A/N The reviews from last chapter were all so nice. Thank you! And a special "thank you" now to MissBunburyHope for her lovely tribute. And her other amazing tribute, Casper! Hope (that will be my new nickname for you,) your new character, Taylor, is so different from Casper. It makes me happy to see you create such completely different characters. I always have a blast writing them!

If all of you readers haven't noticed, I feel I need to explain myself about something. You see, I never write more than two of the same gendered character in a row. Usually, this is not an issue because the odds aren't great of people submitting three boys from districts Nine, Ten and Eleven or something. However, I think we all know that girls are by far the more commonly submitted gender. This is why so many of my submitters had to go through a little confusion with me reassigning districts. It's just to prevent monotony, both for myself and the reader.

I think I should include the Monroe's family tree, since Casper and his family are back in this chapter and I want to make things clear.

Casper and Elorica-age sixty-eight and sixty-nine

Their children-Aya (49) Kaja (45) Gav (42) and Violet (40)

Aya's children-Raen (22), Oak (19) and India (17)

Gav's children-Cadence (18), Jezebelle (15) and Markus (12)

Violet's child-Katerina (13)

Without further ado, we are back in Eight! I'll keep mixing up the format of these Reaping chapters so they'll stay exciting, so I hope.

Garbs Family

Taylor Garbs (12)

Calico (Cal) Garbs (40)

Paisley (Lee) Garbs (43)

Surah Garbs (15)

Fustian Garbs (8)

Kemp Garbs (4)

Jute Garbs (4)

"Taylor, you have to sit still so I can brush through the tangles."

"I know, I know." Taylor fell back in her chair and crossed her arms. She knew she wasn't exactly being a good girl right now. It was just that she couldn't sit still. Usually, Taylor loved getting her waist-length blond hair brushed, especially by her mother. Surah was nice and all, but she brushed too hard. Where was Surah, anyway? Maybe she ran off to have some time to herself or something. Taylor couldn't blame her. Today was going to be a hard day.

Her stomach lurched. This was her first year and it was a Quell. Not exactly an easy way to ease into it, she had heard Surah whispering to her best friend Jezebelle. That was true. Taylor and Jezebelle's younger brother Markus were both twelve years old.

The chair she was sitting on was hard wood and in front of a cracked mirror. She was sitting in her bedroom. She shared a bed with Surah, her older sister. Kemp and Jute shared the bed that was shoved against the wall. Her parents had the second bedroom in the apartment and Fustian slept on a worn, sagging bed they pulled out from the couch. He didn't mind. Taylor didn't mind her bedroom much, either. She was still young enough to think that it was nice to be sharing a room with all of her sisters.

Surah was different. Taylor saw her cringe every time Jezebelle, Katerina and Markus came to visit them. Those three were Casper Monroe's grandkids. He was one of only two male victors, so of course he was wealthy.

The Monroe kids all lived in nice apartments, the nicest in the district. They were airy and had lots of windows. Taylor loved visiting Katerina, her best friend. Katerina was a year older than her, but they were very close because their parents were friends. Taylor's grandfather was also very close to Casper Monroe.

Taylor felt proud of herself for knowing why.

They were rebels.

It was plain to see. Of course Casper hated the Capital, after what they had done to him. Her grandfather hated the Capital too, because they had taken his little sister and forced her into the Games when she was Taylor's age. The two met at one of Eight's underground rebel meeting. Taylor knew about these because Katerina ran messages for them. Katerina was immensely proud of what she did, even though it scared everyone around her, Taylor included. that one time Katerina had brought her down into the sewers to where the rebels had their secret chambers…she had never been more terrified.

But Katerina was never scared.

Taylor had wanted to prove her own bravery. Markus had been too frightened, but she was braver than Markus anyway, wasn't she? Besides, Katerina wasn't much older than she was. If she could sneak down into the chambers every night with her parents, well, why couldn't Taylor?

It was so dark down there. And, naturally, it smelled awful. Katerina's father had led the way, with his wife right behind. Katerina's parents were just as fearless as she was. Her mom always had a dagger at her hip, in case someone should find and attack them, Katerina had explained. And she had said it so causally, too. Meanwhile, her mother, Violet, flicked the dagger around like it was nothing.

Taylor's own parents were far different. They were so protective of their girl. Oh, if they ever found out that Taylor had gone beneath District Eight in the dead of night to a rebel's meeting!

