You must find your voice.

Rosa Quarry, 12

District Twelve Female

I wake up to the sound of mockingjays singing outside the window. Mother would chase them off if she heard, but I listen. I like the mockingjays. They don't need words to make music. They don't need words at all. Neither do I.

I've always been silent, and I always will be. The people at school think I'm mad, but that's ok. No-one has ever said it to my face. Maybe it's because I'm the mayor's daughter, or maybe I'm too scary for them. That's what I like to believe. The thought makes me smile.

"Rosa, get down here, or you'll be late." My mother yells. I hear her start up the stairs, and quickly hop out of bed. If she knew I'd been listening to the mockingjays she'd be absolutely livid. She hates those birds, because Katniss sang to the mockingjays. And Katniss killed my cousin.

Mother bursts through the door, frightening the birds. She flings open the window, letting the warm summer's air flood the room. Then she pulls the blue-green dress out of the cupboard, the one I've never been allowed to wear. She always said she was saving it for my first reaping. For today. She hands me the dress and walks out, shutting the door behind her. This is how the reaping affects us. Mother is stricter, father is colder, Violet is kinder. And me? I become quieter, worried for Violet, and now myself.

The mockingjays return outside my window, reminding me to have hope. My eyes turn back to the dress. It's beautiful, unlike anything I've ever worn before, even with our riches. I put it on, and stare at myself in the mirror. Then I turn back to the mockingjays. I hum the first tune that comes into my head. Four notes, the ones I remember from a games. Peeta's games. The games of the cousin I never met. An almost tear appears in my eye. I brush it away quickly. I hate how much I cry, but there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing at all.

The mockingjays repeat the tune outside the window, weaving together in beautiful harmonies just like the ones they sang for Katniss. I smile at the sound, and watch them for as long as I dare. Then I turn and open the door. Down the stairs and through the door into the kitchen, my favourite place in the house. The smell of breakfast fills the air.

"Rosa, you shouldn't be in here. You should be with your family." Laughs Mist. She doesn't expect an answer from me. No-one ever does. Then she smiles at me, with the smile she reserves for me. I don't know what I'd do without her. She's my only true friend apart from the mockingjays. Then she hands me a plate laden with food. I take it happily and sit down to eat.

"Oh no you don't, you go and eat with your family." She gives me a tap on the shoulder and points to the door. I leave reluctantly, and when I get to the doing room I stop. I take a deep breath. Then I open the door and walk in, staring into my plate as I take my place at the table.

"Good morning." Violet greets me as I walk in. The usual chatter of breakfast is gone today, replaced by silence. Father must hate reaping day. Sitting by and watching as children get chosen to die. Possibly his own children. I would hate that.

Finally, I finish my breakfast and mother sends me to my room. I'm glad, I get to see the mockingjays one last time before the reaping. Before the nightmare. One is perched on the end of my bed. I hum a tune, and it sings back to me. The other birds pick up it's song, all singing outside the window. Then suddenly, they stop and scatter. The bird on the end of my bed flies out of the window. I poke my head out and see Mother shooing the birds away. I pull my head back in before she can spot me.

Before long I hear her coming up the stairs.

"Have you been singing to the birds again?" I shake my head, but she doesn't seem convinced. "Don't do it again. And don't crease your dress." She tries to straighten it, but it doesn't work. I don't care. She shakes her head, then shuts the window and leaves.

When Mother calls me for the reaping, I rise from my bed and head downstairs. Slowly. I arrive in what Mother likes to call 'the drawing room', to find her fussing around Violet. Father is already in the square, waiting for the reaping. She spots me and beckons me over to her, and I do. She tries to arrange my hair, but it's too short.

"I don't know why we let you get a bob cut." Mother says, almost to herself. Then she hurries us out of the house and into the square.

I ignore the stares from everyone as we arrive. Mother is told to wait at the side, Father is on the stage with District Twelve's escort, Selene Rosselli. Violet heads to the area designated for fourteen-year-olds, and I wait at the back with the other twelves. They all step away as I walk past, even Ember. My other cousin. None of them want to be associated with the silent girl. But none of them say anything. We're all too scared of our first reaping to argue. Or in my case, listen.

As Father starts his yearly announcements, I tune out. I've heard it all before. All of the people around me have. Finally, Selene steps up, and I listen again. Suddenly, the wave of fear that I knew would come hits me. The wave of fear that will at each reaping. All I can hope is that it isn't me.

