Ethan Hart, District 10, 14

Around eleven, I heard the front door creak open. I gingerly slipped out of my room and went to the top of the stairs, peeking down at the entrance. I sighed in relief when I recognized my sister, thankful that she was alone.

Mia was dressed up tonight, her normally curly dark hair straightened and braided. She was wearing makeup, too, and a new, floaty purple dress. She turned around and spotted me at the top of the staircase.

"Is that you, Ethan?" she called.

I came down the stairs, the tension from my shoulders gone. "Yeah, it's me. How was the benefit? Where are Mom and Dad?"

"They're still there, chatting with their friends," she replied. "It was fairly dull, which isn't unusual. I'm going to go change now, if you don't mind."

"Sure," I said. She passed by me and climbed the staircase, disappearing into her room. I made my way into the kitchen and started to make some tea to help her wind down. As predicted, she soon returned downstairs in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, looking for a warm drink.

"Sometimes, having little brothers isn't so bad," she said as I handed her a mug. "Thanks."

"No problem," I replied.

"How was your night?" she asked, sipping her tea. She sat criss-crossed on a stool at the kitchen counter, making herself comfortable.

"It was fine," I said.

"Liar," she immediately replied. "What are you worrying about?"

I sighed. She was too good at reading me. "I've been thinking about the Reapings, mostly."

"The Reapings? Why?" she asked. "You're not going to be Reaped, Ethan. Do you know how many kids in this district take tesserae? A lot. You've never taken any, and it's only your third year."

"I don't know," I said, picking at my nail. "It's just… how much is left?"

"How much of what is left?"

I lowered my voice. "The inheritance money. They donated a lot tonight, didn't they?"

Mia fell silent, tracing the rim of her mug with her fingertip.

"I had a feeling," I said.

Mia paused. "I don't know exactly how much," she finally said, "but I know it's running out. It's only a matter of time."

I cursed under my breath. I wasn't sure why. I already knew the money was drying up. We had a year, maybe. Hearing her say it, though…

"Do they even care?" I asked her. "Would it kill them to spend a little on our schooling, or clothes, or just take care of us?"

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to," she replied. "Besides, we'll be fine. We have the plan."

The plan. Right. When the money was gone, we would leave. Get jobs on a ranch or something. "Pave our own path," like Dad always said. Find a cheap apartment for the three of us, far away from our parent's reach. Somewhere no one cared about the elites and their drama. Somewhere no one would recognize us, where we could be on our own.

But was that a life I wanted? Was slaving away for a paycheck any better than being neglected here?

"You okay?" Mia asked, sipping from her mug.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "It's late. I'm going to go to bed, if you don't mind."

"Sure," said Mia, lifting an eyebrow. I don't think she was entirely convinced, but either way, she dropped it. "Good night."

"Good night," I said.

Later that night, I laid awake in my bed, unable to fall asleep.

I didn't want to "pave my own path." I didn't want to work myself to death, unable to escape the cycle of poverty. I wanted my old parents back, the ones that were around before Grandpa died and left us his fortune. The ones who kissed me and hugged me and wished me sweet dreams before I slept every night. It had been four years, and I missed them more than ever. They were still in there. They had to be.

But how to get them back? I'd tried crying. I'd tried begging. I'd tried yelling and throwing a tantrum. They didn't care at all anymore. They were blind to everything but status. Blind to everything but making themselves feel and look good to everyone outside this house. All of their money was spent on themselves and their image. My life, and my future, meant nothing to them. I was just a pawn they would occasionally dust off and show around to all their fellow rich friends, then put back in the box for another eternity.

I didn't want to stay. I didn't want to go. And I couldn't go back to the time before the money.

I realized that what I truly wanted was to escape. I was done. There was no path for me here. I wanted to leave this life behind for good, maybe stick it to my parents before leaving. I wanted to force them to see me.

And suddenly, I realized that there was a perfect way to do that.

