Keeley Axel, 13, District Six Female, Six Months and One Week Before the Reapings
The cold wind takes me by surprise as I step outside into the harsh wintry night. I can already tell Peter won't be able to do much of anything with his fingers, as cold as it is. I guess I'm going to have to do all of the work. Again.
I pull up my heavy coat to shield my face and drop my long black hair over my eyes to maintain inconspicuous. It's best to stay that way, especially when you have a job like I do, when Peacekeeper are standing guard at the street corners, or when there is a rapist lurking in every alleyway. All three are true.
Even through my jacket and hair, the wind hits my face like a metal to a magnet, and so I pull up my jacket just a bit more. Just stay guarded, I tell myself. If it's so easy with people, then why can't you do it now?
As I near the Peacekeeper, I slouch back, retreating into the heavy army coat where my shiv is hidden, ready for anything though hoping to death to escape. I've always despised them, unfair and unjust, quite the misnomer. I'd loathe them even if I wasn't on the run from them constantly. But the Peacekeeper sees me. He begins to walk towards, a casual, slow walk, a cocky walk. I begin to fear that he is both Peacekeeper and rapist, this wouldn't be the first time they came after me, when finally, he pulls off his helmet.
"God damnit Peter!"
I untense and unclench my hand from my knife to run forwards and punch him in the gut, though it hurts me more than it does him with the armor. Peter is laughing.
I force the smile creeping on my face off. I don't need to be off my game tonight, not when there is work to do. Peter laughs jovially, and says "Are you ready for tonight?" That is the difference between me and Peter. Or, well, one of the many.
"Yes, I'm ready," I spit out.
"Jesus, you can never take a joke."
Peter pulls his helmet back on and grabs me by the wrists. "Off you go, perp," He exclaims in his booming voice, much deeper than you would think at first glance, deeper than most adults', and definitely passable as a Peacekeeper along with his muscular build, to the seemingly empty street. I begin to fight, but then realize the plan. "Come on," he whispers into my ear. "I'm escorting you somewhere."
Despite myself I chuckle at his blatant pride at the plan and enjoyment of cuffing and escorting me somewhere.
"How did you get the suit?" I ask him.
"Easy. Stole it."
"Of course it would be easy. It's what we do."
Yes, this is the real reason I stand in the brisk wind being "escorted" by Peter supposedly to the Justice Building, yet I know where we're really going. The Victory Tour trains are arriving tonight, holding not a victor but the president himself, because of the triumph of last year. Oh, it was brilliant. We figured why not hijack the train, cause a bit of a fiasco, delay the tour, embarrass the Capital with their poor technology again. And maybe while we're there, steal a few valuable items to pawn off.
The train station has double the amount of workers up late at night, getting ready for the train holding Nero than usual, something I should know, as I've been here before.
Me and Peter crouch behind a crate and watch as the train pulls in. When we first began doing this, when I was nine and Peter was eleven, this kind of thing was easy. Now, even though I'm fight foot nine, I'm skinny, and Peter says he's envious of me for my perfect thieving build. He is muscular, almost a man. He makes up for it though in his cunning. Now I have to crouch in the small space not obscured by him without getting too close… He's so attractive… But I can't take my eyes off the train right now, it's not even a challenge.
A loud, clanking, squealing groaning noise fills the air as the train comes to a halt and workers and Peacekeepers begin loading off crates and valuables. Me and Peter both know to wait. People are watching right now.
"Keeley," Peter whispers from beside me, "isn't it weird that our arch nemesis is right inside that train?"
"Yes, it is. It is sort of thrilling though, being this close to him. About to show him up." I look to Peter, and I see a smirk on his face that is identical to the one that most likely lies on mine.
We look back to the field. "Now," I say once the Peacekeepers have cleared and a muscular and top-heavy figure with a fine wooden cane, shines dark in the glow of the train entrance, flanked by those in white stands in the door. Everyone is staring at him, whether appraisingly form behind a mask or displaying poorly masked hate. Even from here there is a distinct aura of power emanating from him, a visible confidence, strength.
Peter steps quietly from behind the crab with me in hand, and makes a show no one, maybe not even the cameras see, of dragging me across the station to the train. We hurry inside through the door leading to the monitors, and Peter rams his gun into the power fuse. The lights go dark. This is where we will really shine. We have practical night vision from doing this for so long.
