Pre-Reapings
Jordan Kalisco, 18, District 4 Male
The tilted house is dark when Jordan finally returns from the boathouse, where he's been staying late each night training with whoever is also willing to stay. The reaping ceremony is crawling ever closer, and Jordan is well aware that by this time next week he will be in the Capitol. He is determined to be as ready as he can be no matter the odds he will be facing there.
"Jordan?" The soft voice of his sister feels deafening in the quiet house. Jordan turns the corner into the kitchen and sees Grier sitting at the dining table, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as if she's been there a while.
"It's late," Jordan whispers, but the small smile on his face tells Grier that he isn't upset that she waited for him. He knows that these last months have been hard on her especially as they've always been so close. Jordan hates the feeling that he can't share his uncertainty with her, but it would only give Grier more ammo. She doesn't want him to fulfill his contract, but Jordan has tried to make it clear that nothing is going to change his mind.
"I haven't seen you in days," Grier says, the sadness in her voice enough to tear deep into his chest.
"I know," he says, swallowing down his own heartache. Jordan takes the seat across from her and ignores the heaviness that seems to emulate from every pore of his body. He's been training hard and his muscles are feeling the effects after so many late nights. Jordan covers a yawn with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to do this," she reminds him, as she has every time they've spoken since Jordan told his family about the new job. Before this year, Jordan had worked years at the docks doing every job someone would throw him. It was tiring and paid next to nothing, but it was his only option at the time. The offer to train for the Hunger Games was never something Jordan expected, but the paycheck was too much to turn down. They've received monthly cheques totalling more than Jordan would make in a year at the docks. If he doesn't volunteer, he'll have to repay it all.
"Grier," Jordan says with a sigh. "You know I don't want to leave you."
"Then don't," she says, her words loud enough that Jordan worries they make wake their parents. They sit in silence for a moment, but when the house remains still around them they both sink back into their chairs. "We can find the money."
"There is no money," Jordan says. He knows how hard this is for her, but it's getting harder for him to entertain these conversations. Jordan stands from his seat and heads to the back of the house, to the bedroom that he shares with his sisters. He holds his face in his hands for a moment, the silence both calming and suffocating as it settles around him.
Jordan doesn't want to go to the Capitol. If he could stay in District 4 for the rest of his life, he would do it in a heartbeat but there will be no life for them if he doesn't do this. Jordan can't keep planning every day, wondering if there will be enough food to go around. He wants to be able to think to the future and make his life mean something. That's what the training contract has given him, though not in the way Jordan would have chosen. If he gets out of the arena, he will have the rest of his life to be whatever he wants. If he doesn't, the money he leaves behind will carry his family through. The only one who can lose in this situation is Jordan, but he is willing to risk it for the future he deserves.
Sadira Abdelli, 16, District 11 Female
"Sadira, get in here now!"
The second Sadira steps foot in the house, the sound of her mother's voice makes her jump. She sets her school bag down by the front door and tries to wipe the smile off her face before she enters the kitchen. Of course, her mother would know by now that she'd been held after school again. Thinking about her mother waiting in the kitchen for her to come home makes Sadira's smile return tenfold.
"What's up?" Sadira asks, skipping into the kitchen and sliding onto one of the barstools. Her mother is rooting through one of the overhead cabinets, but she pauses as soon as she sees Sadira.
"Don't 'what's up' me," she says sharply. "You school called. Again."
"What'd they say?" Sadira shrugs.
"Sadira. I don't have time to take all of these phone calls about you," she chides. "Would it kill you to just behave for one day?"
Sadira's expression falters. Of course, it's always about time with her mother. She doesn't have time to sit down and eat dinner. She doesn't have time to talk about how school went or how difficult the homework is. This is just one more thing that she doesn't have time for. Sadira crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs again. "Sorry I'm wasting so much of your time."
Her mother shoots her a look of warning. "You know that's not what I meant."
"Actually, I don't know that," Sadira says sharply.
"Sadira," she huffs. "I don't want to get phone calls about my daughter throwing wet paper towel at her teachers."
Sadira rolls her eyes. It was a harmless prank, but her teacher overreacted as usual and it was enough to warrant an hour's detention with a call home. Hardly anyone even laughed, though the look on her teacher's face as the wet mess slid down his chest was admittedly hilarious. Spending an extra hour at school wasn't exactly Sadira's idea of a good time either, especially now knowing that her mother has been home. It's a rare occasion that the two Abdelli's are in the house at the same time. Her mother practically lives at the orchard she manages, even though it would run perfectly fine without her constant attention.
