Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine! Chapter title by Linkin Park.

Luka Greenval

"And TIME!" I heard my mom shout, clicking the stopwatch off. Skidding to a stop, I bent down and grabbed my knees in an attempt to regain my breath. Sprinting practice was over.

Speed and agility- in my opinion, they were my two selling points, if I was ever reaped. And that was a situation I most definitely planned on avoiding. District 4, once a great Career district, had fallen along the wayside since the Capitol Revolution. We still had our share of grand fighters- Mahala Stanchion, our current mentor, was one of them- but volunteers from four were few and far between these days.

Still, as my mother so often said, it never hurt to be prepared. As a result, I was more than willing to follow her drill sergeant-like orders to ensure my body was at its peak capacity.

"Better?" I heaved, gratefully taking the aluminum water bottle she handed me.

"Took four seconds off your best time, Luka. I'm impressed."

From mom, that was the highest praise. Still, I didn't thank her, didn't let the compliment go to my head- it just wasn't my way. I just shrugged my shoulders as she collected her gym bag. I loved my mom, and I knew she loved me, but we weren't an emotional family. We were guarded.

Mom didn't trust many people, or open herself up to getting hurt. Adapt or die- it was her motto, and an understandable one at that. At the age of eighteen, she was reaped and won the Hunger Games and got pregnant. By nineteen, my father had abandoned us and she was a single mother living in wealth with the guilt of twenty-three lives on her conscience. To say it changed her… that would be an understatement.

"How do you feel?" she asked, breaking her façade to reveal her worry. Any parent would, especially one who knew first-hand what I could be facing should I be reaped. "I wish I could be your mentor if…"

"Rules are rules," I muttered, tightening the knots on my worn, mud-caked sneakers. Mom had been the District 4 mentor until I turned twelve. Once I was of age, she was asked to step down and Mahala took over. They didn't want to give me an advantage over the other district tribute if my name was picked. It was disappointing, but rules were rules, and there was no use crying over spilled milk.

"Walk home with me, Luka?"

"Getting sentimental, mom?" I responded bluntly. She always did before the Reapings. A grimace glanced across her face, and I felt bad for being insensitive. My people skills were lacking, a side effect of my isolationist tendencies. Normally it didn't bother me, but I hated hurting Mom, especially when she was worried. "Sorry," I muttered. "I'm gonna go lift weights."

"Make sure you leave time to get changed before the Reapings. We'll walk there together." Her voice said there would be no arguing that plan.

Shoving my gym bag over my shoulder, I headed for the weight room. It was relatively empty, though here and there a dedicated future Career was running on a treadmill or bench pressing. Most guys were primping for their moment on camera, gelling their hair and finalizing their outfits.

"Greenval!"

Ezras Leapsage slapped me on the back hard, smiling. I didn't really consider him a friend, though he had mentored me over the last few years. We were both loners and intense in our training, for different reasons. Whereas I wanted to be ready should I ever get chosen, Ez was a Career, driven by a determination to avenge his brother Kyler's death. He was seventeen now, planning on volunteering when he was eighteen so he could get maximum training before entering the arena.

"What d'you want Ez?" I asked.

"I need a spotter. Get your ass over here," he said, nodding towards a dumbbell with five hundred pounds of load on either side. "Can't let my face get crushed before it gets on camera. I want everyone in Panem to know that I'm the man to beat next year."

There was no doubt in my mind that Ezras's words were true. And honestly, I was happy to let him take his spot among the tributes. Whatever it took to keep my head above the water and my heart beating.

OOO

Aaralyn Leapsage

"Not too far, Amias!" I shouted to my little brother as he dove into the late morning surf. I stood near the shoreline, dipping my bare feet in the lapping water and digging my toes into the sand. Dark grey on light grey- the water might have been blue, and the sand might have been tan, but I'd never been able to see the colors myself and only knew what I'd been told.

My mother told me it was a gift, but to me it was a curse. Who wants to live in a world of grey?

"Aw come on Ary! Just cause you can't go swimming today doesn't mean I can't have fun!" he shouted back, jumping up as a wave splashed past him. I rolled my eyes. It was Reapings day and Mom curled my hair this morning, which meant I couldn't get wet. My older sister Nerissa was supposed to bring Amias to the beach so I'd resist the temptation to dive in, but her boyfriend had shown up and they both disappeared.

Despite having participated in training exercises my entire life, I hated the Hunger Games- despised them ever since they sentenced my older brother Kyler to his death at the young age of twelve, exactly a decade ago. I had very few memories of him, and Amias didn't remember him at all, as we were four and one respectively when Ky died. But the pictures of him around our house represented both happy memories and bitter reminders of the times in which we lived.

