Tributes are from Tyquavis (Corbin) and matts0688 (August).
District 10
Corbin Fox, 16
The cows moo and congregate in the barn as they see me restock their feeding troughs. I shovel more hay into the troughs as they brush against me. Even though they're constantly feeding on the grass in the field, they always get excited when I give them their actual meals. Dad says it's lucky our cattle are so gluttonous - it just means they're fatter for when it's time to produce the meat for them.
Laurel always asks me if I feel bad about having to kill the cattle. She knows that it's a task I've recently picked up on doing as a way to help out my Dad. I try not to think about it too much. I always feel a little bad when they die, but I can't have too many qualms about it. After all, it's my duty. It's how the world works.
There's an order to life in District 10; us humans raise the animals, then we kill them, and then we feed off them. It's just the way things work around here. It's really annoying when people try to make a fuss about it and try to make claims about "animal rights". It messes with the routine, and then it makes me all stressed. Why can't people just understand there's a way to how things are and we shouldn't change it? Life's like this for a reason.
"Mom told me to help you." I look behind me and see my younger brother Larkin walking over.
"I'm done feeding them," I shrug. Larkin stands by the trough, still waiting for me to give him a task. "We could milk them next," I suggest and Larkin nods.
I pull up the milking stool and bring one of the cows over to the stanchion. It's a bit early for the cows to be milked, and though I usually don't like to stray from routine, I'll deal with it if it means I can help my brother learn the importance of hard work.
"Why don't you sit down?" I suggest as I lock the cow's head in place. Larkin takes a seat at the stool. He's milked the cattle before, but he still needs a bit of help because he never knows when to stop milking. He always milks too much or too little, and it throws off the whole routine.
Larkin begins milking the cow and the white milk squirts into the bottom of the pail. I can see that he's pulling at just the right strength. I'm proud of him for being so careful about that, because it's important. I'm glad my brother is learning the significance of diligence when it comes to working on our farm. These values of perfection and hard work are ones that our family holds close. Dad was very good at teaching me all of this, so I'm glad to pass it along to Larkin. Dad's tried to teach Larkin, but Larkin likes to learn from me best. I try to stay humble, but I can't help but swell with a bit of pride whenever Larkin watches me with admiration.
"Corbin!"
I jump at the noise. Only one person in the family would be loud enough to disturb the cattle. My sister is the only one in our family who doesn't have much care or grace. Eva seemed to miss the memo on the importance of hard work and diligence because she's always slacking off. She likes to run off and do her own thing, much to my dismay. I roll my eyes as Eva pokes her head through the barn door.
"What?" I ask, slightly miffed at her inconsiderate volume.
"Your girlfriend's here," she winks. I feel my face go red at the mention of Laurel. My irritation with Eva is instantly lost when I think of my girlfriend. We've been together for five years now, and it's been well established that we both intend on getting married one day. I think I would be quite pleased spending the rest of my life with her.
"Where is she?"
"Mom insisted on getting her a cup of tea. It was that gross herbal stuff she got at the farmer's market. I think the merchant tricked her into buying drugs."
"Shut up," I say. "Mom would never buy drugs."
"That's why he tricked her," Eva laughs.
I roll my eyes and follow Eva into the house. I'm sure Larkin can figure out when to stop milking. Or maybe not. Either way, I'm too excited to see Laurel - I can't stay and look after my little brother.
Just as Eva warned, Laurel is seated at the kitchen table with a cup of tea being bombarded with questions by Mom. When I enter, she smiles and I feel my heart begin to beat faster. I can't decide whether I like or hate the way Laurel makes me feel. I thought that all I wanted was a calm, organized life but when I'm around Laurel I get all excited. It's weird.
"Hi," says Laurel as I sit down next to her.
"Corbin, your girlfriend was just talking about how chivalrous you've been as of late!" Mom exclaims happily. My face turns bright red. "I'm glad that you listened to me about treating women right."
"Of course," I mutter.
"Would you like some tea too, honey?" she asks, already bringing the kettle over to me. She doesn't wait for me to respond before pouring me a cup.
"Don't get high," Eva whispers to me.
"Shut up," I hiss before taking a sip. My face immediately screws up in disgust. I doubt there's any drugs, but it tastes disgusting and bitter. Is this what the cattle feed tastes like?
Mom begins to launch into a conversation with Laurel about Laurel's schoolwork. I notice that one issue they seem to be skirting over is the upcoming Reaping. I know that it's more of a tense topic in District 10 than some other Districts. We have a far smaller population than most Districts, so there's a much higher chance of being Reaped compared with other Districts. I'm not particularly afraid. I can't imagine a change in my routine, much less being Reaped for the Hunger Games.
District 10
August Sullivan, 15
The orphanage is very rowdy today, with children all trying to talk louder than one another. I see the crowds of kids and teenagers run through the mess hall, wanting to be first in line for today's dinner.
