Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins

Tessa Oakheart, 12, District Seven Female, Two Years and Five Months Before the Reaping

"I'm going to be rich!"

I hold up the gold money I stole from the shop, waving it in Remy's face, or as high as I can reach anyway.

"Tessa," he says, rolling his beautiful green eyes, "I'm pretty sure that's not real gold."

I pull the coin close to my chest and inspect it. I can't tell. How could I, I've never seen gold in my life. I can feel my cheeks go pink. Nevertheless, I say, "It's gold if I say it is," and I run to catch up to him, realizing he's already walked five feet in front of me. I have to jog just to keep up with his large gait. He usually slows down to let me walk with him.

Remy laughs, and ruffles my hair. "Okay, kid." That's his name for me. I wish he would see me as an equal, and not as a little sister. I'm only five years younger than him.

There's a pause. We walk by a shop in the merchant sector, and it looks familiar. Then I realize, it's the one that I stole from, and I ended up getting two boys whipped. They may be dead for all I know.

"Remy," I ask.

"Yeah?" He looks down at me.

"Is stealing bad?"

"Tessa, you know what I think."

I do. Remy bought himself out of the Money Ring, as Ann calls it.

"Stealing isn't necessarily bad," he says. "Just as long as you're doing it to survive." Remy stares at me with concerned eyes. "Why, kid?"

"A few months ago I stole from that bakery over there." I point to the place with my finger. "But they thought it was some other boys a few years older than me, and they whipped them in the Square. I only did it because I wanted a snack."

"It's okay, kid. I know you didn't mean for that to happen."

He messes up my hair again. I feel reassured.

"I do think you should leave Ann, though."

I'm taken aback by this. "Why? She's been nothing but nice and generous."

"She doesn't really care about you. She sees all of you as pawns."

"That's mean, take it back!" I punch him, but he doesn't look fazed.

"Tessa, sometimes you put your trust into the wrong people."

I'm hurt by what he just said, about me and Ann.

"You could always come with me," Remy says.

"No."

We walk in awkward silence. After a while, Remy sweeps me up and sits me on his shoulders. I can't help it, I laugh. And just like that, the tension is cut, and we are laughing and talking again. Eventually, Remy puts me down, and I see a man walking towards us in an ugly overcoat.

"Hi," I say to him, waving.

He looks straight into my eyes, and he has a his eyes look happy in the same way mine do when I steal from the cookie jar. Mischievous. He starts to walk towards us. All of a sudden, I feel a clenching on my wrist, and I look up and see Remy pulling me away.

"God damnit, Tessa," he says.

"You said a mean word!"

"Tessa you can't talk to people like that. People you just see on the street. This is what I'm talking about! Not everyone in the world is good."

"Well you should always be nice to people," I say in response to Remy's rantings.

"You don't get my point, Tessa. You can't always assume people are good. Not in a place like Panem. You can't trust everyone."

"Okay," I say. "I won't anymore." That's a lie. I don't believe Remy. Everyone is good on the inside. But, I say it, just to appease him.

"Really?"

"Yes." I'm a good liar. I've had years of practice. My cuteness helps.

My wrist is still in Remy's hand, and we don't talk for a while as we walk. It gives me ample time to think. It has been years, I guess. So long I can't hardly remember most of my life before. Ann said I was one of the youngest she ever took in, but I was one of the most profitable, with my charm.

I like life with Ann and the other kids, and Remy, and my friend Mina, but something inside me wishes I could still be with my family. Something inside me wishes they could still be alive.

I wish TJ never went into the Hunger Games, and I wish he came out alive instead of in a coffin. I wish Mommy and Daddy never died. I wish I never found Mommy dead on the floor, and Daddy hanging in a noose.

I wish I still had my family.

No, I tell myself. Ann and the gang are your family now. Ann always told me it was stupid to dwell on the past.

"Hey, can I walk you home?" Remy doesn't get a response. "Tessa, you okay?" I look up at Remy, still holding my hand.

I nod my head.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Thoughts," I say absentmindedly.

Remy drops it, and we keep on walking down the cobblestone streets. We talk, and kick stones, and have a good time. Remy has always been so understanding. And his jet black hair, and his tan skin…

"Hey Tessa!"

I look over to my right and see Mina running across the street to meet me. She's wearing a pretty plaid red and white dress, with a matching bonnet, and her hair is up in pigtails. Mina is sort of stocky, and she's not starving from life in the merchant sector. She's also a good head taller than me even though she's only a year older.

