The first four Reapings are here! I love not having school on a Wednesday! Still, I have a lab report to type after this. But anyway, enjoy!
…
District 1: Bliss Honeycutt's POV
My eyes flicker across the brightly lit room for a point of interest, one I could stare out with out question for the next thirty or so minutes. The sounds of controlled chatter ring in my ears, but that is nothing compared to the thumping of my own heart. It is only breakfast.
"Could you believe that only three years ago our little Tiara volunteered?" my mother gushes. My eyes turn briefly to Tiara and I watch her beam with self-pride. She is only home now for Reaping breakfasts. I believe that is a little too much.
"I couldn't believe it either," Tiara says with faux modesty. I roll my eyes back to my fixated position. The only thing my mother hasn't done for Tiara is bowed down at her feet. I am still waiting for that moment to come. She won't be bowing down to me any time soon.
I can't call my relationship with my mother perfect. No, it wasn't a train wreck, it was detached. We use to have big blow-outs over the stupidest things. That was only a year ago. She hasn't changed, I have. I know my mother blames it on my father's walk-out. I don't. He had every right to walk out that door. I wish I could have walked out with him. My growing-up is something far different, something I will never trust my mother with.
My hatred of Tiara is a different story. Even before she became self-appointed Princess Tiara, I hated her. She was best friends with the most…I can't bring myself to insult Emma Stewart. It is not wise to speak ill of the dead. Tiara became an everyday, District 1 snob. I think I hated her before that, but I don't know the just of that.
"Sicily, slow down. You don't want to be fat and ugly," my mother snaps at my younger sister. Sicily responds by shoveling another spoonful of caviar into her mouth.
"Mother." I will only ever break my silence for Sicily. It is not her fault she got a different look than me and Tiara. While my sister and I have soft features, Sicily has sharper bones in her cheeks, chin, and nose. The sharper look does not make her ugly, but compared to me and Tiara, it makes her look different. Different was not a nice quality in District 1.
Sicily is the only person I will ever admit to loving. I loved in the past, but not anymore. I don't even talk to my friends anymore and forget boyfriends. Ever since Marco…
Sicily is different. She understands me and I understand her. As much as I had tried, I couldn't push her away when I found out about my condition a year ago. Although I have yet to tell her, I know I will. Sicily is the perfect sister to have and better than anyone I have ever known.
"Bliss, darling, you do not need to keep defending you sister," my mother tells my sharply. "Now be a dear and get Mimosa." I immediately get up to do as I am told. If there is one thing I have learned over the past year, it is that people like you so much more if you do as they say. I don't care if my mother likes me or not. I just don't want to be hated by her.
I walk up to my youngest sister's room. She is asleep as usual. Sometimes I fear my mother had drunk too much during pregnancy and it affected Mimi's sleeping pattern. Still, upon hearing my footsteps, she starts to cry.
"There, there Mimi," I say in a quiet voice as I lift my little sister out of her crib. I can tell she has the makings of another beauty. I am glad it won't be until Sicily is out of the house. I carefully rock her back to a sleeping like state. My mother will take care of her when the Reaping begins.
I put her down for the time being and go back into my own room. I put on the short, black dress my mother instructed and slip on the heels. I walk into my bathroom and assess today's damages.
My skin does not show any signs of bruising, but a fresh patch of red shows itself on my neck. Nothing a little cover-up won't solve. When I finish, I work a brush through my curly, blonde hair and finish my look with a little make-up. I find it hard to even put on make-up now with out my skin complaining.
The clock on my bathroom counter announces only five more minutes until I have to start heading out. The only thing left to do is grab my jacket. As I slide it on, I hear the reassuring rattle of my two pill bottles I had sewn in last night. I hope it will be enough for the arena.
Living through a year of cancer was hard, but living through cancer in the Hunger Games will be harder. But I have weighed the odds over and over in my head. No matter what, I will die anyway. I might as well put up a fight.
Marco von Erich's POV
Reaping day. The only day that will be worth remembering this year. Well, aside from the day I win the Games. After years of training, this will be my year.
I walk outside to be greeted by the District 1 sun and Cat. My "friend" smiles at me from her the place on the gate where she is lounging. She is a pretty thing. She is no perfect catch, but she works well in the benefits category of friends.
