Those in prison were not exempt from being reaped, so when the day came they were marched into the courtyard just like everybody else. Parents eyed the prison uniforms warily, hoping that one of them will be reaped, rather than their own children. If there was anyone who, it could be argued, deserved to go into the Games, it was the juvenile delinquents.
The escort, a particularly flouncy woman named Petunia, plucked a slip out of the girls' bowl and excitedly walked back to the microphone. She broke the seal on the paper and unfolded it, the crinkling sounding across the District. She read the name and smiled at the crowd of nervous wrecks below her.
"Sylvia Morris!"
The only sounds were the wails of her family, and the near-silent sighs of relief from others as the sixteen-year-old made her way onto the stage.
Petunia smiled warmly in greeting, but it dropped off her face the second she looked into the girl's glassy eyes, and took note of the uniform she was wearing. She cleared her throat awkwardly and moved over to the boys' bowl.
The male tribute, twelve-year-old Markus, was too afraid to look her in the eye as they shook hands.
In the Justice Building, the only people who came to say goodbye were her family.
Yes she was creepy, yes she was a pyromaniac, yes she was a criminal, but at the end of the day she was still their daughter and they loved her very much.
The love of a mother, father and brother can know no bounds. They hugged and kissed her and told her to come back home.
Then she was escorted to the train by the same Peacekeepers who took her to prison several years before.
A few hours later, she sat at one end of the dinner table tucking into the luxurious food, while Markus, the two mentors, Berry and Logan; and the two other Victors along for the ride, Blight and Darren, watched her cautiously. They, like most others in the District, had heard of "that Morris girl", which was how the adults referred to her, with distaste in their voices.
Berry and Logan gazed at each other. Logan had already called dibs on mentoring the boy, but Berry really did not want to be near Sylvia. Logan was much more of a "people person" and could probably handle her better. But Logan was thoroughly creeped out by her and wanted nothing more than to not have to mentor her. In all his fifty years alive he'd seen many tributes come and go, but none had made him feel more uneasy than the girl sitting across from him.
Blight and Darren stated that they weren't on mentor duty this year, and therefore wanted nothing to do with her.
They watched the other reapings in silence. It was the standard sort of roster: deadly beauties from One; brutes from Two; promising warriors from Four; sobbing and underfed kids from various other Districts. The announcers, Caesar and Claudius, made comments on every tribute, ranging from spotting a possible Victor (the boy from Two) to the tributes' physique to whether any of them might have hidden talents.
Then they got to Sylvia. They paid attention to the faces of the crowd and Petunia's reaction. When they finally saw Sylvia mount the stage they raised their eyebrows.
"As you can all probably see there, this Sylvia Morris girl is wearing a prison uniform." Claudius said.
"Makes you wonder what she did to get locked up." Caesar added.
"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. Look, even Petunia's a bit scared! Sylvia seems like someone to keep your eyes on!" And then they moved on to how tiny Markus was and if he'd make it out of the bloodbath alive.
Once the reapings were over, Logan stood up and stretched his legs. "Well, now that that's over, Markus, we should start talking about strategy. I know some tips and tricks for getting sponsors…"
Markus eagerly followed him to the other end of the carriage and sat down across from him. As Logan began to talk about playing up a "cute innocent child" angle, he sneaked a glance at Berry. She was silently fuming over having been left with creepy Sylvia with no choice.
Damn it, Logan!