Pre-Reapings

Capri Romano, 15, District 3 Female

Capri can hear the train rolling in and she pulls even harder on Carrington's arm, trying to get him to move just a little bit faster. It's not terribly often that new people arrive in District 3, and Capri makes a point to be there whenever they do. She has no idea where these newcomers are from, but just the fact that they're not from here is enough to pique her interest. District 3 can be so boring sometimes.

When they finally arrive at the edge of the train yard, Capri shifts up onto her toes as close as she can to the station. She knows that the guards won't let her onto the platforms, but all the new people have to come through here before they're shuffled off to their bases. A few times a year, District 3 gets new Peacekeepers and sometimes they bring their families along for the move. She doesn't know why anyone would want to move here, but she isn't complaining. Capri stretches up to her full height to try and see over the fences, but all she can see from here are the tops of the train cars.

"Do you see anyone yet?" She asks impatiently.

Carrington is a few steps back, eyeing the edge of the train yard suspiciously like it might burn him to set even one foot any closer. "No. Looks like we didn't have to run after all."

She rolls her eyes and is thinking of a smart retort when she sees people headed their way. Capri slaps Carrington's arm excitedly and stands her ground by the gate. No one is going to get past without seeing her first, that's a promise.

To her disappointment, most of the people that exit the train yard walk alone or in friendly pairs. They're all quite a bit older than her and give her strange looks as they pass, probably wondering why these two kids are hanging around the train tracks. Carrington pulls on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but before she can turn around Capri finally sees someone interesting. A man in his mid-thirties follows the crowd out with two sons at his heels. The first is practically a toddler, but the second looks nearly her age.

Capri steps into the older boy's path with a warm smile, extending her hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Capri."

"Uh, hi," the boy says, examining her hand for a moment before he gives it a weak shake. Capri's eyes wander, taking in every detail of the new boy before he'll inevitably disappear again. She wonders if he'll be at her school on Monday but that seems like almost too much to ask for. "I'm Toren."

"I'm Zev!" The squeaky voice is somehow immediately grating, and Capri barely holds the smile on her face when she turns to the younger boy. He's similar enough that Capri knows he must be Toren's brother.

Capri opens her mouth to continue talking to Toren, but Zev isn't quite finished. "It's weird here. Dad says we won't stay long though."

She leans down until her face is close enough to Zev that she can smell what he ate for breakfast. Capri's voice is low but sharp, and the smile on her lips fades quickly. "We're talking now. Why don't you go find your daddy?"

Zev's face drops but he runs back over to his father, who watches the kids from several feet away. Capri doesn't think that he heard, but she's certain Toren did. She turns back to him with the same sweet smile, continuing their conversation where they left off. Toren seems unsure for a moment, but eventually fades into the chat with her and Carrington. Without interruption, Capri is free to interrogate the newcomer exactly as she's been waiting to do all day.

Doran Ibarro, 16, District 5 Male

Doran hardly has time to put his backpack down before his younger brothers swarm the kitchen. He's been gone for most of the morning to study, knowing that the likelihood of him getting anything done at the house is almost zero. Avis jumps into his arms and Doran catches him with a grunt, helping him to slide back down to the ground. He's definitely not as light as he used to be.

Their mother steps into the kitchen a few seconds behind them, sipping on her coffee and watching the boys run all over him. Doran looks at her for help but she just smiles. His brothers all ask him questions at once, but it's Darin's voice that comes through. "Mom said you were supposed to be home an hour ago."

"Darin," their mother chides but Darin just shrugs.

"Sorry," Doran says with a weak smile. "I lost track of time. There's a big test on Tuesday."

"Feel ready?" Darin asks and Doran's smile falters even further. Their mother sends the younger boys into the living room, telling Doran to stay behind for a moment. Darin sticks his tongue out as he passes his brother, mouthing to Doran that he's in trouble.

Doran sinks into the chair opposite his mother and rests his forehead in his hands. She reaches across the table and strokes his hand gently. Doran picks his smile back up, but one look at his mother's worried expression causes it to fall again. "You doing alright, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," Doran says softly. "Just school stuff."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do I have a choice?" He jokes, but she doesn't laugh. They've been having a lot more of these quiet conversations in the past few months, but Doran isn't ready to be serious today. He just wants to relax and not think about his school, next year, or anything else for a little while.