"Hey there," Cat purrs, hopping down from my fence. She gives me a seductive smirk as I come to greet her. "I missed you," she whispers.
"Where are the other two?" I ask.
"Do they matter?" she retorts, showing signs of jealousy. I laugh at her immature anger and shake my head.
"Of course not," I whisper in her ear before kissing her neck. I hear her giggle into my shirt before I pull away. "What do you think of my Reaping clothes?"
Cat accesses my maroon dress shirt and black pants. "I think it would be better if you shirt was off," she says with a playful smile. "You can't keep hiding those abs."
"You're right, they are perfect, but I don't think the peacekeepers would appreciate the new tribute being half-naked," I admit.
Cat gives a stifling, somewhat confuse laugh. "What?" I must not have told her my intents for this year. The girl didn't train with me and my twin, Lace.
"I didn't you hear? I am volunteering this year," I say and start to walk on to the street, Cat follows close behind, more confused than ever.
"But why?" she asks in a whining voice.
"I need to show the Capitol who is the best," I tell her. By the look on her face, she is more disappointed than thrilled. "Don't worry, babe. When I win, you can hang-out in Victor's Village any day, any time."
"What if you don't win?" Cat sneers. Her insult stops me in my tracks. I almost forgot how persistent she was. She is worse than my ex-girlfriend.
"I'm going to win, but I won't have you to thank for it, I see." I give her a look of disgust. "Good luck sleeping around here in District 1 now and after I return. We are over as friends." I leave her standing in the road, looking about ready to cry. I have been known to do that with girls. Not like I care about Cat anymore. She didn't compare to most of the girls in District 1.
I finish stomping my way to the square to join with the rest of the District 1 seventeen year olds. I see Cat join at some point, but I don't even give her a cruel glance. I find Seas, another one of my friends, to talk to.
"Looking good, Marco," Seas says as she evaluates me. Seas has always been my bolder friend, but she can always deal out the compliments. She runs a hand through my straight blonde hair and smiles. "I heard what happened with Cat. You know I'm there for you, right?"
"Why wouldn't you be," I say with a smile. At the mention of Cat, I subtly look around the crowd for her again. I find her and she is shamelessly flirting with another, less attractive guy. For a brief second, she locks eyes with me. She acts like she didn't and goes straight back to her new boy. Typical.
The mayor taps on the microphone to the get everyone's attention. He is a plump man with thinning hair and a point of ridicule for the younger District 1 citizens. He is always proud to be representing District 1. He makes the History and Victor List go as briefly as possible. Soon, our Capitol announcer, Topsy graces the stage.
"Hello District 1!" The over eager Capitol escort trills her way through a speech focusing mainly on herself before getting to the girls' tribute bowl. "Your female tribute is…Cat Maylor!"
I nearly choke on my own laugh as I watch Cat climb the stage, looking scared, but thrilled at the same time. Of course, I know she won't be up there for long. Someone is bound to volunteer.
As if on cue, a loud voice announces itself. "I volunteer!" The crowd desperately searches for the new tribute. A blonde girl emerges from my section and mounts the stage. I know that blonde, curly hair. It is Bliss Honeycutt.
"And what is your name?" Topsy inquires, not looking at Bliss, but at the cameras. She ignores the disappointed Cat leaving the stage, but give her a large smile with my perfectly straight teeth. Cat keeps her head down in shame and returns to her boy who is already flirting with someone else.
"I'm Bliss Honeycutt," she says, no smile just a look of determination.
"Congratulations Bliss!" Topsy yells over the large applause. Topsy quickly moves on to the next bowl before people completely ignore her. "Our male tribute is…"
"I volunteer!" Topsy doesn't even read the name before I start walking to the stage. Whistles follow me as I take my place next to Bliss. To my delight, her eyes are wide and her look of determination is wiped clean.
"And you…"
"Marco von Erich," I announce to the crowd who continue to cheer me, mostly the women. Topsy desperately steps in front of me to stop the cheering.
"Congratulations Marco! Now, back to the mayor," Topsy screams over the huge applause. I smile and wave to my audience. This is all just as I had planned. Well, not exactly. The only thing that makes it better is the frightened and horrified look on my ex-girlfriend's face. I guess Bliss still hasn't forgiven me for cheating on her. Oh well.
