Ophelia Briar, 17
District 7
For as long as she could remember, Ophelia felt solace in being the first person awake in the morning. Obviously she knew that the rest of her family was still very much in the house with her, but she felt a special kind of alone when it was just her sitting in her mother's old rocking chair (the same one she had used to rock Ophelia and her three siblings to sleep as babies) and working on some embroidery, with nothing but the birds keeping her company. The chirping of the birds and the pop of the needle poking through the stretched fabric was just enough noise to keep her ears from ringing, but quiet enough to be tranquil.
Ophelia was never awake by herself for long, though, since her mother was also an early riser. The two were both awake with the sunrise before 6:00, and they usually had about an hour together to sit quietly and work on their sewing. Isobela was letting down the hem from 12-year-old Bennie's dress pants- he'd grown since the last time he wore them- while Ophelia worked on something a bit more whimsical. She hadn't been working on it long and it wasn't close to finished, but she planned for it to be a woman, her hair long and flowing, her breasts full and her waist small, the background made completely of flowers and vines. The picture of femininity. But at the moment, she had only gotten as far as the outline of the body. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do with it when she was done. Maybe sew it onto a pillow?
Bennie woke up next, and before even wiping the sleep from his eyes, he headed over to Ophelia and plopped himself in his big sister's lap and wrapped his arms around her. She set her needlework down on the end table and hugged him back, stroking his hair and resting her chin on the top of his head. Although he was already twelve, he always acted quite a bit younger. Ophelia figured it was to make up for their father and brother constantly harping on him to be a man. So even though he was already almost as tall as Ophelia, she still let him cuddle in close to her like he did as a baby.
"We should get breakfast ready," her mother said, breaking the silence.
Wordlessly, Bennie hopped off of Ophelia's lap and let her start to cook with their mom. Usually the Briar family ate tessera mush for breakfast, if they had breakfast at all. Her father and older brother always got the first helping of breakfast, since they worked long, hard hours outside in the sun. Then Bennie, since he was a growing boy. Then their mother. Ophelia and her sister usually got whatever was left. But Reaping Day was special. Everyone deserved to eat on Reaping Day.
She started by cracking a few eggs into a bowl and mixing them up with a little water. Their neighbors had chickens, and Ophelia traded them an embroidered handkerchief for a carton of eggs. Once they were mixed, she dumped them into a pan and her mom kept moving them around as they cooked. In the meantime, Ophelia made fry cakes out of some tessera grain and tried her best to make all six the exact same size. The last thing she wanted was for her younger sister Beatrice to complain that the portions were unfair.
Bee woke up next and wandered into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were rumpled, but her face lit up as soon as she smelled food.
"Beatrice, can you set the table?" their mother asked, looking up from the eggs.
"Nooo," Bee whined, throwing herself face first onto the couch. "I'm too tired."
"I can do it!" Bennie said, jumping up from the rocking chair. He always wanted to help.
"Don't be silly," Isobela said, crossing to Bennie and ruffling his hair. "Ophelia, can you set the table, please?"
"Of course," Ophelia said, trying not to be upset. She told herself that Bee was still a kid, just 13 years old, and that she was still going through a bit of a rebellious phase. Still, she couldn't help but feel some contempt towards her younger sister. She could get out of doing just about everything her parents asked for her because she knew that Ophelia would rather just do it herself than cause a disruption in their family dynamic. But she sometimes got sick of picking up the slack.
She moved quickly, trying to juggle getting everything on the table with making sure none of the breakfast overcooked while her mother returned to her tailoring. Plates, cups, flip the pancakes, silverware, jam, stir the eggs, fill the glasses, plate the food. One of the pancakes got a bit burnt in the chaos, so Ophelia gave that one to herself. Her family shouldn't have to eat burnt food because of her mistake.
Her older brother Nate and her father woke up just as the food was being placed on the table, and her mother and Bee stood up from the couch as they entered the room. Her father immediately threw his arm around his wife's shoulders, and she flinched slightly.
"What a beautiful day!" His voice boomed throughout the small house. "The sun is shining, my kids are awake, there's breakfast on the table. It's going to be a great day, I can feel it."
"Yeah, a great day," Bee said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Happy Hunger Games!"
"Beatrice Eden Briar," her father scolded. "Watch your mouth."
