Reaping Day

Turquesa Miracelest, 17, District One Female

It's only now that the realism of my predicament is really setting in; I'm probably going to die. I'm probably going to die a gruesome, painful, and worst of all televised death, and be sent home to be buried in shame while Valor is the only person who weeps and everybody else spits on my grave in disgust.

Valor. I need Valor right now.

I don't know if I can suppress my tears much longer. Why do I have to do this?

The door opens, and my family, not Valor, walks in. Instead of running to them, I take a seat on the luxurious velvet couch and look around at the beautiful painting that adorn the walls.

"Turquesa." Father commands my attention aggravatedly.

"Yes," I respond, still averting my eyes.

"Look at me."

I will not give in. I won't.

"Look at me."

But there is something scary in his voice, that fear he has forever installed in me that is the kerosene and his voice the lit match.

"Look at me!"

I snap my head towards him, eyes frantic.

"You best not… fail, like you have done previously. This must not be a repeat of the Academy." He says the word fail with such contempt, such loathing.

Mother stands cold and judgmental at his side. Zafiro and Indigo watch from afar with relish. Oh, how they must crave to see me fall, to be the victor of the family.

"What do you care, you sorry old bastard? What do any of you care?!" Mother puts her hand to her breast in shock. Father stands cold and impassive, unable to think up a response.

"You!" I yell at Father. "You only want a victor in the family! That's all you ever cared about! Not me! You wouldn't give a shit if I died right here! You'd only care because you lost a potential victor, you scum of the earth, evil, repulsive asshole. And you!" I turn my attention to Mother. "Why can't you accept me for what I am? I'm beautiful and better than you! All you care about is that we look pretty and rich! You want to use us as tools to help you rise up the social ranks! You're almost as bad as Father! And you two little gremlins!" Zafiro and Indigo shrink up to the wall. Their smirks have suddenly vanished. "You two never loved me, you only view me as competition. You want me to die! I'm your fucking sister!"

They all stand there, watching me, shocked. I have all the power over them in this one moment, and I relish it.

"When I win, don't go asking for a spot in my mansion. You won't get it. I don't want to see any of you ever again!"

Father is furious.

"How dare you not let us in to your home! We cared for you and fed you, and we will make you famous. Without us, you would be nothing!"

"Come, Doracio." Mother pats her husband on the back. "It's time we cut our ties. If she doesn't want our help, she won't get it."

And with one last collective glare and two twin flip-offs from Zafiro and Indigo, they disappear behind a shut door. Forever.

Was that the last I will ever see of my family? I make up my mind. Yes. Alive or dead.

I am still fuming. I punch the wall in anger. Anger at Champagne, at my family, at that stupid fucking escort who drew my name out of the bowl. I let out an angry yell that turns into a wail that turns into a sob. I can't do this. I can't. I don't have the strength, both mental and physical. I can't keep this façade of toughness up for much longer.

The door opens and Valor comes rushing in to embrace me in a tight hug. In this moment silence means more than words.

"I never thought this would happen," he says.

"Neither did I." Despite myself I let out a dry, derisive laugh. "God damnit, why?"

"Because Champagne is an asshole, and fate has always tried to fuck you over."

"Why did I let them enroll me in that stupid fucking academy? Why couldn't they be like your parents?"

"That doesn't matter anymore." He cuts off our embrace and looks me in the eye as he pulls me up off the ground. "Turquesa, listen to me, if you can close your mind to your horrible parents' bitching and you loud ass brothers, then you can sure as hell focus on this right now."

I meet his serious gaze and nod. "You're right." I've got to do this. I've got to focus. I've got to take this shitty hand and throw it back in everyone's face.

"You're a fighter, Turquesa. You're the strongest person I know. Now kick everybody's asses. For me."

"I will."

"And Turquesa, don't join the careers. I know you better than anyone, we've been best friends since kindergarten. If you stick with them, they're going to turn on you eventually. I know you won't be able to handle their attitudes."

"I know, I know. I will"

The Peacekeepers are at the door now, gesturing for Valor to exit.

"Turquesa, you have to win. You have to. You can do it." The Peacekeepers are on him now, pulling him backwards. "I know you can! I know you can! Do it for me, Turquesa, because I can't live without you!"