District 2: Benevolence Valencia's POV
The arrow races past my ear, hitting the target dead on. No, not dead on. It went a few centimeters to the left. I will have to fix that when I begin the three day training for the Games. Maybe if I tilt my bow a few…
"Ben! What are you doing?" It is my sister, Jana. I can tell already she is extra annoyed today. This was the last year she could get into the Games, but she lost to Anna Sinclair. The fact that she lost was bad enough, but to Anna Sinclair…that was a travesty in her eyes. I will never tell Jana that her knife throwing skills are mediocre at best and she has to fix the way she holds to knife or else the trajectory is a total mess. That would be a real travesty.
"I was working on my accuracy. It seems that my arrow leans to far…" By the look Jana is giving me, I can tell she doesn't want to hear it. Jana is still pissed off that I won the trail, meaning I would be volunteering. It is not because she loves me. I hope she does, but it is unlikely. She is angry because I have only been working at it for three years. At fifteen, I am the youngest to ever win the trial. Jana is eighteen. It is not hard math.
"We need to go," she snaps. "Get dressed." With that, she storms away. Sometimes, I hate knowing we are related. She shows most of the many traits I hate in people. She is arrogant over abilities she doesn't have and absolutely brainless. Since she is my sister, I have to acknowledge her existence.
I shoot one more arrow at my target, but this time in lazy anger. It is in the red circle, but just barely. I throw my weapons to the ground and walk towards the boys' locker rooms. This is what happens when you associated with people, they throw you off.
I grab my clothes out of my locker and throw them on without care. Appearances are for people who are shallow. I walk into the tiny bathroom and glance in the grim covered mirror. My forehead still shows signs of acne that will not go away. My pin straight, ash blonde hair does nothing to cover it up. My clothes make my look skinnier than usual and my glasses aren't staying on my face. But I am still me.
I walk back into the archery training room to find an impatient Jana and my younger sister Marcella waiting. "It's about time," Jana sneers at me as I join them. Marcella nods along with her, but does not say anything.
"Well, you can't expect a person…" Jana gives me another scowl and Marcella rolls her eyes at me. I don't bother finishing my sentence again and follow the two out of the Training Center.
I expected my father to be waiting, but he is nowhere to be found. I think about asking Jana where he is, but I actually don't want to know. I just find it strange. My father and I are less than friends. Our whole relationship is based on training. Who has been training well, who hasn't, how my aim is, and so on. When I first started training, I liked all the attention he gave me. After about six months though, it became unbearable. He was too involved for my taste, too interested. It drove me insane.
I wish I could go back to the point where he ignored me. That was when Felix still kind of trained. That was just a wasted of my father's time. I wish he was more like my mother, unattached, but unstrained.
I know my father breed me to be a victor and I will be one. But I'm doing it for me, not for him.
Antonia Sinclair's POV
Win.
It is the word and it will always be the word. It doesn't matter what I have to do or how I have to do it. Completing the meaning of the word is everything to me.
People wouldn't think that. Everyone here is District 2 thinks they know me or at least half of me. Some see me as an everyday, hard-working District 2 girl. Others see me as a bitch that needs to get out of their way. People in District 2 think they know everything.
Still, they do know how to win.
Every time I look in the mirror, I see a winner. How many can honestly say they feel that way? It doesn't matter that I am not the prettiest, smartest, or any mix of qualities marked "good". I have a quality that outshines all the qualities. The determination to win.
Now, standing in the middle of the eighteen year olds for the Reaping, I know it is my time to win. Who cares if my District partner is a little boy who does not know how to talk the talk? If he can shoot a bow and arrow half as good as I can wield a sword, he is just fine. It is not like he is going to win or anything.
"You ready?" my only friend, Ares, asks. His concern is a bit shocking to say the least. He is not one to care about the Games unless it is about how wrong they are. He should have been born in 12. However, he is a good enough friend, one who doesn't question my intentions or my personality.
"Of course," I say, unflinching. The question does not even have to process through my mind for an answer to come out. I was ready the day I was born. It is not about being ready. It is about playing the game and finishing victorious.
