6F: Hope Eversand (16)

Pre-Reaping

"That's all for today. Do you think you're ready?"

I ponder the question for a second. "I honestly don't know. I mean, I hope so. And there's always the chance that I escaped." I'm silent for a second. "Will you be mentoring this year?"

"Yes. But I'll be mentoring the boy. Don't worry, Hester's a good mentor, too."

I laugh. "You're making it sound like I'm definitely going to be reaped. Give me a chance, Blue."

"I just don't want you to be upset or anything if you are reaped. But yes, Hope, there's a chance you'll be safe."

I nod. "That'd be great." Blue's told me a thousand times about the life of a victor, how horrible it is living with survivor's guilt. I don't want to be like that. But I don't want to die, either.

Out of the two, I'd take the former.

"Do you want to practice more? I have to be in the town square by ten, but if you want to train…" Blue offers hesitantly.

I shrug. "Nah, 'm good. I've trained for a while, besides there's no guarantee that I'll be reaped. Thanks for all this, though."

"No problem," Blue responds. "I'm really glad I could help, and if you get reaped then at least Hester and I will have a new neighbor to look forwards to meeting."

I smile. "Here's to hoping that I don't, though. Well, I'd better get going home, my parents'll be waiting."

"Yeah. Goodbye, Hope. I'll see you after the reapings, then? In preparation for next year, or…" Blue trails off, hesitant to actually say what we both know he's going to say next.

"Yeah. See you then."

I hurry home, not wanting to annoy my parents by coming home later than they told me to. They're nice people—while they're not under stress from work, like three weeks ago, when the factory they were working at closed and they had to find new jobs—but they can get annoyed, and they did tell me to be home by nine. Of course, they're all for me learning weapons and martial arts skills, from a Victor no less, but their tolerance has its limits. Plus, if I want Fyr to be able to train under Blue as well, I have to prove to them that this is worth it.

I wish that District Six was a nicer place to live. Granted, I'm not a beauty-obsessed naïve baby—far from it, actually—but I wish I could live and die in a place that...won't be always blanketed with smog? I've heard that in places like Nine and Seven, the sky is so clear in some parts that you can actually see the stars. The only way that I'll ever get out of this hellhole is if I get transferred to a different district or become a tribute in the Hunger Games. Fyr and I have considered that with my pre-existent weapon skills and better-than-average strength, I could become a Peacekeeper, but I'm pretty sure the people in Two are trying hard enough to become Peacekeepers without a dirt-poor District Six girl in their midst. Besides, the thought of willingly working for the Capitol by punishing District citizens cruelly is unthinkable. Which means that then the only way of getting out is by way of the Hunger Games.

Well, I'm not volunteering (ever), and don't want to be reaped, so I'm practically damned to stay in Six for my whole life.

Fyr's outside, scuffling in the dirt with a few other boys on our street. He leaps up when he sees me. "Hope! You're home!" To the other boys, he excuses himself and runs up to me. "Mom says that I have to get ready once you got home. How was it?" Fyr wants to train with Blue as much as I want him to. I couldn't bear losing him. Only eleven years old, Fyr looks strangely a lot like me—with my tan skin, black-colored eyes, dark brown hair and what my mom calls Asian descent.

"It was normal," I respond, because all I did was practice.

"Can you show me that spinning jump kick, Hope? Please?" he begs with wide puppy eyes.

I laugh. "Maybe after the reaping. Come on, inside." I walk inside and Fyr follows.

"Fyren Eversand, what on Panem has happened to you?" my mom growls. "Hope, I've got your stuff in your room. Fyr here needs to take a bath."

I can see that, I remark to myself as I walk to the curtained-off area that makes my room. I'm not dirty apart from my clothes, where Fyr touched me, so I skip the part of getting ready that wastes precious water and put the clothes laid out on. A white, blouselike shirt and soft brown pants make up my reaping outfit. In some places, this would be a casual outfit, but it's expensive for us. I have no use for fashion anyways, so it doesn't matter, not really.

After finishing, I fill a cup with water and sit at the table, waiting.

6M: Tristan Whiplash (14)

Pre-Reaping

I look around the flower shop, trying to decide what to buy. Gyris always loved carnations, especially the pink ones, and soon I find a few of them. Only one bouquet left. Thank goodness it's still here.

"These, please, ma'am," I say to the cashier as I give her a few coins. "You can keep the change. Thank you very much."

She smiles at me, probably wondering what I'm going to use the flowers for. "Are those for your mother?" she finally asks. I shake my head, and in response the florist says "Ah. Pink carnations symbolize gratitude, so..."

"I didn't know that," I reapond. "My sister—Gyris, her name—lived pink carnations. They're for her." Thankfully, the florist doesn't ask anything more. I don't want to bring up Gyris right now.

The graveyard is surprisingly empty, save for a few others. I guess people would rather be spending time with their living family than remembering their dead. Quotas are constantly on the rise in Six, so anyone with a production job has a maximum of three sick days, excluding reaping day. So today is one of the only days that people can come here.

I guess people don't care about honoring the dead anymore.

Soon, I come across her grave. Plain, simple. Mom and Dad could've put a monument up to honor her, but they wouldn't, and Gyris wouldn't want that, anyways. The inscription is simple, too, with just her name and date of birth/death—Gyris Whiplash, 283ADD to 298ADD.

I lay the carnations down, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I've stopped counting how many times a day I miss her, how many times a day I wish she hadn't left me. But Gyris made her choice, and urged me to go on. Not to let them restrict me.

Death is easy, books always said. Living is harder.

Remembering, I pull the sheet of paper out of my pocket. I'm sure my parents would kill me (maybe even literally) if they ever saw this, but it's all I have left of her. Her note.

