IM SOOO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING SOONER! I am 14 and got my first job this summer and I am working 30+ hours a week, so im trying to get used to it. Im already almost finished with D2, and again im so sorry!

Katherine Elizabeth

"In 3 words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on"

Lucius Inculta

Age 17

District 1

"Lucius, you promised you would play!" I sigh, rolling over in my sheets and sleepily grinning at little Ophelia, who's all midnight waves and olive eyes that are currently squinted in anger.

"I call playing against whoever wins!" Olivander bounds into the room, his inky locks all mussed with the speed of his gait. He flops onto my bed, bouncing a few times for good measure. There's a gentle smirk on his face as he prods my shoulder.

"Please Lucius; I want to get better at chess!" Ophelia, 9 year old little Ophelia, widens her eyes at me, begging and pleading desperately.

"Fine, one game…" I slip a shirt over my own head of dark hair, grinning as two smaller hands clasp around my fingers, dragging me down a flight of polished wooden stairs to my kitchen table. There, atop winter white linen clothe, sits a well-worn checked board. The corners are frayed and the surface is scratched with invisible memories and strategies, imprinted with a love of thought and the learning that comes from each game.

Ophelia sits me down across from her, pushing up the sleeves of her fleecy pink nightgown with a glimmer in her eye "You're going down, Inculta"

I chuckle "Same to you, Inculta" She salutes me, reaching out her hand to touch her white knight. Just before she touches the cream-colored mane, a soft voice calls out

"Time to get ready, loves" My mother bustles in, her arms full of clothes and smile full of love. Soon, thanks to her speedy fingers, we are all tied and buttoned and perfectly put together, returning to our spots on the dinner table.

There's a slight commotion as my mother distributes our breakfast, urging us to eat hurriedly. The Reaping, she sternly reminds us, starts at 8 and she doesn't want any trouble from Peacekeepers today.

"Come, Lucius" My father's familiar long fingers close around my shoulder, stiffly guiding me out the door as if I haven't made this passage before. It's a long, winding walk to the District Square for my family due to the fact that our house lies on the very edge of the District. Mother and Father always have us walk together. It promotes love in the face of death, they say. I understand completely.

After a lengthy, leisurely walk we make our way to the glittering District square, all dressed up in celebration just like its inhabitants. My parents and siblings all stand next to my age group's designated holding area and wait for me to check in.

I pass by the array of Peacekeepers holding court at the Volunteering Table, where hulking boys and girls have lined up to write their names down for a chance at the Games. Several of the kids actually growl at me as I pass, trying to scare me off. One of the intimidators is Sever, my lab partner in Geology. Next to him stands his sister, Symphony, vying for a pen to sign her death warrant with.

A smaller, quieter cherry wood table stands understated next to the brutish children, a long piece of white paper gracing its surface. I place a gentle check next to the carefully scrawled Lucius Inculta somewhere half-way down the page. My eyes roll a few names down the list, landing on the angry black mark next to the name Marcus Infinitum. It seems that his yearly protest to the Capitol system is in order. Oh Marcus…

As I approach my age group's holding area, I can see his familiar mop of floppy brown hair while he glares around with hardened black eyes. Stealth, I decide, is the best defense against his rampant sarcasm. So with no more noise than a whisper in the wind, I slip in behind Marcus.

"Hic sunt dracones**" I mutter, glancing at the Peacekeepers circling the groups of children like sharks to bloody prey. Marcus gives a little start, but turns to salute me anyway, following in our old tradition.

"Aye, Aye, Cap'n" Marcus Infinitum is only fluent in sarcasm, but he attempts to be serious for my small sampling of Latin. Somehow, we've maintained what is definitely a symbiotic friendship for the past 13 years. I'm not sure how it's managed to keep afloat all this time, what with Marcus' constant rants about the ridiculousness of the Capitol system and my more philosophical nature, but our friendship is one of those things you look at and wonder if it will ever die.

District 1's escort, Link Pholo, steps onto the stage and begins to ramble on about what a joy it is to be here this year. Most of the crowd gives an appreciative roar, clapping and pumping their fists in the air. I watch as the seeming nations of male and female volunteers line up in front of him, stretching and getting ready for their big sprint. Link dips his hand into the female ball of names, twirling them about for good measure. His slender fingers close around a paper and he pulls it out with a flourish.

"Historia Evenwahl!" A weedy looking girl with unkempt blond girls approaches Link with caution, her eyes darting about the Square. Just as she takes the stage, a piercing whistle blows and the race is on. It seems like a whole legion of teenagers are racing for the platform, pushing each other and shoving one another to the ground. Finally, Sever's sister, Symphony emerges first on the stage, stealing the microphone from Link with the power of a gale-force wind. Quietly, Historia Evenwahl steps down with an almost comical look of relief on her face.

"I, SYMPHONY KEYS, VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

Link congratulates her and repossesses his glittering microphone while simultaneously righting his tie.

"Aaaaaaaaallllll right, Ladies and Gentleman, next we have our male tribute!" There are several grunts and 'YEAH!'s tossed out from the male volunteers. They seem to be making animalistic noises and holding stare downs, as if that will intimidate their brutish equals. Link selects a slip of parchment from the Male tribute box, grinning from ear to ear.

"Lucius Inculta!" Marcus might've actually snickered when Link called my name, pushing towards the stage.

"Go, oh high and mighty Tribute! Have fun in the Games, oh precious one!" He bows deeply to me, eyes dancing playfully in the golden morning light. It's a small stroll to the shining metal stage, almost a jaunt in the park. With each step I begin to relax, unnecessary tension leaving my muscles. One of those monsters will volunteer for me. One of them will hit the platform with a roar and a promise of victory. I climb the steps to thunderous applause.