And with that, the doors have shut once again. I race up to the door, because if I never see Valor again, I need him to think of me with respect. "I will! I'll do it! Just you wa"

I fall to the floor and nearly take out my third visitor. The doors have opened a third time. A third time? Who else could possibly want to say goodbye to me?

I get my answer fairly quickly. Her porcelain skin and six-inch heels give her away.

"What are you doing here, you bitch?"

Champagne lets out a snooty, fake laugh, that kind so full of hubris and smugness that it always sounds, or feels, like it's coming from above you, even when it actually isn't. "Coming to say goodbye, of course."

"I hope when you volunteer next year, you die a painful and humiliating death at the very start of the Games. When I'm your mentor I will do literally nothing to save you. I will tell other tributes to kill you."

"Hmmm, sorry sweetie, but I don't think that will be happening soon. You'll pay for this." She gestures up to the scar on her cheek. "Have a nice time in Hell."

And with that, she is gone, one person I do hope never to see again. And yet, do I miss any form of human company? To help guard me from being alone. To help guard me from these shadows that disappear only whenever I look to find them behind my back even though sunlight pours through the windows into the room I am locked in.

No.

Be strong, I tell myself. Be strong. I'm going to win. I'm going to come back home, to disown my family, and finally see Valor again, and make sure Champagne Citronella gets put in her place.

I'm going to rebel; I'm going to win my own way. They'll see.

Bolt Dattery, 15, District Three Male

Despite my fear and sadness, my primary emotion is anger. Something doesn't seem right with this Reaping. Is it just in my head? Could it have something to do with Mother and Father?

I let out a sudden sob. I thought they had passed. I don't want to let them down, if they can even see me from their grave. I don't want to die. I want to carry their torch and fight in their memory. But would they even be proud to see me fighting in the Hunger Games? No, of course they wouldn't. But my enemies aren't solely in the arena.

Anger courses through my veins. Horrible memories of Mother and Father screaming, chained to the post. Terrible, terrible screaming coming from me and my parents both. And Bug's heartbroken, tragically confused face as she asked me what was going on. Were they even practicing rebellious activity under the seams? Would they be happy knowing that I knew what they had been fighting for?

This is too much. What is taking so long? Why can't my family and friends come inside to say goodbye? I take a deep breath and look around the room to calm myself down.

The room around me is cold and desolate, which combined with the smell of mildew and smog from the nearby factories creeping through the broken airducts, does not make for a comforting place to spend my last hour in my home.

"Bolt!"

Finally, Bug, Lumen, and Cord race through the doorway. I run to meet them in the middle, and they all wrap me in a tight group hug. I don't want to leave this. I can't leave this!

"Why you crying?" Lumen asks me.

"I have to leave for a while, okay, Lumie. But always promise to remember me and remember that I love you so much." I can my face reddening, I can't stop jumping around. I have to keep it together.

"Okay. Daddy says you're going to the Capital, can you send me a picture? The people there look so cool, I want to see them!" she huffs jealously.

"Sure."

"Thanks, Bolt!"

"Bolt?" Bug prompts. "Why do you have to leave?"

"You'll understand one day."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Silly Bolt." She laughs and looks at me as if I have just said something crazy, I guess that's what you get with her sometimes. "Why don't you know?"

"I can't see into the future, crazy!"

"You're the crazy one!"

We both are laughing, and Cord ushers Bug out of the way. "I'll always take care of them, no matter what," he tells me.

"But what if I don't come back, and you lose my income, and Bug has to go to the factories? Who could take care of them while you are at work?"

I can feel myself spiraling out of control here. I don't want Lumen and Bug to see this. Cord hugs me and shields me from them, letting me cry into my older brother's shoulder.

"Remember, Bolt, you a frickin' genius, now use that. Come home. I love you."

"Love you too. Goodbye!"

And with one last wonderful, heartbreaking hug, my family is gone.

Next are Ryan and Telle. They rush in to hug me, to tell me to fight, to use my head. I think. I honestly tune it all out, not on purpose but because I can't think. My ADHD is going haywire, I'm shivering and shaking compulsively like I'm being shocked. At one point I have to break our huddle just to take a run around the room.

Eventually, the hourglass runs out and our time is up.

"But I don't want to leave my best friends!" I exclaim. "Not them, too!"

Next are Techna and Zale from school. I make Techna promise me to be herself and not who her parents want her to be. I make Zale promise to work his hardest to be successful and make it out of poverty.

