HELP THIS IS SO LATE (as some people have very helpfully reminded me… ahem)
Also: Dear ANANOUMUS: Shut the heck up.
For any of you who have qualms about my, um, gratuitous use of swear words (aka I drop F-bombs like y'all motherfuckers are Hiroshima) a family-friendly version of this fic can be found at redtube dot com. Happy reading! :) :) :)
Disclaimer: All your copyrights are belong to Suzanne Collins
Other disclaimer: Rye is very loosely based on yours truly. His counterpart is also based on a certain someone in the fanfiction community ;)
Thanks to TranscendentElvenRanger for Livvia and Porker!
Chapter 5: I really would have been happier if I had been born an only child
Livvia Reiner, 12, D9F
I wake up as the morning light shines into my face.
"YAWWWWWWNN!" I cough.
I stretch out my arms and peel my face off the table, where a dozen books lie scattered around. The wax from a candle has melted into a gooey mess on the table that I mistake for Madonna's face for a second. I neatly tidy the books away and put my pencils back into my pencilcase.
What was I doing up late at night with all these books around? Making a fruit salad, CLEARLY. No, not really (see, this is the kind of thing you would get if you were as smart as me). I was up studying late at night. You see- Wait, I better start at the very beginning.
(It's a very good place to start..)
No, no, Maria. It wasn't a very good place to start. At least not for me. You see, my father was white, and my mother was an intelligent reptiloid person. A black intelligent reptiloid person. So everyone in the District hates me and my brother for not being one or the other. It's like chocolate-covered strawberries: are they a dessert? Are they healthy? Do I hate myself after I eat thirty of them in one go? The answer is always yes.
Anyway, my Dad was gored by a bull after trying to make out with one (he mistook it for Cher), me and my brother had to drop out of school to herd screeching, white animals that are surprisingly aggressive when you try to control them. No, not One Direction fans- geese!
But we still love learning, so we have to study day in and day out by candlelight, sometimes until 3 am, barely getting as much sleep as the average college student. What a hard, hard life we lead. Sigh. Having to study, I mean. Also the starvation is kind of ick.
"Porker," I murmur, poking my brother. He's lying on the floor, passed out, with a book covering his face. Either he fell asleep studying, or he read Twilight and went into catatonic shock. "Porker!"
Oh yeah, my brother's name is Porker.
…
Please don't look at him like that. It's been very hard for us.
"Mm?" Porker says, waking up. "Oh, hey Liv."
"Morning, Porky," I say, getting up.
"How was the studying?" he asks me, picking himself off the floor and spitting a few spiders out.
"Oh, fine, fine. Just a bit of light reading," I say, holding up a copy of Mein Kampf that I borrowed from a nice witch a couple of chapters ago.
"Lucky you," he moans, rubbing his eyes. "The book I was studying really killed-"
"AIEEEEEEEEEEE!" I screech. How could he have forgotten about my terror of all things death! One time one of my cactuses died and I screamed for an entire week. Come to think of it, that might be why some of the people in the District hate me…
"Livvia, are you okay!?" he gasps, rushing to my side. He's so protective, even though we're twins.
"Yes," I gasp, catching a hold of myself.
"Children!" comes a trill from below the stairs.
Our Mom, Doe, and our Dad, Joe, pop up. "Come along, children! We'll be late for the reapings!"
"Oh nooo," I whisper. "The reaping…"
"Don't be scared!" Dad smiles, putting his arm around Mom.
"Yeah," Porker snorts, "it's only a week of makeovers. And then, like, decapitation."
'AIEEEEEEE!" I scream again.
"No no!" Mom gasps, trying to comfort me. "It's not bad. It's, uh-"
"Pain! But like, good pain! You like it!" Dad bursts in.
"Yeah! Like Fifty Shades of Grey!"
"THAT'S EVEN WORSE!" I howl.
"Holy Snow-ly, Livvia," Mom sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Calm the frack down. Even Leaf managed to be ~stoic~ in his chapter."
I sniff a bit and wipe my nose on my silk handkerchief but there's no snot because ew.
Porker Reiner, 12, D9M
Our parents leave the room, arm in arm.
