"Don't let the bastards grind you down"

A/N: Note: I'm at a point where I'm gonna stop worrying about POV amounts and lengths and just focus on showing what I think is important to show. Some characters will have longer intros just because they have more backstory that I need to reveal right away, while others have little backstory, or a backstory I want to keep hidden for now. That means some uneven word counts in the rest of the intros, but w/e.

~Mama said

Burn your biographies

Rewrite your history

Light up your wildest dreams~

Denver Lyon, 18
9 Months ago.

He was still waiting to wake up. Everything was surreal. Two days ago he was in District Twelve still, with its smoggy air, crumbling sheds, and the constant sound of a buzzing electric fence filling an otherwise silent void. He stood at the train tracks, and right then and there he could have turned away and stayed. It was all in his hands, the choice to run back to the safety of home and throw away this pipe dream. And now here he was.

The Capitol was even brighter than he could have imagined. He didn't get into the city until late at night, but even then the city seemed wide awake. Red, blue, green, purple, and every other imaginable color lit up the skyline as every building flashed and blinked, demanding attention. It was like a neon wasteland, where even higher in the sky apartment buildings were dotted with a pattern of dim yellow lights and pitch darkness. Cars sped down the roads that were even and freshly painted, unlike the pothole-ridden gravel trails of District Twelve. People walked down the streets, looking every bit as much the caricatures that they appeared on television.

And then he got to the school, and it was another world entirely. Pioneer University was massive, probably the size of District Twelve itself, with brick buildings popping up in seemingly random places along the stretch of land. Neatly paved sidewalks curved through gardens filled to the brim with wildflowers, bushes, and trees that covered the area in shade. At night the square lanterns shone brightly from their hanging place on various tree branches, dimly illuminating the university in a cozy glow.

The Peacekeepers escorting him hurried him along, and if they hadn't he could have spent hours walking the winding paths, just breathing in the feeling of fresh air and taking in the wonder of it all. All too soon he was taken inside one of the older buildings, but his wonder flickered only momentarily, before being brought back to life as he took in his new home's interior.

He barely had time to take in the grandiose marble statues, stained glass, and chandeliers as he was quickly hustled into a staircase. They climbed to the third floor, tossed down the single duffel bag worth of belongings he had thought worth taking, informed him it was his residence, and like that he was left alone.

His hand lingered at the doorknob as his eyes scanned the hallway. There were only three other doors on the floor, a large common area taking up most of the floor space. They had told him he was the last one to arrive, District Twelve being so far away and all. Behind each of those other doors another kid like him was experiencing their life behind flipped, turned on its head in a moment. He wondered if they all felt the same sense of not belonging as they did.

Twenty-five. That was all. All the thousands and thousands of students throughout the twelve districts, and only twenty-five of them were accepted to take up residence in the Capitol for the very first year of the program. He was lucky, in District Twelve there was hardly much competition, what was it like in say, District Eight? He figured the kid from there must be a genius, that they all must be. And then there was him, the lazy slacker who managed to put in a month worth of hard work studying for a test, and just like that he was there. The pressure weighed on his shoulders, kept his hand frozen in place on the handle, not wanting the high hopes the day had given him to come crashing down when he stepped in and met his roommate.

The door opened. Denver leapt back, quickly stumbling to the ground and picking up his duffel bag and holding it tight to his chest. He struggled to get a grip, and his arms became trapped in the loops of the handle, his hands tied together as he squirmed and attempted to drop it back to the ground.

And that was how he found himself as his roommate swung open the door and peered out at him. The boy was dressed in simple slacks and a red flannel, and wore an unfazed expression as he nodded his head upwards.

"Denver, right?" He asked casually. Without waiting for a response, he stepped aside from the door and ushered him in. "You walk here or something?"

"N-n-n-no. Of c… c-ourse n-n-not," he said. He kept his head down as he walked into the small dorm room and threw his duffel bag down on the empty bed. "I mean, my n-n-n-ame is Denver, b-b-b… I didn't w… w-alk here."

"Right," Bo said, an odd look on his face as he seemed to be deep in thought. "Tell you what, you ever been to a party back in Twelve?"