"Mina! You look good!"

Mina looks down to my shabby blouse and the graying shorts I borrowed from Magnolia at Ann's, and says nothing. She may be ignorant to poorer Seven, but she knows a lot when it comes to fashion.

"Thanks about the dress, Mommy taught me how to sew, and I made it myself."

"Cool!"

"I know right!"

Mina spins around to show off the dress, and I notice a blotchy red spot with fraying lace, but I say nothing.

Mina is about to tell me something, when we all year a loud and angry voice yell, "MINA! Get away from her!"

Mina's father stands in their open doorway, smoldering and looking furious.

"Okay, Daddy," Mina shouts over the bustling road. "Sorry, Tessa, gotta go."

As Mina walks back to her house reluctantly, Remy asks me, "Why are you friends with her, again?"

"Oh, come on, Remy, she's nice."

"Yes, she is, but she's so… insensitive when it comes to some things."

"She can't help it, that's what Mr. Parks taught her."

Remy looks over to the man himself, as he slams the door shut. He used to be nice to everyone, but lately, he seems to be… holding a grudge of sorts on people more well off than us.

The truth is, me and Mina probably wouldn't have been friends, but once she caught me stealing from her family and threw me some scraps. That's why her father hates my guts. He thinks I'm scum.

Me and Remy chat some more about Mina and merchants, and at last we arrive at Ann's. It's in a rundown and abandoned neighborhood, with creaky floorboards and two stories of hollow walls and blackened wood. It's my home.

"Here's your stop," Remy says.

"You don't want to go in?"

"Never."

We say bye, and I enter, only to find an auction going on. Poorer people like us crowd around a table where the Woods triplets stand, along with all of the items, Lindsay chattering off and Logger handing her items and guarding the ones left on the table, and Lake handling the money greedily. Ann stands in a corner, looking bored and smoking a rare cigar, though easily noticeable over the homeless people, backs hunched from laying on the streets, because of her height. I walk over to her and hand her the coins.

"Miss Ann," I say. "I got these for you. They're probably worth lots."

Her murky green eyes light up. "Thanks, kid." She takes the coins and sends me off to bed. It is getting late. The sky is pink and, a misty rain begins.

As I sit by my window, my thoughts drift off to Remy, stuck in the downpour, and I start to sing that song Mina taught me.

"Rain, rain, go away-"

"Shut up!" Meadowlark is in the other bed, reading.

"Sorry."

I sit in my bed, and my thoughts drift off to my old family, the thing that's been nagging me for the past few hours. I miss them so much. I wish I still had them all here. It doesn't matter that TJ was the favorite child, or that we were too poor to pay rent. It really was amazing. But this is good too. Remy says I put my trust in the wrong people, but that isn't true. Ann is great. And Remy is wrong.

Normally I like rainy days, where I can stay inside cooped up, but right now I'm not happy. I'm not grateful. I'm just sad.

Warning: Moderate Profanity

Turquesa Miracelest, 17, District One Female, 2 Years and 4 Months Before the Reaping

I can feel the stares focused on me, even if I can't see them. Prying into my head, the icy blue eyes sending shivers down my spine.

I tell myself it's alright. No biggie. I didn't care if I was selected or not, said I never had any interest in the spot. I didn't expect it to hurt this much. But it does.

The kids crowd the hall, some chattering away happily and showing each other their passing grades.

94. 98. 97.

Others smile wickedly at the line of dejected flunkards trudging out of the Academy for the last time, their smiles those of malice.

"Goodbye, rejects!" Champagne is part of the latter group. With an evilly smug look of her ugly pug-nosed face she holds up her paper.

100.

I look down at my own paper.

29.

"Fuck off for the last time, rejects. I wish you could go in the Games with me so I could kill your sorry asses myself!"

Emerald runs off into the girls' room and retching noises follow. Champagne and her cronies prowl into the bathroom like they're a pack of careers about to torture an outlier. Champagne shoots me one last glare before she goes.

That's one good thing will come out of this. I never have to see that bitch's face again.

The Peacekeepers open the tremendous double doors of the Entrance Hall. I blow a kiss goodbye to Champagne. Then I hold up the finger.

The light of outside temporarily blinds me as I cross through those double doors for what is the last time.

I don't know why Champagne took it upon herself to make my life there a living hell. Was it because I am prettier than her? Was it because I purposefully threw my exams? Was it because I dropped a bucket of processed meat from the cafeteria that I stole on to her head from the second floor? Yeah, probably that one.