"Fine, but not too much fun!" I responded with a smile. After all, if I got reaped today, I wanted him to have happy memories of me.

Think positive, I reprimanded myself, although it was entirely futile. I was going to worry either way. You're from a career district… kind of. There might be volunteers this year; Ez is always talking about the girls training at the arena. Just get through this, and you'll see Sam.

Samael Telmaris. My best friend. In all honesty, the only friend I had, and that was only if you defined friendship as two people that reunited four times a year, for a single day. His father was a merchant in District 7, delivering paper across Panem, and Sam was his apprentice. They had only one rule when travelling- that he was never to leave his father's side- not only because he was supposed to be learning the trade, but because merchants were kept under special watch by the peace keepers because they could facilitate inter-district communication and incite rebellion.

But Sam had always had a mind of his own, and when he was eight, he ditched his father during a sale and wandered down to the beach where my older brother Ezras and I were swimming. He marched to me through the sand and asked if I'd teach him to swim. Unable to believe anyone couldn't swim (a product of my District 4 upbringing), I did the only logical thing: shoved him in the water. Thinking back, it was lucky Ezras was there to save Sam, because I couldn't have saved him myself. But by the time his father found him, we had become fast friends and promised to visit each other every time he was in town.

There was no communication between visits- it just wasn't allowed- but four times a year, as the seasons changed, Sam Telmaris would return to District 4 and to my life. And every year I knew that, just after the Reapings, I should expect my best friend to reappear at my front door.

Glancing down at my watch, I jumped in surprise at the time. "Amias! Time to come in! The Reapingss are starting soon!"

He swam to shore quickly, muttering curses under his breath. "Language, language," I teased, though I silently agreed with him. I hated what the Capitol forced us to endure, but what choice did any of us have? There was nothing we could do, and as a result, any of us could be ripped from our family and friends.

Positive thoughts, Ary. Sam is coming, my inner voice reminded.

Yes, he was coming. Now all I had to do was pray my slip of paper stayed far from the escort's hand.

OOO

Luka

"And whatever you do, don't dare trust anybody. Ally with the careers for the first few days, then get out. Don't wait until the pack starts fraying. Be the one to cause the frays. Try and take some out with you as you go. Leave behind the weakest. Do you understand?" my mother instructed as we entered the park. Small packs of teenagers were beginning to gather before the stage, still mixed across age groups and sexes. Soon we would divide, ready to stand at attention for the Capitol's entertainment.

"Are you paying attention to me Luka?" my mother asked, sounding weary.

"Yes'm," I muttered, even though I hadn't been listening. Mom gave me this speech every year as we walked to the Reapingss. And it never changed, just useful tidbits that kept her from death in the arena. She never told me how she learned these things, as she despised speaking of her time as a tribute and absolutely forbid me from watching tapes of her games.

"Good," she replied sharply. There were worry lines creased across her forehead, but her voice remained tough and emotionless. "I'll see you after the Reapings." I watched her walk into the crowds, out of my line of vision. Like every year, a sinking feeling in my stomach reminded me that this could be our last conversation.

"So then I told Parma that pink skin never works out," a new voice emerged over the speakers, a distinct Capitol accent paired with a high pitched squeal making it absolutely painful to listen to. Oh dear God, tell me this is not the escort. I pitied whatever tributes had to deal with her, her voice grating and clearly too dense to realize her microphone was on. "And what does she do? Ignores me! That's why they stuck her in D10. She screwed herself out of a good district, I tell ya. Not that D4 is much better, considering the shoddy tributes they've sent out the last few years."

That certainly got the throngs going. From among the larger groups of people, a number of boos were emitted. It was a risky move, probably with an extreme punishment, but none of the peacekeepers moved to stop them. The puce and jade-skinned escort glanced around the crowd in shock, then down to her mic box, which she promptly turned off.

"We got a real winner this year, don't we?" I hadn't noticed Ezras coming up behind me. He was followed by his younger sister, Aaralyn, the look on her face completely unreadable, but decidedly cold. Although I knew it was directed at the day's events and not at me, I couldn't help but shiver.

If you ever wanted a study in dichotomies, Ez and his younger sister were the perfect subjects. Their brother Kyler's death had hit them both hard, and in a way, it consumed their entire lives. They both had extreme, yet entirely opposite, reactions. Ary got cold, shut herself off to the world except for a few select people, whereas Ez got tough and decided the best way to seek revenge was through the games themselves. I could tell Ary hated her brother's way of dealing, but who was I to judge?

Before I had a chance to respond, a trumpeter took to the stage, dressed in garish yellow velvet. He blasted the opening notes of the Panem national anthem, signaling the start of the festivities.

The Reapingss were about to begin.

