At long last, the Three Reaping! Also, the Eight male is open because his submitter is really busy right now and she wants us to be able to go forward.

Electra Magnato POV

I twisted a wire, closing the circuit. The boy next to me attached a wire to a battery and sparks flew from the mechanism on our desk. Students around us screamed and shileded their heads as the school pitched into darkness.

"You what?" My mother asked when I got home.

"We messed up. The teacher failed us," I mumbled. I flinched as my mother flew into action.

"I knew you'd fail. I just hoped maybe you'd surprise me for once. We never should have brought you into this world. You're a disgrace to the Magnato name," she said.

"I'm sorry, Mom. Please, I'll just go to my room and I won't be any more trouble," I said. I drew into myself and backed away. I felt the familiar fear and panic as my mother's face grew red.

"You'll do no such thing, you worthless brat. You're obviously too stupid to learn, but maybe even you can understand this," she said. She picked up the rolling pin on the counter beside her, and I held up my arms to shield my face.

She broke my arm that day. It was nothing new, and it wasn't the last time she hurt me. She always seemed happier on Reaping Day. I knew she was hoping I'd get picked. And honestly, when Bubbles came out, I was more worried for my little sister Synthi than for myself. Synthi was the favored child, and I worked hard to ensure it. I didn't want her to ever go through what I did. It was bad enough she had to see it.

Bubbles reaped Siri Anil, a girl I'd seen in school but didn't really know. She was screaming and crying, but I was jealous of her. It wasn't easy being me, even considering how hard everyone had it in Panem. This Reaping was my outlet from them and their control over me. Dying in the Arena was a better choice than living under them.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Bubbles asked. The fire I'd always had to shove down before came scorching out.

"I volunteer as Tribute!" I walked to the stage and glared out at my parents. Even if they'd wanted me gone, they were still shocked at my boldness.

I told the Peacekeepers I didn't want to see my parents. Synthi came in by herself. She ran across the room and threw herself at me, already weeping.

"It's all right You'll be okay without me," I said. It was hard to tell which was more stressful for her- watching what my parents did to me or watching me in the Arena. Synthi gave me a copper tube.

"Do what you do best," she said, and then it was time for her to go.

What I do best. Messing things up? Dishonoring my family name?

No. What I did best was surviving.

Demarcus DeMarcos POV

Back forever ago, people used to attack people like me because of our skin. Now they just attacked me because I was different. I didn't look like the others, so I was the one to pick on. Early on I took my licks and tried to stay out of their way. When I realized there was no "out of their way", and that they'd follow me wherever I went, I had to start fighting back.

I learned a lot of things about people when I started to defend myself. I learned a lot more people want to start a fight than finish one. They were more than happy to badger me and snipe at me until I had to return fire. They imagined themselves facing off against me in an old-fashioned bareknuckled boxing match and swapping punches until I went down. They didn't understand that a fight ended when one party couldn't walk anymore, permanently or otherwise. It wasn't a pretty duel with flourishing swords and graceful blows. It was gouged eyes and knees bent sideways until they snapped. I'd felt the joints crunch in my mouth as I bit a boy's finger off. I didn't start a fight unless I was willing to destroy someone.

I hated the way they looked at me after I started fighting back. I went from the whipping boy to the boogeyman. They didn't taunt me as much, unless a new kid was spoiling to make a name for himself. They scattered before me when I came near. Mothers pulled their children closer when I went past. I couldn't so much as call a greeting to a passing boy without him flinching. I didn't want it to be like that. I never wanted to fight at all. If they'd ever once tried to be friends with me, none of this would have happened. If they asked now, I'd forget all that happened for a chance at friendship.

When I got Reaped, I was too jaded to care. My life expectancy was short anyway. Sooner or later too many of them would have come for me, or a hotshot upstart would get in the blow that hit me just wrong and knocked my brain too hard against my skull. At least the Capitol was something else. The children there wouldn't know me. I didn't look scary when people first saw me. I was tall and more muscular than most people in Three, but I wasn't a hulk.

This was a new start for me. If I died, I was no worse off than I would have been. If I lived for a while, I might make my first friend before I died. If I won, I could move to the Victor's Village, far away from everyone who tormented me. I'd be neighbors with Beetee. He was way smarter than me, but he looked like me, so he wouldn't hound me. It was the high point of all the Games I'd ever seen when he won. I was cheering for him from the start. I hoped he'd be cheering for me.