Stalemate by Enter Shikari

I'm losing my grip on reality,
I cannot simply agree that we are civilized.

Pre Reapings Part One

Leina Rallis, 16, District Nine Female

I groan as I roll onto my stomach, the sun pushing through the curtains and onto my face. The startled sound of my cat crying out as she is pushed onto the floor wakes me from my half-sleep and I am completely awake. I look down at the base of my bed and see Tito staring up at me with about as angry an expression as a cat can make.

"Sorry Tito," I giggle and he meows back up at me. I stretch out and pick him up off the floor, situating him back on my chest where he usually lays. I pet him for a few minutes before he gets up and scurries off towards the window sill. I guess that is my sign that it's time to get up.

I stifle a yawn as I follow Tito out of bed, picking up a beige dress from the top of my dresser that looks clean enough and dropping my pyjamas to the floor. I kick them underneath my bed and pull on some socks and a pair of clean boots before making my way downstairs.

The coffee mugs drying in the dish rack tell me that my parents have already headed out with the morning shift workers. I would have honestly been surprised to have seen them still here. They work harder than anyone I know, even on the days they schedule themselves 'off'. I notice a bowl covering a plate and my stomach reminds me with a loud groan that it's time for breakfast.

I smile when I lift up the bowl and see a couple of cold waffles sitting on the plate. I had been hoping that mom didn't forget about the tradition, even after the limits put on by the war made it impossible for her to make waffles on Sundays like she always did when I was little. It's been just under six months since the war was won, but food limits have persisted until just a few weeks ago.

I open the oven and drop the plate in, turning the heat on just enough to warm it up. As I wait, I shuffle through the various bottles in the pantry and find a half-empty bottle of syrup. I excitedly pull my meal out of the oven, deciding that I can't wait anymore, and sit down to eat my somewhat-cold waffles.

After I clean up the dishes I decide that it's probably a bit past the time when I should have joined my parents and the other workers in the fields. They always said it was fine if I joined them a little later, but I hate to let them work short-handed. Since the war ended and so many people needed jobs, we have had more workers than ever but I still hate to leave them hanging when I am supposed to be on shift.

I try my best not to slam the door behind me, but the rickety hinges don't make that very easy to do. I can see a bunch of bobbing heads just by standing on my porch, but they're far enough away that I can't tell who is who. Remembering the hot weather, I pull a hat off of one of the hooks and slap it on. I already have a bit of a blush sunburn, and mom has always told me that sunburns cause wrinkles so I would like to keep that to a minimum.

The dirt is dry under my feet as I walk down the path towards where the other workers are, meaning that I'll probably have to pull out the hose at some point today and water a few sections of the grain fields. As I get closer to them I can hear my mom call out to me.

"Leina! I need you to go to the Hildings' and ask if they have any more of the scythes we bought from them last month! Two of them broke when we hauled them out this morning!"

"Okay mom, I'll be back quick!" I yell back at her and turn around on the path towards my neighbour's house. The Hildings are good friends of my parents and their youngest child, Kyra, also happens to be my best friend. Mom could have gone over herself but I think she knows I love visiting Kyra.

It's only a fifteen or twenty minute walk to the Hildings' house, and I am all but skipping the entire way. I haven't seen Kyra for almost a week since school started up again. The council decided that it was best to keep children at home for their safety, especially after the first bombing, but school has been back for a couple months now. I decided that I didn't have any more use for school so I didn't go back, but I know Kyra loves it there. It's just terrible that I hardly see her anymore, it almost makes me wish the war didn't end.

I knock loudly on the door and it's only a minute or so before Mrs. Hilding answers. "Hello Mrs. Hilding, my mom wanted to know if you had any more of the scythes you sold us a while back."

"Oh what a pleasant surprise, Leina!" She smiles, pulling me inside. "Kyra! Leina's here!"

I can't contain the smile on my face when Kyra comes running down the stairs from her bedroom. "Leina!"

"Kyra!" I chirp back, enveloping my friend in a quick hug.

"Guess what?" She beams. "Oh never mind don't guess I'll just tell you. Scrat and Mila had their kittens!"

