Hey heart on the road again
Moving on forward
Sticks and stones won't break our bones
We're in a car on the highway
It's a magical feeling that no one's got a hold
You're a catalyst to your happiness you know
Whitney Kaull, 14
District 8 Female
This class is the biggest snore fest I've ever had the misfortune of sitting through. We have only a handful of perfect weather days in District 8 and today is one of them. But I just had to go to school today.
It's not that I don't like school. I like the people I meet. I like the adventure of learning that I wouldn't normally get elsewhere, but I hate the lectures. Oh, my goodness gracious I hate the lectures. I can name all 30 victors in a row already. I don't know why we need a whole class over the games and go in depth analysis over each one.
"Now class, who can tell me the winner of the 25th Hunger Games?" ask Ms. Crabtree as she circles around the room. I roll my eyes in frustration and put my head down. My hair falls in waves around my desk. It isn't long before Ms. Crabtree comes and taps on my desk.
"Ms. Kaull, since you seem so bored with this class you clearly must know the answer correct? Who is the Victor of the 25th games?"
"Pine Heart," I say with my head still down.
"And what District is Mr. Heart from?"
Oh crap.
"Uh, 3?" I ask hopefully.
"Wrong!" says Ms. Crabtree all too delighted for my mistake. "If you were listening in class instead of daydreaming maybe you wouldn't be so confused Ms. Kaull. If this was a pop quiz you'd be down 5 points off your mark."
"It happens," I say with my head still down. I can imagine how her face is looking when I said that and I chuckle slightly to myself. It's not that I like being rebellious. I just like being invested in things. In no way do I ever wake up and think about how I can be sassy, and to be honest I really wouldn't even call myself a sassy person. Nonchalant maybe?
"You'll never amount to anything with that attitude. How do you expect to get a decent job at the factory? I can't imagine you'd want to live like your mother does."
Excuse me? That is so wildly beyond inappropriate to mention in private, let alone the whole class. I'm getting really fed up with Crabtree.
"Listen, Crabtree," I begin as I pick my head up and look at her. "What my mother does is absolutely none of your concern. If she wants to do odd jobs around the District instead of working the dull and boring everyday life in the factory that's literally on her. If I want to drop out of school and do the same that's up to me. Your job is not to tell me how to live my life but to let me know that I have options. I would appreciate you to be less concerned about my mother's choices and more concerned about what you're teaching the rest of the students." I say as I grab my backpack and stand up. "As for me, my choice is to go outside and explore the District today. It's to pretty to sit in here and suck up an ugly attitude. Have a nice afternoon."
I walk towards the door and get an applause from the students as I leave. Ms. Crabtree stands in the same spot with her mouth wide open in shock. I'm pretty quiet in all my classes, and pretty outgoing in the hallways. I'm sure my comments surprised her, but they weren't there to be disrespectful. It's just something that had to be said.
"Do you really think I'm going to let you walk out of there alone?" ask Amanda my best friend as she comes storming down the hallway. "Oh my gosh, I wish I had a picture of Crabtree's face! She was like that painting that's in the mayor's office."
The picture she is referring to is a painting of some old white guy who looks like he just bit into an apple and tasted an orange instead. His face slacks low, and there's a bit of horror in his eyes.
"Where are we off to today, Whit?" ask Amanda excitedly
"Well Mandy," I say. "I was thinking we could go to The Fort."
"I LOVE THE FORT!" says Amanda excited as she jumps up and down. "Geez, it couldn't have been a more perfect day to go to that place either."
"I completely agree my little Mandy," I say as I open the door for her and swing my arm out. "Maybe Malcolm will grow a pair and come out of the classroom too." Malcolm is my other best friend, but he's a bit more studious than Amanda and I. He's always making awesome marks, and I'm about 3000 percent sure he wants to make out with Amanda's face.
"I cannot believe I just did that!" screams a male voice as he comes running down the hall. "Whit, you're such a bad-"
"No cussing!" says Amanda already knowing it's Malcolm coming down the hall. "That's trashy." she turns to me and smiles. "But yes, you truly are a badass."
We're a thousand miles from comfort,
We have traveled land and sea
But as long as you are with me,
There's no place I rather be
Ishmael Fosters, 17
District 8 Male
"Here ya go kid," says Ms. Jenkins as he piles on the last of my tesserae for the month. "You've sure been here a lot. You nervous for the reapings tomorrow?"
"My streak has been pretty good so far," I say with a smile and a wink. "What happens is going happen. There's really no stopping it. For now, though, I gotta watch out for the family."
Joy is defined as something that allows happiness to be present even in the midst of suffering. As a person in the lowest part of District 8, and as a person who has had to take care of his family from a young age, I need something like joy.
Things with me are not always brilliant. Things with me are not always shining in the sunlight with the wind kissing my face in a dainty way. Sometimes I'm in the eye of a hurricane, but I refuse to allow people to think anything other than good things.
