Bold - Joseph
Bold and Italic - Ratty

A/N Hello! Yes, not slow updates. To be perfectly honest, the reason why the previous chapter was up so quickly was because we need to get a feel of the characters before we decide who lives and who dies.

A/N And that is going to be a tough decision, indeed.

Chapter Two

Shantelle Kelvin, District Five Female Citizen, 13 Years Old

Six days before the Reaping.

I lean against the front window of my family's shop; my eyes scanning the dark Town Square as I inwardly yawn. We've closed a good 15 minutes ago, and I am supposed to mop up the floor. But I'm tired. So tired that my eyelids are closing against my will and it feels as if my legs will melt away any second now. But I'm not surprised. Of course I'm tired if I spent 7 hours in school, 4 in my part time job, and another 3 helping in my parent's store.

Our shop is fairly popular. We make good profit every day. If I told someone how beneficial this business was, they would never guess what we sell. Traditional soaps aren't sought in our district, but our soap is way different. The key is the surprise component we add without the knowing of the Peacekeepers. If they knew we were using morphling for soap making, they'd eliminate us for good... In reality, I'm not supposed to know about this little secret. My parents try to hide it from me, but to no avail. I'm no fool.

I stretch my back, and force myself to continue with my work; carefully avoiding the shelves with the precious product and ignoring the characteristic smell of the drug. I don't even notice when someone hurriedly approaches me.

„Hey, Shanty!" I jump in surprise at the pipping voice, and spin around. My sister, Juliette, is standing there in all her prime; a cattish grin on her face. „You did such a great job today. The floor is shining like never before!"

At a loss of words, I gape at her. I don't even know when was the last time she said something like that to me. Suddenly, there is a warm feeling in my heart, and I find myself smiling at her.

„Th-thanks."

„Oh, you're welcome!" Juliette tilts her head to the side giving me her renowned grin; the warmth from my heart making it's way to my cheeks. „Say, Shanty... Since you did an awesome job moping the floor, would you mind doing my shift too tomorrow, and the day after that?" I recoil at her sudden quest. „And maybe the whole week? You're not too tired, are you?" she asks, sneering at me. Not waiting for my answer, she turns around and dissapeares around the counter with a brief ‚You're the best!'.

I stand there the warm feeling long gone, being replaced by a cold numbness. I still can't belive my sister's actions. Did I understand her correctly? Doing her work? But that means double shifts for me in our store! And the additional hours in my part time job...

I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I'm tired as it is. I don't know what I'm going to do... I sigh, and wipe away the salty liquid from my face.

I force myself to turn back to my current task. My hands are trembeling as I put away the mop in the far corner of the store, and make sure that the windows and the front door are closed. Then, I make my way to the back. Stepping out in the cold night, a shiver runs down my spine. I quickly lock the backdoor.

Looking around the darkness, I thank whoever is up there, that my home is only a couple of yards away. I don't want to spend any more time then nececarry out here, so I hurry home.

The next morning I wake with a start. My eyes are hurting, and my head is spinning like crazy. With a sigh, I sit up on my bed and look around the room. Juliette's bed is empty. I'm positive that she is in the kitchen eating breakfast.

I yawn as I dress in my usual clothing.

„Whaaa!"

Instinctively, I turn my head towards m door. The sound of my baby brother crying makes me smile for some reason.

I open the door, and make my way to our small kitchen. Juliette is hovering over her omlette; my father, Ranger, is standing in front of our rusty stove, most likely preparing my breakfast; and my mother is simply sitting by the table, holding my baby brother in her hands, but not making any attempt at calming him down. I shake my head.

„Good morning," I say softly. I hear my father mumble something, but other then that, no one says a word.

I walk up to my mother and pat her on the shoulder. She looks up at me, her light brown eyes blank. I press my lips in a thin line. She is under the effect of the morphling... Carefully, I take the little package from her hands.

„Sh... It's okay, Jazz. I'm here." I rock him softly and start humming a lullaby. He is asleep in a matter of minutes.

„You're amazing, Shantelle."

I look up at my dad, a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. I nod, and hand Jazz back to mom. Even though she is addicted to that stupid drug, she still deserves to hold her own child.

I hear Juliette cough behind me meaningfully.