She felt her mother's hand on her shoulder and looked up. It's hard for any child to see a parent looking scared. It just isn't right. So it was hard for Taylor to see her mother worried. Her usually immaculate bun had hairs falling out of it and her mouth was in a thin, white line on her face. Looking up at her mother, Taylor wondered if she could count the wrinkles on the woman's face. It suddenly struck her that her mother was old. Not old like her grandfather, but old nonetheless.

"Are you scared, Mom?" She asked in a soft voice.

Her mother bit her lip and sighed. She busied herself for a moment, silently braiding Taylor's hair. Her thin fingers moved quickly and somewhat desperately. Like she was trying to hold onto the little hairs, but they kept falling between her fingers. "There's no real reason to be scared though, is there Taylor?" She said suddenly. Her voice sounded sure enough of itself. That was just like her Mom. She could be so reassuring when she needed to be. But Taylor was twelve years old now. She was no longer a baby and the Reaping proved that.

She was old enough now to see when her mother was lying.

Taylor played with the hairbrush on the desk. She folded her hands in her lap and crossed her legs. Oh, she was doing it again all right. That awful twitchy stuff she always did when she was feeling afraid. The dress she was wearing was too big for her and its nice dark blue color was washed out from years of scrubbing it. It was one of Surah's old dresses, and Surah had also given her the gray ribbon to tie around her waist so the dress wouldn't seem so large.

At that moment, Fustian ran into the room, followed closely by Jute, one of Taylor's little twin sisters. Fustian was, well, he was a boy and so always seemed to be getting into trouble. Jute was never far behind him. Though only four years old, Kemp and Jute already had distinct personalities that were quite different. Kemp was a little more well-mannered, like Surah. Taylor herself was neither much of a troublemaker or very well-mannered. She was somewhere in the middle.

Fustian was tracking dirt onto the linoleum floor, which while made of cheap material, Taylor had her mother worked hard to keep clean. He grinned his large smile at her though, so Taylor forgave him. She never could hold a grudge, anyway.

"How come everyone has to get so dressed up today, huh?" He asked loudly, his crooked front teeth showing. Fustian looked quite uncomfortable in his stiff dress shirt. It was too large for him but the collar seemed tight. The boy had probably never worn a collar. Taylor thought the shirt might be Markus's. Markus, though four years older, sometimes played with Fustian. Maybe his grandfather had told him to lend Fustian a shirt. It made Taylor upset to see her family treated like charity cases sometimes, but they were poor and that was that.

No one in District Eight was wealthy. No one even seemed to have enough to get by really, except for maybe Peacekeepers.

Taylor herself had to work in a clothes shop, threading pieces of fabric onto bobbins until her fingers ached and throbbed. She did not complain though.

No, Taylor Garbs was no complainer and she was proud of that fact. Besides, pretty much every kid in Eight around Reaping age went to work in a shop or factory. No one had time to hear sob stories. Taylor knew she was better off than a lot of kids. At least she had her family.

She looked over at Fustian, who by now was shuffling nervously. His question was still unanswered. Taylor noticed that her mother was brushing her hair even harder now, even though Taylor was pretty much sure that is should be done by now. Of course. Her mother was buying time. Pretending that if she just ignored it for long enough, Fustian's question would just go away. But that wasn't how it worked. Especially not with Fustian.

"Today's Reaping Day, that's why." Taylor answered him as simply as possible.

Jute, only four years old, looked confused. Maybe Fustian had heard those words at some time in his life, more than likely from the kids at school. In Taylor's own experience, kids in school had started talking about the Reaping maybe in second grade. By then, the kids had older siblings who were going in and whispered about it to each other on the playground. She herself had heard about it at age eight from Katerina during one of her family's many visits to the Monroe's house for dinner. Taylor had always loved those visits because of the grand house and all the people crammed inside of it. She loved being with her friends and her friends cousins. Oh yes, Taylor Garbs was a "people person" and that was for sure.

They had been playing a game of hide and seek, when Katerina cornered Taylor in the spare bedroom, when no one was near. She leaned down to whisper something in Taylor's ear. "Something really bad is happening the day after tomorrow and I know what it is," she had said with a note of pride in her voice. Katerina was sandwiched between all those cousins, so she very rarely got this sort of feeling of superiority.