I'm not an orphan, even though I might as well be considering how distant my parents are these days. I like to volunteer here in my spare time and help out the kids. It reminds me that even though my life sucks, in Panem, there are always people worse than you. I suppose my brother had it worse than any of these kids, but I was never in the same situation as him. All I have to deal with is the pain of him being gone.
I scan the mess hall. Most of the children have found some friends by now. In a place like this, you kind of have to bond together. However, I spot one little girl sitting by herself in the corner of the room. I walk over to her.
"How are you?" I ask, sitting beside her. She doesn't say anything. I scan her face; the hopelessness on her face is unmistakable; it's the same expression my parents have had for the past three years.
The girl doesn't look very familiar. It's possible I just haven't met her yet; the orphanage is depressingly full in District 10. I think it must have something to do with the dangerous nature of the jobs, especially with the lower class. But I have a gut feeling that this girl is a new addition. As in, her parents just died.
"I know it can be tough being here at first-" I begin, but I'm interrupted by the girl's scoff.
"Yeah, you think?" she asks. I'm a bit taken aback by her sarcasm. It's not something I usually see in grief-stricken girls as young as her. I quickly recompose myself.
"Things will get better, though," I promise her. "Do you see all of these kids? They can find the good things about being here." I gesture at all of the kids who are currently fighting each other to get to the front of the line.
"They just aren't thinking about the implications," the girl spits. "They might be happy right now, but do you think they're happy when they sleep at night? No. Because as soon as they remember their parents, they're not so happy." The girl's eyes drift to the Volunteer badge on my shirt. Her eyes widen and she smiles knowingly. "Oh… So you really don't know anything, then. Not only do you not know what it's like for me, you don't know what it's like for any of us."
I pause. She's technically right, but I do know that a lot of these kids move on. I suppose they aren't ever really over the tragedies in their childhood, but I've seen them find things that fix their hearts. I take a deep breath.
"My brother died three years ago in the Hunger Games," I admit. "And I may not have technically lost my parents, but it feels like I did. I barely even see them anymore. I live with my aunt because my parents aren't qualified to take care of me anymore. If it weren't for my aunt, I might be living here rather than just a volunteer."
"Why are you so chipper then?" inquires the girl.
"You always have to have hope. That's what my parents taught me when I was growing up. You can't let the bad things in your past let you down; you always have to look forward."
"To what?"
"To the good."
1 week later
"August Sullivan!" Renee reads enthusiastically. The words ring out through the Town Square, echoing off the buildings in the silence that follows. I could run. I can run fast, I could run away from all of this. But that's not what I should do. Even if by some miracle I could escape the flood of Peacekeepers, it'd only send some other kid to the death. It has to be one of us, and why shouldn't it be me?
"Please, God, please help me," I whisper under my breath before starting to walk up to the stage. I've never had stage fright before, but I'm suddenly aware of the fact that everyone in Panem must be watching me now and my heart starts beating faster. I hope I don't look bad on national television.
Immediately, I roll my eyes at how inconsequential that concern is. I have the likelihood of gruesomely dying, and yet my immediate thought is looking good for the cameras. It's the kind of thing my brother would make fun of me for if he were here.
"August Sullivan?" Renee asks as soon as I join her onstage. "Any relation to Bernard Sullivan from the 246th Hunger Games?"
"Yes, he's my brother," I admit. I can see Renee's face light up. She's very excited by this revelation.
"Really?" she squeals. "Oh, I loved your brother. Bernie was a tough one. Almost made it, too. Anyway, let us move on to draw the boy's name." She starts to walk over to the men's bowl, then stops abruptly. "Do you have any other brothers?" she asks, turning back to me.
I shake my head.
"Shame. It would have been fun to have a third Sullivan in the games."
I bite my tongue from saying something rude to her. I need to maintain a friendly front if I want to have a chance in the Hunger Games. Renee draws a boy's name and skips back over to the microphone.
"Corbin Fox!" she reads.
It's a long time before there's any movement in the crowd. Eventually, the sixteen-year-old section parts to reveal a boy with curly red hair who is just staring straight ahead with no emotion on his face. He's completely still. He must be frozen in shock or something. After a few seconds, a duo of Peacekeepers swarms in and grabs him. They yank him up toward the stage.
The boy is planted beside me, still not making any movement.
"Are there any Volunteers?" Renee asks the crowd. Unsurprisingly, no one does. "In that case, we have our tributes for the 249th Hunger Games: August Sullivan and Corbin Fox!"
I reach out to shake Corbin's hand, but he doesn't seem to see me. Since it's a rule that we must shake hands, I awkwardly grab his limp hand and shake it. I hear the crowd clap unenthusiastically.
Renee leads us away from the stage and into the Justice Building. I can't help but think that this is the last time I will ever see my home District again.
