So sorry about how slow this has been … I'm slack! I did have a deadline for all the reapings (the end of the holidays), but I guess I got caught up, seeing as school's just restarted. Sorry! I'll try not to have as much of a delay next time.

I ran through the prologue and edited it because no one told me it was terrible and I had to find out for myself! Bad moment for me, that one.

Enjoy the chapter!

PS – if you haven't noticed, I changed my username. I am no longer xXjaziXx – I am village bicycle! Woo

I'm really sorry about the length of District 4's reaping. Hopefully it's not too long, haha. Sorry for the nerd stereotypes I mention in Zan's part! Also, the excerpts of Alexa's book in District 5's section are from Wikipedia, not from me. They aren't mine!


DISTRICT 4


Zanther looked up at the clouded sky, heard the rumbling of the thunder. He could tell it was going to rain in a matter of minutes at the most, but he didn't go inside, didn't want to. He thought of his brother, whose ashes now swam with District 4's ocean, and he plowed one of his scythes into the swinging training dummy to distract himself.

Despite the wind that battered the dummy, which was strung on a rope between two trees, Zan managed to lodge the scythe into its chest. He peered around the other side and was satisfied to see the tip of the weapon poking out the back.

The courtyard of 4's training center was virtually empty, except for Zan and a few others. Everyone was inside, taking shelter from the oncoming storm, or already on their way to the Justice Building.

Volunteering in District 4 was different from how it went down in 1 and 2. There was a training center for children who wanted to prepare themselves, just like in the other two districts, but mostly the old warehouse was just for caution. So that if they were reaped, they'd be ready as they'd ever be. There were still volunteers that went if they were extra-willing, or if a child under 14 was reaped, in which case someone would always volunteer, but not every District 4 Career tribute chose that as their fate. Everyone agreed, though, that 4's system worked effectively.

Just like most other kids, Zan trained from a young age. But when his older brother Vorth got killed in the Games after a near-win – and insanity – Zan threw everything he had into his training. All of his anger, grief, pain and loss coalesced into the fierce burn he felt as he swung his weapons at whichever target he was striking.

"Zan," someone called. He looked over. It was Rika, an acquaintance of his who also pored much of her time into training. "Pretty much everyone's gone now," she said. Zan nodded to show that he was listening, and Rika continued, "I offered to close the place up before the reaping. Us and about four others are the only ones left, and I'm thinking of heading off, so ..."

"So can I leave, too," Zan finished for her. She nodded sheepishly and he sighed, going over to one of the weapon racks to place his scythes back where they belonged. The few other people who still remained in the building were doing the same, and the whole group left together, Rika dealing the place up behind.

Zan walked alone, as he did almost always – he was a fan of solitude – so was surprised when Rika came running up to his side. He looked at her, cocking the one dark eyebrow that was visible under his hair.

"I just thought I'd walk with you," she said, a bit breathlessly. "You looked lonely."

Zan snorted to himself. Lonely.

They walked in silence, Zan mainly unspeaking as usual and Rika awkward and at a loss for conversation starters. Eventually she said, "So ... are you going to volunteer this year?"

Zan thought for a few seconds. "Maybe," he replied, his voice soft. "Depends on the outcome of the draw."

Rika nodded. "Same," she said. "But there's another girl volunteering already. She's been training for this day practically since birth."

"Is that the girl who was raised by the trainers?" Zan asked. Rika nodded, and Zan said, "She's good. I've seen her."

Something flashed in Rika's eyes, but it was gone before Zan could identify it. "Everyone's seen her," she said, slightly stony. "She's not that special. It's just because she spends all her time there."

Zan gave a half-smile. "At least you can give her props for dedication."

"Mm," went Rika, after a pause. Zan couldn't fathom her sudden displeasure, when she seemed fine moments ago. Usually he was good at reading people, but this stumped him.

He frowned slightly, just a small crease 'tween his eyebrows, and asked her what was wrong.

She shrugged. "Nothing," she said, her gaze on her scuffing feet, but a minute or so later, she blurted, "Do you like her?"

"What?" Zan said, staring at her in confusion. "Who? Kalinna?"

