District 6: Lexus Beltran (16) Pov-
There is something uniquely disgusting about pancakes drenched in syrup that makes me feel like vomiting. My father insists that we eat them at breakfast the morning of the reaping every year. I've never felt up to telling my dad that he's not a very good cook. I only have to eat Dad's pancakes once a year, after all.
"Are you excited to see what Tulip Newberry's costume looks like this year?" Dad asks, shoveling a bit of pancake into his mouth.
I let out a laugh. "I don't think she can beat last year. She looked like she was in a banana costume!"
"I don't think it's funny," Mom sighs, setting down her fork. "Don't you feel bad watching two kids taken to the Capitol to die?"
"Come on, Mom. It's not like District 6 tributes never survive."
"But one of them always dies."
The sound of little footsteps is heard, and Elizabeth comes into view, already in her reaping clothes.
"Look who's here!" Mom says with a smile. "What a beautiful dress for a beautiful girl."
"Thanks, Mommy. You look beautiful too." Elizabeth scampers to the sink to get a glass of water. She's always cheerful like that. That's probably because she's just not been exposed to how ugly the world can be. But that can't last long. This is her last year of safety; her name will go into the reaping next year.
"Morning, Lexie," Elizabeth chirps, kissing me on the cheek.
"Morning, Elizabeth."
"Morning, Mommy."
"Morning, Elizabeth."
"Morning, Daddy."
"Morning, Elizabeth."
"Ope! Let me help you button up your dress!" I push away from the table, looking for any excuse to get away from my half-eaten pancakes.
"The reaping's in ten minutes. I'd better put on my own outfit!" I shout to my parents, speeding to my room and away from the bad smell.
District 6: Lincoln Blitz (16) Pov-
What do you pack when you have ten minutes to leave your home forever? I remember quite clearly. I lifted the corners of the canvas cover of my mattress and used it as a luggage carrier. I shoved a few of my favorite books inside. A toothbrush. A bottle of water. Some snacks. A pillow. A change of clothes.
Right before I left my house for the last time, I gave a final hateful look at my parents. They were chatting around the kitchen table, completely ignoring me as if I were invisible. The house around us was crumbling. They couldn't afford to take care of me. So they told me to scram.
Of course, the peacekeepers found me in ten seconds and threw me in the orphanage. Life there was awful. The staff could beat us freely without facing any punishment. If we didn't fold our clothes properly, we'd be locked in the cellar. Too often were kids sent to the office only to come back with ugly red marks on their faces. Sometimes they never came back at all.
I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. So I ran away. I felt like giving up on life until I found Ford. They say that everyone is climbing the same mountain but on different sides. But Ford and I were taking the same exact path up the mountain. He had been thrown out by his parents just like me. He'd had the same experiences in the orphanage. And there's a kind of camaraderie that comes from having someone to relate to when your life is as sucky as mine.
"Are you sure the coast is clear?" Ford hisses, hand reaching for the window crank.
"Yep," I reply.
Ford begins turning the crank. The instant the bakery window is fully open, a mouth-watering aroma of freshly-baked bread comes wafting out.
Ford gives me the thumbs up. Stealing from the bakery is about as safe as prodding a sleeping bear in the eye. There's no doubt we'd be killed if we were caught by the baker. But over the years I've gotten very good at it, if I do say so myself.
My feet touch down on the cool floor. I peer around and snatch up the first loaf I encounter. Ever so carefully, I climb back out of the window. Ford cranks the window closed behind me. And then we're off.
We collapse together on a grassy hill about half a mile away. It's only then that I realize the loaf I stole is far from perfect. Half of it is charred black and the rest is so crumbly in breaks in half when I give it a light squeeze.
"Is this alright?" I ask Ford.
"It's the best we're going to get," he replies. "You take the good half."
"No, you take the good half. It was your idea to use the side window."
"But you did the stealing. You deserve it."
"Now that I think about it, both halves are equally unappetizing," I say, laughing a little.
"I guess we'll just play Rock, Paper, Scissors," he suggests, already starting to pound his fist onto his open palm.
District 6: Lexus Beltran (16) Pov-
When Tulip Newberry dances onto the stage, a collective laugh rises up from the audience. Her costumes never fail to look ridiculous, and this year is no exception. Tulip wears a tight forget-me-not blue suit that squeezes her torso so firmly I'm surprised she isn't choking. Down her legs are orange, furry pants with little suction cups like octopus tentacles. A large crimson headdress decorates her head, and lilac flowers are woven into her pigtails.
"Well, I'm flattered," Tulip says once she reaches the microphone.
Silence envelops the square. I anxiously drum my nails on my palm as she reads the Treaty of Treason. "Ladies first," she chimes as she struts toward the girls' reaping ball.
"Lexus Beltran."
I feel like I've been knocked in the stomach. Before I know it, I'm on the ground. Black spots dot my vision, threatening to take my sight and consciousness completely. I will not pass out, I mutter to myself, struggling to get back to my feet. The butterflies that used to be fluttering in my stomach have since turned to pigeons. My blood runs cold. I am going to die.
A peacekeeper helps me to the stage. It's a swath of yellows and greens that I see as I pan over the crowd. Morphling really is an issue in District 6. I tried it once. It felt fake. But if it could calm me down right now, I wouldn't say no to some.
District 6: Lincoln Blitz (16) Pov-
Tulip plunges her hand into the boys' reaping ball and strolls back to the microphone.
"Lincoln Blitz."
A cold wave of terror washes over me. I try to move, but my feet are glued to the spot.
Ford grabs my arm. "I've got this, man. I can volunteer for you."
"No," I hiss, squirming out of his grasp. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to let them run. If there's any way to destroy what little chance I have of winning the games, it'd be by crying.
At the microphone, Tulip's face does a little grimace. I haven't washed in days. I must be dirty and smell awful. I hope there are good showers on the train.
District 6: Lexus Beltran (16) Pov-
Mom wipes a tear from her eye and wraps her arms tightly around me.
"I don't want to die, Mom!" I cry out, hugging her tighter.
"Nobody said you were going to die, Sweetie," Mom chokes. Her lack of sincerity makes me even more scared.
Dad sits down beside me. It's a long time before he talks.
"You're so brave, Lexie," he says through tears. But he doesn't say anything else. Whenever he opens his mouth to speak, little disjointed sounds come out. It's as if he's too terrified to speak clearly.
Cara sprints into the Justice Building and collapses on the chair across from me.
"I'm really going to miss you," she says, putting on a sad smile.
"I'm going to miss you, too."
"But you can win," Cara says.
I can't win. She must know that. But it can't hurt to be optimistic in my last few moments with her. "Maybe," is all I say.
District 6: Lincoln Blitz (16) Pov-
Nobody comes to say goodbye. The only people I'm close to are orphans just like myself. The peacekeepers never let orphans into the Justice Building to say goodbye. I guess they track in too much dirt.
At one point, a peacekeeper pokes his head in. I ask if I can just get onto the train right now.
"You have to wait for visitors," he says gruffly.
"Nobody's coming," I insist.
"You have to wait for visitors," he repeats.
I sigh and lie back on the sofa, savoring the moment of silence.
The reapings are halfway over. Woohoo! Thank you to paperairline for Lexus and jjjr7301 for Lincoln! You're all doing so well on these questions. I've got to think of some harder ones…
Question 1: True or False: Lexus' sister Elizabeth is ten years old.
Question 2: What does Lincoln hope will be on the train?