OOO

Aaralyn

As the mayor related the history of Panem, I stood at the edges of the fourteen year old girls, not feeling particularly attached to anyone. Years in school, and for some, years in training had never brought us any closer. Here and there, playmates from before Ky's death waited nervously with wrung hands or chattered with excitement as whether there might be a volunteer this year. We exchanged the briefest of glances, some even a wave, but no conversation. The nerves amongst the members of the crowd were palpable.

I just wanted this trial to be over. Another year down, another year closer to the rest of my life and living in… well, clearly not peace, but in the comfortable knowledge that my government wouldn't get the pleasure of watching me die for their televised amusement.

"Gooood evening everybody!"

Ez was right. This woman was an idiot. Everyone knew the Reapings started at ten am sharp. It was most definitely time to start pitying the D4 tributes. They didn't stand a chance with—

"My name is Barstow Plenary, and I am tha-rilled to be working with all of you faaaaaaaabulous people this year!" As she spoke, I wondered what wild colors this woman was covered in. Her skin was clearly two-toned, that much I could discern from the dark and light shades of grey that formed a checkerboard across her skin. Her hair was sculpted into an elaborate pompadour, her heels so high and thin it seemed the back of her feet levitated above the stage. "Aw look, here comes the camera. C'mon everybody! Time to smile and wave to our uh-mazing leaders!"

I didn't want to, everything in my heart told me to rebel and stand stony faced. But some thing in D4 never changed, like the fact that we still had our Career roots. My companions, despite having no intentions to volunteer, still held a certain degree of excitement for the Hunger Games, a strongly rooted tradition that was never completely overcome. I would stand out among my cheering companions, drawing unwanted attention.

Do it for Sam, the voice in my head screamed. You know he's watching. If you can't smile for yourself, smile for Sam.

I put on my goofiest grin, smiling so wide my forehead wrinkled and my eyes were squinted. I waved wildly, making an utter ass of myself. Silent rebellion. I knew my best friend would see the humor in it.

"Alright everybody! Let's get to the fun part! Time to choose our lucky kids!"

Polite applause emerged from the crowd, not as loud as in the true career districts, but still filled with energy. "Now as common courtesy insists…"

The words had barely left Barstow's mouth when I snorted. Common courtesy? Ah yes, let's courteously send a kid to battle to the death. It's only proper. I hoped Sam was laughing at that one as well. I glanced around, seeing small smirks on the faces of the girls around me, but I luckily did not catch the attention of the peace keepers.

"…the young lady will be chosen first. Ready?" She stuck her hand into the globe, flailing it around in the papers to mix them up further. It was really unnecessary, seeing as how the globe was automated to spin on its own. But anything for a good show, right?

"Aaralyn Leapsage! Come on down! Congratulations hunny, you're gonna be a star!"

I stood there, incapable of acknowledging that my name had been said. How were Mom and Dad going to deal with this? Their marriage barely survived losing Ky. Ez and Nerissa, who's watched as Ky was sent to his death? Amias, who already had one sibling he couldn't remember?

Why did my family have to watch another child die?

And Sam. We didn't even get to say goodbye. Would I have to say it on-screen, in front of all of Panem?

My heart was in my throat. "NO! Take me! I volunteer!" I heard someone shout from the boy's section. Ezras. He, who was willing to give his life as a career, was trying to pull off the impossible.

Barstow smiled. "Now boys, you'll have your chance! C'mon up Aaralyn! All of four wants to meet you!"

Closing myself off to the world around me, my eyes entirely dead, I pushed through the crowds toward the stage. They wanted a show? Well, they sure as hell wasn't getting one from me.

OOO

Luka

Ezras was stronger than he looked.

The minute he heard his sister's name, he was pushing out of the seventeen year olds into my section on his way to the stage. Instinctively, I grabbed him, gripping him tight around the wrist.

"NO! Take me!" he shouted. "I volunteer!" The escort's response for patience was not what he wanted to hear, and Ez fought even harder.

"You need to calm down," I hissed, seeing the Peacekeepers moving towards us.

He shook his head, incapable of masking his emotions. His face was twisted in pain and anguish, as he looked around the girls, waiting for a volunteer that never came. My heart was breaking for him. Despite my insistence for years that I didn't need friends, Ez was the closest thing I had to one. "She didn't sign up for this. I was willing… I trained… Ary doesn't deserve this…" he mumbled, trying to pull himself together.

"You need to be strong for her, man. Look at her up there. She's keeping a cool head. We both know that she's been training, even if she didn't plan on volunteering. Don't make her lose her composure."

I was impressed with Aaralyn's demeanor, but I had always thought she and I were more alike than Ezras and myself. Loners, we kept to ourselves and kept our emotions hidden, training just in case we found ourselves facing the worst possible fate. She stood on the stage, arms crossed, one hundred percent tough. Barstow was trying to get something, anything out of her, but Ary was unrelenting.