"Yeah," Rika said, but now her voice was embarrassed and her cheeks were flushed red.

"No, I don't," he said. "We've never spoken. She's pretty, though," he added, trying to get a reaction out of Rika. She didn't say anything, and he guessed he'd upset her, so he laughed a little and told her that he was kidding. She just elbowed his side, grumbling intelligibly

Zan squinted up at the sky when a drop of rain landed on his nose. Then another came, and another. Zan looked at Rika to see if she'd noticed, but she was still looking red-faced at her shoes.

"Look, I've gotta head home," he said. "My family will be waiting. Besides – it's about to rain. You might want to get under cover soon."

"Yeah ..." she said weakly. "See you 'round."


Kalinna curled her lip, irritated at the slow pace and weak skill of her opponent. That she enjoyed winning was no question, but she preferred to try. And that was pathetic.

She tossed her swords to the floor in annoyance and stalked away, going to one of the trainers and shoving him roughly in the shoulder. His eyes snapped to her, blazing.

"You pair me up with that, Ryver?" she spat. "An eleven-year-oldwho can barely defend himself? I thought you wanted to challenge me. What challenge do I get from this but the challenge of holding back kill-blows?"

"Kala."

She scoffed. "Scolding me, are you? Come to think of it, I've never seen you challenge me yourself." Her voice turned cool, and she crossed her arms across her chest loosely, tilting her head to the side. "Why is that?"

While he could be infuriating, Kala couldn't deny Ryver's determination. The thought of denying Kala's challenge didn't even cross his mind.

"You're on, then," he said, and Kala's smirk became smug. She drew two new swords from the weapon racks, sheathing them in the scabbards in her belt. She watched him grab his best weapon from the wall; a flail.

"Might want to choose something other than just swords," Ryver commented. "If you want to win, that is."

Something sparked in Kala at his taunt, and the thrill of a fight ran through her bones and trickled down her spine like sweat. She drew her swords and launched herself at the trainer before he could so much as ready himself. He sprung back at the last second, dodging to the side and swinging his flail at her in one smooth arc. Kala blocked the blow with one of her swords, yanking the sword back before the flail's chain could tangle around her blade.

"Nice start, Steele," Ryver said breathlessly, but while his voice was wane his swing was lethal. Fast, Kala bent back until the tips of her hair brushed the ground, the flail swinging through the air her head just been occupying. She was up again as soon as it was out of her range.

A small audience had gathered around them. It only boosted her determination to win – the looks of admiration (and maybe a little bit of fear) on the faces of the younger, beginning trainees made her strive to impress. The youngest child currently training in District 4 was ten; when she'd started, she'd been six. Training was literally her whole life, all she remembered. The victors who came to help kids train were practically all she had as parents.

As the fight went on, Kala could tell Ryver was growing more and more annoyed. He was an accomplished fighter, and was used to quick, clean wins; Kala made him sweat, and it frustrated him. His irritation amused her.

They moved around each other like it was a dance, blocking and parrying and striking in time as if to a music only they could hear. Finally the fight ended with Kala raising her sword high into the air, the chain of Ryver's flail hitting then twirling around the blade until it was irretrievable. Kala used her other arm to have him on the floor with her second sword's tip pressed to his cheek in seconds.

They were both breathing heavily, but Ryver's pants were harsher than Kala's. She sheathed her swords once her victory was clear and let the trainer get to his feet.

"You win," he panted grudgingly. "I would challenge you to a rematch, but ..."

Kala just raised an eyebrow and stalked off, deciding that if there were no suitable opponents in the whole of her district she'd strike up a fight with a punching bag.


"Bye, Ma," Zan said. "Bye, Pa."

Zanther's mom kissed his cheek in farewell. His dad gave him a pat on the back and said, "We'll see you later, son."

Zan nodded and gave them each a small smile, then went to join his age group. He wasn't one to get impatient, but he'd arrived slightly early since his family lived close to the Justice Building and the walk to the square was short; waiting longer than ten minutes for the 'ceremony' to start began to get tiresome.

He crossed his arm and tapped his foot for so long that the muscles started to burn, and he waited.