Peter brings down the gun on each Peacekeeper's small of neck in the darkness since their heads are protected, and we both slip through the door and into the pitch black hallway.
"Where do you think it is?" Peter asks me.
"That way," I answer, guiding his finger to the right and caboose. There'll be a room with all of the treasures.
We race down the hall to the door and Peter kneels down and puts his finger in the lock. He tries, but his finger are just too big now.
"Damnit!" he curses.
I move forward and thrust my long fingers in. It's easy.
This repeats until we finally make it to the end room, where the glow of the treasures illuminates the space.
"Why would they be doing this?" I ask Peter.
"Maybe Nero is so cocky he thought he could take all of this and no one would even get close to stealing it."
Either way I stuff as much of the bounty as I can into my heavy army coat and run back along the train to the end door. It gives me such a thrill, stealing, especially from those whom I hate, like the Capital and their lapdogs, but even then, I just need to steal, I love stealing. I need it, it's my only outlet of happiness, but of course I could never show that to anyone but Dad and Peter.
Peter wrenches open the door as we hear people groaning from the camera door, pulls up his helmet, and grabs me by the arm.
We did it.
I try not to let the stench of the Black Rose overtake me. Grubby hobos run rampant, and the sickening smell of drugs permeates the building. Nevertheless, it's where we go to do our business.
"Hello, sugar."
Isiah stands feet away from me, his bleached blonde hair vibrant compared to the darkness and dustiness of our surroundings, his dark skin standalone in the see of grimy white.
"It's not drugs we're carrying, Isiah," Peter says to him as he holds up the bag with a mischievous glint in his coal black eyes.
"Hmm, interesting," he says, trying to snatch it away from Peter, who is too fast. "Where from?"
"You know the Capital train they had coming in?"
"Ah," Isiah says, his smile growing wide. "You've got to go show that to Kai."
We begin walking through the sea of depressed, pitiful people. I don't want to be like them. I'm not going to be like them, to sink to their level. It's best just to not let them get too close. One old man elbows me, and I shove him off with a look that tells him what is good for him.
We arrive at the back of the building, where a thin man with silky black hair and conniving little eyes looks up at us. He kisses Isiah, pats his brother on the back, and shares a kind look with me.
"Hey, Pete, what is this here."
"Glad you asked, Kai." Peter leans forward to whisper into his brother's ear. He pulls away, and Kai lets out his high, hyena-like laugh. "Good job, brother."
Peter, Kai, and Isiah converse while I stay off to the side. Something about sharing the triumph like this… it just puts me off. I like to have my happiness to myself.
Peter and I leave for him to walk me back home. We stroll along in silence. After a while, he asks "What's wrong?"
"What do you mean, what's wrong? Nothing is wrong."
"I've known you for five long years, Keeley."
"…okay fine. It's just… do you think what we did has any actual impact on… anything? Do you think it will stop, do, accomplish anything?" He pauses. "No, it won't."
He looks at me, with his signature elfish grin on his face. "Well, at least it was fun, eh." He puts his arms around me, and I tense up. He relinquishes me.
It's best not to let people in like that, to just go it alone. Peter is a partner, nothing more. I have to keep my guard up. It's the only way I know how to be.
Talisa Rowland, 18, District Four Female, Six Months Before the Reapings
It isn't out of hubris or narcissism that I look in the mirror. I know I am pretty. I know I am the best. That is nothing to flaunt. I have confidence, and that is what should be flaunted.
My room is large, with pretty blue paintings of fish swimming across the walls. It helps to get me motivated. Today, I won't be going to the Academy, though. President Nero will be within feet of me in minutes.
Of-course, I don't mean I am getting grilled or anything of that caliber. As everyone who knows me well knows, I would be the last to get involved with that sort. That's why Chad and I aren't together anymore. I did not want to be around someone who enjoys pulling cruel pranks and committing petty crimes. He still stalks me, but I can tell that despite his efforts he hasn't changed. I saw it all along.
No, I mean the Victory Tour, obviously. We'll be at the front, for sure, with our standing. Such a tragedy what happened six months ago, and when Delta was so sure to win, too, but at least Nero thought of a way to address the districts in person. Hopefully he'll finally see the horrible conditions our people live in and do something about it. Me and Father can't do all of the work. The Capital is good, but a bit blind, and in some cases, I feel, deliberately so. Nevertheless, they give us a leader, and without them we would all run around like headless chickens.