"Don't sell yourself short, Bolt," he tells me. "You're acting like you won't be making it out of the arena. Come on, pretend like this is just temporary, not your obituary speech."

"I will."

But all of a sudden, they are gone too, and more people pool in and out in larger groups now. My boss Satis and the rest of my crew, my other schoolfriends, the candy vendors on the merchant street, and more. I didn't realize I was this well-liked.

However, every time, all too soon, they have left too soon. And now, as the final minutes tick by, I am alone. Alone with my thoughts.

Everyone told me to use my head. I have to use my head. But not just in the arena. Crap, I wish I had asked Cord more about what happened to our parents!

I need to use my head. I need to use my head. So why can't I think?

I slap myself. "Come on, Bolt!"

I feel this spark, fluttering inside of me, spraying embers in my veins as it grows. Is there a chance for something different? Maybe, for the first time, could two people survive the Hunger Games? More?

I want to throw kindling and wood into that flame as it grows. There is a chance for something different, something better! I just have to find a way.

Talisa Rowland, 18, District Four Female

I wonder what the Capital thinks about me. The district seemed to like me. It kind of felt empowering standing up on that stage. Like I was strong, a role-model.

I can see Dad looking out at me from the crowd, giving me thumbs up, tears welling up in his eyes. He looked proud, and so did Serena, and all of her brothers. And I couldn't help searching the crowd for Finn, and finding him there, so handsome, smiling, standing next to Urchin, who was just looking at me, scowling, with those piercing eyes that always seem like X-Rays made to search me to find any imperfections to yell about. My cheeks go red just thinking about him.

I finally know what it feels like to be a tribute. That odd, nervous excitement, that quiet bracing for the strenuous days ahead of me. That dark virus of self-doubt, of fear, of anxiety and stage fright and not wanting to die.

No. I'm not going to let myself think like that. That is how so many tributes perish. I need to think like a victor, not a tribute. I need to come home.

I'm formidable, deadly with a trident. I could swim before I could walk. I know how to talk to people, to make allies with the careers, to keep the peace and yet fan the flames of growing rivalries and arguments all the same.

I can kill. I don't want to, but it has to be done. For District Four.

Dad comes in through the mahogany doorway and wraps me up in his arms. He stands on his tiptoes to kiss my forehead.

"I never though this day would ever really come. It feels like just yesterday you were toddling around in diapers. Now look at you. Smart. Brave. Beautiful."

"Thank you, Dad. For everything. I love you so much. You are the person I want to be, you taught me so much, without you I would be nobody." I'm not going to let myself give in here.

"I'm sorry," I chastise myself. "I'm talking like I'm not coming home. I am coming home. I'm going to make you proud."

"Talisa, I am already so proud of you, sweetie. I have confidence in you."

With one last heartfelt goodbye, he leaves, (Not forever, I tell myself.), and the next visitor comes in.

Serena.

"Well, this is it," she says. "The big leagues."

"Yep," I say, laughing.

First the first time since I have known her, things are a bit awkward. This is a new experience for me, I guess. I'm not trying to have a big head or anything, but I'm typically the center of the conversation.

"Talisa," she says.

"Yeah, Serena?"

"Please come back home. I literally have no idea what the fuck I would do if I didn't have you around. Probably gouge my eyes out."

A genuine laugh comes out of me. "I will. And until then, keep watch on everything for me. Make sure Dad doesn't lose it. This is going to be the longest that we have ever been apart."

"Well us too. But I will."

"Oh, Serena," I say slowly, "you'll always be my bestie."

"You too."

Next is Serena's family, which is pretty much my family, too. Her three older brothers treat me like one of their own… I'll admit it is a slight bit awkward around Dylan, he seems to have a bit of a crush on me. I'm sure it's nothing. Her mother, Pearl, is practically mine, too.

Then they're gone, and it really hits me, even as more and more friends pool in and out. The real consequences of my decision might not have even taken place yet. My mind is a bit out of it.

I can't stand not seeing these people. What if they can't stand being without me? What will Dad do if I leave? How will Serena cope? Is everyone at the Academy just going to pretend that I didn't exist, that I was merely a nameless tribute, cut down and shipped back here in a wooden box to be set out to see and set on fire.

A disappointment.