In all seriousness, it's probably because I don't like the Games. She, as her brutal and bratty self, hates me for that. I personally am disgusted by her too. That's the reason she ran home screaming her head off drenched in meat and with a dented bucket covering her head. My favorite part was when she ran into a wall and dented the bucket.

I stare back down at my grade. I knew that this would come. I was looking forward to it. No more training, no more Champagne, more time with Valor. But now that the time has come a rotten and bitter taste fills my mouth.

I don't want to have to tell my parents about this. I don't know what they'll say, but I'm scared.

The mansion is approaching. The house towers over me. Has it ever been this daunting?

Pristina, the maid, opens the door, and I find my parents in the dining room.

"Mother, Father."

They stare at me with their cold and unblinking gray eyes, looking up and down at me, surveying me like I am not their daughter but a broken tool.

"What is wrong with your outfit?" The words leave Father's mouth like he is spitting them out, like he is disgusted.

"And your makeup?" Mother purses her lips and walks over to me, glaring at my black hair and about to wipe off my hurriedly applied and tear streaked mascara.

"Sit down, Adorancia." Father stares at me, his icy gray eyes boring into my green ones. "I think Turquesa has something to tell us."

I step forward nervously and hand them the paper. I hear muffled sniggers and look over to see Zafiro and Indigo laughing while hiding behind a wall. Of course they would enjoy this, always wanting to get ahead of me.

I look back over to my parents. They are still staring at my grade and letter of expulsion.

"Turquesa…" They look up at me and I can see barely concealed fury in their eyes. "Obviously you do not understand how much this means to us."

I'm running down the street, dusk setting in though my hair shines black against the yellow of the people strolling down the street. I don't care, and I don't stop either.

I'm panting with exhaustion when I finally make it to where I want to be. The dilapidated house, typically ominous and looking as though it will crumble to dust at any possible moment, now seems welcoming. I run inside.

The darkness of the house discomforts me but comforts me all the same. The darkness is not my friend, just an acquaintance. Shelter, but something to be sheltered from. Nevertheless, I don't leave the dusty living room of the dilapidated house. This is where I need to be right now.

The paper is still clenched in my hand. I snatched it back from my parents before I ran out of the house. I throw it into an old trash bin in the living room, and collapse on to the worn carpeted floor.

I don't want to die.

Tears trickle down my face.

I don't want to die.

I'm panting for breath now. This feels so foreign. I haven't cried in years. But-

"I don't want to die!"

It settles into me and chills my bones. I'm probably going to die.

A bustling noise fills my ears and a familiar voice yells "Turquesa, you in there?"

"Yeah," I say, trying to keep my voice straight.

Valor runs into the room, crouching down by me on the floor. "What's wrong?"

In response, I give him the paper.

"Isn't this a good thing? Now you're done with training, now we can go to school together, and have more time together."

"No, we can't."

"Why not?"

"They said I had to go back. They said I had to volunteer unless they would disown me."

I can feel the hand Valor has on my back tense up. He doesn't say anything for a while.

Finally, he says, "Maybe you could live with me and my family."

"Hmm…" Getting away from Mother and Father would be amazing, but I couldn't do that to Ma Clear. She already stripped for cash enough as it is.

"No, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"I have to do this."

There's another pause.

"Then you're going to win." Valor brushes his golden blonde bangs out of his face and looks me in the eye. "You're going to win."

"But what if I don't? Would you be able to… to go on?"

"No. And that's why you have to win. For me."

Champagne wore a look of utter shock when I walked into school the next day. I tried to put on a facade of cockiness and confidence. Judging from the reactions of my fellow cadets, I pulled it off.

Today I find a note in my locker.

Meet me in the Training Center. I won't hold back.

It's anonymous, but I know who it's from.

Champagne stands on a mat, already holding her spear. She leers at me as I get closer. Menacing.

I go to pick up my favorite spear, to find she has already taken it. I see what she's playing at, now.

I take a smaller spear and approach the ring. Champagne's cronies snicker from behind the line, though I wouldn't be surprised if one of them snuck past it and cheated. With them almost all the kids in our year.

Never mind them.

Champagne makes the first move. I jump back and jab the blunted spear tip into the back of her knee. She turns around angrily and swings at me. I dodge.

This goes on and on for a few minutes, Champagne physically and mentally stronger, me at the advantage. She isn't used to using such a small spear. She has the build of a javelin thrower.

I eventually gain the upper hand, poking her forehead and chest. She looks up at me floor the floor. The scar from when I cut her cheek in our previous duel is still there. That one I didn't win, but this one I did.