Finally the mayor walked up, taking her place by the microphone. Anyone who was still speaking hushed – the reaping was beginning.

"Welcome," the mayor said, her voice booming out over the loudspeakers. "Welcome to the forty-eighth annual reaping ceremony. Today is a significant day for all of Panem, and has been since the district uprisings, also known as the Dark Days, where District Thirteen was obliterated and the Hunger Games henceforth began ..."

Zan stopped listening after a little while; he already knew all this. He'd practically hear the story every week in his lessons, when he still attended school. After fifteen, most students dropped out. The district schools never taught anything of importance after fifteen.

Only a few members of the audience were ever really attentive during the reaping speeches, and they were usually easy to spot: the ones with the heavily-framed glasses, or the snotty noses, or the hair so perfectly and tightly gelled back you could see traces of scalp.

Finallythe escort took his place, speaking with that ridiculously-accented Capitol voice of his into the microphone. His mouth was too close, and the speakers screeched, nearly deafening the whole audience.

A Capitol engineer jogged onto the stage and murmured something into the escort's ear. The escort took a step back, cheeks red with embarrassment, and laughed nervously. This time the speakers didn't scream, so he started to speak, careful not to venture any closer to the microphone than he needed to. He didn't look like a fan of embarrassment.

"Men and women of District 4!" he said, regaining his composure. "What a lovely day it is – especially for such a lovely event!" Zan heard scoffing somewhere from behind him. The escort looked flustered, and skipped straight to the proceedings.

"We'll have the boys first, today!" he announced. He went over to the male reaping ball, and drew out the first slip of paper his fingers touched. He read it eagerly, then practically skipped back over to the microphone.

"Kai Atlanta!"

A boy walked up to the stage, and a murmuring ran through the crowd when they saw his age. He looked to be only twelve – which meant someone would be volunteering. The escort on stage waited for the audience to make their decision.

Zan stood by and watched as the boys around him talked and argued among each other. It was expected for one of their age sector to go up, but they had to decide on the best bet, and each one thought that they were it.

"Hey, wait," someone called. Eyes flicked over to the tall, blonde-haired guy who had spoken. Once he was sure of the group's attention, he looked at Zan. "You're good," he said, "you can fight. I've seen you with your scythes."

Zan blinked in surprise. "Me?" he said, lowly. "I –"

"Come on, guys, you know he's good," the blonde boy said. "He'd stand a chance. He could do well for us."

"Lots of us can fight," another guy said, in obvious irritation.

"Not enough to win this thing," the blonde boy countered. "But you –" he looked back to Zan – "you could actually do it. Please. Step up there."

Zan looked between everyone. All their eyes were on him. He looked at his feet, considering, then imagined the natural feel of his weapons in his hands. He looked up.

"Fine," he said, and walked up to the stage.


Kala watched the male volunteer with a raised eyebrow. The escort asked for the volunteer's name.

"Zanther Grimms," came the reply. The reaped boy, who now went unnoticed, quietly slipped off the stage and walked back to his age sector. The cameras didn't follow him.

The dim-witted escort asked Zanther a few questions, seeming excited, then moved onto the girls. This time when he slipped his hand into the reaping bowl, he fished through the paper, trying to find the perfect piece. Kala rolled her eyes. It wouldn't do much good, to find the perfect slip, when she would be stepping up to volunteer anyway.

Finally the escort found a slip he liked, and went back to the microphone. "Marina Clam," he called.

"I volunteer!" Kala yelled. "I volunteer."

No one seemed surprised at Kala's cry, and they cleared a path for her to walk through to reach the stage. The escort seemed even happier at the sight of Kala – with all her scars and the coldness of her face and readiness in her eyes – than he had at Zan. While Zan had a good build, wide-set shoulders and undeniable muscles, Kala's form was lither, more slender. Zan had strength, she had speed, and agility.

"What is your name, love?" asked the escort. Love?

"Kalinna Steele," she replied, holding back her contempt.

"Well, Kalinna Steele, it seems you're quite prepared," the escort said. "With you and Zanther here, District Four may well stand with good chances!" As was protocol, Kala and Zan shook hands, and the escort beamed out at the audience. "Kalinna Steele and Zanther Grimms, may the odds be ever in your favour!" he declared. The district cheered.