"You're too old for this," she says, shaking her head. When Sadira doesn't answer immediately, her mother returns her attention to the messy cabinet.
Sadira sits up straighter in the stool, not ready to be ignored yet. "Mom, I'm sorry. Hey, I'm supposed to go pick some flowers tonight to dry for class. Since you're home do you want to come?"
Sadira cringes at the lie but expects that her mother won't realize she hasn't dried flowers since she was about ten. It would be nice to go for a walk before dinner, just the two of them. They haven't done that in years. Her mother looks at her briefly, biting the corner of her lips like she often does when she's thinking. "I'd love to, honey, but I'm going over to the orchard soon. I left a notebook there that I need for my reports."
"We could go get it on the way?" Sadira offers, but she knows what comes next. There's always an excuse and it's always about work.
"I'll be staying for a few hours," she says with a sigh, closing the cabinet. "Tomorrow maybe?"
"Sure, mom," Sadira says softly. Her mom smiles and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to her room to get changed. Sadira sits in the kitchen until she can hear the front door slam behind her. Then, she goes up to her room and slams her own door a dozen times louder.
Aberro Tripe, 14, District 8 Male
Just as Aberro knew it would, the line up has shortened by the time him and his friends show up to receive their tesserae. On the first day of every month, the line can take hours to stand in as soon as school lets out. Aberro, Tenga, and Racchiella quickly join the other kids waiting in line. It doesn't take Aberro long to see that they're some of the younger ones there, but that's also no surprise. The younger kids usually show up as soon as the office opens. It seems only the older kids and Aberro have realized the line takes less time if you wait a while.
"Well this is fun," Tenga says nervously. Aberro puts his hand on her shoulder, understanding the hesitation that his friend has for waiting in this line. The adults that pass them on their way home shoot them looks of pity. The kids too young for tesserae whisper to each other wondering what everyone is waiting for.
"I don't know why I even want this," Racchiella whispers as the clerk dumps her allotment into the worn sac she's brought along. Again, Aberro just nods in acknowledgement. She isn't looking for a reason, because of course she knows why they need the tesserae. Aberro understands that taking their share each month feels like a dirty deal, no matter how much their families need it.
"You know why," Tenga sighs. Aberro ducks his head to hide his smile. It's not that he likes to see his friends upset, it's just that he is used to it. All of the embarrassment and anger that they feel this year, taking out tesserae for the first time, is what he's experienced for two years now. His friends' reactions are almost amusing as long as he doesn't think too hard about them.
"Let's just get these home," Aberro shrugs, hoisting his own sac over his shoulder. It's not as heavy as he feels like it should be, but he knows it's best not to complain. Arguing with the clerks never gets anyone anywhere.
Aberro and Tenga have already started down the path back to their neighborhood when the realize that Racchiella is no longer beside them. Aberro is the first to look back, seeing his friend with her sac on the concrete and tears welling up in her eyes. He places a hand quickly across Tenga's shoulder as he heads back to her.
"You're doing the right thing," Aberro says softly, lifting her sac up and pushing it back into her hands. Racchiella takes it reluctantly and nods at him, blinking the tears away before anyone else passes by and sees her.
"How many slips do you have now?" She whispers.
Aberro feels a lump form in his throat, but he doesn't have to pause long to think of the answer. The number is as burned into his brain as his first name. "Thirteen."
"Are you scared?" Racchiella asks quietly as they catch up to Tenga. Aberro looks at her for a moment, but he can't think of any words to comfort her. Of course he is scared to be taking on so many extra slips when he still has four years of reapings to go, but he doesn't want to frighten her. Racchiella comes from a larger family and it won't be long before her number exceeds his.
Aberro decides to ignore her question. He's never been the most talkative person and it feels best to just to be silent on some topics. His friends are used to his quiet demeanour, and Racchiella doesn't press him on the topic of the reaping. Aberro follows the cracks in the pavement with his eyes are the trio leaves the busy town and makes their way into the residential sector. It's easier to focus on the details around him than think about the upcoming reaping.
Verdana Corbel, 14, District 7 Female
Verdana watches as her younger sister knocks down the block tower, the loud crash making her grandmother flinch in her chair. Livie picks up one of the fallen toys and places it in Verdana's lap, giving her a toothy grin. Verdana sighs and begins building the tower again, unable to remember whether this is the fourth or tenth time she's done this today. She looks longingly at the clock and wonders whether it's too early to put Livie to bed yet.