I want to be remembered for something else, something good. I want to be remembered for all of the charity work that me and Dad have done to help the poor. I want to be remembered as giving my hardest every second I am in that arena. I want to be remembered as strong, brave, clever, witty, lively.

I want to be remembered as a victor.

There is only one path to that point.

And now, as regret seeps into my heart at what I have just done, I expel it. Others have to die, but for a worthy cause.

This is for honor.

This is for inspiring all those other little girls from District Four to try, to give it their all, the be strong and have respect and to fight as hard as you possibly can.

This is for being a victor.

I will starve.

I will kill.

But Capital damnit, I will survive.

Cassius Heart, 16, District Eight Male

"Mother!" I pound on the beaten down door as I slowly slide down. "Do something!"

I hear her muffled screams from behind the locked door. Only every other phrase is discernible: "He's my son… disgrace upon the nation… you'll be… know who I am!?"

"Help me!" I cry.

I can't be locked alone in here. The ugly, bare walls seem to close in on me, the scratchy carpeted floor scrapes across my skin with every movement, bringing agonizing pain.

I'm a good boy, a smart boy, we can't be subject to this! This is for the birds! This is for the poor people!

Just the stench of my prison has me feeling lightheaded. My mind is spinning in a demented, torturous loop-deloop, and it feels like I'm about to lose control.

Could I just possibly make it in with the careers? I'm beautiful, I know I am. Mother tells me so every morning. One day I'm going to lose all of this puppy fat and grow into a twice as handsome man. Would the District One tributes like me? Or would they just skin me like a pig?

I'm not a pig! I'm a Heart!

A painful thud smacks the back of my head. The doorway? I roll out of the way in floor, my bawling only increasing from my further injury.

"Cassius, baby, come to Mommy."

Mother drops down to floor level and cradles me. Her make-up is dripping down her face. She looks like a haggard ghost. Do I look any better?

Oh, how can I bear to let the nation see me like this, to have my death displayed on live television? Why can't they just pick somebody else? I'm actually worth a damn.

As if she read my mind, Mother whispers into my ear, "Don't worry, sweetie, you're going to be back home soon. Mommy has this all under control. Don't listen to what those idiotic Peacekeepers tell you, you're coming back home. They spout lies, vicious lies. Three million silvers should show them."

"But…" I have to pause to release a loud sob, "but what if th-th-they don-n't? Mommy please save me now?" I wail as I collapse limply into her arms and she tugs me two the faded velvet couch to sit me down. It feels like it hasn't been used for a year, which is most likely true.

"Cassius, listen to me."

"Uh-huh?"

"You are a Heart. You can do anything, anything you want. Nobody can touch you. And if Mommy can't save you, you can win the Hunger Games. Don't let those district scum and filthy street rat oppressors put you down. You are so far above them they can't see you below the clouds. Have faith in your name, Cassius. Your heritage. You are going to be back here in days."

"Okay. I am. I will."

And I hug her, hug her as hard as I can, but she doesn't seem to mind for once. I repeat it to myself, what she has said to me. I am a Heart. I can do anything I want. Nobody can touch me. I believe it. I believe it!

But do I really, deep down?

All too soon Mother has to go, but she swears that we will reunite in the very near future.

Next comes Father, and our time is fairly awkward. Mother and Grandma have always consoled me, not this man that I barely know. Mother has always and forever fixed my problems. Not him. All that he can think to do is put a clammy hand on my shoulder as I weep.

Next, there is Grandma.

"So," she says, "you are finally in a situation that money can't buy you out of."

I am taken aback. I retract my embrace from this cold woman. "But Mother said—"

"My daughter-in-law is wrong. You best learn right now that you are going to have to fight for this. Fight like you have never fought before. I fought for my wealth, to the tooth and nail. You had it just handed to you. But this victory will not be handed to you. It will do all of us best for you to stop that attitude and be a man for once in your life right now."

I am at a loss for words. I can barely look her in the eyes for a couple of seconds.

And then, she says, "Come here, Cassius," and gives me the warmest hug of all, and then she leaves.

Garv never comes to visit me. And now what she says has me questioning everything. Why can't I have this just handed to me? I deserve it more than the rest of them, that's for sure.

And I will fight for my life in there, I don't care who gets hurt or who I betray. I'm a Heart. I can do anything I want. Nobody can touch me.

I am invincible.