Denver hesitated, unsure how to answer. His cheeks flushed red and he could already feel himself messing everything up. A chance at a fresh start and his roommate already thought he was a loser. He shook his head.

"Yeah, not too many parties back in Ten either. And considering the whole 'spotless disciplinary record' thing I don't think we'll be seeing many party animals here." Bo went back into thought, and then reached forward, slapping Denver on the shoulder and giving him a smirk. "But still, zero parties? We've gotta change that." He stepped away, slipping on a jacket as he kicked open the door. "Come on."

"Wh. . . wh-ere are. . . ."

"Belle, the other D10 kid that got accepted into the Uni is throwing some party, thinks it would be cool for all the district kids to hang out and meet each other. I tend to try avoiding her whenever possible, but anything for my roomie, huh?" He gave him another pat on the shoulder and flashed him a smile.

"I don't kn-know," he said, feeling a queasy feeling in his stomach. He didn't want his roommate doing something he didn't want to just because he felt bad for Denver. Besides, all twenty-five kids in one room? All of them would see how out of place he was in an instant. He wasn't smart, or cool, or funny, he was just lucky.

"Don't sweat it, it's nothing, everyone is cool," Bo said casually as he led him down the staircases. "Our suitemates are already there, Taylor and Jason, from Eleven and Nine, chill dudes, you'll like them. I'll introduce you to a few people that I met earlier, get a few beers in you if you so desire, then if you're not feeling it we can head back and crash. Taylor was trying to get a suitemate game of Squares going later tonight if you like playing cards."

"I j-j-just don't really talk w. . . w. . . to p-p-p-people th. . . th-at o-o-often. Wh-what if everyone th. . . thinks. . . ." he trailed off, not sure where he was going and not wanting to share it anyways. He felt stupid, spilling out his guts to someone he had just met. It wasn't Bo's problem, he wanted to just go hang out with friends and here Denver was dragging him down and ruining everything. He could just pretend to be sick, that way Bo wouldn't have to feel bad about leaving him behind and could go enjoy himself without having to worry about some loser following him around.

Bo grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks both physically and mentally. He squared up in front of him and looked him in the eye, a serious look shaping his features. "Hey, man, you're good. Look around," he said, motioning to the rest of the room. Denver looked around, and took in the grandeur he had been forced to race past earlier without a proper look. It was like he was in a dream, he didn't believe that things so amazing existed in the world. Living in District Twelve, anything more than brick, concrete, and coal dust seemed out of reach. And here he was, standing under a glass chandelier that sparkled and reflected stray particles lights that darted across the room. "Whatever your problems were in District Twelve, whoever you think you were back there, just forget it. You're in the Capitol now," Bo said, a short breath of laughter escaping him as he looked around the room for himself. "I think we're gonna be just fine."

Sparrow Kalani, 12
2 Days ago.

The house was too loud for her to think. Flint and Reed were chasing each other around the dining room, Amethyst was loudly arguing about something with their dad, Tabby and Remy practically shouted jokes at each other from across the table, and all that while Glenn and Grove wouldn't stop crying no matter how much their step-mom tried to coax them with food and milk. Sparrow couldn't handle it.

Nobody seemed to notice when she slipped away. They rarely did. She was invisible, a ghost that walked through life, not leaving a trace. That's how the world had seemed since her mom died. Like she was gone too. The only reminders were those brief moments when someone would call her name, snap at her and ask her to pay attention, to pull her head out of the clouds. She could never understand why someone would say that like it was a bad thing, wouldn't anyone much prefer to watch the world from up there? Especially with how crummy things were on the ground.

She couldn't do anything about it though, just one more thing to chalk up on the list of stuff Sparrow would never understand. It felt like everyone understood things that were mysteries to her. Mr. Wren told her she saw the world in her own special way, and that it wasn't better or worse, just different. And that people would always struggle with different, because they couldn't understand it. She liked to think that wasn't true.