"Well, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour." She recites her annual greeting without enthusiasm. "It is an honour to be here. Ladies first." She reaches her hand into the reaping bowl. "The female tribute from District Twelve is Rosa Quarry."

No. This can't be happening. Everyone is staring at me. They move apart to let me through, and I walk slowly down to the stage. Father is staring at me in obvious shock. The tears well up in my eyes and start to pour down my cheeks.

"Don't cry, this is exciting!" Selene says, trying to cheer me up. I just cry more. As I look out over the crowd, the only sad faces are Mother, Father, Violet and Mist.

In the trees around the square, the mockingjays begin to sing.

Not everything is as it seems.

Selene Rosselli

District Twelve escort

I straighten my wig in the mirror and sigh. What use is all my talent in fashion if I get stuck with the worst district? Apparently, I'm lucky to have become an escort, but I don't think so. How is being shipped off to District Twelve once a year to escort some foul-mannered children lucky? It doesn't seem very lucky. Hopefully this year I'll get some decent tributes. Enough to get me a decent district like eleven. But for now, I have to get on with it. I apply some more makeup.

One look in the mirror tells me everything I need to know. I look stunning. As usual. Which is good, because even when you've got a district like twelve, people judge you on everything. From the way you talk, to your fashion, to which shade of lipstick you prefer. I, personally, like pale yellow. It brings out the colours in my eyes. Just like my dress of dark blue, my grey boots, my pale blue wig. It's good to know I look good, even if I'm having a bad day. Maybe I'll get a decent pair of tributes this year. I hope so. Then I can leave this place behind forever.

When the train pulls into the station, I hop off. The train is too small for my taste. Nothing like my apartment in the Capitol. The peacekeepers usher me off the platform and into the car. I'm driven into the town square and take my seat on the stage. I spot the trees dotted around the square, and feel a wave of annoyance hit me. The trees aren't what's annoying me. It's the birds in the trees. Mockingjays. I hate mockingjays. Always singing and disrupting things. And they shouldn't even exist.

Mockingjays are just another inspiration to the districts. We should kill them all, to discourage the districts. When I get back to the Capitol, I'll write to the president personally. But the new president is terrible. Not like President Snow. He would have killed all those stupid birds. But President Snow got blown up. The Capitol was black for a week. I can't help wondering how the bomb was planted.

Mayor Quarry takes his seat next to me as people file into the square. There are many. Excited people, distant people, drunk people. The last one makes me look away. Drunk, on a day like today. Disgraceful. And of course, lots of scared, crying children. The mockingjays start singing on and off, like a broken radio. I hate the radio too.

Once everyone arrives, the mayor starts his yearly talk. The one where he talks about the history of Panem. Then he beckons me to the front of the stage. My turn at last.

"Well, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour." I say. It's not happy for me though. I've got the worst district, the coal district, the one no-one wants. "It is an honour to be here. Ladies first." I reach my hand into the reaping bowl. There are less names than usual, I notice. "The female tribute from District Twelve is Rosa Quarry."

A little girl from the twelve-year-old section with no-one around her is obviously the one. All the children form a path to the stage for her. Tears start to run down her cheeks as she walks forward, her sea-green dress, gathered at the waist, falling to her knees, suits her. So does her pale brown hair. But the tears on her face ruin her looks.

"Don't cry, this is exciting." I tell her, trying to stop her tears. She just cries more. How can she cry at a time like this? Then I remember who she is. Mayor Quarry's younger daughter. What a brat. Trying to get herself volunteered for so she doesn't have to do anything. I reach my hand into the other reaping ball, pulling out a slip and unfolding it.

"The male tribute for District Twelve is Colby Pitt." I say, scanning the crowd for Colby.

A boy steps forward from the eighteen-year olds section. He glares at me, obviously angry. I don't know why, he's lucky he'll get to see the Capitol. His brown eyes lock on to mine as he takes the stage. He takes Rosa's hand and shakes it slowly. I might have got a decent tribute this year.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of District Twelve."

Hi, did you enjoy this chapter. I had great fun writing this. Colby will have a POV on the train. Massive thanks to Very New To This who submitted Colby, and Martha(Guest user) who submitted Rosa.

1. What do you think of Rosa?

2. What do you think of Selene?

Thank you for taking the time to read this, I will start the District Eleven when I have both tributes. If you are wondering, train POV's were decided randomly using random. org. Also, the new format is to make it easier to understand who's POV it is.