Tributes are from Professor R.J Lupin1 (Zaira) and Anna Bananna (Ruce).

District 7

Zaira Quentin

I sit at the top branch of the tree, perched there like a bird. It's very peaceful up here, especially at this time of day. Early dawn, from the minute the sun kisses the top of each tree to when the working bells ring, signalling the beginning of the work day. Or in this case, the beginning of the Reaping.

The Reaping is supposed to be a vacation, but no one really sees it that way. A vacation is supposed to be a time for you to relax and let the struggles of everyday life disappear, at least for the time-being. But the Reaping only brings up new fears. I guess some lumberjacks, the ones without children or don't know anyone eligible, find this as a sort of vacation, but even then they feel pity for the tributes and their families, so they can't exactly relax, either.

Even though we don't have work today, I still see some people walking around below me. It's not really weird - in our District, lots of people are calmed by the forest. It's no surprise that a number of them are strolling about it on Reaping day.

Last year, our crop of tributes wasn't the best.

Clara was probably the worst tribute that year, and she died in the Bloodbath, as everyone suspected. There were some rumors that she was faking her spoiled, useless appearance for the underdog-strategy, but evidently not.

Ash showed some promise, especially after killing the boy from One in the Bloodbath. We all had some hope he would come home, since he seemed to be doing fairly well for himself; he had allied with the strongest tribute in the Games, he had a lot of supplies, and wasn't encountering a lot of danger. We were starting to really hope he would come back when he made it to the Top Twelve, but then he died for the girl from District 2.

This year, I hope our tributes are better. It always hurts when they don't return home. Also, when one of them wins, we get a bunch of treats for the rest of the year. A bunch of really good food that even most rich citizens in our District don't get. It's especially good for me, since I mostly live off a diet of stale bread and bruised fruit.

I can't afford the best food, since I'm saving up for an actual house. Currently I live in a run-down shack on the edge of the forest, which isn't the best living condition. Ever since my parents died, money's been tight. And I'm not great at my lumberjack job, so I don't really rake in dough everyday.

My father died when I was only seven. I don't remember him all that well, and what I do remember is covered in the glossy light of childhood memories: where you have a filter, so you can only remember a few good things.

I remember how he couldn't afford to shave everyday, so his jaw was always covered in stubble. Whenever he hugged me, it would scratch my delicate toddler skin and I would complain about it. He would only laugh and promise to shave it next time, even though he couldn't actually complete that promise.

I also remember how strong he was; his powerful biceps wasn't uncommon in District 7, but for me, I thought he was the strongest man in the world. Sometimes he would throw me up in the air and catch me just before I hit the ground. My mom would always act all worried, afraid he wouldn't manage to catch me and I'd crack my head or something. But he always caught me.

He was crushed by a falling tree. He was at his lumberjack job, when somebody chopped down a tree. It fell over very fast, and it landed on top of him before he could even run. It's not very uncommon in District 7, but it tore our family apart. My mom was pregnant at the time when it happened, and she just couldn't handle everything. She was a single mother with no source of income and a baby on the way who was still heartbroken over her husband's death.

She didn't kill herself. She would never do that to me. No, the stress led to a miscarriage. We don't exactly have the best doctors in District 7, so she died. That day, I lost a mother, a sibling, and any security.

I lived in the community home from age 8 to age 14, which is when we're kicked out. I've heard that in other Districts, the maximum age is 18, but in District 7 we have a lot of orphans. Chopping down trees is a dangerous job, which results in a lot of parent-less children. Since the community home is already overflowing, they kick us out the moment we become old enough to hold a steady job, which means cutting down trees.

There are a few other jobs in District 7, for people who physically don't have the strength to chop down trees, but those are very rare and are much more selective than a lumberjack position. As long as we're at least fourteen years of age and can lift an axe, we're forced to work as a lumberjack.

A few people work at the factories where they cut the logs into planks of wood and strip off the bark, but all they have to do is manage to machines, so the job doesn't call for a lot of people.

