Our last Reaping! I'm so glad this is finally over so we can get to the good part of the story. I hope everyone enjoys Flake and Calytrix, submitted by SchroedingersKneazle and DragonoftheStars1429 respectively.
District 12
Flake Weaver, 15
I pull the dark hood up over my head to conceal my face as I slip through the crowd. I'm stealthy and silent, just like Ember taught me to be. I carefully pick out a potential target in the crowd and slide over to her. She's well-dressed but seems distracted. That's a good sign. I come up behind her and knock into her. As I slam into her, my hand slides against her pocket. Her wallet slips out and falls right into my hand.
"Oh, sorry," I proclaim in the most innocent voice I can muster, before continuing on through the crowd. I'll be long gone before she realizes her wallet is missing.
I slip into an alleyway and duck behind a trash can. I pull the wallet from my pocket and begin rummaging through its contents. I don't need her ID; that's of no use to me. There's no chance a scrawny blonde kid like myself can pass for a Hispanic middle-aged woman. I throw it in the trash can. The pictures of her family, while sweet, have no chance of getting me food, so they join the ID in the trash. The rest of the contents are what I'm really searching for - money.
I pull the wad of dollar bills from the leather compartment and chuck the wallet in the trash. The money goes right in my pocket. I ought to get out of here before the woman discovers my crime and alerts the Peacekeepers, but I need to buy dinner first.
I know I can't afford anything fancy despite my aptitude in pickpocketing, so I traverse to the cheap bakery in the back of the square. It's crowded as usual; despite its crummy commodities, it's the only affordable bakery in District 12. People from the Seam love to crowd in here and pay their cheap prices for the disgusting bread. I do the same.
I wait patiently in line. I don't like to draw any attention to myself. Even though I probably could sneak up front and no one would notice, there's a chance someone would point out the scrawny kid cutting in line. It's not worth risking that sort of attention just for a few less minutes in line.
I know what I'm getting before I even get to the front of the line. The menu isn't visible from where I'm standing, but I always get the bread with all the nuts in it and stuff. Ember told me that it was the most nutritional even though it tastes disgusting. I'm willing to believe her in that regard. When it's my turn to order, I simply point out my chosen loaf and slam a few dollars on the counter. The baker grabs it for me bare-handed and drops it into my outstretched hands.
As I thank him, I hear a commotion outside the shop. I poke my head out and see a handful of Peacekeepers running around, inquiring about a theft. My heart starts thumping. It's possible they're referring to a different theft, but it's unlikely. I should get out of here. I have an urge to sprint back home, but I know by now that it only makes me look even more suspicious. Instead, I pull my hood down and try to look as clueless about the crime as possible. I have a really young face, and I know for a fact that most people wouldn't suspect me of being a thief.
I start to walk through the Town Square, but my ears perk up when I hear the woman describing her pickpocket.
"He was wearing some sort of hoodie. He was kind of short, but he had a deep voice so I think he was a teen. I couldn't see his face because his hood was covering it," she explains. I glance over to her, and sure enough, it's the woman I stole from. So I am the source of this manhunt.
I pick up my pace a bit. A tight hand grips around my arm and yanks me back. Fear shoots through me when I look up into the Peacekeeper's mask.
"There's been a crime," the Peacekeeper explains. "Would you know anything about it?"
I put on an innocent face. Even though my heart's beating like mad, I try to look clueless.
"I mean, I heard people yelling and stuff. I don't know what happened," I shrug. I raise my voice a bit. I know that the woman described me as having a deep voice, so I need to sound younger. The Peacekeeper doesn't look convinced.
"Turn out your pockets," he orders. I breathe a sigh of relief when I remember that I already got rid of the lady's pictures and wallet. All I have is the money, which I can easily pass off as my own. I pull out the wad of cash and show it to him.
"That's it," I say. "My Mom gave it to me to get dinner. I already got the bread." I wave the bread in his face to prove this. The Peacekeeper thinks for a minute.
"Alright, you can go," he finally decides. He turns around and walks the other way. When he's gone, I breathe a sigh of relief. That was close.
Sorrel is gone when I get home, so I eat the bread by myself. I don't feel good about stealing from that woman, but it was necessary to survive. I've been stealing ever since I was seven, when my Dad died in a mine collapse. What else was I supposed to do? Mom was sick and couldn't work and Ember wasn't old enough to get a job herself. All we could do was learn to look out for ourselves and steal.
Of course, back then it wasn't quite the pickpocket-and-run method I use today. I was too young to be stealthy, so Ember used me as a distraction as she stole from people. When I became old enough, she taught me how to do it myself. Ember kind of stopped stealing at that point, not because she thought she was above it, but because Mom needed around-the-clock care. I think it was when Ember was trying to care for Mom that she first met Turnip.
I freaking hate Turnip. He wasn't a bad guy or anything, but he stole my sister from me. Ember was my only friend growing up. We only had each other. But when she met Turnip she began hanging around with him and his crew. I think Turnip was part of some rebel club, but I don't really know. Ember wouldn't tell me much and when I asked Turnip about joining he laughed and said I was too young.
And then three years ago, Ember, Turnip, and the rest of the crew disappeared. I still don't know what happened. I like to think that they ran off to District 13 or something, which was their plan for a long time, but I don't know. When Mom was on her deathbed she kept asking about Ember, and I told her Ember was in District 13. I wanted to put her at peace. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Ember was probably dead.