I just might stand a chance.

Cassius Heart, 16, District Eight Male, 2 Years Before the Reaping

I really don't see why that whole affair was necessary for me to go to. It's not like I would get Reaped, I only have three slips of paper in that bowl. Compared to those wretched dirty street monkeys, the chances of me going into the Hunger Games are astronomical.

Even then, who cares if a little factory girl or orphan boy go to their certain deaths? No one will miss Silky Calvant or Garment Randle. Not me, not anyone. Or maybe not anyone important. If I was chosen for the Hunger Games, there would certainly be an upset. Certainly. They couldn't have the heir to the biggest clothing company of Panem be Reaped. I would surely be in no danger.

Garv seems to agree.

"Waste of time, Cassius," he says to me. "Waste of time. We could have been using today to plan, but no, we had to go to the stupid Reapings!"

"Exactly."

Garv wants to be president one day, the first district born president in the history of Panem. I can't say the idea is realistic, but I would sure enjoy being an advisor. Maybe even Head Gamemaker. I've always like hearing those children squeal.

"You two are ridiculous." Vanity, Garv's twin sister, strides by us.

"And how is that, Van?"

Vanity turns to Garv with fury in her eyes. "You know I hate it when you call me that, and you know why I'm mad at you!"

I sense a fight coming. Good.

"You're a… a sociopath! You have no regard for anyone but yourself! You're a monster! That boy who got Reaped was one of my friends, and you don't give a damn!"

"Vanity, there beneath us," I say, stepping in.

"You… you're exactly the same!" Vanity begins to storm off.

"Vanity, but it's true! We're Lockmans, they're worthless compared to us!"

To think I could have had a crush on that girl in elementary school. I despise that girl and her senseless antics.

"Sometimes I just don't understand her," Garv says to me. "Going off to the orphanages in her spare time, giving money and parcels away like candy."

"Why waste your money on that when you have so much of it?" I jump in.

I catch some of the commoners surrounding us giving us dirty looks. I begin to get nervous.

Garv lets out a derisive laugh. "These people don't know who they're playing with. One word to father and they'd all be on the whipping posts. After the Square is cleaned up, that is."

"You're right. They wouldn't dare hurt one of us."

Garv's father is Head of the Peacekeepers in District Eight, not something to scoff at. As for me, my parents own a fashion company, the biggest in all of Panem.

These dirty, grimy street rats don't dare touch us. Nobody dares to touch us.

One Hour Later

The maid (I never bother to remember her name.) opens the door for me once I get back home.

"Cassius," she says. I don't like the way she says my name. Like I'm an old friend. I'm not this woman's friend. "You're mother and father had to leave out of the blue today, so your Grandma is in charge.

Ugggh. Grandma.

She sits bedridden on the couch watching some Capital soap opera, and when I walk in, she looks at me with her signature stare. If Maid's words made me mad, this infuriates me.

She just stares at me like she's disappointed in me, like I've done something wrong and all she can do is sit there and wallow in pity over herself and me.

"I'm going to get some ice cream," I say as I stand up, desperate for an excuse to leave.

"No you're not," she croaks.

"What do you mean 'No I'm not'? Nobody every says no to me!"

"Your mother let you get too porky already, if you would listen to me you'd be dieting. You may even not need the dieting."

"W-what are you talking about!?"

"You know."

I can feel the anger building up inside of me for this woman. Doesn't she know what will happen if I don't get what I want?

Blood is rising up to face. My fists are trembling…

"UGGGH!" I scream out. I start punching random things, crying, throwing furniture. Maid rushes in to calm me down. I try to shove her down, but she holds her ground and pushes me to the wall. I'm flailing around and screaming, but I can't do anything. She finally lets me go.

"I'm telling Mother," I yell as I storm out of the room. I miss Mother. She lets me do everything I want. She always says I'll be stupid rich one day, when I own the company.

Hell, I'd even take Father. He lets everyone around him use him as a doormat.

My life is so hard.

Hey guys, how's it been? Was this chapter good? I don't feel as proud of it as I do my first, but I was sort of going for a different tone here. Please tell me what you think about the chapter and Tessa, Turquesa, and Cassius. Also, big thanks to TheBigLew21, Bribooks13, and TheShippingPrincess for all of these great characters! Now, for the questions:

Which tribute's background characters did you like the best or enjoy the most?

What are the names of Turquesa's younger brothers?

Hope you guys liked the chapter, please review!

-Mills