I got a job as a lumberjack the moment I got kicked out of the community home; when I turned 14.

The past two years have been hard, but who would expect them not to be? I'm basically homeless, I have no family and only one friend, and I'm terrible at the only job I have or can get.

That's why I'm not really nervous for the Reaping. How much tougher could my life get?

District 7

Sprucen Willes

As I walk through the streets and approach the check-line, I am dismayed to see how long it is. There's no way I'm waiting for ten minutes in this insanely large line - this District is way too big.

"Outta the way," I growl, and shove several kids aside so I can get to the front of the line. I hear a few cries of protest, but all of these kids are so tiny and none are stupid enough to mess with me. However, there's one large kid near the front of the line who doesn't like it when I claim my rightful place in front of him.

"What are you doing?" he demands.

"Going to the front of the line," I reply, simply.

"I don't think so!" he shouts, angrily. This guy has a very short temper. "Go to the back of the line, like you're supposed to!"

"No," I state. The guy's face is bright red in anger.

"I've waited in this line for eight minutes, so you have no right to cut in front of -"

I cut him off by sending a punch directly into his jaw. The people around us gasp and out of the corner of my eye, I see a crowd beginning to form. The guy I punched stumbles back, clutching his cheek. He snarls at me and charges, but I send another punch his way, this time hitting him in the nose.

"Fight! Fight!" a few kids around us begin to chant.

The guy holds a hand to his nose, and when he removes it there's blood smeared across it. He looks up at me, and I notice that his nose is all misshapen and crooked.

"You broke my nose, you bastard!" he exclaims.

"Whoops," I say, smirking. He comes rushing at me again, and I kick him in the gut. He collapses now, coughing on the ground.

"What's going on?" a Peacekeeper demands, rushing over. He pushes his way through the line of people, who reluctantly part to let him through. The Peacekeeper stops when he sees the guy on the ground, and turns to look at me. "Fighting is forbidden in District 7," he hisses.

"So?"

Everyone gasps and looks shocked. I'm sure they're all wondering what kind of idiot would talk back to a Peacekeeper. The Peacekeeper stands still for a moment. I have no idea how he's reacting, since there's no way to see behind his helmet, so I just stand there.

"Normally, I'd arrest you," he hisses. "But since today is the Reaping, I'll be nice. Go check in, but remember - next time you so much as dare looking at me, you'll end up tied to a whipping post."

"Fine," I say, and turn back to the Peacekeeper checking people in. The line has cleared in front of me, so I don't have to wait to check in. I offer the Peacekeeper my hand and she pricks it with the needle and presses the tip into her little booklet.

"Sprucen Willes," the little scanning machine confirms, and she waves me through. I check over my shoulder and spot the Peacekeeper I angered still looking in my direction. I smirk, slightly, and continue down the aisle.

I reach the eighteen-year-olds section and push several kids aside to slide my way in. They groan in annoyance, but none bother me. They're either too nervous about the Reapings to care about me, or they've heard about me and know better than to mess with me.

A few more kids trickle in, but not many, since I was pretty late. One kid cuts in front of me, blocking my excellent view of the stage.

"Hey!" I shout, shoving him out of the way. He narrows his eyes, but when he realizes who I am, they immediately widen.

"Are you Ruce Willes?" he stammers.

"Yeah, now get out of my way, you ugly brat!"

The kid scampers away, leaving me to laugh at him. I have my good view of the stage again, and at just the right time, as well. Our escort, some dude who's name I don't remember, happily skips up to the microphone, sporting a colorful ensemble so bright it almost makes my eyes bleed.

"Welcome District 7! We're here to choose two new tributes to compete in the 248th Annual Hunger Games! I, personally, am excited to see who will be representing us this year. This District has produced some lovely tributes and Victors, and I'm sure this year will be no exception.

"Before we choose our tributes, let's watch a short film to remind us why we have the Hunger Games. I know a lot of you don't like this video, but it's very important."