Then why do I still feel weak, naked, as those terrifying walls close in on me once more, and the sandpaper carpet scrapes my skin like pain that I have never felt before as my eyes are waterfalls?

Why do I still feel utterly terrified and not confident like I am supposed to be?

Why do I still feel so alone?

Raihan Everstow, 12, District Ten Male

I let out a muffled sob into Daddy shoulder. Sweat and snot and tears all come flowing out, in contrary to my efforts to stop them.

"Raihan, I don't want you to leave!" Wyola stands sulkily in a corner, her hands on her hips. "Why do you have to go to that bad old place the Capitol? And why is it so bad, anyway?"

"Wyola, honey, we'll have a talk later. Give your brother a hug."

Wyola toddles up to us and fits her way into the middle around our waists. I don't want this to end. I want to stay forever in this protective circle of love. Nothing can hurt me here, right now.

"I love you, Daddy," I say, lifting my head from his shoulder to face him.

"I love you too, son." His voice quivers on the last word, yet his face in unyielding to any emotion except confidence. Oh, how I wish I could be like him. Stoic and handsome and strong. I know the effort that it must be taking him to hold it all in. He probably knows that I will most likely die sooner than later.

"Now you listen to me," he says. "You go out there and try your hardest to make it back. You make yourself an ally and the two of you run and run and run and keep on running. No matter what."

"Daddy, is Raihan not coming back?" Wyola looks at me, betrayed. "But I'll miss you, Raihan. Why can't I go?"

"You are not old enough, Wyola," I tell her. "You'll understand someday."

"But I want to understand now!" Her face is reddening as tears stream down her pudgy cheeks.

"Wyola, do you really want the last your brother sees of you to be crying and being whiny?"

In response she runs forward to cling on to me, bawling.

Daddy sheds a single tear.

That is when I tell myself that I need to be brave. No more tears will fall. I'm tired of always having to lean on Daddy and Noello. It is time for me to be the one being leaned on.

I don't cry as they leave, even as my insides tear each other apart with sadness and pain, and now Noello wheels himself in and Heaven knows that I will not cry in front of Noello.

But why is Noello crying?

"Raihan, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I should have volunteered."

"No, you shouldn't have! Noello, I can hold my own. I'm strong! I'm tough! I'm the fastest boy in sixth grade!"

"But you have everything to lose. Me, I've got nobody excluding you. You're my best friend."

"Your mine too, and that's why you shouldn't feel guilty. I knew what I was getting into when I told you not to volunteer. It's not your responsibility to look after me like it used to me! It's time I start looking after myself!"

Noello says nothing for a while. And then, finally, "You've come a long way."

"Yes, I have. And you better believe that in three weeks I'm going to be back here."

"I will," he says. Is it my imagination or does he not quite look me in the eye? "I've saved you a bunch of times. Now it's time for you to go and save yourself."

"Count on it."

"One more thing," he says, as our hourglass is almost empty. "Swear on your life that you will not freeze up when you see blood like when Wyola was attacked by a dog. Not when it's your own hide that you need to be saving."

"I won't."

"Good."

The Peacekeepers open the door. Our time is up, they don't even need to say.

"See you soon, Raihan."

"Right back at you, Noello."

And he takes one last look at me before the door slams shut. His eyes say it all, as he looks upon me with concealed despair and pity. He's not going to be seeing me ever again. That's what he thinks, at least.

I don't think I'll be seeing him again either, if I'm being honest with myself.

The room is spinning again. I might be about to slip. The walls with chipped red and white painting are beginning to blur.

No. Not today.

I am going to prove Noello Duna wrong.

Aleyn Garsow, 14, District Eleven Male

I jump back as the door slams shut in my face and lose my footing, falling to the floor. Getting up is pointless now. It's not like anyone wants to come and see me. Dad doesn't give a shit; he's probably shuffling along to the bar right now to get himself drunk. No one at school cares about me either, not in a good way. And of-course Mom isn't going to walk through the doorway. It would be impossible, seeing as she is two years in the grave.

Why can't Mom be here? I miss her so much. But now she's dead because of some equipment malfunction out in the fields. None of this would have happened then. Dad wouldn't be an angry, raging drunkard. Second wouldn't have manifested and volunteered for me. Sometimes it is fucking hell to share a body with him.

I can hear you, you know, he says smugly, softly, as his whispers pervade my brain.