"I'm volunteering this year," Ezras said. "I have to protect her."

Trying to be the voice of reason, I forced Ez to look at me. He needed someone to give it to him straight. "Do you think Ary would want that? Do your parents need to lose a third child? Let's face it, Ary's strong, but the odds are 1 in 24. How much better are 1 in 12 odds that one of you will come back? Your family needs you here, Ez. Ary has all the skills she needs to defend herself."

I was almost certain it was the most words I'd ever spoken to Ezras at once. I wasn't one for giving speeches, but it worked. He calmed down slightly, enough to make the peace keepers lose interest.

"Where is Luka Greenval?" I heard over the speakers. Our heads shot up, confused as to why my name was being called. "Luka! What are ya waiting for, doll? You're the lucky boy representing district four!"

I'd been reaped and I hadn't even noticed.

Shaking my head, I glared at the guys around me as they cleared a path to the stage. "I'll volunteer for you, I've been training," Ezras offered again, as if I didn't know he spent his days at the training center. "Let me protect my sister."

"I trained too," I countered. Ezras wasn't seeing the logistics, wasn't thinking clearly. "Your family needs you here. Ary needs you here."

"But—"

"I'll look out for her," I said quickly, the words spilling out of my mouth before I truly thought them through. Slapping him on the back once, I approached the stage, trying to emulate Aaralyn's stoic look. As I took my place beside her, I saw my mother in the crowd looking horrified.

Trust no one, her words came back to me, ringing in my ears. Yet I'd just promised to help protect the girl standing beside me. The battle plans were out the window.

But Mom always did say adapt or die. And that's what I was doing.

OOO

Aaralyn

Dear Sam,

So let's work under the assumption that this letter isn't coming as a surprise. I mean, we all have to watching the Reapingss, so you know I won't be here when you arrive next week. Ez promised to pass this letter on to you. I'd give it to you myself, but clearly that isn't going to happen anytime soon.

I feel like I should be scared, or nervous, or seeing my life flash before my eyes. But I just feel emotionless. Like Aaralyn Leapsage is a character in one of the vids they show on TV, and I'm watching her throw her life away. I want to shout out, tell her to run, but the only thing I can do is sit here, riveted to the screen. It sounds stupid when I read this back. I mean, really, what could I do at this point to save myself?

Mom and Dad came to visit me first. They gave my Kyler's token. You remember, the silver ring with the trident that Mom wears as a necklace? She cried as she handed it to me, completely lost it. She and Dad barely made it through Ky's death. I'm terrified to think what will happen when I'm gone. Amias and Nerissa came together. We tried to keep it light for Am, but you know how it is.

Ez is here now. I know you'd be waiting to visit me next if you were here. But you're not, and now I have to say goodbye to you in a stupid letter.

And yes, I do think it is goodbye. I'm not going to go down without a fight. You know that's not my style. But I saw the Reapingss in one and two, and those Careers… they're terrifying, aren't they? Almost inhuman, in a way. I can run with the pack for a while, but how much of a chance do I honestly have? Please don't judge me when I'm out there. I know I don't have to tell you that, but there's something about the thought of killing… I don't want you to think less of me.

That's the worst thing that could happen. And that's coming from a dead girl walking.

You're my best friend in the world, Sam. I just… I needed to know that you knew that before they send me away. It's ok if you don't want to watch me die. I won't judge you if you close your eyes or leave the room. I promise. Just remember me the way we were on the beaches of four.

Ez is supposed to give you the picture we took last summer. Give him a good kick if he doesn't.

Think of me when I'm gone. I know I'll be thinking of you in the arena.

Love you,

Aaralyn Leapsage

I handed the letter to Ezras, before pulling my distraught brother into a hug. He was doing a terrible job of hiding his tears, but he had always been the emotional one of the two of us. "You sure you told Sam everything you wanted to say?" he asked as he pulled away.

"I'm sure."

No I wasn't.

But considering I'd be dead within the weak, there were some things that were better left unsaid.

Some feelings better left in my heart.

Sorry, sorry, sorry for the delay in getting this up. Work is… well, as crazy as you would expect working in a lab to be. Thank you all so much for your wonderful feedback so far, and for the constructive criticism. It is SO greatly appreciated!

I hope you all enjoyed Ary and Luka. They were definitely tough to write, so I hope I captured them alright. I love them though, and they're in for a very tangled alliance once they reach the games! I might edit this chapter for grammar again, cause it's 1 am, and I have to be back in lab at 6. Oye. Their banner should be up on my website during the day tomorrow.

Please leave feedback and let me know what you think! I love to hear your thoughts!