She cringes when she hears Avery scream from the bedroom and leaves the blocks to Livie for a moment to investigate. As the oldest of five, chaos is the usual for Verdana. As soon as school lets out for the day, she walks Avery, Boston, and Rallie home. She then spends the rest of the night keeping Livie busy while simultaneously trying to keep the other three from killing each other. When Livie goes to bed, Verdana will try to do her homework but that won't actually happen until the others fall asleep. It's the same day every day and Verdana tries to convince herself that she has a handle on it.
Verdana slams the door into the wall as she runs into the bedroom. Rallie is standing on the edge of his bed, a tattered doll held in his hand by its hair. "Rallie! Give it back to her!"
Rallie rolls his eyes. "She's playing too loud."
"Give it back to her," Verdana repeats, her eyes unflinching from her brother's. Rallie groans but drops the doll to the floor where it is quickly scooped up by a tearful Avery.
"Did you finish your homework?" Verdana asks, glancing at the abandoned books splayed over his bedspread. Rallie doesn't bother to answer as he bounces down onto the bed and picks up his pencil. As Verdana closes the door again, she pretends not to see him stick his tongue out at her.
Livie is sobbing in the living room, the blocks scattered in a mess around her. Verdana scoops her up and balances Livie on her hip as the door swings open. Verdana lets out a sigh of relief seeing both her parents walk in. Her father walks straight past his kids, heading for the bedroom without a word. Her mother sinks into the sofa and leans her head back against the cushion.
"Mom," Verdana says carefully. "Can you take Livie?"
Her mother shakes her head at the crying toddler, tossing Verdana an apologetic smile. "I'm exhausted, sweetheart. You can just watch her until bed."
"I still need to do my homework," Verdana pleads. "Half an hour? Please?"
Her mother leans forward and glances between her two daughters. Verdana thinks for a moment that she's about to give in, but once again she is disappointed. "Don't focus too much on school. I don't know how much longer that is going to last anyways."
Verdana beats back tears, tightening her lips into a line to keep from arguing. She's had this conversation with her mother at least weekly for the past few months. She thinks that Verdana's time would be better spent working rather than studying. Verdana can't seem to get through to her. "Just half an hour?"
"I'm sorry honey," her mother sighs, getting up and following her husband into the bedroom. The light underneath their door lasts only a few more seconds and Verdana knows that she will be up late again tonight. School might not be important to her parents, but it's everything to Verdana. It represents the only chance she has at getting out of this house before she's thirty.
Fitzroy Gordon, 15, District 6 Male
"I'll meet you guys up ahead," Fitzroy smiles at the group as they pass by his house. "I just need to drop off my bag."
"We'll wait," one of the girls, Lianna, says quickly. She glances back at the others, who nod in agreement. Fitzroy shrugs as if embarrassed that they would want to wait for him, but he fights to hide his smirk. Of course, they would want to keep him close. This is the first time in a while Fitzroy has given this particular group of acquaintances more than a curt smile. He has far too many people to see and only so many hours in the day.
"I'll be right back," he winks, and the three teenagers give him a wave as he disappears through the front door. Fitzroy sighs once inside, both annoyed by their obvious doting on him yet also flattered. Lianna in particular has never been one of the popular students, but having Fitzroy around makes all of their social scores soar. It's not that they don't help him as well, after all every masterpiece needs its admirers.
As Fitzory makes his way towards his room, his adoptive sister Liz struts towards him. She smirks when she sees him and, despite the early hour, he can smell alcohol almost immediately. He crosses his arms as he drops his bag to the ground. "Little early, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Liz grins. To anyone else she wouldn't look drunk, but Fitzroy knows Liz almost as well as he knows himself. The clever gleam in her eyes is all but gone, not to mention the loose strands of hair falling from her ponytail. For someone like Liz, this is a mess.
"Suit yourself," Fitzroy shrugs, reaching for the doorknob.
Liz grabs his shoulder and spins him back towards her. "Don't tell Amanda."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Fitzroy says with a smirk. Their adoptive mother, Amanda Gordon, hates being called by her first name but that's all Liz cares to call her. Fitzroy considers reminding Liz that Ms. Gordon is the reason she can afford her various 'hobbies' but decides it's best to hold his tongue. Knowing when not to speak is an often forgotten skill, and it's one that Fitzroy has spent years honing.
Liz grabs something out of her pocket and tosses it at him. Fitzroy looks in astonishment at the object in his hands before his gaze returns to his sister. "You went in my room?"
"Don't leave it open," Liz says, turning to head to the front door.
