District 8: Twilla Weaver (13) Pov-

District 8 always looks ugliest the morning of the reaping. That's really saying something. When Hunger Games time comes around each year and I get to see the reapings from each district, I can't help but envy their clear-blue skies and fresh sunshine. There's no denying that District 8 is ugly. It's an urban district, with factories puffing evil black smoke into the skies. Barely a blade of grass in sight.

School is being let out early today so we all have time to get ready for the reaping. The second the school bell rings, students start pouring out onto the turf. I find my brother Calico quickly. His blazing red hair could probably be seen from a mile away. He sure has the hair of the Weaver family.

"Calico!" I shout, scooping him up in my arms. "How was your day at school?"

"It was great," he replies with a goofy smile.

"What did you learn?" I ask as we start walking home.

"Multiplication," Calico says.

"Really? Multiplication?"

Calico nods quickly. "You can test me!"

I place my finger on my chin as if lost in thought. "Six times five."

"Thirty!" Calico answers quickly, giggling.

"Good! Four times eight."

"Thirty-two!"

"You really are good at this," I say, impressed.

"Mrs. Melcher says I'm the best in the class," Calico boasts just as our house comes into sight. Someone may well think that the house had been run over multiple times by tornadoes. But it's actually one of the roomier places District 8 has to offer. At least we're not living in the slums.

"What should we eat for lunch?" I ask, steering Calico through the creaky front door.

"Let's have strawberry bread. My favorite!" he requests, giggling.

His laughter seems to make the sun a little bit warmer than it was a few seconds ago. The grey sky seems to get a little clearer. It's incredible how laughter makes such an ugly world so beautiful.

District 8: Caden Yarnn (16) Pov-

I've always loved yarn. I love everything about it—the way it stretches, falls, and frays at the ends. I used to visit Dad's yarn spinning business after school to watch him throw the colors onto the loom and spin the hues and shades of a thousand rainbows into his creations.

Jute and I sprint across the gravel pathway, picking up dust behind us. Pieces of yarn and string litter the ground every few feet. They've long since stopped trying to clean it up.

"I'm faster than you!" Jute boasts playfully, speeding ahead of me.

"Oh, no, you don't!" I repute as my legs thunder forward. He curses as I overtake him. Jute stumbles on a rock and is frozen for a few seconds—the few seconds I need to build up a decent head start. By the time Jute regains his footing, next to all of his hopes of winning the race have vanished.

"Alright, you win," Jute admits, slowing down to catch his breath.

But I keep running. "Don't give up this early. Keep on running!"

But something catches my eye that makes me screech to a halt. The white flash of a peacekeeper's uniform can be seen from nearby. He strolls toward us angrily, looking suspicious.

"What are you two kids up to?" he demands grumpily.

"We were just, um…" my brain comes to a standstill and the flow of words stops. Help.

"Going to my house to get into our reaping clothes," Jute finishes.

The peacekeeper pauses. "Well, make it quick, the reaping's in half an hour!"

"We will. Sir," I add, voice quivering.

He grunts and shoos us aside.

Jute starts talking again as soon as the peacekeeper is out of earshot.

"He sounded funny. Like a duck," Jute says, imitating the peacekeeper's voice by plugging his nose.

"You know, I'm not supposed to say stuff against the peacekeepers, but, I agree," I admit with a laugh.

District 8: Twilla Weaver (13) Pov-

Tilsee Marrow doesn't look like an escort. Her hair is a natural dark-brown and her face looks almost completely clean of plastic surgery. It's when Tilsee opens her mouth that everyone can tell how Capitol-made she really is.

"Are we ready for the reaping, District 7?" Tilsee bellows, stressing the first letter of every word as if trying to drown out the rest of the sentence.

There aren't any whistles or cheers, but a few polite people clap.

"Good!" she screams. Tilsee reads the Treaty of Treason. Luckily, she's straightforward and starts to the girls' reaping bowl without any further ado.

"I would like to welcome to the stage… the female tribute from District 8… the very lucky…"

The silence in the square gets even more complete with each phrase that leaves Tilsee's mouth.

"Twilla Weaver!"

For an instant, I'm so shocked that I can't even move. I feel a pressure behind my eyes. It isn't hard to guess that tears are coming. I try to hold them back, but it's impossible. The entirety of District 8 stares at me pitifully as I sob into my arm, unable to talk for terror.

When I finally get to the stage, Tilsee wraps her arms tightly around me.

"Very well. Are you all ready for me to pick a male?"

The people of District 8 don't reply, which Tilsee evidently takes as a yes.

District 8: Caden Yarnn (16) Pov-

"Caden Yarnn!"

I am going to die. A part of my mind is telling me that there's I chance I can come home, but the rest of my thoughts smother it out completely in a few seconds. I'm just not good enough! There'll be boys twice my size. Boys who know seventy ways to kill you with a knife. I bite the inside of my cheek to distract myself as I make the walk to the stage.

"Welcome, Caden," Tilsee gushes. "How are you?"

"Wonderful," I answer shortly.

"Fantastic. Happy Hunger Games!"

District 8: Twilla Weaver (13) Pov-

Button throws her arms around me, sobbing into my shirt. "Oh, man, I'm going to miss you," she says.

"It's alright." I pat her on the shoulder. "It's not like if for sure going to die."

"You could have waited for one of the other girls to volunteer for you," Button mumbles.

"That would be messed up," I tell her. "And it's not like I'm completely idiotic. I have a pretty rational head on my shoulders."

My family comes in next. Mom and Dad stand in front, with Calico behind. Calico grabs onto my shirt and cries into it while my parents smile sadly. Neither of them cries. I don't mention this, though. That would just make the already heavy situation even heavier.

District 8: Caden Yarnn (16) Pov-

Mom, Dad, and Lacey speed into the Justice Building faster than I thought was possible, slamming the door behind them. Lacey cries into her teddy bear while Mom and Dad wrap their arms around me.

"Wow. Wow. You're… wow," Dad says, like his brain is trying to reject the situation. "You're going into the Hunger Games."

I'm going to die, I silently add.

"But you can win," Mom says. "I know you can. Just remember to fight smarter, not harder."

I can't win, a voice inside of me says. She must know that.

As my family turns to leave, I catch Lacey's eye. There's nothing I can say now that will make either of us happier. So I just give her a short smile.

Here is District 8. Thanks to jjjr7301 for Twilla and Smiley for Caden!

Question 1: What is Calico's favorite food?

Question 2: What kind of business does Caden's father own?