In fact, I could do it tomorrow.

Jessie "Jess" Tucson, District 10, 18

"Hey there, Sweet Pea," I said, stroking the horse's nose. She was soft to the touch, her bright eyes relaxed as she watched me. "How are you doing?"

She knickered in reply. I smiled. "Glad to hear it."

I glanced down the aisle, where the new farmhand, Darryl, was delivering water. He nodded to me as he walked, tipping his hat with his free hand.

"Good morning, ma'am," he said.

"Good morning, Darryl," I replied. He continued on his way. I swiveled my head, watching him pass.

Pea knickered again, distracting me. "Oh, back off, Pea. I don't like him."

She snorted, making me laugh. I turned my head to watch Darryl again. He turned to cross the barn's aisle, passing behind Moxie, whose bridle was tied to a pole with a rope so he could be brushed. Moxie was a beautiful dark bay, with a coat that managed to shine under the faintest moonlight. He was quite skittish, though. It was well-known among the old-timers to approach him with caution.

But Darryl wasn't an old-timer. He was as green as the fresh-grown grass on a warm June day.

Moxie's ears pricked up as he heard Darryl's firm boots hit the ground behind him. He tried to turn his head to see the threat, but he was tied too firmly. Out of other options, Moxie wound up and kicked blindly behind him, whinnying with fright. To my horror, his aim was true, sending Darryl and his water bucket flying. He hit the ground with a terrible thud, blood leaking from the wound in his chest.

I ran to him, careful to maintain my distance from Moxie's behind. He was breathing heavily, his eyelids fluttering. Blood mixed with the water from his bucket.

"Darryl?" I cried. "Darryl!"

Footsteps echoed on the barn floor as Phil, an old-timer, ran beside me. "Aw, jeez," he said. He knelt down next to him. "Jess, run to the house and call for help, you hear me?"

"But-"

"Jess! Go!" he said, practically pushing me out of the way. I stumbled to my feet and turned, running from the barn and Darryl and Moxie and Pea. I ran like the wind back to the house, my hair flowing behind me. My vision was blurry and my breath ragged as I tore through the field and down the path, running, running, running.

I gasped, sitting straight up in my bed. I touched my face; it was wet with tears. I took deep breaths, trying to slow my heart rate.

Darryl is fine, I told myself. He ended up just fine. You called for help and he ended up alright.

I wiped my face with my sleeve. I was sick of reliving that moment every night. It had been three weeks, and the memory was relentless, preying on me every night while I slept. I didn't understand why; Darryl was just fine now. In fact, he'd returned to work a few days ago, all mended up. I'd made an effort to be kinder to him as of late, and the other farmhands too. Accidents like that really put things into perspective. My cheeks reddened at the memory of how I used to tease them, make fun of torn clothes and dirt spots. Dirt spots weren't important; their lives were. I tried to remind myself of that every day now.

Still, sometimes, I forgot. Old habits die hard.

My mother appeared in the doorway. "Why aren't you up?" she asked. "Hurry, come on now. This is ridiculous. Nell is making breakfast."

She disappeared. I sighed, pushing my comforter aside. Quickly, I brushed out my hair and threw on some light makeup, not bothering to hide the freckles my mother hated. I put on my dress for the day- a nice cream one that I actually quite liked- and a clean pair of boots, then headed downstairs.

"Good morning, Jess," said Nellie, who was whipping up some eggs in the kitchen.

"It's ma'am to you, Nell," I reminded her. Nell was new, and still sometimes needed to be reminded of the order around here. At least she had tied her hair back today.

"Sorry, ma'am," she said.

"It's all right," I replied. "Just remember for next time."

"Really, Jess?" asked my father. I turned to see him sitting at the table, munching on some eggs and bacon. "Come on, now."

"Yes, really," I said. "Nell is our employee."

"She's still a person, Jess," said my father.