Dearest Tristan,

If you are reading this, it means that I am no longer alive. Firstly, I want you to know how truly sorry I am that I'm leaving you alone. I just can't do this any longer. Tell Mom and Dad a lie, don't let them know that it was suicide. They wouldn't believe me, anyways.

You have to go on, Tristan. You've always been strong, and now you have to prove that to yourself. I know that you can do this, Tristan. Go on. And most importantly—don't let them control you. Break free, have your own small rebellion. You have to break free.

Your sister,

Gyris

The tears are coming full on now. I try to stop them, but grief consumes me and I limply wipe my eyes. Like she said, be strong. Almost two years since it happened, and my parents don't even care anymore. It's sickening.

Speaking of my parents, they're probably expecting me back home. They don't even know where I've gone. Slowly, I get up, and start the walk back home. The graveyard sits between the poor and rich parts of Six, so it's not a long walk. If I'm lucky, they won't have any idea that I've left in the first place.

I open the door by a sliver, then quietly slip inside. Back up to my room, they won't know that I was anywhere at all…

"Tristan."

Oh.

"Yes, Father?" I ask, trying to sound innocent. I hope that they won't ask, but of course they will.

"Ah, Tristan. So nice of you to…join us," my mother says cooly. This is bad. The cool voice always leads up to a shouting match, and many consequences.

"Now, would you care to tell us where exactly you were?" She says it like a question, but I have to answer it. There is no option Swallowing, I tell them.

"Gyris' grave."

My father narrows his eyes. Tristan, what were you doing at the graveyard,exactly? Is what they seem to say. But I won't let him humilitate me. Break free, Gyris said? Yes, I'll do that. Instead of bowing my head, I hold it proudly. I did nothing wrong.

"Tristan, you are forbidden to leave home for the next two months except for going and coming to school. You stay in your room all of then, except times that we permit you to leave. I will make sure that Heaaster Regder and Sarla Coure know this." Morlen Regder, headmaster of the school. The most strict of the teachers. Sarla Coure. A kind person, but forced to follow Mother's "requests" if she continues to care for her family as much as she does now. "And if you complain, I won't hesitate to change that to four months."

Inwardly sighing in defeat, I nod. I don't have any friends at school to care about me, to wonder what's happened to Tristan. Most likely they'll realize for a moment that the rich couple's son doesn't show up anymore and not give t a single afterthought.

"Good. And Tristan, if we ever catch you going somewhere you're not supposed to again, especially the graveyard, we will hand out worse punishments. Alright?"

No, it's not alright, but I silently nod again.

"Now go get ready for the reaping."

6F: Hope Eversand (16)

Reaping

The escort, Angelica, walks onstage smiling and goes on for about ten minutes about how happy she is to be here. I'm fairly certain that the escorts are required to say that, because she doesn't seem very excited.

"Let's start with the boys!" Angelica finally announces. She walks in her six inch high heels (these Capitol people are ridiculous) to the male reaping bowl and puts her hand about halfway into the bowl. Unfolding the slip, she yells the name, "Tristan Whiplash!"

The boy that walks onstage has a blank expression on his face. I'm usually good at reading people, but not him. Still, he looks strong enough, and I decide if I'm going to be reaped, I'll ally with him. Plus, that'll give me the added advantage of having Blue as my mentor, kind of.

I'm so busy plotting my strategies that I don't realize that Angelica has pulled out the girls' reaping slip. "Hope Eversand!"

Thankfully, I've prepared myself for this occurrence, so I have essentially the same reaction as Tristan—almost nothing. I walk up calmly, not exactly confident but completely neutral.

"Well hello, dear. How are you?"

"Fine," I respond. It's a half-lie, because I'm not taken by shock or anything. But then again, who would be excited to go to the Hunger Games (apart from the Careers)?

"You don't seem surprised. Why, may I ask, if it's not too much trouble?"

Shrugging, I half-lie again. "I just always prepared myself for this to happen."

Angelica nods. "Ah, of course. Your tributes, District Six—Hope Eversand and Tristan Whiplash!"

6M: Tristan Whiplash (14)

Goodbyes

Quite honestly, I wouldn't be bothered if my parents didn't come at all. But that's not going to happen. They burst in, furious, not happy at the fact that they're losing their only remaining son.

"Tristan, you have to win. We can sponsor you, but you have to interest the Capitol audience because they're the ones that get the choice. Get allies, ditch them halfway through..." The tactics 'class' continues for almost the whole fifteen minutes, telling me multiple strategies.

"And Tristan...if you die..." my dad trails off. What's he going to do, dig up dirt on my "legacy"? My parents might care about that stuff, but it's not like I'll be alive to know or care about my legacy.

I nod quietly. "Yes, Father. I will win."

Don't let them control you.

I won't let them control me. If I win, I can shut them out of my life. If I die—it's the less favorable option, but at least I'll be free of them. Forever.

It's safe to say that the odds are in my favor.

District Six, here we are! I have to say, I love both of these tributes so thanks Nautics (for Hope) and Jade-Warrior (for Tristan). They were really fun to write about! Feedback on both of them (and Blue, Tristan's mentor/Hope's 'trainer') would be appreciated, so remember to review! Also, I have a poll on my profile that I would appreciate a lot if you voted for.

I'm going to have a tribute checkin. Please PM me your tribute's weapon if choice. It doesn't have to be something they have experience with, but if they do it should be district-related. Answers will ONLY be accepted via PM. Do not review with the checkin.

Mini quiz:

1. Hope's brother's full [first] name?

2. What has Blue trained Hope in?

3. Do you think Hope's plan to ally with Tristan will work?

4. Who do you like better? Why?

Most likely, this will be the last chapter before 2020, so Happy Holidays!