DISTRICT 5


Today, most electronic devices use semiconductor components to perform electron control. The study of semiconductor devices and related technology is considered a branch of solid state physics, whereas the design and construction of electronic circuits to solve practical problems come under electronics engineering. This article focuses on engineering aspects of electronics, and …

"Alexa! Come on, honey, let's go. We're going to be late."

Alexa ignored her mother's call, unable - and not willing – to tear her eyes away from her book. She'd only just started it – couldn't her mother just let her get a bit further in before making her leave?

She continued to read.

Vacuum tubes were one of the earliest electronic components. They dominated electronics until the 1950s. Since that time, solid state devices have all but completely taken over. Vacuum tubes are still used in some specialist applications such as high power RF amplifiers, cathode ray tubes, specialist audio equipment and some microwave devices.

"Alexa!"

Alexa slammed her book shut and threw it down, irritated that she'd had to close it. Couldn't anyone just let her be in peace, for once?

"I'm coming!" she yelled back, going to the mirror and fixing up her appearance – well, for her standards. In reality all she did was push her glasses back up her nose and put on some lip balm. Her messy, mousy-brown hair, tied loosely back, and her crumpled old clothes didn't deter her, or, in her eyes, look in need of tidying.

She walked out, arms crossed over her chest. Her mother came and kissed her on the forehead, although her hand on Alexa's shoulder was a little tighter than it should've been.

"Can't you get out of those books and electronics for once and get into the real world, dear?" Alexa's mother sighed. "Honestly, sweetheart, you've read more books than you've said words, and you're always going to that lab ..."

"I don't like people," Alexa replied shortly.

It was the same process every day – her mother would say, with a disappointed sigh, that she wanted Alexa to open up more, be more social; in return, Alexa would grumble or snap a pessimistic comment, and for the most part ignore her mother's pleas.

"Come on, let's go," said her father, from across the room, and then left the house with the clear assumption that Alexa and her mother would follow. They did.

He walked fast but Alexa didn't bother catching up, like her mother did. She didn't feel like interacting right now, especially not on such a sombre day as the reaping, and she knew all her parents would do was bug her.

She pulled out a jumble of wires from her pocket as she walked, weaving them deftly into an intricate pattern with her fingers. She made wire and circuit work look easy, the way she did it. A minute later she'd connected the wires to small lights she also had in her pocket, and they were flashing like Christmas fairylights. Not that they had Christmas in Panem – Alexa had only read about it. But the decorations sounded pretty.

Her parents turned the corner ahead of her, round the lab. Alexa was about to follow, but she couldn't help the temptation and she went inside. Her parents wouldn't notice she was gone until they reached the Justice Building, and by then she'd have caught up.

"Alexa! What are you doing here?"

She looked up and smiled at the old scientist who greeted her, Dr Clamps. He was one of the only people in District 5 that she actually liked.

"I was just stopping by before the reaping, sir," she said. She looked to her side to a table, with a large mechanism sitting atop it.

"What's this?" she asked, going over to it and running a finger along the metal. She examined the wiring inside it. It was extremely complicated.

"It's a robot," Dr Clamps said. He came over and pushed up the top of the contraption – it was a metal head. "I know we work with power and lighting and whatnot here, and I'm supposed to be keeping the TVs and cameras running for the reaping, right now, but … just lookat it. Isn't it wonderful? It could be the beginning of a whole new era for Panem. Robots as servants. Can you imagine that? I haven't got it working just yet, but I'm nearly there."

"... Wow," Alexa said. "Is this allowed?"

"I'm not sure ... but there are no rules against it, at least." He sighed and chuckled, his eyes full of wonder and fascination as they stared at his work. After a minute or so he shook himself and turned to her, checking the time from the clock on the wall. "Run along, now," he said. "You have a reaping to get to and I have a country's power to manage."

She smiled again. "Sure thing, sir. I'll see you soon."


"Does my butt look big in this?"

"Yes," Chord said bluntly, then groaned and let his head fall back, hitting the wall. "Now can we go, please, May?"