"I didn't," Fitzroy says through gritted teeth.
"Then whoops," Liz laughs. He clenches his fingers around the coin, trying to keep himself from running after her. As much as he loves her, Liz is one of the only people in Fitzroy's life that knows how to continuously get on his nerves. Fitzroy throws open his door and places the coin carefully back on his dresser. He kicks his school bag under his desk and sits down in the plush chair. He briefly considers making himself a snack before he leaves or even taking a nap to see how long Lianna and the others will actually wait. If he had to bet, it would probably take the girl hours to leave. It's not hard to tell that she has a crush on him, and people will do stupid things for people they're interested in.
Eventually Fitzroy stands and tucks the chair in behind him, straightening the rug that curls up underneath it. It's not good for his image if people don't think he cares about them at least a little bit. He ruffles his hair in the mirror before he closes the door behind him, ensuring that he locks the door even though he rarely forgets.
Ashara Nox, 18, District 1 Female
"Leaving so soon?" The trainer asks, motioning to the empty gymnasium as Ashara exits the change rooms.
"Work," Ashara nods. In truth, she's more than happy to leave the youth center tonight. As the reaping ceremony grows closer, she knows that she doesn't have much longer to spend here. It's never been her space, after all. This center is where Asher found his niche. Funny enough it's also the place that destroyed him. After her brother's death, Ashara almost couldn't bear to step foot in the place even with her family's persistence. Now that the reaping is just a week away, the vast gymnasium feels almost claustrophobic with his memory which is both comforting and overwhelming.
"Do you have a minute?" He asks, nodding over to a desk on the outer edge of the room. Ashara checks her watch with a sigh but obliges and takes a seat across from the trainer. Enoch has been more than welcoming since she first entered the gym less than a year ago. Even when Ashara made it clear that she was only here due to the prospect of being reaped, and maybe just a little bit to remind her of her twin.
"Everything okay?" Ashara asks.
"Have you thought any more about volunteering?" Enoch asks immediately, ignoring her question. "You weren't at the meeting."
"I'm not volunteering," Ashara says flatly.
"We don't have anyone else," he says. "We're willing to offer more if that's what it takes."
"I don't need the money," she lies. None of the kids in the youth center would be there if they didn't need the money. Even her brother, who grew to love the challenge that training presented, started here because they needed the money. Still, no amount is worth that sacrifice. She learned that from Asher.
"Everyone else has left," Enoch says slowly, choosing each word carefully as if he is afraid to say the wrong one. He looks towards the gymnasium, where only one older boy is training with the swords. It's been like this for all the months that Ashara's been here, but she can remember her twin describing the gym as a busy place when he was still here. He even mentioned training with friends here, but Ashara's seen none of that.
"I don't blame them," Ashara whispers. Asher's death in the Hunger Games last year was one of the worst things she's ever experienced, and not just because he was her brother. She isn't surprised that no one in District 1 would be clamouring to volunteer. In all twelve years of the Hunger Games there has been death, but this was unlike anything someone could expect to experience. Trainees aren't as eager to sign up even with the increased stipend.
"You're still here though," Enoch reminds her. "That has to mean something."
This isn't the first time he's pointed this out to her, and Ashara has no intention of explaining herself. She found her brother again doing what he loved so much, but she isn't like Asher. She has carved out a permanent place for him in her life, but training will come to an end. In a week, Ashara will no longer be permitted to enter the youth center and that will be okay. She is happy with the direction that her life is going, even if she wishes that Asher were here with her. Ashara will grow up and experience enough life for both of them. That's what Asher would want.
"I'm leaving now," she says and, without another word, she gathers her bag and heads for the front door. If there are no volunteer prospects then Ashara is glad that she trained for the year she did, but it won't change her mind. She says a silent goodbye to the center and hopes that the memories of her brother will not stay trapped in this building forever.
A/N: Hi again! I hope you all enjoyed this batch of tributes, and there will be one final set up in a few days time. I appreciate all the thoughts everyone is giving on their first real impressions because they're helpful when I'm planning out alliances and plots. It's nice to know how a character comes off when reading because obviously I know each of their full story. Y'all offer a different perspective and I need that.
What do you think of these 6 tributes (Jordan, Sadira, Aberro, Verdana, Fitzroy, Ashara)?
I know I'm probably overwhelming you all with updates already, but hopefully because the chapters aren't quite so long it's not as bad? I hope? I really just want to get through the more mundane portions so we can move to the fun stuff. Next update should be in a few days!
~ Olive