"Hey," I say, hugging my sister close, because I am The Strong And Protective Older Brother because that is the law in these fics. "It's going to be okay."
"Oh Porker," she sniffles, dabbing her eye daintily with her hanky. "Why is everything so difficult?"
You're not the one who's parents decided to name them fucking Porker I think, but I stay silent as she cries into my shoulder.
"Why is life so HARD?!" she weeps.
"Shit in the hood is lowkey fucked up," I agree sympathetically, patting her hair. "C'mon, let's go get ready for the reapings."
She nods tearfully and gets up. In a minute, we're both dressed. Livvia is in a tattered brown dress ("It's vintage," she explains) and I'm wearing an artistic roll of toilet paper around my, um, let's say waist. And dick. Usually I just go nekked (we're THAT poor, don't judge) but I hear there's a questionable woman named Mildred snooping around.
"Are you all ready?" our parents call from downstairs.
"Come on, Liv!" I cry, grabbing my sister's hand.
"I'm NOT DRESSED YET!" she screeches as I drag her down the stairs.
Our family stands at the door, holding hands and ready to walk into the District.
"Are you ready," Mom says bravely, holding my hand.
"Yes," I say, and we walk out into our District.
(Dun. Dun dun dun. Dun dun dun… EYE OF THE TIGER)
I brace myself for the slew of racial epithets that will no doubt come my way.
[it was at this point that fanfiction user Dinosaur-of-Fabulousness realized that she was not black, and was definitely not allowed to use the n-word]
"Black… person!" an old man shouts, throwing a lump of manure at mom.
"Melanin! More like mela-no!" a woman cries, throwing a baby at us.
"You're so- niggardly! Niggardly being an archaic term meaning "stingy" or "tight'!" a young child cries.
"Come on children," Dad says, tucking us around him. We hunch over, trying to shield ourselves. We make our way through the mob, dodging the not-really-slurs and thrown bits of food.
"Hey Porker! Why do you have to be black and white? What are you, a newspaper?"
"Yeah! Or a domino!"
"Penguin!"
"Nun!"
"Michael Jackson!"
"Please stop!" Mom gasps, as we run through the crowd.
"Half and half!"
"Chocolate and vanilla swirl!"
"Call me!"
"Jeez, Mildred, shut up!"
We make our way into the relative safety of the the reaping square. Mom and Dad kiss our heads and hug us goodbye.
"Bye Mom! Bye Dad! I'll never think of or mention you again!" I cry as they disappear into the crowd.
"Porker…" Livvia says, her bottom lip trembling, "I'm scawred."
"Yeah, well, what else is new," I mutter, "I mean, no! Livvia! It'll be fine!"
"Porker, it says District 9 Male right above your POV. We're both going into the arena."
I pat her silly little head and send her off to the female section of the POV. Silly Livvia! As if anything could happen to perfect ol' me.
I take my place with the twelvies. Our two mentors are sitting onstage: Rye Barric Harvest Bran Farro Milo "I stole these name from that guide everyone uses and giving credit is for squares" Miller and Salty Spring Hamilton. As usual, Salty is nagging Rye about some book he's writing.
"Look Rye," she says, putting her Danny Devito-like face in her hands, "I know your story is fab and amazing and so much better than anything I could ever have created ever."
"Indeed," Rye nods thoughtfully.
"But you're taking too long to update," she moans. Gosh, she's so annoying! She won her Games by whining so much that the other tributes just killed themselves. Also for fun she likes to go and stab puppies probably.
"Well Salty," Rye says. "Your concerns are valid, and I understand. But have you considered shutting up?"
A laugh goes through the crowd.
"Ah!" gasps Salty, catching on fire. "I'm meeeelting!"
Rye chuckles, watching her. The light shines off his golden hair. Rye is super hot also.
"Yoo-hoo!" says the guy from Frozen I mean the escort. He hops on stage. He's wearing, like, I don't know, bright clothes. Capitol, am I right?!
Livvia Reiner, 12, D9F
I search for Porker in the crowd. I'm so nervous as the escort twitters on upstage. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, something that every nervous girl in all of fanfiction must do at least once even though no one's ever actually bit their lip hard enough to make it bleed EVER. Seriously.
I bounce nervously on one foot as the escort drones on and on.