"What is it?" Taylor had asked. In her eyes, then nine year old Katerina knew everything.

Katerina got down on one knee. She looked into Taylor's blue eyes with her own serious, dark ones. "It's called the Reaping," she had whispered. "It's that thing all those kids go to, you know? When they all get dressed up and every single kid in the district who is twelve or over goes to the Square?"

Taylor had rolled her eyes. "I'm not a baby. I know what you're talking about. They all go to the Square where there's a big stage. Surah has to do that this year and I guess your cousin Jezebelle does, too."

Then, Katerina got a strange glint in her eyes. "Yeah. But do you know what it is? They don't just go to the Square to listen to speeches, you know. Otherwise, we'd be allowed to go. But I have to wait another three years and you have to wait four. I know what it is, Taylor! My cousin India told me cause she said she though I was old enough to know." Katerina looked down at Taylor. "I guess you aren't old enough yet. You're still kind of a baby."

"Am not!" Taylor had protested. "You're only a little bit older than me! It's not fair. Now I really want to know what the Reaping is."

Katerina had sighed. "Oh, all right. I guess I can tell you. But only because you're my favorite friend and kind of my sister. Okay. The Reaping is when every kid has to go to the Square and a lady from the Capital picks names out of a bowl. One girl and one boy. The kids she picked have to go to the Capital. Then, they go in a big place with kids from the other districts and fight. They fight so bad that all of them die except for one. That one kid is the winner. That's where all my cousins go every year. To see if they'll have to go away and die."

Taylor had taken one look into her cousin's serious brown eyes. Then she ran to the bathroom to throw up.

But she was so much stronger now, wasn't she? Katerina had helped her. Now, this would be Katerina's second Reaping. She was always patient with Taylor, who could never be as brave as she was. But Taylor was getting better. Now, the Reaping was just a fact of life that she would now have to take part in.

She looked at her little sister, who was still standing in the corner with Fustian, twirling the skirt of her faded gray dress. Maybe if Jute heard about the Reaping from a very young age, it would never be a shock. Maybe then she wouldn't be so scared of it all. Taylor really loved her little sisters, both of them. It would be for the best. Fustian deserved to hear, too.

She got up out of the chair and walked over to her siblings. By now, Kemp was poking her little curly top in the doorway. Taylor gave her a little smile and Kemp shot one back. She was such a sweet little girl. It pained Taylor to think that there was no way any of her siblings could avoid this. This year, it affected all of them.

"The Reaping is when all the kids have to go to the Square," she began quietly. "There, a lady from the Capital picks two names from the bowl and those kids have to go to the Capital. This year it's a little different though because a whole family gets picked. It's all because the Capital is very mad at the districts because of the big fight we had against them a really long time ago. But the chances of me getting picked are next to nothing, so you don't have anything to worry about."

Just saying these words to her little sisters and brother, Taylor began to feel better. She always had been good at comforting others and maybe she needed just a little bit of that comfort for herself.

Fustian and the twins seemed satisfied with the answer. They wandered out of the room, probably trying to find something to eat before they had to go to the Square. Taylor watched them leave and then turned to look at her mother, who had been watching her silently.

"Sorry, Mom." Taylor said. "I just kind of figured they would find out eventually. Besides, this year it really is different. It's not just kids twelve and over who have to go to the Games. It could be little kids like them. And I didn't tell them about the actual Games at all, so they're still gonna be okay for a little while."

Taylor's mother only sighed. "I'm not mad at you Taylor. I'm just a little bit sad, that's all. This day has always been very hard for me and your father. Watching Surah leave her first year…that was just terrible." Her mother placed her hand on Taylor's shoulder and walked out of the room with her. "But someday this will all be over."

In the living room, the largest room in the small apartment that doubled as an eating room, Taylor's father was sitting at the table. A single beam of light from the only window in the apartment landed on him. He was nursing a cup of thinned coffee, something very hard to come by. But grandfather could usually pick some up. Maybe he got some from his rebel friend, Casper. Her father watched as Surah fixed Kemp's dress and kept an eye on Jute and Fustian, who were already messing up their best clothes by running around the worn sofa.

"Hey, Daddy." Taylor said softly.