Father greets me as I walk in.
"Sweetie," Father runs up to hug me, and I don't try to push back. I love him so much, and I'm grateful, and I own that. "You look so gorgeous in that dress."
It's a cerulean blue thing, long-sleeved, with a flowing bottom.
"I'm famished, is breakfast ready?"
"Yes, it is, sugar." Krilla kindly elbows me out of the way to place the omelets and toast on the table. "Your father is right you know." She pecks me on the cheek and waddles back off into the kitchen. Krilla is our live-in maid and cook. Father took her in even though she was self-sufficient, and know she tends to us. I don't like to have someon do things for me though, and Krilla just says I make her job easier.
Me and Father tuck in and talk about random things. He really is my rock. Without him, I would probably come up with an idea too crazy and idealistic to actually work, and he has a much better business mind than me. I'm for more of the practical and natural things.
We do love to help the poor and the needy, and father donates a lot of the proceeds of Rowland's fishing to them. One day, I am going to inherit all of this, and work just as hard as he does. Maybe I won't just be in the mayor's confidence and inner circle, I may be mayor myself. I would do a lot of good as mayor, I think. But, like I said, I would still need Father.
Serena and her family exit their house right beside ours at exactly the same time. She runs up to us in her flowing cyan gown and hugs me.
"You look so pretty!"
"So do you!"
Father pats Serena on the back, and Serena's family greet me and Father warmly. I am practically their daughter, just like Serena is practically Father's. My and Serena are like sisters. Her oldest brother, Dylan, is eyeing me in my dress. I think he has a crush on me, but my eyes aren't on him.
As we walk together to the Reaping, I catch a good bit of eyes. I guess it helps to be tall and well fed and in a radiant dress, but I don't really care. I am an open book.
We finally arrive at the Victory Tour, and we are some of the few afforded the luxury of seats. Serena's family owns another, slightly smaller fishing company that is still mightily successful. My heart goes out to the tiny little scraps standing in the corrals, looking like they could faint this second from starvation.
Our mayor, Corpus Veal, walks onto the stage and gives us a fleeting, friendly glance before beginning his speech.
"In celebration of the victory and triumph of survival,", how sadly ironic. "the Victory Tour shall be held, to celebrate winning, and remind those who lost to maintain the spirit that has given them victors in the past. Due to the horrible loss of all twenty-four tributes last year, President Leocadius Nero is here to deliver a speech. Without further ado…" Corpus steps to the side and allows the dominant man himself to the stage.
We politely applaud as President Nero readies himself.
"It is a great, great tragedy, that I stand here before you and not one of your own. We should take this year of deepest regret, and turn it into a fuel, a desire, to win." A minor scuffle breaks out in the back of the crowd, nothing important, and Nero continues. "The point of the Hunger Games is to unite us as one nation under the Capital-"
"YOU LIAR!"
We whip our heads back to the man in the crowd as he is forced to the ground by Peacekeepers.
"UNITE US?! YOU DID, OUT OF HATRED FOR YOU, YOU FOUL SCUM! YOU TOOK MY SON! YOU TOOK MY SON, YOU-"
"STOP!" The sheer booming volume of Nero's commands ricochets off of my ears and leaves me hard of hearing. "This was not the fault of the Capital! We shall be united in grief and resolve to do better next year!"
The crowd is silent under the presence of Nero. The strength, the power. This is what we need. A leader.
We stand. "Capital almighty," we say, and the ceremony is over.
The next day, as we help the homeless, they seem a bit colder than usual. Krilla's cooking is not as scrumptious. I know that they want to be better off, and the Capital is wrong to neglect them, but we must unite to do good, and that is what I want, that is what father taught me. To do good.
Bolt Dattery, 15, District Three Male, Five Months and Two Weeks Before the Reapings
God, school is boring.
It feels like today of all days should not be boring. Our exams were today, and now all of my friends and classmates sit either tentatively awaiting results or scribbling away hurriedly while watching the clock. To me, though, it is just so boring. I finished the test within the first ten minutes of receiving it, it was easy with my one-hundred-fifty IQ, and sitting in a desk, trying to stay still… Torture!
ADHD is a bitch.
The outside looks so alluring through the window, one of the only clean and grassy places in the district. Oh, what I would give to be out there, running my heart out, rather than having to stuff myself into a desk.
"Papers!"
