make his final move. Instead of walking home with his mom, Nikolai and his dad would go home together.
Calista gave him one more squeeze before releasing him.
"This is going to be great for you Nik," she said with a smile.
"I hope so," Nikolai replied as they stopped in front of his house.
"It will be," Calista said confidently. She let go of Nikolai's hand, giving him a wave before jogging off down the street.
Nikolai allowed himself one more smile before squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. He made his way up the front steps, avoiding the one creaky step, and quietly opening the door. Inside, he could hear the raucous laughter of his mother and her nosy friends. The party would make sleeping difficult, but the din of their gathering did hide his arrival.
He quietly slipped into the kitchen, grabbed an overripe apple from the bowl on the table, and tiptoed to his room. He changed out of his dusty clothing and then crouched down beside his bed. Sticking an arm underneath, he felt around until he located an old shoebox.
Nikolai pulled it out and opened it, taking a moment to revel in his little secret stash. Pencils (colored and not), spare paper, sketchbooks, ink, and even a bit of nail polish that Calista borrowed from her older sister. They all had different fancy names, like "Raunchy Rose" and "Golden Sunset". His was "Midnight Magic".
The loose sheets of paper weren't very high quality, but his sketchbook was nicer than almost anything else he owned. That's why he saved it for his tattoo designs. He'd seen his first tattoo when he was 8. His teacher was absolutely covered in them, and Nikolai knew at that moment that there was no other form of art as beautiful as tattoos.
He spent a moment tracing the designs he'd created over the years before grabbing the nail polish and leaning against his bed. As he spread the black polish over his fingernails, Nikolai began to draft his apology to Ansel, and eventually lost himself in a daydream of a warm evening in his dad's backyard, sketching and chatting and laughing.
Summer Enderro, 18
District 11 Female
It truly was June in District 11. The air was sweltering and humid, making Summer's shirt stick uncomfortably to the back of her neck. Grumbling, she swept her dark, curly hair up into a bun, fingers brushing against the newly-dyed pink tips.
Hair secured, she returned to her mission. Unsurprisingly, the merchant area of District 11 was practically empty. Most people were either at work or avoiding the heat in the safety of their homes. It was the perfect time for this task.
"Where are we going again?" Tillie asked. Summer paused, looking around for a moment, before leaning down to whisper in her 5'2" companion's ear.
"I'm buying a ring for Priscilla," she murmured.
An excited look brightened Tillie's face, but Summer stamped down the upcoming squeal with a stern look. She knew she shouldn't have let the younger girl tag along. But although she would never admit it, she did have a bit of a soft spot for the skinny 16-year-old.
Turning away from Tillie, she laid eyes on the shop she was looking for. Monty's Antiques was squished between a bakery and a tailor's, and sported peeling paint, a cracked window, and two missing letters in the sign. Given the amount of customers it saw on a weekly basis, it was a miracle the place hadn't closed down.
Opening the door, Summer and Tillie were greeted by the squeak of an old fan and the smell of dust and dampness. The floorboards creaked as they made their way to the counter.
A maze of shelves made up the floor of the store, sporting everything from playing cards to baby rattles to rusted farming equipment. The merchandise was all stacked precariously, and looked as if it would topple at any second.
The boy behind the counter was definitely not Monty. He was short and plump, and wore round glasses that kept sliding down his sweaty nose.
"Hey," he said as they stepped inside. Then he straightened up and cleared his throat. "Uh, sorry. I meant, um, welcome to Monty's Antiques. How can I help you?"
Summer looked past him at the glass case that held all their valuable items.
"I want to buy a wedding ring," she said firmly. A bit of worry flickered in her chest, but she stamped it out before it could grow. He wouldn't judge her. She simply would not let it happen.
"Alright," the boy said, suddenly smiling. "We have a few nice items that might pique your interest." Fishing a key out of a drawer, he unlocked the cabinet and set down three rings.
The first was made of pale silver metal and had one large yellow gemstone on top. The second was a thick golden band studded with pearls. But the third was the one that caught Summer's eye. It was a thin silver band with a clear gemstone embedded on top. Two smaller purple stones flanked it. As soon as she saw it, Summer could picture it on Priscilla's finger.
Swallowing hard, she looked up at the boy.
"I'll take the one with the purple stones," she said. He nodded, still grinning, and began packing it away in a black box.
"That will cost you 600-"
Tillie let out a soft squeak of surprise, and Summer turned to face her with a frown. Her wide brown eyes flicked back and forth, and she was fidgeting nervously.
"What?" Summer demanded. Tillie glanced past her, and then pointed up a bit, while shaking her head. Summer paused for a moment, thinking. "High price?" she mouthed. Tillie nodded.
Turning around, Summer regarded the boy coldly.
"600. Are you sure?"
"It's in your price range," he said matter-of-factly. "You're an Enderro."
"Yes." Her voice was icy. "I am. And as a person of class, I know when an item is worth something. And I know when some poor, snivelling idiot tries to take advantage of someone."
As she spoke, she leaned forward, using her height of 6 feet to tower over the boy.
"Am I buying that ring for half the price, or are you going to need to get your teeth replaced?"
"H-h-half price," the boy stammered, handing over the box. "Just 200." Nodding in satisfaction, Summer pocketed the box and laid down the money.
"Come on, Tillie. Let's get out of this awful place." She locked elbows with her friend and walked out of the store with her head held high.
Back in the bright sunlight, Summer released Tillie and gave her a nod of thanks.
"I appreciate what you did," she said. Tillie gave her a small, crooked smile.
"Any time."