My mother walked in from the other room. "Don't go filling her head with nonsense, Walter," she said. She wore a green dress, her hair perfectly curled, and red lipstick in place. "She's right. Nell is the worker here, and must do as asked."

My father sighed, turning back to his breakfast. Nell wordlessly passed me a plate. Say what you would about her manners, but Nell's cooking was incredible. I finished it quickly.

"I'm going to meet Helen before the Reapings," I said. "I'll see you tonight."

"Bye, honey," said my father. My mother waved in my direction, not looking up from her newspaper. I left through the front door, headed for the town square.

Dimitri Volkov, District 10 Mentor, 23

It was hot out today. I could feel the sweat dripping down my spine, and wished the Mayor would hurry it up. These things didn't need to take all day. I tapped my foot as I looked out at the crowd. Most of them had hats on. They were smarter than me, at least. I rubbed the top of my head, momentarily relieving the heat.

Finally, the Mayor finished his speech. The crowd clapped a little, mostly because it was over. Percival stepped forward, ready to take over this snoozefest.

"Thank you, Mayor!" he said. He had dyed his hair blue since the last time I saw him; otherwise, he hadn't changed. He stood at an average height and slightly above-average weight, which was well concealed by his outfit. "Let's proceed to picking our tributes, shall we?"

He paused, hoping for a response from the crowd. He didn't get one. He sighed and continued anyway. "Ladies first, of course."

He stepped toward the glass bowl filled with the girl's names. He shoved his hand in, floundering around for a slip. Eventually, he grabbed one and pulled it free, trotting back over to the microphone to announce it. "Jessie Tucson!"

I heard a few small gasps. All heads turned toward the eighteen-year-old girls section, where a brown-haired girl was making her way to the stage. She was of average height and wore a shaky smile, her clothes- and, more notably, her shoes- completely clean. Not only that, but the dress was white. A rich kid, then. Great.

She walked up the steps and arrived next to Percival, the smile still on her face. Had to give her props for that. Maybe she had some toughness to her? I'd find out on the train.

"Welcome, Jessie!" said Percival. "Now, for her partner!"

He walked over to the boy's bowl, repeating the process for the second name. He pulled one out and returned to the microphone, reading the name triumphantly. "Fred Johnston!"

A kid started to make his way forward from the sixteen-year-old boy's section. He was tall, but had some muscle to him, too. Now this was someone I could work with.

But as he arrived at the stairs, a shrill voice sounded out from another section. "I Volunteer!"

Gasps echoed through the crowd; real ones this time, not the small ones that had accompanied Jessie's name. A circle formed in the fourteen-year-old boy's section. He was thin, with a mop of curly dark hair and caramel skin. His white t-shirt was clean and bright; only a rich kid would wear that. Fantastic. He walked forward, passing Fred, whose jaw had dropped. He walked up the steps to stand next to Percival. Even the Escort seemed frazzled; this was unheard of in Ten.

"And… ah… what is your name?" Percival asked.

"I'm Ethan Hart, son of Shaun and Meghanne Hart," he said. "And I'm Volunteering."

"Very well then, Ethan," said Percival, regaining some of his momentum. "Jessie Tucson and Ethan Hart, everyone!"

A few claps sounded from the crowd. They quickly cleared from the square, and the tributes were hustled away to say goodbye.

Two rich kids. Terrific.

Jessie "Jess" Tucson, District 10, 18

Helen managed to meet me before my parents came to say goodbye. "Jess!"

She ran into my arms. I hugged her tightly, tears streaming down both of our faces. Eventually, she pulled away.

"I can't believe this," she said. "You, like, never even took tesserae! This doesn't make any sense."

"It's just bad luck," I said.

Helen sniffled. "I suppose."

Helen was a few inches taller than me, with tan skin and straw-blonde hair. Her long pink dress reflected her family's status as a wealthy ranch family. We'd become friends because few others knew what wealth felt like around these parts. I was glad to have had her by my side all these years. We'd learned to ride together, even. The good old days.