Looking up at the sky, she wished there were clouds up there that she could hide in. As it stood there were none, unless you counted the clouds of smoke that flowed from the coal plants. Beyond the thick, grey haze it was hard to see anything at all. It was just a smoggy, blurry filter that the sun was barely able to poke out of. On a good day a few dots of blue would even appear, and it would almost look like there really was a sky up there. It wasn't one of those days.

Her usual seat was empty, something she took a small bit of joy in. There was no telling how the old wooden stump had ended up by the side of the road down at the Town Center, but she had claimed it as her own anyways. It was her little spot, a small bit of the world that she could claim as her own, and nobody else's. Sometimes she would just sit and watch people. Other times she would bring a coin or a few cups, or if she was really lucky a handful of playing cards, and she would fiddle with them. There wasn't any audience, or stakes or bets, it was just a way for her to fiddle with her hands while her mind would wander. Once a man had passed by and told her she was quite good. She didn't know what it was she had done, but accepted the compliment anyways, and smiled and thanked him.

Today she was more focused, though. Mrs. Wren had lended Sparrow her favorite book. The school librarian had made her promise to take extra care of it, and Sparrow made a half-dozen different swears to do exactly that. She had finished reading through the tiny school library a while ago, and so now Mrs. Wren would entrust her with books that she had been passed down from her grandmother. According to her the books were ancient, not banned per se, but not something that the Capitol would be reprinting and distributing. Sparrow liked reading those books most of all, it almost felt like her own small act of rebellion.

She was halfway through the book, and she was enthralled in it. Sitting under the smoggy sky on her wooden bench, the world around her seemed to fade away every time she cracked open the cover and flipped through the soft, wrinkled paper pages. The worlds weren't always better, the one in this book certainly wasn't, but it was something different, and that was enough. It was something brilliant and terrifying and wonderful, while everything in her life just was. All around her were the same grey skies, coal dust, and crumbling houses. Being able to place herself somewhere else gave her hope that maybe she could eventually escape this place for good.

People walked by her, seemingly not noticing the young girl sitting, legs folded on a wooden stump with a dusty old book held close to her face. That dim view of the sky became brighter as dawn turned into morning, and the traffic around her picked up as she thumbed her way closer to the ending. A loud bell chimed from nearby, and she finished the page before neatly folding the book closed and setting it in her bag. She slipped the bag over her shoulders, stood up, and began her walk to school.

The book was ripe with ideas that begged to be thought about. There were characters who showed strength even in silence, warnings that were ignored and horrors that had already come to pass, and a million other things that pulled at her. But none of them found her way into her thoughts. Four words bounced around in her head.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum. She didn't even know what it meant, but still they resonated with her, distracting her and pulling her back in every time she tried to think of something else. Nolite te bastardes carborundorum. Words of silent rebellion carved into the wall of a closet, mysterious and indecipherable. Final words from someone who had taken too much, and had finally given up. Or maybe not give up, maybe it was the opposite of that. It all swirled around in her head, confusing her and dragging her away from her simple escape and back into her own life.

By the time she reached school she had already exhausted herself, and she attempted to shake away the thoughts. Mrs. Wren could explain it to her, she decided. Still though, she felt frustrated. It was rare that something slipped past her. Books were the one place where Sparrow felt like she was never confused, never falling asleep and missing things that were obvious to others. It was the place where she would spot things that others couldn't, patterns and themes and messages hidden beneath the surface.

She was in a decidedly sour mood by the time she slipped into her seat in the back row of Mr. Wren's classroom. He noticed, but kept the observation to himself, continuing to chat with a few talkative students in the front rows. Sparrow felt a little bit bad that she zoned out for his lecture, and at least pulled out a notebook to make it appear she was writing things down. By the end of class she had six pages filled to the brim with doodles, mostly just circles and loops that she scrawled down without looking down at her pencil.

When the bell rang, Sparrow lingered in her seat, slowly packing up her things so that she was the last one to leave the room. Mr. Wren raised an eyebrow at her, patting the chair across from his desk as he took a seat.

"What's up, Sparrow?" He asked, genuine concern in his voice. "You look like you're out of it. Are you feeling okay?"

She shrugged.