"Doran," she says, the slight warning in her voice perfectly toned from raising the four boys. "You only have a few more months of school left. I'm sure the test will be fine."

Doran nods, but can feel the pit opening up in his stomach again. School ending is exactly what he's worried about, not the test he's been using as an excuse for days. He's sixteen now and that means he's going to have to get a real job soon, look for a house of his own eventually, and settle down. It's hard to feel like he's ready for so much change. He still feels like he's ten years old and should have all the time in the world.

"What am I supposed to do after school's done?" He asks finally.

"Well, that depends," she begins, tilting her head to stare at the ceiling for a moment. She has only just turned back to Doran when there's a scream from the other room. His mother barely flinches at the sound anymore, but she stands from the table and gives Doran an apologetic smile. "We'll talk about this later, promise."

Doran buries his head in his arms, for a moment blocking out the sounds from the living room. He waits for a few minutes until the scolding dies down, but his mother still doesn't return. He doesn't take it personally anymore, it must be pretty difficult raising so many kids and the Ibarro boys certainly don't make that job any easier. She's gotten good at controlling the chaos, though. Doran worries that he'll never be that good at anything.

Chiara Truist, 16, District 6 Female

Chiara holds her sister's hand as the trek through the district square. She was supposed to buy vegetables for dinner, but Chiara forgot about that instruction until her mother was already home. It's better now than never, Chiara figures, and Carina was happy to have the opportunity to come along. Chiara didn't have the heart to leave her sister behind even though the errand would be much quicker without her.

The two girls pass the pub and, despite the rather early hour, there are several groups of patrons clogging up the patio. Chiara sees a trio of men, all of them still wearing their factory uniforms, staring at them as they pass. She puts on her most unapproachable expression and pushes Carina onto the other side of the sidewalk. Chiara stiffens as one of the men calls out to them. "How much are you dolls charging tonight?"

The rest of them laugh, obviously thinking it to be the most unique joke of the century. Chiara's grip tightens on her Carina's hand until she grimaces, but Chiara barely notices. She shoves her sister ahead of her and stops directly in front of their table. Only the pub's fence separates her from them, but Chiara is almost angry enough to jump it to get to them.

"You're disgusting, she's twelve years old," Chiara spits, clenching her fists at her sides.

"Start 'em young, am I right?" The first man winks, taking a sip of his beer as his buddies explode in another round of laughter.

"I swear-" Chiara starts, feeling heat blooming in her cheeks. Carina's thin hand takes hers and pulls her away from the fence. A small glimpse of logic tells her to drop the subject, knowing that these are not the type of people she can change. Chiara reluctantly allows her sister to drag her down the sidewalk, but not before she calls out to them over her shoulder. "Go screw yourselves, Panem knows no one else will."

Chiara is still brooding as they leave the district square, wanting nothing more than to go back to the pub and continue her 'conversation'. If it were anyone else here with her, Chiara isn't sure what she would have done to them. She has little fear about getting beat up or worse, but she isn't sure it's fair to subject her sister to the same. Carina is much more logical about choosing her battles. It's one of the things that frustrates Chiara the most about her sister.

"It was just one comment," Carina says softly, pulling on Chiara's hand a little harder as they get close to home.

"It was disgusting," Chiara sneers.

"Also true," Carina agrees. "But it's not worth it."

"Whatever," Chiara says with an eye roll. They race up the short street towards their house, but Chiara stops her sister when she sees the light on in their bedroom. Her heart sinks, but she is well aware of what the signal means by now. Their mother is hiding in the girls' bedroom while their father gets over whatever stupid war scenario his mind has cooked up this time. The light on means she's safe, but Chiara still has the urge to burst through the door to help her. If Carina weren't with her, she probably would have.

"Let's go to the park for a bit," Chiara suggests as calmly as she can. Her cheeks burn again but she swallows down her anger for the first time in a while. Maybe Carina is rubbing off on her after all.

"Again?" Carina asks, her cheery expression dropping as she gazes up at the lit window. Chiara nods and squeezes her sister's hand tightly. This time she is the one to lead Carina away and the sisters set off towards the broken excuse for a park two streets away.

