District Eight

Barathea "Thea" Buckram, 14.

Thea locks the bathroom door, leaning heavily against the old wood as she lets out a sigh. Her head is starting to hurt and she closes her eyes, taking solace in the fact that the noise of the chaos happening outside is somewhat muted whilst the bathroom door is closed.

She loves being part of a big family usually, but today is one of the days that she doesn't. Her name is in there way too many times for her to be comfortable with, and trying to get nine kids under ten ready for a big event that they don't know anything about is exhausting. She's tired of dodging their questions and trying to make sure that the littles still have both of their shoes whilst trying to do her younger sister's hair, watching as another sister pulls out the hairstyle that Thea had just finished. She's losing her patience pretty quickly, and Thea doesn't know how her parents deal with this day in and day out.

Of course, being one of the older kids, Thea is expected to help out with the younger ones, but her parents do a good job in managing everything so that she, Otto, and Ginger are never too swamped. They'll be in charge of smaller things like making the beds or cleaning up after breakfast whilst the adults deal with the mass of kids. Today was the first day that the older kids had been completely in charge, and so far it wasn't going to well.

Ginger is on breakfast duty, Otto is on clean up duty and Thea is on getting the younger kids dressed and presentable duty. She'd trade with either one of the others in a heartbeat.

And to their due, the oldest of the younger kids are trying their best to get the younger ones to behave—Fran, who'd just turned eleven, was doing a good job at making sure everyone still had both of their shoes, and Georgie, eight, was trying to make sure that once they were dressed they stayed dressed—but even with the extra help it was still a mammoth task.

"Hey, T, we're running out of time!" Otto calls, knocking on the door. "C'mon, you've still got kids to dress."

Thea leats out a groan, taking a deep breath before she opens the door. They've got an hour before the Reaping starts, so Otto's right; they are running out of time. It takes half an hour to actually get to the square, so they have thirty minutes at most to get everything in order.

"You're doing a good job," Otto soothes as she steps out, his arms full of plates and cups. He'd probably hug her otherwise. "Really good. Mom and Dad will be so proud of you! Now get out there and finish it."

So Thea heads back into the living room and finishes what she started. In her absence, Fran and Georgie had managed to get all but the youngest two kids dressed which Thea appreciates so much, and Ginger is almost done with breakfast (sandwiches so that no one can spill it on themselves), so as Thea starts on the kids' hair, braiding and combing, everyone is more or less ready. And the kids settle down almost instantly after being given food.

It takes Thea twenty minutes to finish, having to go back and braid a lot of the younger girls' hair again after they'd pulled it out, and when she's finally done Otto shoos her off to her bedroom to get ready herself. He and Ginger had somehow managed to get ready amidst the chaos, so she's the only one left.

She pulls out the dress her mom had made her a few weeks ago, donning it quickly before hunting for her shoes which end up having been kicked under Courdie's bed. Pulling them out and slipping them on she quickly combs through her hair. She tries to braid it, but her fingers are so tried from braiding her younger sisters' hair that she ends up just leaving the brown mess down. Maybe Ginger could pull it into some sort of ponytail whilst they were walking to the Reaping (she was some sort of an expert doing hair on the move after taking charge of the school run last year).

Exiting her room, she sees everyone lined up and paired together like their parents made them any time they went out in public. Fran and Georgie at the front and Thea and Otto at the back. When the horn blared out across the district, they left. Joining the throng of other people making their way to the square.

"You nervous?" Otto asks, hands in his pocket.

"Yeah," Thea admits. "I don't even want to think about how many times my name is in there."

"Me neither," Otto says, his smile falling a little. "Fourteen extra entries for five ye—"

"Shut up," Thea has to blink back tears. "Don't—I don't want to talk about it."

She already works in the factories after school, but Thea can't wait until she's old enough to drop out of school and work full time. Otto's almost done with his education, and he'll be leaving soon and then Ginger will go the year after him, but three extra incomes will help the family so much. Thea's hoping that, when the three of them are working alongside their parents, the younger kids won't have to take out so much tesserae.

It's hard being a family of fourteen on two measly incomes, but they make it work. Mostly due to Ginger, Otto and Thea's tesserae. And there are nights when Thea stares up at the ceiling, angry at her parents for having so many children, times when she says that to their faces, but deep down she wouldn't change their family for the world. It just sucks that they have to gamble their lives just so they don't starve.

Their mom and dad meet them at the square. They look tired, having taken the night shift at the factory so that they had the afternoon free, the eldest three gladly pawn the kids off on them and then they're hugged and sent off to get their fingers pricked with a chorus of a dull 'good luck'.