He looked up. "Well, don't you look pretty?" He grinned at her, but Taylor saw that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that her Mom and Daddy had to see her get all dressed up, only to have to go to the Reaping and the chance of certain death. Yes, Taylor was old enough to know that once brought to the Games, kids from Eight didn't walk out. That was why Casper was so famous. There were only two other victors in Eight's history. Well, at least they weren't Twelve. Only now Twelve had two victors.

Taylor fingered her blue dress. "It's just Surah's hand me down, anyway." She said.

Her father actually laughed and gathered her into his arms. He smelled like weak coffee and faint sweat, from spending long hours in the sweltering factory. He leaned his chin onto her head and the rough stubble on his chin scratched her soft blond hair. "You'd look pretty in a canvas sack, Tay." He said in his gravelly voice.

She pulled out of his arms suddenly. It was like all of the cascading thoughts she had been having this morning came rushing back to her.

"Is something wrong, Tay?"

She looked into her father's eyes. They were dark blue, like her own. Her father's eyes always looked so sincere. And right now, he looked concerned. He often did. He and her mother worried more about their kids than any other people Taylor had ever met. Right now, seeing how warm and comforting the eyes looked, she sighed.

"Okay, I guess I'm a little scared. I'm sorry, Daddy. I really can't help it." She felt a single warm tear make its way down her cheek and wiped it off quickly. "Oh. man. And now I'm crying like a weak baby. Surah didn't cry on her first Reaping! Why do I always have to be the scared one?"

"I cried on my first Reaping."

Taylor turned to see her sister standing by the door, her arms crossed over her chest. Surah's blond hair, exactly like Taylor's, was held in a bun with not a single hair escaping it. Taylor sometimes got a funny picture in her head of Surah firmly commanding each hair on her head to stay in place. Right now, her sister was wearing a long brown skirt and blouse without a spot of dirt on it. Her eyes were dark blue like Taylor's, but were always clearer and sharper. So it wasn't strange that Taylor found it hard to imagine her sister crying.

Surah leaned against the door. "Oh, yeah. I cried like there was no tomorrow. You didn't see me, of course. I was fine at home, but as soon as we stepped outside, Mom practically had to drag me all the way to the Square. By the time we got there, she was in worse shape than I was. We were a total mess, Taylor. You should have seen us." Surah gave a little smile and rolled her eyes. "Just about every kid cries the first Reaping. There's nothing wrong with being scared."

A rush of relief hit Taylor. She couldn't help it. She ran across the room to give her sister a hug.

Her father stood up and brushed his hands on his pants. "There. I think that's all taken care of. So you see, Taylor? There is nothing wrong with a little fear. But don't forget. Your odds of being picked are very, very slim. Think of it this way, girls. There are twice as many names in that bowl this year. Your odds were so small before because we don't take tesserae in this family. Well, now they're practically astronomical."

A knock at the door made everyone in the room jump. Even after her father's statement, it seemed everyone was still on pins and needles.

Surah straightened her hair, even though there wasn't a single hair out of place. Then, she opened the door. Katerina and her cousins, Markus and Jezebelle, stood in the doorway. Taylor felt suddenly conscious in her own faded dress. The blue had seemed so pretty a moment ago. But surely Jezebelle had seen her friend wear it before and Katerina's sundress was such a nice peach color and brand new.

Jezebelle cleared her throat. "Are you guys ready to go? Surah and I always walk to the Reaping together. I brought Markus and Katerina with me, Taylor. You guys can walk together. The older kids, Cadence and India already left for the Ceremony."

Taylor's mother smiled at her. "Yes, I think Taylor is about ready to go. Go on ahead. Dad and I will head to the Square in a minute with the little ones."

Surah walked over to Jezebelle and the two took off down the narrow stairs leading to the ground floor. Taylor could hear their shoes hitting the rickety wood. Markus turned to wave at Fustian, then followed them down the dingy hallway, which was lit by a single bulb which barely even worked half of the time.

Only Taylor stayed behind.

Katerina walked over to her. "You're not scared, are you?" She asked, twirling her braid in her fingers. The braid went from the top of her head and came down the side. She caught Taylor staring. "Oh, my hair? What, do you like it? My grandfather just came back from an interview in the Capital. You know, they interviewed a bunch of Victors about the Quell and all of that. Anyway, he said all the girls in the Capital were wearing their hair like this. I bet they have no idea what it really means! I could show you how, if you want me to."