When my foot touches the stage, I expect the shrill whistle that begins the sprint. Instead, dozens of Peacekeepers are gathered together, talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers. One turns to face Link, smirk carving into his weathered face. He gives a single nod, and the others fan out in front of the protesting boys lined up for their race. The volunteers rally against the line, but the Peacekeepers have equal muscles and the advantage of weapons. My heart drops. No…what's going on?

The Peacekeepers turn to asses me, eyes squinted against the stage's reflection. Their eyes rake down my body, drinking me in. Suddenly I feel as if I forgot to wear pants. One in the throng of black-clad figures steps forward and speaks with a strangely warm voice.

"We want him"

No…No that's not fair! It's against the rules! One of them gets to volunteer! I don't have to do this! Nonononononono…..

"Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you…THE TRIBUTES OF DISTRICT 1!"

"NO! LUCIUS! NO!" Olivander and Ophelia are screaming, thrashing against my parents grasp. Marcus' face is completely devoid of color, two of the other boys propping him up. He keeps mumbling "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it…." But the thought is lost on me. This can't be so…

Numbly, I'm aware of Symphony's ranting about how great this'll be, how she'd be willing to kill me gently on the first day to save me some pain. A few people in the audience chuckle awkwardly. Most sit with wet eyes and slack jaws.

"Dum Spiro, Spero. Veritate et Virtute, Non timbeo mala." To my surprise, my voice is strong and clear, pointed at the girl with the shiny brown waves and sadistically sparkling hazel eyes. She flinches at the daggers embedded in my tone, tasting the poison dripping off of every word. The crowd falls silent at my harsh words, the Latin flowing like blood through my veins. They don't understand what I said, but they get the general feeling.

"While I breathe, I hope. With truth and courage, I will fear no evil"

Marcus, pale, emaciated Marcus, raises his hands feebly and claps.

At first, it is just him. Soon a small girl from the 12 section joins Marcus, then a scrawny boy from the 15s and then a crippled girl from the 18s. The overlooked, the underappreciated, the imperfects of District 1 all smack their hands together in triumph for the boy so unlike the others, the one who stands for humanity, not glory. The noise grows into a roar and soon the Peacekeepers are on stage, shouting at the crowd and dragging me towards the Justice Building, Symphony flouncing in my wake.

My mother is weeping when she's let into my waiting room, her beautiful brown eyes bleeding mascara onto a satin pillow. Father's holding me close, ranting about strategies and trust. I don't want to remember this part. If I have to have one last memory of my family, I will choose the calm rumble of his voice, my Mother's soft hands, Olivander's insightful eyes, and the smell of Ophelia's shampoo.

"Come home to me" My mother whispers, wiping away my own tears. I nod, gathering up Olivander and Ophelia into my arms.

"Be good you two. And just as soon as I get home, we'll play chess, okay?"

They nod stiffly.

And that's what I'm coming home for:

A game of chess.

Symphony Keys

Age 16

District 1

A head of sparkling chocolate hair leads me through the hoards of other kids, shoving them out of our way. They're all buzzing with excitement, euphoric with the thought that this could be their year.

Like hell it will be.

"MOVE, YOU STUPID LITTLE FOOLS!" I snicker at my brother's voice, at the way he gets so riled up over a huge crowd of our physical equals. They could all give Sever a run for his money, but something deep in his black eyes chills them to the bone.

The crowd parts upon Sever's command, some even clearing space next to them at the Volunteering Table. My brother and I have been holding court here since I was 13, gaining the respect and fear we deserve from the foolishly hopeful volunteers. If you can fight your way to the signup sheet, the Peacekeepers allow you to scribble your name down on the waiting list for glory. The struggles the test to see if your even worthy of the chance.

Sever Keys and Symphony Keys are neatly written down in my flowing, all caps script, turning the 'S's at the beginning and end of our names into a treble clef. I am a hard working, obsessively training, manically planning career through and through, but I've got a little bit of girly flair deep in my heart, wrapped in the silky golden fabric of my dress.

I go line up with the other girls volunteering, most so naïve they wore long, flowing skirts and stacked stilettos. Dear God, this is a freaking race. Pleaseat lease act like you want to win. A few are like me, dressed in floaty, knee-length dresses and sensible flats because they've actually done this before; tried to beat me to the stage. And for the past 3 years, some have.

Not this year.

That shrill whistle blows and every muscle in my body explodes into action, pounding the grass with a vengeance. Long talons sink into my arms, trying to shove me away from the lead. No, I refuse to let someone else win. I'm sosososo close to the stage, to victory… Someone screams behind me and there's a sick sounding 'thud' and none of this sets me back.

And then I'm mounting the stage, stealing the microphone and screaming my name for all to hear, the name of a tribute, the name of a champion

"I, SYMPHONY KEYS, VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

Oh yes, this is my year.

I'm so lost in a haze of euphoria that It takes me awhile to realize that they never held the Boys' race, that Lucius Inculta is being forced into the Games. Oh, this is too good.

"Hey Lucius" I murmur, smirking at his suddenly white pallor. There's something about the way he glares so forcefully at me that almost stops the flood of words from my mouth. Almost.

"Tell ya what. I'll kill you on the first day, save you some pain."

With what he thinks is a strong voice, Lucius starts pouring out some random Latin like he's the shit. Soon he's got the crowd in an uproar and the weaklings of the District are chanting his name like he's worthy of this. He was chosen by chance, only chance….Right? The Peacekeepers had him stay in for a laugh… But there's something about his hulking frame, the muscles rippling quietly under his skin, that has me wondering if maybe…just maybe Lucius Inculta could be a contender….

Hic Sunt Dracones literally means "Here there are dragons" In Latin. I did my homework! District 2 will be up in a little bit!