The mayor approaches the microphone, diving right into the History and Victor List. The last Victor, Season Vitale, catches my eye. When she had first won, I considered her my hero. She had taken down her enemy, not afraid of stabbing her in the back to do it. Now, seeing her half-drunk with a baby in one arm, I am disgusted. She is no victor. I will make a far better model for District 2 than she does now.
Our District escort approaches the microphone. Like the rest of District 2, she accepts us to win. She does not go into a long speech regarding her life and is at the bowl for the female tributes. I yank at the ponytail holding my platinum blonde hair in anticipation. In a matter of moments, I will become the new Hunger Games female tribute for District 2.
"Our new tribute is…Felicity Peregrine!" I watch as the younger girl mounts the stage. Her eyes are flooding with tears and her hands are twitching uncontrollably. Felicity Peregrine is quiet famous here in District 2 and not for good reasons. Not only did her brother die in the 76th Games, she also is labeled to be insane. The whole family is a disgrace to District 2.
"I volunteer!" I stroll out of the eighteen area, my face full of pride I'm sure. I walk up the stage and pass the Peregrine girl. I hear her running frantically back down the stairs as I reach my position on the stage.
"Well, congratulations. What is your name?" the escort asks, unfazed by everything. She expected volunteers by now.
"I'm Anna Sinclair," I say with a boastful smile. Everyone knows I won the trails and everyone knows I am the best. That is why I get a huge round of applause.
"Time for the boy tribute!" The escort pulls a name out the boys' bowl. "Hadrin Kraigski!" A pudgy, short-haired thirteen year old boy begins to climb up the stage. I impatiently wait for the real boy to step up. He better.
"I volunteer!" The voice rings loud and clear across the crowd. I hear the whispers as everyone watches the famous "prodigy" child walk up the stage. I am not surprised he is some gawky, acne plagued fifteen year old. No one ever gushed over his looks. He joins me on the stage and we both watch as the original boy runs back to his friends.
"What is your name?"
"Ben Valencia," he says somewhat sheepishly. It was either that or he said it in an uncaring way. The boy did seem socially awkward. He accepts his applause, but not with any pride. The boy was not winner.
"Congratulations to our new tributes!" The crowd gives another energetic cheer of support for us. I try to find my father in the crowd, the reason I am so talented. But I find someone else instead. Her eyes lock on mine and she gives me one of her wicked grins. The kind that can even scare Peacekeepers. It is what she does.
Most children love their mothers more than anything. Mine makes me want to scream. So I do.
District 3: Shiloh McCarthy's POV
I am blissfully happy that it is only my brother and me. It is horribly selfish thing to think, for I had more people in my life than just him. It is just that something in me thinks it is so right the way we are right now.
Why shouldn't it be just him and me? We have suffered enough and now we have found each other. My parents left us when they blew up in a factory accident. My older sister died in the 73rd Games. Even my best friend, Belinda is gone. She was killed in the Games as well. They left, we didn't. Why should I wish they returned?
Ideas like this plague me at night. That is when my condition is at its worst. That is what my brother likes to call it, my condition. Children at school taunt me for my obsessive crying and screaming or for my constant gleefulness. Miles says they don't understand. But at night, I sometimes think they really do. At night, everything is worse.
"Are you ready for this year?" Miles mutters to me. We are walking hand in hand to the Reaping, as usual. This is Miles last year to be reaped. I think that scares him, having me be all alone for the next four years after. It frightens me a bit too.
"Of course," I chirp happily. I don't know why, but Reaping day also fills me with a strange joy. After it is all over, it is just me and Miles again. That is the way I like it.
"Just another year to watch two kids get slaughtered by Careers," he mumbles. I know he doesn't mean for me to hear it, but I do. A sudden wave of depression rushes over me. I try to fight it, but it tumbles over me like a tidal wave. The tears come with it.
"Why would you say that?" I scream through tears. I see his face turn to worry. He hates when he does this to me. But it is his fault. Everything is always his fault.
I run before he can comfort me. This is the second year this has happened. It happened at the 76th as well. Miles can get carried away with what he says. He forgets I have the feeling I have sometimes.
I run into my section before he can catch up to me. The kids automatically back away when they see I am in a mood. They hate me, everyone hates me. It makes me sick.
The mayor begins his long speech, but I ignore it entirely. I ignore the Victor list and our escort introducing herself. I block it all out. I don't want to know who will be killed this year. But I hear it anyway.