"No way, can I see them?" I say excitedly but Kyra is already pulling me up the stairs to her bedroom. I hope mom isn't waiting on me for the scythes, I can't help but think as we get to her room. Well if she is she can probably wait a little bit longer anyways.

Hollis Bale, 17, District One Male

"What have I told you, it's too dangerous to go out."

I stop in my tracks when I hear my mother's voice. I had reason to believe that she would still be in bed, where she tends to stay until the early afternoon hours. The end of the war has been difficult for her, and for me as well. It's not easy to be on the side that won as people around you are still unwilling to accept their loss. I don't blame her for wanting to stay indoors.

I sigh and turn to face her. She stands in the empty door frame with her arms crossed against her chest and her lips turned down in a scowl. "I'm sorry, mom. It's been months, though. It can't still be that terrible in town?"

"Of course it is, Hollis," she sighs, bringing her arms back down to her side and stepping over towards me. I brace myself and feel the familiar slap of skin against skin, turning my eyes to the floor. "Don't worry me like this, Hollis."

"I'm sorry, mom."

She grabs both sides of my face and forces me to look at her. Her eyes are puffy and tired, just like they've been since the day a rebel killed my father. I know she misses him, and I can't blame her for anything she does to me. I looked to my father more than anyone else in my life and she is the last thing I have to remind me of him. They used to be so happy together.

"You're going to make your father so proud, Hollis," she smiles and I automatically return the grin. "Seven months and finally, because of you, it's going to be like he is with us again."

I don't know what else to say so I just smile. Suddenly her face changes to an exaggerated expression of shock. "Don't you understand me?"

"I'm not sure I do?" I say honestly and she releases my face, instead taking my hands into hers and pulling them close to her chest.

"They killed your father, and in a couple weeks it'll be your chance to avenge him," she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. "For both of us. We're going to do this together. They're going to pay for what they did to your father. He was such a good man, he didn't deserve it."

"Of course he didn't, mom," I say. I'm not sure what she is saying still, but the prospect of bringing my father's spirit back is everything I have hoped for these past few months. Just one chance to do something to show those people that killed him. To show them that they didn't get away with it.

"You're going to volunteer," she whispers and suddenly I understand, or I think I do. I hope I'm wrong. "They're Reaping the rebels, but you're going to volunteer. They said that would be allowed. You're going to show them, Hollis. You'll be the one to show them that we were right all along. You'll prove it for you and for me. You'll prove it for your father."

I swallow hard before answering, the thought of finally doing something to get back at the rebels for what they did to my father being overridden by the shear amount of fear that I feel towards the Hunger Games. They were announced two weeks ago, but no one is really sure what they are. All I know is that I am in the eligible age range and twenty-three people are going to be killed. Finally I force myself to answer. "I'm scared."

Her face tenses up and I brace myself again. "You're not a coward. If there is one thing I didn't raise it's a coward. Your father did worse for you, he died for you Hollis. You are not going to die. They wouldn't let you, you are like them. Your family fought for the Capitol, Hollis. They would protect you."

"I'm not a coward," I say automatically as I process what she said. It makes sense, that they would want to kill the rebels not me. My family was hugely involved in the war, hell, my father fought the rebels on the forefront. They would have been told about us. If I volunteered, they wouldn't kill me. I would come back here just like mom says I will, only better because I will get to avenge my father.

"I know you're not," she says, her voice low and calming once again. "You're just like your father. He would be so proud if he could see you right now."

"D-do you think he's watching us right now," I whisper. It's something I have struggled with since hearing about his death. I want him to see me. I want him to know how much I love him and how much I am missing him. I don't know if I could stand to hear that he doesn't know that I miss him.

"I don't know, Hollis," she whispers. "But if he is, I know he would be so proud."

Adriel Maynard, 17, District Five Male

"Adriel, I think it's time for bed."

I turn around and see Della standing in the door with a concerned look on her face. The weathered woman is always looking concerned about something whether it be Anya's laundry or Via's messy room. I sigh as I take a look at the clock, realizing that is its past three in the morning. I must have gotten distracted with my work again.