He sighed. "Come on, let me help out. I don't have a class second period and I'm dying of boredom here. I'll write you a note for your next class, tell them that you had to stay late to discuss a homework assignment." He began scrawling a note onto a piece of paper, then slid it across the table.

"It's just this book, there's something in it that doesn't make any sense," she said slowly. Her voice was calm and deliberate, with a countable pause between every word that had a tendency to drive most people mad with impatience. Sparrow was grateful that Mr. Wren pretended not to mind.

"Well, I wouldn't be much of an English teacher if I couldn't help," he said, flashing a smile. "Go ahead, shoot." He kicked his legs up onto his desk.

"There's these words that I can't understand," she said begrudgingly. "Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."

He looked at her bemusedly. "Well, it isn't English, I can tell you that much." He went quiet for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It was nolite te bastardes. . ."

"Carborundum."

". . . carborundorum," he affirmed. "Right. Well, no, I'm not sure. Sounds Latin, maybe?"

"Latin?" She inquired.

"A dead language. Doubt you could find a person in all of District Twelve who speaks it." He shrugged. "Though, knowing my wife, I wouldn't be half-surprised if she happened to be fluent."

"Thank you, Mr. Wren," she said. She turned to walk away but only took one step before Mr. Wren called out to her.

"Sparrow." She turned back to him, and his smile was gone, and he looked worried again. "I just, if there's anything else you want to talk about, just know you can talk to me. I know that today can be a tough day. . . ."

He trailed off, and Sparrow stood with her feet frozen to the ground. She clutched tightly to the gray jacket that loosely hung from her shoulders. It had been three years to the day, and she hadn't forgotten. She never forgot. As strange as it was, she didn't think she wanted to. That day, watching them put her to rest in the ground, her eyes dry while the rest of her family sobbed around her, was imprinted in her memory for eternity, like a mark of ink on paper. Or words carved into the floor of a closet.

"Thank you again." she finally said, her voice quivering ever so slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow Mr. Wren."

And with that, she turned and walked away, more thoughts left floating unanswered in her head.

Denver Lyon, 18
2 Days ago.

"Wh-wh-what's th-the p-p-point of c. . .c-alculus anyways?" Denver scratched his head as he flipped through his textbook.

Joana rolled his eyes and took the book from him, quickly turning to a page and placing it back in his lap. "It's only critical to understanding just about every scientific field in existence."

"Yeah, b-but I'm n-n-not a scientist." Denver lowered his head, resting his chin on his palm as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "C-c-can w. . . w-e do something more interesting?"

"No, you are not failing this class and leaving me alone in 205. You promised me, you said-" she puffed up her chest, and in an overly deep voice said, "Joana, me and you, we're gonna finish off this minor in math, even if- I mean when- it kills us."

"Th-there's no p-p-proof of th. . . th-at," he retorted.

She raised an eye at him. He copied her, then began widening and closing his eyes as he attempted and failed to wiggle his eyebrows. She stared him down for a full ten seconds before she gave in.

"Ugh," she said, begrudgingly slamming her book shut. Denver excitedly followed suit, a bright smile plastering his face. "It's not fair, you're like a puppy, you're too cute. Fine, I have an hour to kill before my psych exam, let's go grab some lunch."

"Awesome, I am starving," he said dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah. So I hear you got a big night planned out for yourself, huh mr. popular?" She nudged him on the shoulder and gave him a teasing smirk.

"Wh-wh-what c-c-can I say? Everyone loves me." He yawned, and mockingly began to flex before she swatted his arms down.

"Yeah, you're a real catch." She snorted. "So what are your plans?"

He shrugged. "K-Kelly w. . . w-ants to have a p-p-p-picnic, and B-B-Bo, Taylor, and Jason g-g-got some awful movies for us to b. . . b-inge w-w-watch after. Last one to fall asleep or g-g-give up w. . . w-ins."

"Picnic sounds cute. Bad movies sounds dumb. You got a fifth seat?"