The name is so familiar, it makes me feel faint. I am surprised when a sudden anger comes over me. I want to scream louder than I ever have. Why did they have to call my name?
Miles McCarthy's POV
No. this could not be happening. This has to be some sick dream that I can pinch myself out of. I desperately try to do so. All I get is a throbbing pain on my arm and bloody slits as well. It is actually happening.
How can the world be so cruel to just one person? And how can that one person be me? Haven't I suffered enough? Not only did I watch one of my best friends go in, I also watched a sister. Now, another is following the pattern I have set. The world hates me and wants me loved ones ot die.
I watch as my baby sister Shiloh steps up on to the stage. She looks so vulnerable, her face stained with tears. I can see the conflicted pain in her eyes as the audience applauds her. Not one person steps up to volunteer. I want to scream for someone to do something. No one will, these people only really care about themselves. That is how the Games work.
I only see her, even as our escort is announcing a new name. She will not last a day in that cruel arena. They will rip her to shreds. I love her, but she can't do this. Shiloh is too young. The Careers won't even think of that as the slit her to pieces. My sister.
"Any volunteers?" That cruel question has haunted me every time. I know I couldn't when Transdetta was reaped and I couldn't when Belinda was. All because I had to car for…
"I volunteer!" It is more of a desperate plea than an announcement. I take no pride in going into slaughter children. I take pride in the fact that I have outsmarted the odds this time.
I will save my baby sister.
"My name is Miles McCarthy and I volunteer for the Hunger Games." This time will be different. This time, I will save the one person I love.
District 4: Kantix Kosmelt's POV
Those who think the beaches of District 4 are beautiful are wrong. The shores have little sand, only rocks that cause severe discomfort to people's feet. The water itself is full of large fishing vessels or crabbing boats. District 4 is not a perfect landscape. However, the beach does have one hidden the treasure and that treasure is seashells.
My parents have been running a trinket shop in District 4 since I was born. People in District 4 are suckers for little gifts for loved ones. Maybe it is because most can afford it. Our District is not the richest per say, but more people here have money to spend. I am in charge of collecting the shells for my family's shop.
People would not guess I spend so much time collecting little kick-knacks. I am known for my love of training and goal of winning the Games. I more infamously know for my thick sarcasm. The reason I spend all this time doing pointless collecting is that everyone needs an escaping from work and also…
"Kantix!" There is reason number two. I turn with a smile to greet my best friend, Kalela. She is the person who turned me on to collecting. I met her on this very beach when I was seven and had just started training. She didn't have to train, but she listened to me going on and on about how hard it is. She also knows how much I love it. Kalela taught me to escape from training by finding peace with the beach.
I give her hug and note her nice clothes. "What is the occasion?" I ask, pretending to not know what day is today.
"I wonder," she says with a smile. She is the only one who can joke along with me. Others like to laugh and listen, but they only do that. Her sense of humor is one of the things I like about her.
"I thought we were meeting here fifteen minute ago," I say. I don't care that she is late. I just care that she is here. Still, Kalela's stories tend to be interesting due to her habit to over exaggerate everything.
"I ran into Camille Booth and her new boyfriend," Kalela says with an eye roll. To add to her point, she kicks the gravely sand at her feet.
"Yes, isn't she a dear," I say sarcastically. If I am most known for sarcasm, Camille is most known for bitchiness. It has been said that she can make anyone cry. I have seen her victims, but I haven't been one of them. However, I happen to know she refers to me as that boy with the messed up hand. Not the most insulting thing she can come up with, but I am pretty sensitive about my hand.
"I can't believe she has a new boyfriend already. It must be a record for her," Kalela say with a laugh.
"No, I think it is a record for how long she kept the last one. A whole two and half days!" Kalela is laughing even harder now. I love hearing her laugh, so musical and gentle.
"I kind of hope she gets chosen. Then we can collect seashells with peace and not have to watch her and her new boyfriend's boat go by," she jokes. I don't laugh at this one though. "What's wrong?" she asks when she sees I have become sober in mood.
I immediately snap out of the mood to answer. "Uh, I was just thinking it wouldn't really be the same without her doing that, you know?" I hate lying to Kalela and horrified over how easy it was. But I have to lie. It would break her heart know I am volunteering for the Games this year.