Taylor nodded and followed her friend into the hallway. She didn't think she had ever been more grateful for Katerina's talkativeness.

They walked outside. The sky was overcast and gray, as it usually was in Eight. It was springtime though, and the few plants that lived in Eight had come up. Mostly that meant weeds growing between the pavement cracks, but those weeds sometimes has pretty flowers on them, so that was okay. Gray tenement buildings, with peeling paint and rusted iron fire escapes, lined the streets.

On some of the wrought iron balconies of the staircases, she could see families stepping outside. Girls were wearing dresses and their mothers were wearing long skirts. The boys starred at their nice shoes, if they had any. Laundry danced on clotheslines, hung out to dry. White bedsheets twirled in the wind like ghosts in some frantic dance, unaware of the horror happening beneath them.

Taylor shivered.

Jezebelle and Surah walked ahead, talking to each other like they always did, only a little less than usual. The solemnity of the day had hit them both. Markus shuffled behind them, closer to Taylor and Katerina. He wasn't usually like this. Taylor had lots of memories of crazy games of tag and pillow castles. Of the two of them conquering lands and defeating monsters.

It struck Taylor that she was grown up now. And that fact did not come because she had reached Reaping age.

No, Taylor knew it was something more. Growing up meant that she had realized that there were things in this world a lot scarier than monsters.

"I like your dress," Katerina said. Her compliment of the faded blue thing made Taylor smile. Katerina linked her arm through Taylor's skinny one. "I wish you could come with me and my parents to the rebel meetings. My mom's been letting me go more and more now. Things are really heating up, Taylor. And I mean big things are coming." She wore a huge grin on her face as she said these words in a whisper. "I think something huge is about to happen. And we could be part of it!"

"What do you mean?" Taylor whispered nervously. Such a conversation would usually make her a little nervous. But today it nearly sent her over the edge. And there were cameras everywhere! The closer they got to the Square, the more Peacekeepers filled the streets. Their stark white uniforms contrasted sharply with the grays of District Eight. It was ironic that Eight's tributes were always dressed in bright, flashy colors when in reality, the district couldn't be more colorless.

"The Games last year started something. This braid I'm wearing is like one teeny, tiny piece of a huge puzzle."

Taylor said nothing. She merely looked around as the group neared the sign-in tables. A statue nearby showed President Maximus, the one before Snow. Taylor had learned about him in school. The statue was crumbling and peeling, like everything else in Eight. But Taylor didn't care. She had always hated that statue. The kids around her shuffled and whispered in their places in line. A few were crying. One girl was sobbing about her baby sister. Who might have to go to the Games. The sobs cut through the silence, but most pretended not to hear them.

A world with no Games? It was so hard to imagine. A world where she felt safe? Impossible. How could Taylor even dare to wish?

She was practical old Taylor. She wore her hair in one simple braid down her back and simple gray and brown clothes every day to school and listened to her teachers. She pledged her allegiance to Panem each morning in a monotone and watched the Games as thoughtlessly as possible every year when she had to.

Leave it to Katerina to wear her hair in its elaborate style and put on pretty dresses. Leave it to her to question her teachers and make a look of disgust every time the glory of the Capital was mentioned.

Leave it to people like Katerina to rebel.

Taylor had her family. And though she was only twelve, she knew that she had to protect them. By not standing out, she was keeping her family safe. Just one word dropped in the wrong place at the wrong time could land them all tied to the flogging pole. Taylor had seen floggings with her own eyes. There were some things that could not be covered up. The world was a cruel place and her family was her light. She was going to keep it that way.

"Give me your arm please," the man at the table looked a little exasperated. Was it her turn already? The man held a needle in his hand. Uh-oh. No one had mentioned needles to her! She gulped slightly. Oh well. The pinch probably wouldn't last long.

Besides, she was unfailingly obedient, wasn't she?

The man took her arm and grabbed her hand, forcing her fingers outward. Then, he pressed the needle into her skin and Taylor winced. A drop of blood formed in the soft skin at the tip of her thumb. The man then pressed her thumb into a single whit strip of paper and scanned it with some sort of machine. When he was satisfied, he gave a little grunt to tell her to move out of the way of the next kid.

She ran back to Katerina and Markus, who were waiting by the statue. Markus was inspecting his thumb, as if he'd never seen blood before. "I think we should go into the Square now," he said. His face was calm, but his voice wavered a little. Still, Taylor thought both of them were doing very well for their first Reaping.