"Yes. Now fuck off. You just ruined my life! Your life too!"

I don't think so.

"I would die in that arena just so you could die with me."

Don't be an idiot, Aleyn, you don't have the heart. Always whining and moping and wallowing in your own pitiful misery. Cowardly and useless. Nobody likes you. Nobody loves you.

"SHUT UP!"

What did I say about being an idiot? You can't force me away. I'm here for the long haul. It would all be so easy if you would just give me equal control.

"I would never. Look what you just did to me!"

To us, Aleyn, to us. And it's not a negative, it's a positive. And if we had never gotten in tat trivial argument about how you would do in the Hunger Games, you know you would perform atrociously, I would never have felt the need to volunteer.

"You volunteered in the first place!"

The Peacekeeper bangs on the door. "Hello? Everything okay in there?" He takes a peek inside. "Oh, sorry, for a second I thought somebody had snuck themselves in… he he he…" He closes the door looking disturbed.

"What I was saying was," I start back quietly, "if you hadn't felt the need to go and fuck us both over by volunteering, we would not be in this situation right now. Don't try and put the blame on me."

Oh, Panem, what am I doing right now? Talking to a fictional dual personality who only exists inside my head, that's what.

You're wrong. I'm just as much a person as I am, we just control the same body.

"Nonsense."

What would Mom say if she saw me now. She wouldn't be proud. She would be worried and disappointed and angry at me. No she wouldn't, she would help and love me like no other person could, did, does, or will ever. Why can't I just have my mom right now.

A lump swells up in the back of my throat. My eyes are puffy; I thought that I had no tears left to cry, that's what living off of tesserae will do to you, but there are more still to come.

Don't be weak like you are eternally.

"Buzz off and never come back." He always comes at the worst possible times, at every living breathing moment, and I can't take it anymore, I can't take it!

That isn't going to happen, now you shut your filthy little mouth and listen to me.

"What is it you have to say?!" I can't help it, my volume is rising once again.

If you want us to get out of here, to live in riches and never have to see those dumbass bullies at school or Dad or any of them ever again, you have to let me take control. I'm the one who trained us, I'm the clever one, and I'm the one that can kill.

"Has it ever occurred to you that just maybe I don't want to make it out of that arena?"

You don't have the guts, just like you don't have the guts to kill anyone. You were the one that took Dad to the hospital when you smashed the glass over his head.

As much as I hate to admit it to myself, I know that Second is correct. I know when I take the knife and stand in front of the mirrors holding it over my wrist just begging myself to drive it in and cut.

But what is the alternative? To kill? No. I am not going to kill anybody.

I will.

"No, you won't! I'm stronger than you, Second, you'll see. I will fend you off. I'm not giving in this time. No more. You're never going to take control again."

Maybe with proper help, I can get rid of Second for good. Finally do some good with my life. Show him who is the one with the power.

NO! YOU! WON'T!

And then I get one of my horrible migraines and I drop to the floor again, clutching my head in agony. A steel knife is piercing my brain, poking at it, twisting it and stretching it and thumping it and heating it! And then all of a sudden, there is nothing but the horrible, horrible aching that quells my thoughts like a dense cloud of toxic fog, heavy in density and weight.

I won't let this stop me. This won't stop me anymore. Whether I live or I die, I am not going to give in to Second ever again. I am going to die at peace with myself. And for just a few moments, Second is silent.

Sorry for another long chapter, I just couldn't help myself. And with six POVs, I'm kind of shocked that this is coming in just under 6,000 words. More chapters are coming like this, I've got a very thought out POV schedule, and each tribute is getting three POVs before the Games start. After that, naturally they will start dying off, but I'll still try to make it fair and even and circulate them regularly.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. What did you think? I feel accomplished with every one of the six POVs, even though they aren't nearly as long as most of my intros, and I hope you enjoyed them all. Thank you to all of you who read through this hailstorm whirlwind of a chapter to get to the bottom. Please tell me all of your thoughts and opinions, and your critiques, because I desperately want to improve my writing. Questions of the day:

Did any of these move you or get you to like a tribute more and who? Why? How?

What is the name of Bolt's younger sister?

Have a very nice day/night, and for all the amazing submitters who gave me these six tributes, please give your thoughts on how I wrote them. See you all next time in two weeks or so!

-Mills