The little things in life are always going to be there. Sure, you can complain about the weather, your status, your life in general, but what does it change? I want nothing more than to get hella money and just give it all to my parents as a thank you for what they do, but I probably will never get that luxury. So I do what I can. If that means taking little extra chances at a reaping with literally thousands of other kids, that's alright then.
"Well, I wish you all the luck for the reapings, son." says Mr. Jenkins as he opens the door for me to leave the tesserae station.
"Thank you," I say throwing the bags of grain and oils over my shoulder.
Walking down the street of District 8 you can see all kinds of things. There's rich people, poor people, people you'd rather not run into in a dark alley. But they all have a story. Everyone that breathes has a way that they got to where they are. And I like hearing those things. To say that I'm a people person is a drastic understatement.
I want to know more about people.
When I get home my mom sits in the living room area with a book. When she sees me walking in she smiles and closes it. "Hello, Ishmael," she says. Then she notices the grain and oils on my shoulders and she frowns. "I wish you didn't have to do that honey."
I set the grain and oils down on the coffee table and walk over to my mom and wrap her in a hug. It's really not my parent's fault that we are in this mess. Most of the people that live around us are severe drug addicts, but my dad is disabled. That's obviously not a go to hire here in District 8, so we suffer a little bit.
But if I'm being honest I don't think I would change anything about that. My family is a close-knit family, and I honestly wouldn't trade that for all the money in the world. Where we are poor others are rich, but where we are rich others are poor.
"I know you don't mom, but I'm not angry about it. You shouldn't be either. It's something we have had to do as a family. It's worked out great so far. I don't see why everyone is freaking out this year."
"You're supposed to only have 6 slips in there. You have 26 now."
"And I'll have 30 next year, and after that, we won't be able to use this luxury. So let's use it while we can, and try saving up some money so Mercy doesn't have to do this when I'm 19."
"You're right," she says as she wipes a tear from her eyes. "I just don't know what we'd do without you. With your dad out of work, and me barely pulling seamstress jobs...you really hold us together. You're so strong for your age and-"
"Mom, I get it," I say blushing. "I appreciate you too," I say with a kiss on the cheek. "Let's cook dinner."
We walk into the kitchen and begin to separate the grain from oils in the bags and divide them into rations for the upcoming weeks.
"Geez, you think for what we have to put into this thing they'd give us better grain at least," I say earning a chuckle from my mother.
"But that would mean the Capitol actually working for our Districts." she says "This new president seems to have good intentions but she seems way over her head. That was too big of a transition after such a big tragedy in our country."
"Well, I'm sure President Farrow will do her best to make sure everything runs smoothly."
"Oh, it's not the president I'm worried about." says mom. "I'm worried about the people in this God forsaken district."
This is your heart it's alive
It's pumping blood
And it's your heart it's alive
It's pumping blood
And the whole wide world is whistling
And it's whistling
Whitney Kaull, 14
District 8 Female
The fort is a small little cabin that is on the outermost part of the District. Back in the early days of the Districts, the Peacekeepers would use it as a secret brothel, but the mayor cracked down on them and now it's just kind of there.
The teens of the District have taken claim to it. We aren't technically supposed to be there, but if we are there we aren't on the streets causing trouble for the Peacekeepers. So they look the other way. People also use it as a make out spot. Those are the times the fort sucks.
"Well what's the plan?" ask Malcolm
I shrug my shoulders and throw myself onto the ground in front of the cabin. I look up at the sky and let the sunshine bounce off my skin. Amanda joins me, and Malcolm follows Amanda. We look at the clouds as they travel overhead and I notice that one looks like a skull.
"That's creepy as hell," I say pointing at the cloud.
"Yeah, that's not a very promising omen." says Amanda.
Amanda has always been very superstitious. I don't really believe in all that mumbo-jumbo myself, but I do try and take things in.
"This is not a good sign the day before the reaping," says Amanda. "Skulls typically mean death, and death means not around. That's not something you want to be at 14 years old."
We sit in silence and watch as more clouds tower over our heads. Why it seems that most all the other clouds are drifting away the skull seems to be staying with us. I sit up finally and look at the other two. "Let's play hide n' seek," I say. "Nose goes!"
They both touch their nose, but Malcolm touches him a little too late, and now we have our tagger.
"Guys, you know I hate being out here alone," he whines as he kicks his foot on the ground. "Can't we just sit here again and watch the clouds go by?"
"Hmmm," I say. "No! Count to 50!" I scream as Amanda and I get up and run to our favorite places to hide. Favorite because Malcolm can never seem to find us, and we get to have girl talk from our separate places.
I run to the area with lots of trees, and Amanda follows. As we dive through the huge amount of pine trees, I finally find the little hole in the hollowed tree where I've basically laid claim to. Amanda kept running a little far beyond to a tree just like mine, and I climb into the hollowed out hole. Inside of the tree is a hole and it is connected to a tunnel that leads under the ground and ends up at a watering hole where Amanda and I are across from each other from her respective tree. We think that the tunnel system that we found was used to escape the Districts back in the early years of Panem.