Then, as they walked toward the Square where they would go with the other twelve (and thirteen) year olds, Taylor started to become overwhelmed at the cheer amount of kids congregating in the Square. There were absolute throngs of them. She kept her arm firmly linked in Katerina's and her eyes following Markus's curly black hair.

She was elbowed and pushed. Older, taller kids who looked more like adults were already filling in their roped-off spots in the back. They stared straight ahead with blank faces. This was their last Reaping, or close to it. Maybe they had learned that there was nothing to be afraid.

And truly, staring at the masses of children, Taylor did feel much more reassured.

"See," she said to Markus and Katerina. "There are so many kids here. Every single kid in the district. There must be more than a thousand! Just look at all of them. There is no way any of us is getting picked today." Saying those words, she felt a smile on her face. It was true. Perhaps she really did have nothing to worry about.

Katerina led her down the large center aisle. She read the cards of numbers that indicated which age should be wear. With every row they passed, the kids seemed less and less afraid.

Taylor knew that all she had to do was head right to the front of the see of gray and other muted colors. Katerina found the thirteen year old girls section and gave Taylor's arm one last squeeze. Her brown eyes widened a little. "Okay," she said. "I guess we'll see each other when this is all over, then."

"Yeah."

The twelve year old section was large. Markus went off with the boys. It was strange to see the same boys who were usually so loud and rowdy in school now standing in solemn silence. It was more than just fear of they themselves getting Reaped, though. It was going to be terrible to see a whole family get sent away today.

She squeezed between a red haired girl she knew vaguely from class and another girl in a pale green dress whose hands were shaking. Taylor wished she could offer some comfort, but she couldn't.

The Ceremony was beginning.

On the stage, a woman clattered to the center. She was wearing a bright red dress suit and matching glaring red heels. Her blouse underneath it was as yellow as an egg yolk. Eggs were a very special treat for Taylor's family. Once, when she had stayed over at Katerina's house, they'd had eggs for breakfast. The woman had on red lipstick to match and introduced herself, with a loud and brassy voice, as Tarah Glint. She welcomed them all to the 75th annual Hunger Games and the third Quarter Quell.

Taylor traced her foot in the dirt.

"And now, we have a special presentation for all of you," Tarah said into the microphone, so loudly that a few girls near Taylor flinched. Tarah clapped her gloved hands showily and the huge screen above her lit up. Taylor's eyed stayed glued to it as a picture of the Capital seal appeared. She rarely saw any sort of film, only seeing the Games once a year because it was mandatory and the occasional emergency news update.

"Seventy-five years ago, the rebels were defeated…" The screen was saying. Pictures of buildings blown to ashes, with only porch steps or a single wall remaining, flashed across the screen. The man on the voice over went on to talk about widows and orphans left behind because of the rebel's careless actions, with pictures of crying children. Taylor wondered if any of this made Katerina uncomfortable. Probably not. She would think it was all fake. Taylor wasn't so sure.

Some of the pictures were pretty scary.

Then, the screen went on to show how the Games were formed, as an annual pageant to remind the districts of the horrible crimes they had committed. Taylor felt her stomach clench as pictures of children with swords and blood-streaked faces appeared. This was horrible. She wanted to turn away so badly, but knew she couldn't.

When the awful film was over, she actually breathed a sigh of relief. She turned around in embarrassment, hoping that no one had caught her. The girl next to her in the pale dress bit her lip and gave the smallest of shrugs to Taylor. Taylor forced her head up. It was going to be okay. At least that bad part was done now.

Tarah stepped back up to the front of the stage. Behind her, Taylor could see Katerina's grandfather sitting in one of the Victors' chairs. He looked really sad. The other two Victors did not look happy to be where they were at all. It seemed to Taylor like they were trying to avoid the eyes of all the kids in the crowd.

"And now," Tarah said. "Now for the main event. I will now draw only one name from the Reaping Bowl. The child whose name was picked must then come forward to the stage, with the child's family following." She grinned. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

Taylor felt her stomach knot.

The crowd had been quiet for the whole Ceremony, but now it was deadly silent. Taylor was suddenly aware of every single breath she took. It felt like the sound of her breathing was the only noise in the whole enormous crowd. The tall buildings above her seemed to sway and she blinked to keep from getting too dizzy. As Tarah drew a single, tiny white piece of paper, the kids in the crowd seemed to draw one collective breathe.