Romello Dupree, 18, District 1 Male

As Romello walks up the overgrown walkway to his parents' house, he can't help but picture everything he wishes that he could change. He smiles, thinking about stripping away the peeling paint from the outer walls and laying down new brick. He wonders what colour his mother would paint the door, probably a regal blue to match her favourite robe. Romello would like nothing more than to tell her to throw away the tattered garment and take her to the most luxurious shops in District 1. There is so much about their life that he would like to change, but he's powerless to do a damn thing.

He sighs as the vision disappears and he tries to jam the key into the door. It's been sticking lately and Romello isn't sure what he can do to fix it other than call a locksmith, but there is definitely not enough money in his wallet to pay for that. He can't stop himself from remembering the life that he grew up with, where no household project went incomplete and no expense was spared. Romello pushes the door open with a grunt, knowing that those days are now long gone.

"Romello?" His sister's voice comes from the kitchen and Romello is surprised that she is home so early. Her work usually keeps her well after dark and it's hardly dinner time. He swallows the worry before turning the corner into the kitchen.

"You're home early," he says softly, trying but failing to muster a smile.

"I know," Aurelia nods. "I need to talk to you. Mom says you didn't bring home the cheque from the Academy last week."

"They're bumping payment until after the reaping," Romello admits. He hasn't see his mother to tell her himself, but he silently curses for not thinking to at least leave a note. He hates to put so much importance on money but it's something that he to deal with now. The Dark Days took everything from the Dupree family except this big, weathered house. Money is everything and right now they have nothing.

"Can you ask them to make an exception?" Aurelia presses, her eyes are pleading with him to say yes even though she knows what the answer will be. The Academy doesn't make exceptions for anyone. They're running a business just like everyone else and Romello is just another body making the machine work.

"You know I can't."

There is a long pause and Aurelia closes her eyes tightly. Romello feels the urge to comfort her, but he knows that she is not finished talking. It's several seconds before she even turns to look at him again, tears welling up in her eyes. "I lost my job today."

Romello's hands clench at his sides but he says nothing. He knows that if he even tries to speak he will never stop, and none of the words he says will be kind. Aurelia doesn't deserve that no matter how frustrating this situation is. Their family depends on him, Aurelia, and their mother yet even with all three of them they barely get by. One less paycheck will change everything.

"What are we going to do?" She whispers, clearly fighting to keep her tears from falling.

Romello remembers the lecture he went to months ago where the Trainers tried to recruit the next volunteer and promised a healthy stipend for the tribute's family. After last year, there is no eager volunteers. No one can forget the District 1 boy, or the blood. It was made clear that anyone that wants to be the tribute can have the spot. Romello can't say that he hasn't thought about taking it, but no one in his family wants to even talk about it being a possibility. The funds that his family would receive in his absence, not to mention the prize if he actually wins, would be life changing. And, as Romello is well aware, money is everything.

Sinead Kennard, 16, District 9 Female

It's well past the end of the school day, but Sinead hasn't seemed to notice. She chatters away at Mr. Picks, not noticing the man impatiently glancing at the clock every few seconds. She finally finds the page number she's been looking for and turns the book around to face him. He sighs as he sits back down at his desk, resigned to the fact that he isn't going to be getting home anytime soon. Sinead points at the top of the page, reading it aloud before her teacher gets the chance.

"It's The Bride of Abydos," she explains, looking at Mr. Picks expectantly. "I've been reading it for the past two days. I just can't understand it. I thought you might know something about it."

"I suppose I could take a look," Mr. Picks nods. Sinead watches his expression change as he examines the wrinkled pages. His nose wrinkles and he looks almost immediately more interested as his eyes scan the words. "Sinead, where'd you find this?"

"In the library," she lies, closing the book and lifting it to her chest defensively. "Do you know what it means?"

"I didn't think we had poetry books like this anymore," he says. Sinead tightens her grip on the book and considers whether she should just leave the conversation. When she found the book two days ago, the words sounded so foreign to her. Neither of her parents could even remember where they acquired the book, let alone what the poems inside meant. Sinead thought her teacher would be a good person to ask, but maybe this was a mistake.

"They do," Sinead nods, the words coming out a bit too quickly to sound inconspicuous. "That's where I got this one."

"Sinead," Mr. Picks says warningly, raising an eyebrow and holding out his hand to see the book. She bites her lip and considers just running out of the room with it, but she knows that won't look very good. Sinead shakily offers him the book and stares down at the floor as he opens it again.