"Sorry, Daddy," she said, flashing her signature sweet smile.
The family of six sat down to eat, the father and Nate at each end of the table, Ophelia and her mother on one side, and Bee and Bennie on the other. They ate quietly, like they did at every meal, but the quiet wasn't awkward. In the Briar family, mealtime was usually the time to reflect and be thankful that they have food to eat. So many of their neighbors didn't always have that luxury.
"Dad, is it okay if Oleander walks me to the Reaping today?" Ophelia asked as she and her mother cleared the dishes from the table. Between the chores and her embroidery, Ophelia didn't have much time to spend with her boyfriend, especially since school wasn't in session for the summer.
"Yes, that would be fine," he said. "Thank you for asking."
Sometimes Ophelia thought that her father liked Oleander even more than she did. Her dad was both the owner and the foreman of one of the largest construction companies in District 7, and Ollie's father owned a large saw mill. The two men worked closely together, and Ophelia's dad always talked about how excited he was for his daughter to marry a Verdana. Ollie seemed to have a similar plan; he wanted to get married, have a couple of kids, and be the sole breadwinner while Ophelia stayed at home with the kids. But as much as she loved the stability and love that Oleander brought to the table, Ophelia couldn't help but be unsure sometimes.
Was it really wrong for her to want more than what her mother ended up with?
Everett Knox, 18
District 7
Autumn was always Everett's favorite time of year. When he was a child before he had to work in the lumber yards, he loved to sit outside and watch the leaves on the trees change from green to orange and red, but even still as an adult, he almost didn't mind the long and grueling hours with an ax, since he got to stare at the ever-changing leaves as he worked. Almost.
No amount of picturesque foliage could make Everett genuinely enjoy working, especially when days off were so relaxing. So when he was presented with a gorgeous October Sunday, where the air was crisp and cool and he didn't have to work, he intended to take full advantage of it.
He woke up early and got out of bed carefully, so as to not wake his boyfriend, Linden. By October, they had been living together for just a few months. Everett went 17 years as the only child before his mother became unexpectedly pregnant with twin girls, Hazel and Holly. After just a few weeks of two babies in one house, it didn't take much convincing for him to be allowed to move out.
Ever since he was little, Everett loved to go exploring in the forests of District 7 with a basket and forage for mushrooms. A lot of people were skeptical, hearing too much about how certain types of mushrooms are poisonous, but Everett learned quickly how to tell the difference between edible mushrooms and dangerous toadstools. So while others starved in the fall when plants began to die, the wet and decomposing leaves made the perfect environment for the fungus to grow, and the Knox household flourished.
So on that unseasonably sunny day in October, Everett lined his favorite wicker basket with a dish towel and set out, vowing to be home to Linden by the time he woke up. It wasn't explicitly illegal to be in the lumber yards since most of the District's adults had to be there six days out of the week anyway, but foraging was definitely frowned upon. They called it poaching, or stealing. Everett called it resourceful. And it wasn't like it mattered anyway; Peacekeepers didn't patrol the area on Sundays since no one was there working.
Finding a patch of mushrooms could sometimes be difficult, but they always grew in thick clumps. Once Everett found one, he had found dozens. He knelt down to the ground and used his fingers to move the cool and damp earth around, careful to wipe off as much of the dirt as he could before putting the mushrooms into his basket. The whole ordeal, walking to the forest, finding the mushrooms, and harvesting them, took just an hour of his time, and he already felt more at peace as he breathed in the smell of dead leaves and pine needles.
He returned home, happy to see that Linden was still asleep. He set his basket on the table before crossing over to the bed, sitting on the edge and waking his boyfriend with a soft kiss. Linden smiled before opening his eyes and pulling Everett into a hug.
"Good morning," he mumbled.
"Good morning, handsome," Everett said. "I got mushrooms."
"Of course you did."
Everett got up off the bed, leaving his boyfriend to finish waking up for the day while he washed the last of the dirt off of the mushrooms in the sink. He was a morning person, and once he woke up for the day, he stayed very high energy until it was time for bed. Linden, on the other hand, hated getting up out of bed in the morning, and loved to take naps. Everett didn't understand how someone could love to sleep so much. How could he love something that he wasn't even conscious to experience?