"Taylor Garbs!"

The Goodbye Room

Taylor was silent.

She had been sitting this way, with her mother's arms folded around her, for what felt like a very long time now. They were on a red couch in a room high up in the Justice Building. There was a big window looking out to the street below, where a steady trickle of people was still snaking its way back to the tenements and homes.

Taylor didn't remember much from the walk to the Justice Building. Just that there were a lot of Peacekeepers. In case one of them tried to run away. It didn't make any sense to her. Two older parents clearly in shock, a skinny teenage girl who was sobbing, a scrawny eight year old boy and two twin girls hardly past babyhood were not going anywhere. If she squeezed her eyes hard enough, she could almost block out the memory of Surah's tears, or how Kemp and Jute had clung to her mother, so confused.

Maybe if she she closed her eyes and sank into her mother's arms for a very long time, it would all just go away.

But that was childish. Jute was sitting on Surah's lap, who had become inconsolable. Tears still made their way down her cheeks and Jute hardly even noticed anymore. Surah's sobs had now become helpless little gasps. Kemp was with her father, her curly hair nuzzled against his unshaven face. He stared ahead blankly. Fustain wasn't even sitting in a chair, just on the floor all curled up. No, Taylor just sitting here was not going to help any of them.

After all, they were going to the Games with her.

She pulled herself away from her mother's arms and grasped her hand instead. Her mother looked at her with identical blue eyes. They shared so many things, the two of them. Taylor couldn't remember a time when they weren't together. Her mother was always beside her.

Maybe that was one thing that wouldn't change.

Fustian uncurled his body and stared up at Taylor. His eyes were brown, but he had her same blond hair. Right now, those big brown eyes just looked so afraid. He inhaled sharply and looked around the room at his distressed family and Taylor suddenly felt guilty. She ought to pull herself together. So she sat up a little straighter. Fustian wiped his eye. "So where are we going now?" He asked.

"We're going to the Capital now, Fustian." Surah's voice came out surprisingly steady for a girl who still had tears running down her cheeks.

"The Capital is big!" Kemp suddenly said, sitting upright on her father's lap as if she was tremendously proud of her display of knowledge. Taylor wasn't sure where she had picked that phrase up from, maybe from the dirty, cramped daycare she went to sometimes when the rest of the family had to work long hours.

"Yes, Kemp. The Capital is very big," Taylor told her little sister in a calm voice. "And the buildings there are so tall! I bet they're going to make our buildings here in Eight look like itty bitty dollhouses."

Surah shot her a look. Then, her face relaxed. She got the message. Surah and Taylor had always had a close connection between the two of them. Right now, they were uniting for the sake of their little siblings. Who were far too young to know the extent of the horrors that were about to come. Taylor wasn't even sure if she herself was ready for that. She didn't think she ever would be. But the least she could do right now was protect the three of them.

Surah must have been thinking the same thing. "You know, I hear the Capital is the most colorful place in the whole nation." As she said this, she wiped the tears off of her face with a single swipe. Surah, like Taylor, found comfort in reassuring others.

"And the food there is wonderful." This time, the reassurance was coming from their father. His eyes had lost some of that blank look they'd had only a moment ago. Taylor knew he was catching on as well. If all of them really were going to die, they might as well put off their dread and fear.

Taylor didn't want to die afraid.

The door opened and two Peacekeepers stepped inside. They always looked so rigid that it was hard for Taylor to imagine that there were actual people inside those uniforms. Right behind them was an older man with gray hair, still showing hints of the auburn sort of color it once was. The man stepped between the Peacekeepers, giving them one cold look. The both of them slipped out of the room. Taylor smiled a little bit. She knew this man. She'd seen him at the dinner parties Katerina's family had. The ones where she spent the whole night admiring the house, the dresses and all that wonderful food. Parties with this man at the head of the table.

"Hello, Mr. Monroe," she said very softly.

He raised a worn looking hand. "Please, Taylor. Just call me Casper." With that, Casper pulled one of the chairs close to where Taylor and her mother were sitting on the couch. He may have been old, but it was clear that he still had quite a bit of strength left. He folded his hands in his lap and looked straight at Taylor.