Mom died not too long after Ember left. At first I was really nervous about everything. I was an orphan - I had nothing and nobody. I didn't want to become homeless or, even worse, live in the orphanage at the edge of District 12. But then Sorrel found me. Sorrel said she was friends with Ember and Turnip, and she explained that she had promised to take me in if they ever disappeared. She offered to provide me with a roof over my head. Sorrel doesn't have the money to give me anything more than that, though, so I've stuck to my illegal methods in order to eat.
So do I feel bad about stealing? No. When life pushes you down, you have to step on people to get back up. That's just the way of the world, and as sucky as that is, I'm going to do whatever I need to survive.
District 12
Calytrix Sandspire, 17
I like the way the embers in the fire shine with their violently orange hues. They sizzle and snap when Dad pushes them around before finding a new place amongst the flames. Their vibrant colors would make a very good painting. I could use persimmon-orange paint with a dab of scarlet for the flames, and maybe some violet as a contrast. The sparks could have some lemon paint in them.
Dad sighs. "Calytrix, are you even listening to me?" I look up, startled.
"Um, yes," I lie. Dad doesn't buy it. He places the hammer he was forging on a cooling rack and wipes his soot-covered hands off on his apron. He stands and looks me directly in the eyes - that's never a good sign. That means Dad wants to have a "serious talk", probably about my future again.
"Calytrix, we need to have a serious talk," he says in a firm voice. I internally groan, but nod along. Dad clears off his bench. "Here, let's sit down."
I sit next to him while he removes his fire-proof gloves. Dad's face is streaked with sweat and soot from leaning over the furnace. I'm sure mine must be as well. Subconsciously I attempt to wipe off my face, but it only tangles my sweaty blonde hair.
"Calytrix, you need to pay attention when I teach you. You're going to run this business one day, and if you don't know what you're doing, how do you expect to keep it afloat?"
"Why doesn't Rhys just run it?" I whine. "She's more interested in blacksmithing than me. I told you, I want to be an artist."
Dad shakes his head. "Callie, there's no money in art. Maybe if we lived in District 1 or someplace richer you could have a Career in the arts, but we live in District 12. Nobody here has any money to spend on your doodles."
"Tell that to my customers," I shrug. "They seem to think my work is worth buying. And what about Rhys?"
"Calytrix, we're done discussing this. The business is going to you whether you like it or not. Your mother and I decided that it would go to our eldest child and now that Thistle… is gone, the blacksmithing business is in your hands." Dad stands and walks back over to the furnace. "Now, pay attention this time."
The workday done, I retreat to my room. I can hear Mom trying to wrangle me into helping cook dinner but after spending hours dealing with Dad at the forge, I just want to relax. I flop on my bed and look up at the ceiling.
I've pasted many of my favorite drawings to the ceiling. It's my way of keeping some color in my drab life. My favorite drawing is directly above my pillow so that I can see it every night as I'm falling asleep and when I wake up. It's a simple pencil sketch unlike my more intricate drawings, but the subject is the most important part to me. It's of Thistle, Rhys, and I about two years ago.
Thistle always said he hated the way his nose looked in the drawing, even though I think it's a pretty accurate depiction of his face. Or, it was an accurate depiction of his face. By now, his face is probably rotted and has a giant bullet hole through it… perhaps that's too gruesome to think about.
Mom always says we should remember the best parts of Thistle. She likes to say that we should honor his memory by thinking of the good stuff, not his death. I can't help it, though. I can't control my imagination. I have so many drawings of Thistle's dead body in my sketchbook. I'm glad Mom never looks in there. The stuff would be gruesome enough to send her into cardiac arrest.
Thistle was killed about a year ago while walking home from school. We don't know exactly what happened, but it's pretty easy to put together the dots. Ever since the rebellious groups started, crime has been a lot more prevalent. It's not uncommon these days to see thieves or muggers in the streets. It came to no one's surprise that some man from the Seam saw a wealthy merchant's boy walking home from school and decided to rob and kill him.
Well, it came to our surprise. We all knew it was a matter of time before some rich kid was murdered, but we never expected it to be someone in our family. It's kind of like the Hunger Games in that way. Everyone knows someone is going to get picked, but you never expect it to be some you know.
I put up the picture after Thistle died. Before, it was never one of my favorites, but now it's the one I admire most frequently. I have other drawings of Thistle, even one giant painting. I suppose technically there are better ones than the one above my bed, but for some reason I feel like the one I'm looking at right now capture's Thistle's energy the best. This is the only drawing where I've managed to portray Thistle as the hard-working, sweet brother he was. The brother who believed in me and my dreams.
Thistle was always supposed to be the one who would one day run the blacksmith shop. He was good at it and he liked it. I was content with my paintings, and Rhys always wanted to just marry some merchant and raise children of her own. We were all satisfied and happy, but of course nothing good can happen in Panem. Thistle was killed, and now everything's messed up.
I have a new poll on my profile so you can vote on your favorite tributes. I'm sure some opinions are bound to change since I didn't do as good of a job of representing them as I would have wished to. I'm very excited for all of these tributes and I have big plans for all of them!
I'm going to check in with everyone who submitted, even if you've been reviewing, just to make sure everyone is aware that the story is updating and entering Games-territory. I'm also going to post sponsor points on my profile so now is the time to catch up if you've been a bit behind!
The blog is also almost done - I'll likely post the link next chapter.
- Lilah