With another nod from Summer, the two girls parted ways. Tillie went back to the collection of shacks where most District 11 citizens lived, while Summer climbed the road to the hillier part of the district. This was where the wealthier folk lived; the ones who owned farms and businesses, rather than working at them. The Mayor of District 11 lived here, as well as all the past victors. And Morrison.
The thought of her mentor made Summer pause. Placing a hand on the box in her pocket, she took a deep breath.
"I'm doing this because I love you," she whispered to the thick, heavy air. "I'm going to save us." She said it with conviction, but a small voice at the back of her mind was whispering its doubts. She ignored it.
Despite her determination to avoid it, her feet carried her home the long way; past Morrison's house. Just being there brought back memories. Memories of standing on his doorstep four years, angry and mourning, carrying an obscene amount of money, willing to do whatever it took to protect her family. Memories of holding a bow for the first time, memories of countless pushups, situps, chinups, laps…
Memories of Morrison reaching out to his old contacts just to secure her a weapon. Memories of sitting on his back porch with him, painting Malla's favorite birds while he gave her tips. Memories of peaceful moments she shouldn't cherish as much as she did.
Summer shook herself out of her stupor. She had to go home. Reminiscing would not help her prepare, and it definitely would not help her with the mountains of things to do at home. With another mental affirmation to stay away from melancholy thoughts, she continued on.
She arrived home right at the end of the last shift. The workers were filing out of the gates, many of them nodding or waving to Summer as she approached. She returned their greetings.
The Enderro Winery had been in the family for as far back as the Justice Building's records showed. Her grandfather ran it until he was too old, and then her father took over. Now, Summer's mother was the legal owner, but she did just as much work.
As glad as she was to be home, the winery still brought stress. Only recently, the family learned that their ancestors had engaged in plenty of shady business deals; and the result was that the family business was now in danger of being taken over by Capitol management. And Summer's mother was already not fully capable of running the place herself.
Raina Enderro had no interest in finances and business management. But when Summer's father's drug addiction took over, and he died of an overdose, she had no choice but to take up his position. Summer had been twelve at the time. The twins had been nine…
As Summer made her way up the front walk, she spotted her younger sister Malla crouched behind an old shrub, pencil in hand and tongue between her teeth.
"What is it?" Summer asked, but Malla shushed her violently.
"You'll scare them," she whispered. "They're just beginning their mating dance." She turned back to look at Summer. "Want to watch?"
"In a minute," Summer whispered back. "I have a quick thing to do." Malla narrowed her green eyes, a feature inherited from their father, but nodded and returned to her birdwatching.
Summer moved quietly through the old farmhouse and out the back door, into the small flower garden her mother kept. She checked to make sure her mother's curtains were closed before hurrying over to the hedges at the edge of the yard.
"Priscilla!" she called softly. No answer. She called again a little louder, but was met with silence again. Sighing, Summer brushed a few loose baby hairs out of her face. She'd taken too long on the walk home.
"Why are you looking for Priscilla?" a snotty voice asked, making Summer jump. "Do you looooveee her?" Summer whirled around to face Cienna, her other younger sister. She was nearly identical to her twin, but lacked the braces Malla had been saddled with.
"What are you doing?" Summer hissed angrily. "You're supposed to be inside doing schoolwork."
"So? You're not my mom. You can't make me."
Summer ground her teeth. Cienna was truly infuriating sometimes.
"No, but I can tell mom," she threatened. "And she doesn't even know that you got into a fight yesterday. I can get you grounded until next month if you don't shut up and go inside."
Cienna rolled her eyes.
"You're such a bitch," she grumbled, turning to stalk into the house.
"Cienna!" Summer shrieked angrily, going to chase after her sister.
The two of them raced into the house, and as Summer turned the corner, she nearly ran straight into her mother.
"Mom!" Summer gasped, putting a hand on the wall to brace herself.
"What is going on?" her mom asked. Summer blinked guiltily at her. She could see the tired lines in her mom's face, the dark circles under her eyes.
"Nothing," she mumbled. "Cienna said something dumb and I overreacted. I'm sorry."
Her mom scrubbed a hand down her face with a sigh.
"What am I going to do with that girl?" she whispered to herself. Then she shook herself a bit and gave Summer a half-hearted smile.
"Well, I have you and Malla. Oh, and speaking of you girls, the local news wanted to write a small article on the winery's progress. They want to photograph the whole family, so you'll all need to look your best. Can you take that on?"
"Of course," Summer said. "I'll make sure everything is perfect."
"Thank you," her mom said, giving Summer a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into her office again.
Summer sighed, leaning against the wall. She could feel the weight of her family making her shoulders sag, but she steeled herself. She was going to get them back on their feet. But first, she needed to make some tea for her mom and get started on some of the finance work. It was going to be another long night.
So, um, hi! It's been a while. So, happy 2021. And happy 2022. I don't really have a reason for vanishing, but I'm back! I had a ton of fun rereading all the character forms and writing for this awesome cast again. These four were especially fun.
Thank you to everyone who's going to keep reading, even though I published this story over a year ago, and thank you specifically to averyrandomauthor for Lillian, MoonlightSalsa for Anneliese, VeneratedArt for Nikolai, and Paradigm of Writing for Summer. I hope I did your tributes justice, and if I didn't, please tell me! I am always open to constructive criticism.
Oh, and if the style seems different, I wrote Lillian and Anneliese's POVs in early 2021 and Nikolai and Summer's POVs in the past week and a half. Sorry.
Please leave a review to let me know what you thought of the chapter. It means so much to me.
So have a nice day, been kind to each other, and never stop reading!
~ Fiona