"Now a lot of people are going to tell you that you have to act strong," he said in a voice that was much less gravelly than the one Taylor's father had. Casper looked at the rest of her family. "And all of you as well. I guarantee you, Mr. and Mrs. Garbs and Surah and Taylor, you guys are all trying to act strong for each other." He shook his head. "You don't have to do that right now."

At those words, Taylor's mother let out a shaking sob.

Her father rushed over and placed his hand over his wife's. Taylor let her eyes focus on the floor. She hated seeing her mother cry. There was just something so wrong with a mother crying. But she needed to do it. They all did.

"I'm scared," she heard herself whispering. Then, she almost clapped her hand over her mouth. Had she really said that out loud?

But Casper only smiled. It was a sad smile and Taylor noticed his eyes seemed to be welling up. Still, Casper kept his eyes meeting hers. "It's okay to be afraid, Taylor. Take it from me. I am, after all, going to be your mentor for the next week. There's no point in lying to yourself that you aren't afraid. That's no way to get rid of fear." He looked up at all the members of the Garbs family. "We need to get rid of fear by defeating it at its source."

"What do you mean?" Surah asked.

Casper stood. "I mean, what you fear most is the unknown. I know that for a fact because I was once in your position. The Quell changes nothing. What we have to do is prepare. Prepare to the extent to where you all no longer fear this unknown."

Taylor saw her sister's lips curve up just slightly. She felt her own doing the same.

"You are going to train as hard as you can for the time that you can," Casper continued. "And I promise you, I will be right there on your side if you ever need any help. I will do whatever I can within my power to get you sponsors. Sponsors can be the difference between life and death. Someone in the family will nee to learn something about weapons. And, of course, allies. With Games as large as these, I think you'll be wanting some. Adult Careers are no one to get in the way of."

Careers. Those hulking monsters of kids who had given Taylor nightmares for days after last year's Games. What would it be like to be fighting against their monstrous parents? She couldn't help but give a little frightened gasp.

Casper heard her, of course. He sighed just a bit. "I know. They'll be damn near impossible to take down. But if I can find you all the right allies…well, strength in numbers. Even then, it will be very hard. But this year, a whole family can win. No one has to say goodbye to each other, not just yet."

Taylor's mother gave her hand a squeeze. Taylor returned it.

"Thank you," her father said to Casper. He was holding Kemp on his lap now, tightly around her waist. Like she was just going to float away if he let go. And maybe she would. Taylor wasn't sure of anything anymore. Her father's eyes were becoming teary now, too. "I don't know how we can ever repay you, Casper."

Their mentor smiled. "No, no. You are the ones who are doing something for me. I-I haven't been the best mentor I could be these past few years. I've neglected my tributes because I've always felt their odds were too low. In the process, I created a vicious cycle. You, Mr. Garbs, and your family are my chance to redeem myself."

He stood up a little straighter. "Cecilia, your other mentor, well, we both have children. I think to us, you all are going to be far more than just faces we've been forced to mentor. No, I am going to to everything in my ability to make sure you are prepared. That way, if-if that time does come, you know you've fought your hardest."

The room was silent for a moment.

Then, Fustian stood up on shaking legs. His eyes were still wide with fear and confusion. "But aren't the Games very, very hard to win?" He asked with his slight lisp. Taylor had never realized how much she loved that way he talked. Her little brother, who now needed her help.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, it is going to be very hard, Fustian. No one ever said it wouldn't be. But we can do it. People like Casper have done it before us. It will be hard, but we'll go as far as we can go, won't we?" Taylor felt her father's hand on hers now.

"I know we will," said Surah.

"Besides," Casper said. "I'm not going for easy. I'm just going for possible."

A/N Thank you for reading this chapter, wherever you are. You're all so lovely.

Now, as you've probably been noticing, I tend to mix up the format of my Reapings just slightly. This is to prevent you guys from getting bored of the old one, you know? I know Reaping aren't always the most exciting things to read, but they're important for the characters. Okay, my Reapings can be a little lengthy. Sorry 'bout that. I don't have word count so I tend to get carried away. That last chapter was a little shorter, I think. So let me know what you thought.

I think once we get past the Reapings, things will start to be told more from the mentors' points of view, just because I've always wanted to try something a little different. Don't worry. Every tribute will have a chance in the spotlight.