Mrs. Pennweather never sounded so glorious. The stragglers let out gasps of horror, those waiting for results tense up, but I am the only one who is excited. Mrs. Pennweather hands them out, and finally I get to see my grades. Perfect scores across the board. This stuff really is elementary, but I would much rather be here, with my friends and family, than at the advanced boarding school. We could afford it with my parents' inheritance, but who would watch Bug and Lumen while Cord is at work? Out of the question.
The bell rings, and I am the first to stand up, my things already packed, and rush out before anyone can say a word. I breathe in the fresh air, with smog levels so low you can see half a mile in front of you, drop my things, and take a lap around the courtyard. My friends approach.
"Wanna race?" I ask them.
Techna looks disapprovingly at me, while Zale drops his shabby bag too, and we race our normal length: to the gate and back. I always win, I'm the speediest boy in school, not to mention the smartest. I laugh maniacally.
"What did you make?" Techna asks us as we walk home.
"A plus across the board," I respond. Techna shakes her head, awestruck and exasperated.
"My highest was only a ninety-eight."
"Feel better that your highest wasn't a ninety-four," Zale adds.
Techna looks glum. "The ninety-eight was in Engineering and Robotics."
Zale and I share looks of understanding. "Your parents still want you to be a mathematician, huh?" I ask her. Techna nods. It's her dream to be an engineer, but her parents are extremely overpowering. Some nights she sleeps with us, and some nights Zale does too. His family is poor, and he's the oldest of six, so he doesn't get much attention. He loves them, but sometimes he just wants them to pay attention and they won't, can't. But we're happy to take him in. It's been lonely Mommy and Daddy died… It was horrible. And we had to watch. Everyone in District Three had to watch. And Bug and Lumen didn't understand, and Bug kept asking where they were…
A single tear glistens on my eye.
"Bolt?" Techna looks at me, concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, totally," I say a bit hastily.
"Good. You just sort of stopped moving, and you never stop moving, so I got a bit worried."
I say goodbye to Techna and Zale when I reach my house. It's on the corner and fairly big. My parents were engineers, and they were fairly well off. Cord moved in to take care of us after his wife, my sister in law, Data, died in childbirth three years back. But at least we have baby Lumen as a draw from it, and she's a little bundle of joy.
Bug greets me at the door. "Bolt!" She teeters up to hug me. Even though I'm short, only five foot four, she still has to reach up to encircle her arms around my waist. Bug is on the autistic spectrum, and has a growth impediment, but she's a trouper, and you wouldn't see it from looking at her, but she's got a fiery personality.
"Hey Bugs! How was a day?" Bug can't say the t-h sound, so she just says a instead.
"Good," she responds.
I love my sister so much, and even though she can be a bit of a burden, I don't know what I would do without her.
Later, Cord comes home with Lumen, and I dote over her and play games while Bug draws Cord a picture after his long day of work.
Lumen eventually goes to bed, and Cord retires not long after, leaving me to tuck in Bug. God, I love my family. I would do anything for them, any one of them. I know they need me, but if I ever get Reaped, I don't think I could kill. I don't think I would let myself win. And that's the hard part of love, is that sometimes you have to let it go.
Hello, it's been a while. I am so, so sorry to all of you readers to have been waiting. I have not given up on this story, not at all. My dog bit the charger for my computer, it went dead, and there was a problem ordering the replacement. By the time I got it, I had just sort of fallen into a funk, and I felt like I lost my spirit somewhat. But I'm back! I made myself write this, and I am so happy I did! I plan to have another one of these punched out before or on Monday, to make up for lost time, and I have gone to distance learning, so I should have much more time to write. I also have the story I have formulated coming up, tomorrow or the next day, so look out for it.
What did you think of the chapter? I feel like I sort of was a bit too short with Bolt's, but I wanted this out ASAP. I do feel proud of Talisa and Keeley's, though, and I wanted your feedback. What do you think? Please review, and also thank you to juud108, if they are still reading, and SetFiresJust2WatchThemBurn for Keeley! Now for the questions:
How far do you think these three will go, and why?
According to Keeley, what lurks in every alleyway?
I know I've been a bit of a hypocrite about reviewing, but for any of you reading with my tributes in your stories, I promise to be reviewing more. I really need the support, I sort of felt like people weren't reading my writing more, and it gives you sponsor points, so please do it. Thank you all if you read the chapter, I am happy to be back.
-Mills