"We were supposed to go out after this," she said. "What do I do now?"

"I don't know," I replied.

"I don't want to go home," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Rosa's cleaning today. Her lazy eye freaks me out."

"I don't know, Helen," I said. "You'll have to figure it out without me."

Her eyes filled with tears again. "I'll miss you, Jess."

"I'll miss you too," I said. She hugged me again, and then was gone.

My parents came in to see me next.

My father wasted no time in wrapping me up in a bear hug. I could've sworn I saw tears in his eyes. I'd never seen him cry before.

"I love you, Jess," he said quietly.

My mother kissed my cheeks. "Safe travels, dear," she said.

"Take care of Sweet Pea for me, please?" I asked, my voice shaky. I wiped at my eyes.

"Chin up," she said. "Show them no fear. Remember who's in charge."

My father ignored her words. "We will, sweetheart," he said. He cleared his throat. "We'll miss you."

Before I knew it, they were gone, and I was alone in this empty room. I tried to steady my nerves, remembering my mother's words.

Remember who's in charge.

Ethan Hart, District 10, 14

My parents stormed into the sendoff room, dragging my siblings with them.

"How dare you!" my mother screeched. She struck me across the face, stunning me. I brought my hand to my cheek. It already stung.

"What were you thinking?" my father thundered, putting his face up close to mine, his eyes wild. "You'll get killed in there! You'll make a mockery of us!"

"Why did you have to say our names?" my mother wailed. I glanced at Mia and Sebastian, who were standing in the corner. Mia was crying silently. My brother Sebastian held her hand, his eyebrows knitted together with confusion.

"What are you trying to prove?" asked my father.

"Is that all you care about?" I asked quietly.

"It's pointless," said my mother. "He clearly only cares about himself. He's a lost cause."

"I'm the one who doesn't care?" I said. "Wow."

"Yes, you," my mother hissed. "You don't care about us. You just want to ruin your family's reputation!"

"And all you care about is your reputation," I replied. "I haven't even seen you in days. You've been out at parties."

"We, unlike you, have pride in our family name," said my father.

"My birthday was four days ago, Dad," I said. "You both forgot."

My mother rolled her eyes. "So selfish. Where did we go wrong?"

"Selfish for wanting a 'happy birthday, Ethan?' Selfish for wanting to see you more than once a week?" I asked, my voice rising.

"We are adults," said my mother. "We have responsibilities."

"I just wanted you to see me, Mom." My voice cracked.

"Well, congratulations," she said. "We see you. And we probably never will again."

With that, she swept from the room, my father following her.

"Why, Ethan?" asked Mia. Sebastian walked up and buried himself in my arms.

"I can't do this anymore," I said, wrapping my arms around my little brother.

"We had a plan," she said softly. "We were so close."

"I wanted to force them to see me," I said simply. "I wanted them to know I was hurting."

She shook her head, her eyes full of sorrow. "I don't know why you still think so highly of them," she said. "They're not the same anymore. They don't love us, Ethan. Denying it only makes it hurt more."

"Accepting it only makes it hurt more," I replied.

Sebastian broke away from me, wordless. I could easily read the hurt and confusion and anger in his face. Mia hugged me too. Sebastian walked toward the door, but Mia held on for a moment.

"Are you going to fight?" she whispered into my ear. She pulled back, searching my face.

"I…" I trailed off. "I don't know."

She shook her head again. She knew the real answer. "Goodbye, Ethan," she said. "I love you."

"I love you too," I said. I watched them leave.

I was truly alone.

*Hi, everyone! How did you like Ethan and Jess? Creation credit goes to chcolate and Penguin Parade, respectively- thanks for sending them in! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Hopefully ffnet stops glitching and this uploads properly, but I have my doubts. District 1 had issues as well.

Hope you all had a fun, ~spooky~ weekend, and I'll see you next time with District 9 (followed by 11!)

-r-b*