"Okay, ladies first!" the escort says (wow that speech must have been a whole fuckin five seconds long).
"Ladies first," the escort repeats. Oh yeah, because Effie says ladies first that one time that means that every reaping starts with the girls.
"Ahem. Livvia Reiner!"
Ooh, Livvia, that's a nice name. Such a shame that a girl with such a nice name has to go into the Games
Wait…
That's my name!
…
Oh, right, there's a protocol here. Ahem.
"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I screech. I throw myself down on the ground and start beating the floor with my fists like I'm on Sweet Sixteen and my dress was the wrong shade of obnoxious.
"Um, ma'am? Please can you come up-"
"SHUT UP SWEDEN MY LIFE IS RUINED! RUINED I TELL YOU!" I scream. I tip my head back and screech to the heavens, and there was wailing and gnashing of teeth.
"It's going to be fine!" the escort cries, "everything is chill!"
"NO NOTHING IS CHILL WE ARE NOT WATCHING FUCKING NETFLIX!" I howl. "AND THAT JOKE'S NOT EVEN FUNNY IT'S BEEN DONE SO MANY TIMES! AIEEEEEEE!"
"Um…" the escort says helplessly, looking back at the mentors- well, mentor and ex-mentor. "Do you guys know what to do?"
"We could shoot her," says Rye helpfully, pulling out an AK-47. On the floor, Salty nods in agreement.
"I'm pretty sure that would get me fired," the escort points out.
"I'm okay with that," Rye shrugs.
"Hehe… fired." Salty giggles.
"GUYS I'M STILL HERE!" I shout.
Then I decided to calm down because the author is running out of synonyms for scream.
I calm my frantic breath down and wipe a stream of burning tears from my cheeks. Okay, Liv, I tell myself, it's going to be okay. I know it looks bad, but what else can happen?
Wait no shit I jinxed it-
'And for the male tribute: Porker Reiner!" the escort announces.
Well shit… now I have to do this all again, don't I?
Ahem.
(headphone users beware)
"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Porker Reiner, 12, D9M
"Livvia Reiner!" the escort cries.
Well shit.
No really. Shit.
"Where are my earplugs?" I hiss.
"Porker, your sister just got reaped!" a boy behind me gasps. "Are you okay?"
"Ask me if I give a shit," I spit, "where are my goddamn earplugs?"
"Porker, it's your sister-"
And then she screams.
"Oh, right," says the boy from where he's lying on the floor with blood coming out of his ears. "I get it now."
I finally find my earplugs, just as Livvia starts doing her "velociraptor with a stubbed toe" impression. The mentors and the escort start talking. Livvia sticks her arms out and starts running circles around the crowd like a fighter-plane. Vroom.
Livvia finally calms down, though the shockwaves are still booming.
Well, there's three options here. I volunteer, or I get reaped in a few years with dead Livvia has my Tragic BackstoryTM. Or-
"Porker Reiner!"
Oh, right, that. Well this is just fab, isn't it?
I steel myself and walk up to the stage, managing to stay ~stoic~ because the Games are like, nbd, right?
"Porker… no…" Livvia gasps.
"Shh," I say, holding her hand. "No seriously, shh. Nobody wants to hear you."
"Well, I'd say shake hands, but it seems as if you already know each other!" the escort says. "So, let's give a big round for your tributes: Livvia "Not for long" Reiner and Porker? I hardly know 'er! Reiner!" The escort bursts into peals of laughter like the author definitely didn't when she thought of this dumb joke.
I awkwardly shake hands with my sister. Her face is red and blotchy from crying. Hm, she should really exfoliate more.
The crowd bursts into clapping.
"Oh right," Rye says, "sure, you clap. You're not the ones who have to spend the next week with her."
On the floor, the puddle of Salty nods in agreement.
"Whatever," Rye shrugs, "I've got the rifle ready."
I feel like I should make a drinking game for this fic. I have one for writing it: I drink, and then I write.
You should review J Mostly because I print them out and make them into a blanket to keep me warm throughout the winter. And baby, it's cold outside.
Next up, home of the one-dimensional sadists or the sappy tragic lovers (depends which fanfiction you read): it's District 2, baby!