Our escort takes a few steps back so most of us can see the giant screen to his left. It turns on, and I'm seeing the beginning of the video. As usual, it's war footage (although I heard somewhere that most of the video was shot by actors and made to look like the war). I'm probably one of the only few people who pay attention every year, because I seem to be the only one to notice the new details they add.

The obvious one, which I'm sure everyone notices, is the change of narrator. It's customary for the current president to narrate the video, even though they all stick to the same script. President Chorley and President Divine have a very different way of narrating the video, so that's obvious.

The more discreet changes are in the war footage. Some of the shots have been replaced by what I can only assume is footage of the rebel attack last year. All of the shots are quick, so it's hard to notice, but I do spot a short shot of the Peacekeeper headquarters blowing up, and a few beheadings of who I can only assume are some of the rebels.

The video ends, and our escort enthusiastically claps. They echo throughout Town Square, the only noise for miles. He doesn't seem fazed by our lack of enthusiasm, and simply moves on to introducing our living Victors. He goes through several, in unfortunate detail until he wraps it up with our most recent Victor, Chance Alector.

"Now that all of that stuff's finished, we can move on to the exciting part: drawing the names! As usual, let's start with the girls."

Our escort walks over to the girls bowl and snatches a slip of paper right back up. He turns to walk back over to the mic, then pauses.

"You know what? I don't think that's a Victor," he states, and places the slip of paper back in the bowl. He digs all the way to the bottom of the bowl to pull out a name this time. "This one's definitely a Victor!" he grins.

He walks back over to the mic and unfolds the slip of paper at a very slow pace.

"Zaira Quentin!" he reads. I search around for this year's female tribute. For a moment, there's no movement. Not even a friend or parent crying out for their child. Just silence. Finally, a strong-looking girl begins to shuffle out of the sixteen-year-olds section. People part for her, but no one seems really sad. I guess she's not really well known.

Zaira makes her way up to the stage and takes her place next to the escort. He says something about how he thinks she'll win, before asking for Volunteers.

As usual, he's met with crickets. He then announces that he'll choose the boy's name.

I'm not as invested with who'll he choose, because it doesn't matter. They won't go into the Hunger Games because I'm volunteering. I do think the escort was off when he stated his confidence that Zaira would be the next Victor, though - it'll be me. I'm strong and smart. How could I not win? It's a recipe for success.

"Theodore Machen!" he reads.

It's a moment before a small, sniveling boy boy inches his way up the aisle from the fifteen-year-old section. I nearly scoff. Thank God I'm replacing him - there's no way he could last a day in the Hunger Games.

I want to mess with him, so I'll wait until the escort asks for Volunteers to step up. I want this kid to believe he's going into the Hunger Games first. And his annoying mother, who's sobbing loudly in the back.

"Are there any Volunteers?" the escort asks hopefully when Theodora is standing next to him.

"I volunteer!" I announce calmly, and slowly strut up to the stage. I hear a few people gasp. Volunteering in this District is very uncommon. Theodore sighs in relief and almost knocks into me on his way down the stage. I snarl at him in anger, and he winces. I take my place next to the escort and he asks me my name. "Sprucen Willes," I answer. "But everyone calls me Ruce."

"I'm excited to have you, Ruce!" he responds, looking ecstatic. I doubt he's ever had a Volunteer. "Anyway, shake hands!"

I turn to my District partner - I've already forgotten her name, and hold out my hand. She hesitantly grabs onto it and shakes it.

"District 7, may I introduce your tributes for the 248th Annual Hunger Games: Sprucen Willes and Zaira Quentin!"

Sorry if this chapter wasn't great. I wasn't feeling in the mood to write it, but I felt like I had to so I churned it out anyway.

Also, there's a poll on my profile for your favorite tribute so far. It won't include Zaira or Sprucen, since I meant to do this mid-reapings but forgot.

QUESTIONS:

1. What do you think of Zaira?

2. What do you think of Sprucen?

3. Who do you prefer?

4. Who do you think will make it further?

5. What's your favorite/lucky number? (Mine is 32. I have no idea why).

- Lilah