Thanks, Thea thinks, the Buckram kids certainly need it.

Ottoman "Otto" Buckram, 17.

Otto parts with Thea and Ginger after they all get their fingers pricked, pulling them both into one big hug. He filters into his section, takes his place beside his friends and anxiously waits.

He hears someone behind him complaining about their four tesserae entries and has to bite his tongue, reminding himself that it's nerve-wracking for everyone. Twelve-year-olds with one slip have been reaped plenty of times, enough for them to be up with nightmares for the few days before the Reaping. So he doesn't say anything, just keeps his gaze ahead and his breaths steady.

His friends try and distract him, try and draw his mind away from the Reaping, but it's hard when they're standing in the square and their escort is taking the stage. Otto clenches his draw as the woman totters over to the bowl, her heels the highest that he's ever seen in his life, and he doesn't join in with the laughter that rumbles from the crowd when she almost slips over. Her cheeks are bright red when she rights herself and for a minute Otto isn't sure if she's just embarrassed or if it's the makeup she's wearing, but when she clears her throat and cracks something that's almost a joke, the redness starts to die down.

"Welcome, District Eight!" The woman chirps when given the heads up to start. Otto is hyper-aware that the cameras are rolling now. "To the Reaping of the 94th annual Hunger Games!"

The mayor steps up to say his speech, the video plays, and everything goes way too fast. Otto looks across the aisle, trying to spot Ginger within the sixteen-year-olds. He thinks he can see her, but he's not sure. There are too many girls. Trying to spot Thea within the fourteen-year-olds is equally impossible, but he doesn't have to look for long before her name is echoing out across the district.

He feels as if he's been kicked in the stomach, struggling to catch his breath. He leans heavily on his friend beside him, watching as Thea makes her way to the stage. There are tears running down her cheeks as she moves, but she carries herself well as their younger siblings cry out from behind the rope. It's easy to see where Ginger is now, the crowd having somewhat parted around her as she falls to her knees, head in her hands.

She doesn't volunteer. Otto doesn't expect her to. He won't. He can't. Losing one child is bad enough, losing two is worse.

His family is ordered to quiet by the peacekeepers before Dottie moves to the boys' bowl. Otto isn't really listening, his gaze fixed on his trembling younger sister.

Dottie fishes out the boys' slip, and there's a brief look of horror on her face before she moves back to the microphone.

There's a tremor in her voice as she reads out Otto's name.

A sibling pair has never been reaped before.

Until now.

Barathea "Thea" Buckram, 14.

Thea sits alone for a while, curled up on the velvet sofa. It feels nice under her cheek, soothing almost, but her sobs don't stop as she comes to terms with the past few minutes. She and Otto were both reaped.

There's part of her that's not even surprised. It was bound to happen; they had their names in way too many times. But she feels horrible for thinking that, almost as if she'd caused it herself with her overthinking. Now there was no way for their family to ever be whole again. Maybe Thea could have won, it was unlikely but it was still a possibility, but there was no way she could win against Otto. She wouldn't want to. But Otto wouldn't want to be without her, either.

Eventually the door bursts open to her room and everyone piles in. She's pulled off of the couch by her dad, pulled into a bone-crushing hug. They don't speak; they don't have to. They all know that nothing is going to be okay ever again.

Thea hugs her mom and her dad and Fran and Georgie and Velvet and Lacy and Ginger and Dennie and Malcom and Courdie and Maggie and Eric.

She wishes that Otto was in the mix, not in the room beside her.

Ginger ushers the other kids out after a while, out into the hallway. Thea can still hear them sobbing even when the door closes. She'd give anything to have the chaos from this morning replace those tears.

Her mom steps forward, slipping off her wedding ring. "Your dad gave his to Otto," she sniffs. "So I want you to have mine."

"I love you Mom," Thea whimpers, closing her hand around the ring. It cuts into her hand but she doesn't care, throwing her arms around her parents.

"I love you too, Thea. And I'm proud of you, no matter what."

Thea stays in her mom's arms until the peacekeepers force them apart. She sits back on the couch, raising her hand to knock on the wall three times. I love you.

She doesn't know if Otto knows the meaning behind her knocks, probably not, but the three knocks back sends her into another fit of tears.

Because will their love mean anything in the arena? Can it mean anything when they're both fighting for their lives? Can it mean anything when only one of them can come up on top?

A/N: a little shorter than the others considering that the mornings were the same, and there was no use in writing it twice.

Thank you for reading and, if you haven't yet, feel free to submit a tribute! Remember, I can only write for districts that I have two tributes for!