His friends all agreed. May had been trying to find something to wear for the past hour. Even the girls had gotten tired of it.

"We're already late," Seb said. He cast a scolding glare to Chord as he said, "Your butt does not look big, May. You look fine."

Chord scoffed under his breath and rolled his eyes. "'Was just being honest ..." he muttered. "Besides, what guy doesn't like a good butt –"

Seb hit him in the arm, and Chord shut up.

"Fine, let's go," May said, either ignoring or not hearing Chord. "But if I end up going on that stage and my butt looks like a monster, I'll get you, Seb."

"What about everyone else?!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "Why can't you get them?"

The group departed May's house thankfully. They were all talking amongst themselves, but someone asked a question with a voice that rose over them all. "Should we split off and meet with our parents soon?" they said.

Chord's jaw clenched. The thought didn't exactly appeal to him, but he didn't mention it.

One of Chord's closest friends, Current, looked over, seeming to be able to tell what Chord was thinking. Only Current knew about Chord's dad.

"Me and Le'Ron will go on ahead," Current said, smiling at everybody else. "You guys do what you want."

Grateful, Chord followed his friend as they continued to the Justice Building, not stopping for their families as had been suggested.

"You alright, mate?" Current asked, nudging Chord with his shoulder.

"Fine," Chord replied.

"You know ... if you don't want to stay at home, you can always come live with me for a bit. Not permanently, obviously, but ... Mom wouldn't mind."

"No," Chord said strongly. He shook his head. "I can handle it, alright?"

Current looked at his feet and didn't speak. They finished their trip to the reaping in silence.


Alexa crossed her arms and tapped her foot, already waiting in her age sector. She was early. She hated being early. She didn't exactly have any friends to go frolicwith, and she didn't exactly want any either – all the kids her age from District 5 annoyed her – but it wasn't like being early was any fun.

She watched everyone around her with an eyebrow raised. No one came up to start conversation and she was happier that way. In her head, she thought about circuits and lights and electricity and power and what Dr Clamps was doing back in the lab. She wished she was there with him. He would've been tired, being so old and working so hard. Other people worked there and helped, but he did most of the work.

"Attention, attention!"

Alexa blinked and looked up to the stage, surprised. The reaping was already starting. She must've zoned out for longer than she'd expected.

Within a minute or so she got bored again and drifted off back to her thoughts, only looking up again when the fat old mayor tripped on his chair and broke his ankle and had to be carted offstage by Peacekeepers. She couldn't imagine the humiliation he must be feeling. All of Panem would've seen.

The usual escort stepped up and cut right to the chase, wasting no time in drawing out the first name. A tense silence held within the crowd, as if every person there were holding their breath. Maybe they were.

"Alexa Sparksmith!"

Alexa froze where she stood, her crossed arms dropping to her sides. She felt weak. Memories of the brutal and bloody past Games filled her head and she trembled with fear.

Whispers began to surmount around her, while she remained frozen. She thought of her parents. Her district. The people in it. She realized numbly that if she left, no one would really miss her. Except maybe her parents, but she guessed they'd get over it in a week or so.

She recrossed her arms, forced the negativity from her head, took a deep breath and walked up to the stage.


Chord watched the girl walk up to stand beside the escort and felt pity, as he did every year for the chosen tributes. Nothing could be done for her now, not with no one willing to volunteer. He recognized her, vaguely; she was always going down to the labs and helping out. She was smart.

The escort introduced her, asked her a few questions, and then moved onto the draw for the boys. Chord was tense.

Face shining with pink-tinted glitter, the escort looked bored as she called out the next name. "Chord Le'Ron." She looked up, and through the audience. "Chord Le'Ron?"

Stunned, Chord stared at the escort, unsure if he'd heard right. His friends stared at him in equal shock.

The thought of his dad crossed Chord's mind, and a hope built in the back of his head. Maybe, by going through these Games, he could show his dad that he wasn't an accident, or a murderer. That he was a good kid. That he cared.

Maybe then his father would stop looking at him with eyes full of shame. Maybe then the smell of liquor on his breath would come to pass.