Denver laughed. Jason would strongly object, saying it was meant for roommates only, but Denver would just tell him to screw off. "Yeah, of c-c-course. Stop b-b-by around eleven. Kn-knowing the rest of th-th-them it w. . . w-on't take long."

"Knowing me and you, we'll wrap up a few minutes before our Calc exam tomorrow." She laughed.

"Oh right," he said, laughing. "th-that."

"Twelve-O'clock at DuPont hall." He opened his mouth to speak. "And no, you can't copy off of me."

He blew a raspberry. "Lame."

"Just too cool for your imagination." The two went quiet for a moment as they fished out their dining cards and swiped themselves into the cafeteria. "So how long have you been with Kelly now, then?"

"Wh-when w. . . w-as th-th-the first day of school again?" He asked. "Ten years ago?"

Joana snorted. "Feels like it sometimes. Kinda hard to believe it's over after tomorrow." She went quiet for a moment, lost in her thoughts for a moment as she seemed to struggle with something. After a while she pushed it away, looking back up to him and smiling as she patted him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you Denvy. Who else is gonna help me dump eels in Taylor's shower? Or go sledding down Taurus Hill in a cardboard box? It's gonna be a long summer."

"It'll b-be a long summer, b-b-but you w. . . w-on't be missing me for long," he said, unable to hide the smirk that fought into his lips.

She gave him a quizzical look.

Denver waited until they were both seated at a booth with their trays set down. Joana looked at him expectantly, and he smiled, leaning forward as he delivered the news. "I g-g-got accepted for summer school."

Joana's mouth dropped. She brought up two fingers to push up her jaw back into place, then said in a low, deep voice, "No. Way."

"Yes, w-w-way." Denver giggled.

"How? I thought that the district kids had to go back home for the summer," she said, her voice speeding up in the way it always did when she got excited.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I talked w. . . w-ith p-p-professor C-crane. He w-w-was so impressed w. . . w-ith my p-p-p-projects in Molecular Mycology th-that he o-offered me an internship w. . . w-orking w-w-with him."

"In the Hunger Games?" She looked equal parts impressed, confused, and worried.

He nodded his head, not giving any hints at his thoughts about it. He tried to not think of it at all, really. It was a way to not have to go back home to District Twelve for the summer, so how could he say no? He wasn't welcome back there, and he didn't want to go back anyways. If the cost of that was spending a summer in a lab that was probably only vaguely related to the actual Games themselves, so be it. He consoled himself by telling himself that he was most likely just going to be helping fill the arena with plants, hardly anything harmful.

"He's the lead g-g-gamemaker for n-n-nature design," Denver replied. "He said it's something to do w-w-with a complex, mutated strain of a fungi. C-c-cordyceps or something."

"They're letting you stay on campus then?" She asked.

"N-n-no," he said. "And b-besides, it's too far from The G-games center. I need to find a host family, p-p-preferably one c-c-close to downtown. . . ."

Joana's reservations dropped, a wide smile spreading across her lips. "I can think of a place," she said giddily.

Before she got the chance to say anything else, Kelly dropped in, dramatically placing her tray on the table and scooting close up to Denver. "Hey handsome, how do I look?" She asked, standing up again and doing a spin before falling back into her seat.

"You look g…g… really pretty," he settled for.

She smiled.

He laughed.

"Well, I have an exam to get to," Joana said suddenly, grabbing her half-empty tray and standing up. "You lovebird have fun. I'll see you later tonight, Denver." She smiled sadly, looking between the two of them. "I'm gonna miss you lot while you're gone.

Denver blew a raspberry. "You'll hardly miss me. I'll only b-be in Twelve for th-the reaping." He flashed a wide, toothy smile. "B-b-by th-the end of the day I'll b-be on a train and headed for the C-c-capitol again."

A/N: And there's our tragically doomed D12 donuts. I have a lot of fun plans for these two cinnamon rolls, and I hope you liked our first look at them.

Trivia(1 point): What book was Sparrow reading? (bonus point if you didn't google to find out lol)

Trivia(5 points): I left a bit of an easter egg/hint in this chapter that relates to the latest chapter of TTS. If anyone can decode that and figure out what it means kudos to you.