"I just found it," she says quietly as he flips through the yellowed pages. Sinead is almost certain that she won't be getting the book back now, and she can only hope that her parents won't notice. She wishes that she would have read more of it. She's never seen such pretty yet confusing writing anywhere else. Sinead can't lie to herself and say she didn't know it was contraband, though.

After a few moments, Mr. Pick places the book down on the desk and pushes it towards Sinead. She looks up at him with wide eyes but quickly grabs the book back. He smiles knowingly. "Better to keep those to yourself."

Sinead stuffs the book to the bottom of her bag and throws it over her shoulder. She is almost out the door when she remembers her teacher still standing in the classroom. She spins around quickly and waves at him. "Thank you!"

She doesn't hear his reply or even if he gave one. Sinead jogs out of the school before he can change his mind, the heaviness in her bag feeling oddly comforting. School has always been one of her favourite places, but right now she is happy to leave it. As she heads towards the nearby houses, Sinead compiles a list of questions for her parents. Why do you have this book? Have you ever read any of the poems? Do you know where to get more? Her teacher's reaction to the book raises a lot more questions than he got the chance to answer, but Sinead isn't planning to stop looking. On the contrary, she plans to stay up as late as she can to find out more about the Bride of Abydos.

Chase Hauver, 18, District 10 Male

"Chase!" He flinches at the sound of his name, dropping the hammer to the ground with a loud thud. Chase turns to the door of the mostly empty house to see his mother toting a small container. He didn't realize that it was already past suppertime and he suddenly becomes aware of the gnawing in his stomach. He wasn't going to stay at the house for more than a couple of hours, but time got away from Chase as it often does.

His mother gives him a one-armed hug that Chase laughs into, trying to get a peek at what she's brought him. She notices his fascination and momentarily pulls the lid off, wafting the scent of dill towards him. "I made your favourite."

"You're the best," Chase smiles, taking the food and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. He takes another whiff of the food before he sets it onto the only standing piece of furniture in the house. It's another two weeks before it actually becomes his, but Chase has been given permission to fix it up in the meantime. It's not much, but it's already starting to feel like home even with all the broken panels.

"Look at this place," she says, taking a long look around as if she hasn't been here every day off she's had. "You've done a good job with it."

Chase can't help but smile as he looks around at the one-room house. It was pretty run down when he first put down his deposit, but every spare minute Chase has is spent here fixing it up. Some of the neighbors have even offered some old furniture that he'll be able to sand down and repaint. It feels like a dream to finally have a place that's all his, even if it doesn't look like much right now. Chase knows that this is just one more step in the right direction.

"I brought you something else," his mother says, pulling an envelope from the front pocket of her dress. Chase's jaw drops open and he pushes it away as she attempts to slip it into his hands.

"You keep the money," Chase says, shaking his head. "You still have Dad and Kyle to pay for. I'm really okay, the house wasn't that expensive."

"Honey, take it," she says, placing the envelope next to his dinner. "We're doing okay right now. Your father and I want to help."

Chase knows better than to argue further and, truthfully, he is thankful for the gift. He's not rich by any means, but he has been working hard to make this dream come true. It might mean sleeping on the floor for the first month or so, but Chase will be happy to do that. He loves his family, but he wants to be out on his own. There're so many things that he wants to do in his life and, to him, buying his own place is step one.

"Use it to paint the door," his mother says with a laugh as she begins to leave. She's already closed the door behind her, but Chase can hear her call to him through the open window. "Red would be beautiful!"

Chase wrinkles his nose at the suggestion, laughing just like his mother intended. It took him months after she painted their door before he finally admitted that he hated the bright red colour. He would never even think of replicating it on his house. Black or green might be nice now that he thinks about it, or blue even. He'll have to go paint shopping on his next day off.

A/N: Hello, hello. You've now met half of the lovely tributes and this has not been nearly as painful as expected, it's actually been pretty fun. I'm glad that you all like the mini-POVs and they're honestly much easier to manage right now while still in the planning phases of this story. Two more chapters and we will start back up with full length POVs so y'all can get a better grip on who these tributes are.

What do you think of these 6 tributes (Capri, Doran, Chiara, Romello, Sinead, Chase)?

Not much else to say here. If you haven't already, make sure to check out Da Member Hogwarts 2.0's SYOT. She is still accepting tribute submissions and you don't want to miss that story, promise.

~ Olive