Chord forced himself to walk up to the stage, his spirits lifting. He could do this. As he was shaking the girl tribute's hand, he looked through the crowd to see his father. But when he found him, his heart sunk. He had to look away from the dead, uncaring eyes that he was met with.


DISTRICT 6


"Does it work?"

Gaso looked from side to side, checking that no one else was around, then turned back to his friends, Petro and Hark. They watched intently.

"Make sure nobody's coming," Gaso said lowly, grabbing the red and the green wires and tying them together before moving on and making sure everything else was perfectly in place.

"Alright, you two go," he hissed. "Back fifteen or so meters and you should be fine. The petrol's in check, Hark?"

"Yeah, it's good."

"Good."

Petro and Hark backed off as Gaso had instructed and grinned at each other, both thrilled. Gaso made some final adjustments before lighting a match and letting the small flame catch on the trail of petrol they had set up. It travelled fast; he got up and sprinted away as fast as he could without waiting to see the outcome.

"Come on, run!" he yelled to Petro and Hark. They followed, fast on their feet. When they reached the end of the long street they stopped and turned back; a second later, the first house blew sky-high. The flames from the explosion caught onto the petrol around the other houses, and in seconds nearly the whole street was ablaze.

"Peacekeepers won't know what hit 'em," Gaso muttered, giving a dark half-grin. "Let's go. We'll be late for the reaping."

They sprinted off as fast as they could, down hidden back alleys, to escape capture.


"Ashton, stop," Tigress giggled weakly, pushing her palms against her boyfriend's chest as he pressed sloppy kisses to her neck. "We have to go."

"Mm, we still have time," he mumbled against her skin, but she wouldn't have it and shoved him away. He sat and watched her, pouting childishly.

"Stop it, Ashton," she scolded, pulling off her shirt and pants and replacing them with a dress for the reaping. She went to the mirror, running a comb through her hair then staring at her reflection. "Today's my big day. Do I wear my hair up or down?"

He looked at her, contemplating, then said, "Down. But pull the front bits back."

She nodded and did just that as Ashton said, "Are you sure you want to go through with this, Star? You don't have to."

Tigress gave an exasperated huff. "I'm am, Ashton. Alright? I'm eighteen – I know what I'm doing." She rolled her eyes. "I'm ready for it. Besides, it'll be a great surprise for Mother and Papa. They'll be so proud when I win."

Ashton was still skeptical, but he knew she would never listen so he kept his mouth shut.

Finally she grabbed his hand and dragged him along with her, down the streets to the Justice Building. At once she was flocked by friends, and Ashton disappeared in the crowd. She didn't mind. She'd see him in the Justice Building later, anyway.

Tigress made a joke, and all her friends laughed.

"Come on, let's get signed in," she said once they'd settled down, getting in line. All of her friends gathered around with her, making the previously orderly line turn into one jumbled mess. Tigress seized the opportunity to push forward, through the gaps in the masses, so she was right up the front.

"I hate signing in," a friend complained, sulking. "I hate needles. And blood. And this is a combo of both."

Tigress scoffed. "Toughen up! Imagine being a tribute in the Games and having a fear of blood." They all laughed again, that one friend, Secca, forcing a weak grin but still looking nauseous at the sight of the sign-in table.

Fifteen minutes later Tigress was waiting impatiently in the section for eighteen-year-old girls, ignoring her friends' conversations. She couldn't wait to see their faces when she volunteered, she was thinking. She hadn't told them yet – she wanted to surprise them. Oh, imagine Secca's reaction! She'd be mortified. Tigress grinned with excitement and tried to refrain herself from bouncing.


Standing innocently in his age sector, Gaso watched the Peacekeepers with a grin of his own on his face. They were frantic.

"The Head Peacekeeper will kill every single one of us when she finds out," one said, biting his nails with worry.

"We're dead, done for," came another.

"We could rebuild the street, use some metal from the car factories —"

"Are you insane? If we stole anything from the factories we'd reallybe dead! Besides, how are we supposed to build a whole street before the reaping is over? We can't!"

"We're going to be turned into Avox!" one cried.

Gaso laughed and nudged Hark's side with his elbow. "Look at them," he snorted. "They should've seen it coming."