He placed a bucket under the tap while he washed the mushrooms to collect the dirty water. Once they were nice and clean, he used the dirty water to water all of the plants that they had around the house and in their flower bed outside. Even if they weren't edible, Everett and Linden loved having vibrant shades of green around their house to brighten things up and make them happy.
Once the mushrooms were washed and the plants were watered, Everett went back to Linden, who was looking much more awake.
"Feeling better?" Everett asked.
"I'm getting there," Linden responded. "Wanna hear a song I'm working on?"
At the mention of music, his face lit up. If there was one thing Everett wasn't that he wished he was, it was musically inclined. Linden's prized possession was a small wooden flute that he carved himself, and Everett almost never saw him without it. It started with Linden reading sheet music and playing what he read, then learning how to play songs just by hearing them a few times. Now he was at the point where he was writing his own music. Everett couldn't even play a scale- he'd tried.
The song he played was slow and melancholy, and it reminded Everett of late autumn, when the last leaves were still clinging to their branches. He wondered if the leaves were sad to see their friends go, or if they were sad to see their friends being stepped on and crunched without a second thought.
"That's all I have so far," Linden said once he was done, putting his flute down.
"So far?" Everett asked. "I think it was perfect just the way it was."
"I wanted to give it a happy ending."
"I don't think everything needs a happy ending."
Kingsley Garrison, 35
Victor of the 82nd Hunger Games: District 7
Kingsley never knew how to respond when people asked him if he was okay. The first few years after his victory were hard for him; moving houses, becoming recognized around the country, the way that his family and friends treated him differently. But if there was one thing he never struggled with, it was survivor's guilt. He knew as soon as he was Reaped for the 82nd Hunger Games that only one person would survive, and if he wanted it to be him, he would have to do things that he wasn't proud of.
In all honesty, after nearly twenty years of being a victor, Kingsley Garrison was perfectly content.
Sure, he hadn't gotten out of the arena without getting his hands dirty. He still pictured the look on the District 10 girl's face when he practically tripped over her sleeping body and made the quick decision to slit her throat. His first kill. Now he didn't even know her name. But it was fine. It was over before she knew it. Her eyes were closed and she didn't open them after he had made the cut, so he was pretty sure that it was quick. She was dead before she even knew that she was dying.
Kingsley figured it was her fault, anyway. Who was dumb enough to fall asleep in the middle of the arena without an ally to keep them guarded. Maybe if she had strapped herself into a tree or found a cave to hide in, everything would be different. Maybe if she had made smarter choices, Kingsley wouldn't have killed her. She might still be alive today. That was how he freed himself of the guilt. It wasn't his fault that the other tributes put themselves into situations that ended in their deaths.
He and Johanna hadn't been very lucky over the years. The two mentors both had low tolerances for stupidity and bullshit, and it was rare to find a tribute that didn't make them want to strangle them. He hoped that this year would be different. They flipped a coin before the ceremony to decide which of them would mentor which tribute, and Johanna wound up with the boy. Luckily for her, the boys from District 7 almost always placed higher than the girls, no matter who their mentor was.
District 7's escort, Elysium Duskdust, first called Johanna's tribute, a boy named Everett Knox. He was tall and stocky, the sleeves of his blue plaid button-down rolled up to show off muscular forearms. A male voice called out for him after his name was called, but the boy stared straight ahead and Kingsley couldn't find where the voice had come from. He definitely seemed able to hold his own, and for a moment, Kingsley was jealous of Johanna. At first glance, the boy seemed like a contender.
After Everett was a young woman by the name of Ophelia Briar. She didn't come up right away, instead waiting for a gentle push from the girl standing next to her. She did eventually muster up the strength to come up to the stage. Her dress was definitely hand-made, with intricately sewn butterflies scattered across the pale blue skirt. In the childishly modest dress, Ophelia looked innocent. Vulnerable. Kingsley felt immediately protective of her, as if she was a wounded bird that he was tasked with saving.
He locked eyes with his tribute just for a moment and felt his breath catch in his throat before she and Everett were ushered into the Justice Building. He glanced over to Johanna who raised a single eyebrow at him before shaking her head and turning away.
Thanks to Fifidear for Ophelia and the garden for Everett!
1. Who did you like better, Ophelia or Everett?
2. What did you like about them?
3. What didn't you like about them?
4. Thoughts on Kingsley?
5. Any predictions?