I hope she isn't too angry when she finds out. But I have to go, I have to win. When she visits me before I go, I hope we can just talk and not argue or apologize. Love means never having to say you're sorry, right?
Camille Booth's POV
I step around the puddle of mud before my new black kitten heels get muddy. As I do, I not my own reflection in a store window and turn to me group of followers. "Rate me."
The five girls in my group, all blonde and not as pretty as me, look at each other in confusion. There is a price to pay for picking girls stupider than you. One of my followers, bright eyed Braze, steps forward. "We are not entirely sure what you mean," she says sheepishly, cowering back as soon as she finishes.
I give a dramatic sigh before explaining. "I mean rate my outfit on a scale of one through ten, ten being the best." The girls bobble their heads in sync when I finish.
"Ten," they all says in unison, too scared to go lower. However, the score is completely true. My red dress, black jacket, and pearl necklaces compliment my figure nicely. My light blonde hair, far nicer than those of my followers, is perfectly curled. I believe Reaping day to be a holiday. It is a day to look even more gorgeous as usual.
"Let's go," I snap to them. They all start walking a few steps behind me like they should. I like this group. Maybe they will last another day. As we walk, I decide I should strike up another conversation, about me of course. "It was really hard breaking up with Crason," I admit.
The girls all give shouts of sympathy and good natured "you deserve better!" sayings. I eat them up "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me. You should have seen his face." Actually his face was quiet comical, being so tearful. Breaking up with him was funniest break-up in a long while.
We reach the square as the last of the kids were filing into their spots. The six of us head into the seventeen area. The crowd parts as we do. That is the amazing thing about growing up as one of the richest girls in District 4. Everyone loves, wants, and fears you.
At one point or another, my new boyfriend comes to stand next to me. He should be good for a few boat rides, free gifts, and more. He won't last though. He is not as cute as Crason and not as smart. I don't even remember his name.
Our mayor is at the microphone and delivering his long drawl about the History of Panem and our victors. That always takes awhile. Finally, our ditzy escort is delivering a speech of her own regarding her Capitol life. Finally, she is at the bowl.
I never want to be reaped, but I don't have to be scared of it. This is the second to last year for me and the odds are in my favor, so I don't have to worry. It is not like I couldn't fight it out with all the weak tributes the weaker Districts throw in and seduce the Career boys. I just don't feel like going through the trouble.
"Camille Booth!"
A chorus of gasps envelope me. My groupies are staring at me in horror and the rest of the crowd is murmur things to one another. So much of for not having to worry.
I don't stay where I am. Instead, I storm up on to the stage and go straight to the District escort. "There must be some mistake," I hiss so that no one would hear.
The District escort gives tiny laugh, but I see she is as confused as everyone else. "Is Camille Booth not your name?" she jokes loud enough for everyone to hear. I wrinkle my nose in disgust at her and stomp my foot.
"You must understand, I am not going into the arena!" It is an immature whine, I know, but I am not taking this lying down. I will fight anyone on this.
The District escort takes this as a good way to ask for volunteers. "Does anyone want to volunteer to replace Ms. Booth?" Only now is the crowd dead silent. Not one person raises their hand for me.
"You bitches," I sneer at my group of followers. They only look at the ground, their faces flushing from embarrassment. I can't not believe this.
"Okay, let's get on to our boys," the lady says, desperate to move away from me. She reaches her hand into the bowl and pulls out a slip. "Hadwell Leeson!"
A short, twelve year old boy emerges and I feel my sanity snap. Not only do I have to go through all the trouble of winning the Games, but I have to do it with the help of him. As I said before, this is unbelievable!
"I volunteer!" The boy from twelve isn't even at the stage yet when a boy from the seventeen roped section steps out. I vaguely recognize the boy. He is from the family that own that lame trinket shop. He also is the boy with the missing index finger. Wonderful, I am going into the Games with a cripple.
Why is this happening to me? I thought you really could get everything you want.
…
I hope I did your characters justice. If there are any problems, tell me. I decided not to give away all of back stories for the characters. This time around, I do more flashbacks and give pieces of information here and there.
Reviews are loved. Peace, Love, and All That Jazz.
-Emma