"How are they supposed to suspect we'll blow up a whole street?" Hark laughed. "So naïve."

"Imagine blowing up one of the factories," Gaso said, awestruck. "It would be incredible!"

"Whoa." Hark nodded, imagining the picture himself. "We should do it. After the reaping."

"It's a plan." They shook hands, both grinning hugely.

Petro was back with the fourteen-year-olds, since he was just younger than Gaso and Hark and his own fifteenth birthday hadn't come around yet, so he missed out on their deliberations.

"Attention, attention!"

Gaso looked up to the stage and rolled his eyes at the escort's outfit for this year. She looked like a giant, stuffed pumpkin. He shook his head and looked away, unable to be bothered with the reaping. He couldn't get his mind off the brilliance of the blast down the Peacekeepers' street. Imagine really blowing up one of the factories, or the Victors' Village, or the whole Justice Building! They'd blown up a quarter of it once, which turned the district into a riot, and they nearly got caught. If they'd left the scene one second later, they'd be tongueless.

"Oi, pay attention," Hark hissed, elbowing Gaso in the side. "She's about to call out the girl. Wonder if it's someone we know."

"Wonder if it's your little crush, you mean," Gaso teased. "Tigress, Tigress, I love you so much! Marry me, Tigress!" he mocked in an exaggeratedly high-pitched voice.

Hark's cheeks were red. "Shut up, Gaz!" He paused, then mumbled, "And I do notspeak like that ..."

"Fusa Mirako!" the escort called, catching Gaso and Hark's attentions. Hark looked relieved.

Hark said, "I heard Tigress was going to volunteer. Thank god she —"

"I volunteer as tribute!"

In a millisecond, Hark went pale and rigid. A collective gasp came from Tigress's age sector, and the camera zoomed in on her parents for a moment. Their faces were frozen in shock and incomprehension. Then the camera snapped to Tigress, who was positively beaming as she skipped up to the stage.

"A volunteer from District 6! Why, that isa pleasant surprise!" the escort said jubilantly. "What's your name, dear?"

"Tigress Star," Tigress said confidently. "I'm eighteen and I'm going to win these Games!" There was a beat of silence, and then the whole crowd cheered with such fervor that Gaso's ears pounded.

"Confidence! We love confidence back in the Capitol, we do." The escort looked very pleased to have a worthwhile tribute from 6. "But now, we must get to the boy!"

Gaso leaned over to Hark and whispered a joke. A small smile twitched at the corner of Hark's lips.

The escort trotted over to the reaping bowl in her high-heeled shoes and grabbed the first piece of paper she touched. She let the suspense and tenseness gather before finally calling the name.

"Gaso Sedax!"

Gaso had been focused on trying to cheer up his solemn friend; now he was the one who was in desperate need of cheering. His smile faltered and he stared at the escort in shock. A second later he realized the cameras were on him and regained himself, forcing a fake grin onto his face and straightening his back. He walked up to the stage with feigned confidence, and hoped the onlookers fell for it.

"More confidence from our boy here! Seems like a good year for District 6!" crowed the escort. The crowd cheered. Gaso felt sick. He didn't want to look for his parents, didn't want to see their faces. He didn't want to look at Petro or Hark or any one of his other multitude of friends, in case his façade of confidence faltered. He knew he'd have time in the Justice Building to vent his swirling emotions.

He hardly took notice of Tigress's hand as she shook his. She was beaming. He forced his own grin back. The escort grabbed his hand and hauled it into the air. Her next words sounded faint and distant, like a memory of a dream.

"Gaso Sedax and Tigeress Star, the tributes of District 6!"


Again, sorry at how long this took! Funny how for most people school is what delays the story-writing – for me it spurs me on. Hmm.

Well, I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to see what you guys think of the characters, and your bets on how they'll do in the arena!

Make sure to review, and hopefully an update will come around soon. A full tribute list is in the first chapter, and I'm in need of a District 11 boy, if there's someone who hasn't submitted a character and wants to. PM me for the form and any details you want to know. I'm not really keen on having a person with more than one tribute in the story, but if you really want to submit again, go ahead.

Next up: Districts 7, 8, and 9!