"Sorry Della, I'll take a nap when I get home from school," I shrug, looking back down at the sea of words and numbers that has taken over my page. I realize now just how exhausted I am, but sleeping is not an option right now. There is far too much planning to do when I have a business meeting with my older relatives two nights from now.

"If I ever believe that just put me out of my misery," she laughs and comes in, sitting herself down on the edge of my bed. I spin around in my chair to face her, swallowing a yawn before she can see it.

"I will, I promise," I try even though I know she won't buy it. Unlike most of the people in my family, unfortunately, Della really does seem to care for me. It doesn't bother anyone else that I miss meals or a few nights of sleep to work through not only my school assignments but also countless revisions of plans to go through with my relatives. They see it as me taking my family's legacy seriously, but all Della seems to see is that I am neglecting myself.

"Adriel," she sighs. "You've already earned the rights to take over the factories when you get older. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It's not healthy."

"Nothing's for sure, Della," I remind her. It was only a few years ago that it was going to be Anya that would take over the factories. Even though she is younger than me, at least she was born with the do-what-it-takes attitude. I had to learn it. I had to want it. And that is exactly what I did.

I was never a lazy kid, but I was too nice for my own good. Anya had the right attitude for the job, but I was able to learn to fake the attitude better than she could present it. Now it's natural, to look towards the next big thing and make sure I am the one to present it first. That isn't too difficult to do, however. Tori and Anya, my cousin and sister, will be great supervisors when they grow old enough but they never have been too apt at keeping their ideas to themselves.

"Believe me," she smiles. "You are for sure, honey. Now get some sleep."

"Just another half hour and I will," I mutter as I turn my chair back to face my desk. As tired as I am there just isn't the time to rest right now. With the war ending and everyone returning back to work it's the perfect time to implement a new system of part time work that will save the factories thousands. If I wait until tomorrow to finish my charts someone else might have thought of it too. I can't let anyone but myself be the one to show this genius to my parents.

"Alright, I'll come check on you then."

By the time Della closes the door I have already absorbed myself back into my plans, working out everything with perfect accuracy. My parents will accept nothing less. They wouldn't even look at anything that I come up with if it doesn't account for every possibility. I feel bad for lying to Della but I know I will not be going to sleep tonight.

I sit back in my chair for a second, the calculation of how many new employees each factory should take in to ensure maximum production and savings still running through my mind.

Sometimes, especially on the nights where everyone in my house is asleep and I am still awake into the late morning, I wonder what would have happened if I decided I didn't want to be the one to take over the business. Being the best has been the first thing on my mind since I began spending time with my parents at the factories, about age ten. What was it like before that?

I was just a regular kid. I had friends still. People liked me and not just for the powerful man I would be someday. Sometimes I miss it, but I imagine that if I went back in time and was given the chance to start over I would have followed exactly the same path. It's a lonely existence but it's the only one for me.

I get up and lock the door, saying a silent apology to Della. I know she will keep true to her word to check on me in a little while, but I just cannot afford the distractions right now. There is so much to do. I had hoped to be further along by tonight but a few of the figures threw me for a bit of a loop. It's nothing I can't work through but I think it'll be a fairly sleepless couple days until I finish.

I turn off the overhead light and up the brightness of my desk light. I'm sure Della will be able to see the light anyways, but maybe she will overlook it if I go to the effort to hide that I am still awake. Della pretends not to understand the implications of how precariously I am sitting within the future of the factories, but I know she does. This is my future and I've put too much into it to simply give up now. She has to understand that.

Song: Stalemate by Enter Shakari.

A/N: Hey everyone! If you haven't already noticed, the format of this story is pretty different from all the others I have written. There will be eight, count 'em, eight Pre-Reaping chapters followed by nine chapters of 'Capitol'. Each tribute will get two POVs before the arena, basically.

Hope you enjoyed these three tributes! Let me know what you think of them (as well as general writing quality) if you have the time to do so.

What do you think of these first three tributes?

I hope to update about twice a week depending on my school schedule. Hopefully at the very least weekly. Yeah so basically that is all fro this chapter, I will see you all in a few days with the next three tributes!