When I pop up out of the hole I wait for Amanda to appear, but she never does. I sit there and wait and after five minutes I'm beginning to feel worried.
A loud scream fills the area and I jump. I know that scream anywhere. I begin to crawl through the tunnel to get out of the tree, and the scream sounds a few more times before I'm about to get out of the tree. When I run towards Amanda it suddenly gets quiet and I slow my running down so I can hear what's going on.
As I get closer to her I hear a quiet whimper coming from behind her hiding tree. When I get closer to the tree I realize the sound is Amanda. I run over to her, and see her sitting with her knees against her chest, and her face in her knees. She is rocking back and forth against the bark of the tree and I run over to see what's wrong.
"What happened?!" I say as I run over to her and wrap my arms around her.
"The-the-the-" she begins, but when she realizes she can't talk she just points her fingers over next to a giant bush. I get up from where she is and walk over to the bush. When I get to the other side of the bush I see a man with long brown hair. He is young, the maybe early 20s, and he has a rock shaped dent in his forehead.
"I- he- I he was trying to do bad things, and I just...I didn't know what to do," says Amanda sadly.
"This isn't your fault," I say as I run over to her and grab her by the arm. We get up and walk back towards Malcolm who, as much as the boy tries, had absolutely no shot at finding us in the woods.
"What the heck happened?" ask Malcolm upon seeing Amanda. "Is she hurt?!"
"No, but she almost was," I say as we begin to walk back towards the populated part of the District.
"Where are we going now?" ask Malcolm.
"To find a Peacekeeper. We have a lot to talk about."
Do you ever feel
Like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind
Wanting to start again?
Ishmael Fosters, 17
District 8 Male
"In a sad turn of events, a young girl was almost brutally attacked in the woods yesterday." says the District 8 news channel my father watches so intensely every day. "The young woman was playing a game with her friends when a man in his early 20s attacked the girl. She was quick enough to grab a rock and stop the man from hurting her any farther. The children then reported to the authorities what happened. The young man passed away in the hospital earlier this morning."
"Wow." says, dad, as he turns the TV off and looks at the family as we sit around the living room. "That's ridiculous."
"That poor little girl," says mom. "Having to go through that. She'll have to live with that for the rest of her life."
"You two better get to the reapings, though," says Dad. "You have a big day ahead of you."
"Yes, dad," says Mercy. This is her third reaping. She was so scared her first one, and now it's not even a big deal for her. I'm really proud to be her brother.
We walk down the street and when we get to the square there is a long line to get checked in. When we get to the front we've already been standing in the line 30 minutes. The Peacekeeper picks up our fingers and pricks us. I wince at the pain but smile at Mercy so she doesn't get upset.
When we go to our respective sections our escort comes out and reads the treaty of why we have to go into the Hunger Games and how we are such a bad people, you know, all the good stuff.. Once she's done reading the treaty she smiles at us and throws her arms up in the air.
"I'm so excited to be here today! Let's get started and find out the girl that will be representing this great District in the Hunger Games!"
She walks to the back of the stage and digs her hand into the bowl. She pulls one from the bottom of the bowl after going elbow deep into the envelopes. She pulls the name that satisfies her and walks back to the front of the stage.
"And the lucky young girl that will be representing the District is…" she says unwrapping the name. "Whitney Kaull!"
A young girl from the fourteen-year-old section walks up to the stage. Her face is a mix of shock and disappointment as she stands up at the front with tears falling silently from her eyes.
"Oh don't be upset dear!" says the escort. "You've just as much of a chance to win as anyone else."
We both know that's not true. I can't help but feel sad for the girl. That could have easily been Mercy.
"Now we will learn of the lucky gentleman who will be joining Whitney." says the escort as she walks back to the stage and picks a name from the boy's section on the top of the bowl. She walks back to the front and clears her throat.
"The young man that will be serving his District proudly is…." she says as she opens the envelope, "Ishmael Fosters!"
Holy crap!
I stand there confused as the crowd parts and slowly starts to move me forward. Before I have a chance to get to the stage Mercy runs up and grabs ahold of my arm and cries. "No Ish, you can't!" she screams. "You really can't!"
"I have to," I say as I take her arms off from me. "Please don't make this harder for me than it already is," I say holding back tears as I make it to the top of the stage.
"Do you have anything you want to say, Ishmael?"
I nod my head as I look down at the fourteen-year-old girl who stands next to me. She smiles a soft smile at me and stretches her hand out. I take it and she squeezes it soothingly. "We'll be okay," she whispers to me.
We both know that wouldn't be true.
"District 8 I give your tributes! Whitney and Ishmael!"
Well, I hope you liked these two! I hope to get District 9 out soon because I'm trying to beat Jenna in posting the reapings :D
What did you think of these two? Predictions?
Keep it classy,
Caleb