„Wonderful." She rolles her eyes. „Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to meet up with my friends before school." Juliette stands up, leaving her dirty dish on the table and leaves the kitchen. „Oh, and Shanty! Don't forget to do my shift too today, 'kay?" We only hear the front door close, and she is gone.

I glup. I almost forgot about that.

„That girl..." My father sighs, and returns his attention to my breakfast.

I'll need to eat well today. Otherwise I won't be able to go through with so much work...

Dash Davidson, District Six Male Citizen, 18 Years Old

Five days before the Reaping

I tighten the last nut, making sure that the pieces are fastened securely. I sigh and smile, knowing that I'm done for the day. And not any day. Today is payday. I hear footsteps behind me. I immediately whirl around and tighten my grip on the wrench.

"Relax, it's just me," my boss says. I take a deep breath. He looks over the car I've been working on. "This is just what I expected, high quality work. The mayor will be pleased. Good job."

I nod and try to speak. "T-thank you. Thank you sir," I say, the words coming out too quickly. Curses. He smiles.

"Can you come back tomorrow and give it a good painting?"

"Y-yes sir."

"Good. Now how much do I owe you… 50 dollars sound about right?"

"Fifty?! I mean, sir, I-, I-, It's usually 40."

"You deserve more. I don't trust anyone other than you working on these projects, and you do an amazing job."

"Really!? Thank you, thank you, sir!"

"It's no problem. You earned it. Oh, I almost forgot. My wife made some bread and wanted me to give it to your mother. Think of it as an extra Reaping bonus."

"Thank you, sir."

"By the way, how is she doing?"

"She's doing a lot better, sir. She doesn't cough blood anymore, and the fever's gone too."

"Good, good. Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye, sir. Thank you so much!"

I put the few tools I own, put them in my pocket, and leave the place with a big smile on my face. Fifty dollars! Fifty! I hear the clank of metal against metal. I spin around, my hand reaching for the wrench. A black cat jumps out of a pile of scrap metal. Whew.

I chuckle lightly. What was I thinking? This is the decent part of District Six. Nothing happens here. I hear another clank, and I turn around. That cat again.

As I walk through the market, I look at all the vendors. We could use some vegetables; we haven't had any fresh ones in weeks. I stop at the cheapest one and buy a bunch with three precious dollars.

Soon, I smell the familiar smell of burning rubber. This is the District Six that everyone knows. Most of the District doesn't have street fights, morphling dealers, and criminals, but this is the section that we're known for. I take the money and hide it behind my belt, and I cover the food with my jacket. There always might be robbers lurking behind the corner ready to attack me.

A footstep startles me, and I quickly look in the direction of the noise. I'm relieved to see Old Harley, the beggar that always wanders the slums, looking for a bite to eat. Maybe I could give him a bit of bread.

All of a sudden, I hear the sound of running, coming from behind me. I whirl around to see two dusty, dirty men, coming down on me. One of them has a knife. I don't have time to think before I'm running as fast as I can. I can't go straight home, because I can't let them see where I live, but I also can't run forever. I weave through narrow alleys and run-down buildings and duck behind a pile of old tires.

I hear the two men coming down my alley. After they go by, I run in the other direction and hope they haven't noticed. Shouts from behind tell me that me that they're still on my trail. I crane my head to see, but when I turn back around, I realize that I'm faced by three solid walls on each side. I'm in a dead end. I turn around to see that the two are rapidly approaching. I reach into the inside of my heavy coat and pull out my wrench. If I can't run, then I'll have to fight.

When they get close enough, I lash out, swinging blindly at the armed bandit. The other kicks me in the groin, and I almost double over from the pain. I can't stop now. I have to keep going. I keep swinging, and soon, I feel the sound of metal against metal. The knife goes flying out of his hand. My wrench lands a hit on something, and on of the men collapses, unconscious.

The remaining one looks around and sees that the bread and vegetables have landed on the ground nearby. He runs for them, scoops them up, and begins to run. No. I can't let him take the fruit of MY hard work. I run, sprinting as fast as I can, and tackle him. He fall to the ground, and I swing again and again. When he stops struggling, I look down at him. His nose is broken, and blood is gushing from it. Some of his teeth have been knocked out. I pick up the now-compacted bread and the dirty ragged lettuce. I'll have to make do with it. Wasting food is not something I can afford.

I stand up and start going home.