Cat- ExtraordinaryAmy

Kevlar- h.g . fanboyyy .03

Cat Oxnard

14

~You mess with the cat, you get the whiskers~

I awkwardly sit at the table, wanting to be anywhere but here. My mother and father are discussing something boring George and Elizabeth are fighting, and the twins never really talk to me much.

I sigh, bored and lean forward. "Cat!" My mother yells. "Elbows off."

I groan, typical. I'm not noticed until I do something wrong. Elizabeth and George snicker.

They're the perfect ones, the twins are the funny, clever ones, but I'm just.. there. I'm not smart and the only thing I'm really good at is bending my body into weird positions.

I'm weirdly flexible and I've exercised every day for years so I don't lose it when I get older. It's not ever going to get me money though so my parents don't care.

My family isn't what I'd call perfect. They love me, I think, but I'm often ignored, I'm okay now but when I was younger it really hurt, I remember instances of crying myself to sleep.

At the moment, I'm the only one in Reaping age. George is 19, Elizabeth is 20 and the twins are both 11. This means that I'm expected to treat this like a normal breakfast when though my stomach is twisting itself into knots.

I run my hand through my tangled red hair. It needs brushing but I can't be bothered. The beginnings of knots are forming but nothing to worry about. Once my hair is washed it will be easy to brush out.

Finally I am allowed to excuse myself and I walk into the bathroom. The water is cold but I quickly adjust. I rub soap into my hair and soon it is clean.

I braid into two plaits with pink ribbons. It is so red and thick that it doesn't really look wet unless you look closely.

I look into my closet and find my one dress. I normally wear skinny jeans with floaty tops. My dress is pink with a t shirt bodice and a layered, slightly floaty skirt. I don't know what my fascination with the colour pink is but I love it.

I slip on my slightly battered white pumps and smile at myself in the mirror. I look ok. Slightly childish, but ok.

I walk back into the l kitchen and say goodbye to everyone but they barely listen, just wave me off.

I leave the house in a huff, muttering every bad word I can think of.

I may be acting immature, but at least I didn't scream them at my parents.

Kevlar Clark

15

~Dude, I just wanna go home. I don't have some inspirational quote for you- I just wanna go home~

Everyone always talks about how horrible it must be to live in such a large family but I love it. I'm one of the middle of 6 children and I love how close I am to everybody. We'll share a common interest too: Music.

All of us play at least two instruments, although my speciality is trumpet. We kinda have a band, I play second trumpet with my Dad playing first. My mom plays Piano, Jackson, my oldest brother plays Alto sax, Jaeda, my sister, plays the Drums, Spool, my brother, plays Tenor sax, Weft, my 10 year old brother plays third Trumpet and my youngest brother Sean plays the Trombone.

My trumpet is literally my baby and my friends have joked about how possessive I am about it before. The only person I let even touch it are my Dad and sometimes Weft.

As you can guess, my family ain't exactly poor. We aren't extraordinarily rich but we make enough to buy all the instruments.

They aren't cheap either, no one really knows about the music shop in town, so the shop owner decided every sale counts and jacked the prices up big time.

Most of our money, from both our parents income, and the jobs me and Jackson do, go to maintaining the instruments, so our house is pretty modest. I share a room with Jackson and Spool, and Weft and Sean room together. Jaeda, being a girl, gets a room to herself but it's quite small, she can fit her bed and her desk but not much else.

Our music style is jazz, I grew up listening to crackly old recordings of pre Panam songs. No one knows how Dad got them, not Mom.

When I was four I learned basic piano but whilst I enjoyed it I wasn't the best and kept getting frustrated but when I got my trumpet I managed to pick it up kinda naturally. I'm not a prodigy or anything, but it comes easy to me.

I finish my practicing and smile. I did pretty well. I'm not as good as my dad by shy means but I'm better than Jackson, though that's because he prefers the saxophone mostly.

I check the time on my too big watch and swear, I must have lost track of the time and now I only have an hour to get changed and eat my lunch.

I make sure my short hair isn't sticking up in any places and put on a white t shirt and blue dress pants, paired with my good shoes.

In the kitchen, Spool and Jaeda, the only others in Reaping age, are already eating a fried potato each. A quick check shows several left, still warm. I guess they're for the others when they come down.

I pick up the smallest, knowing I don't have much time and walk over to the table. We eat in a comfortable silence, I eat faster than them so I finish around the same time.

The others won't have to get to the square until a bit later but we need our fingers pricked so we walk out of the door together. All terrified, but none wanting to admit it.

Cat Oxnard

I stand in the square nervously, I don't want to die! I want to live a happy life and get married and have 66 cats and 10 children!

I hate the idea this could be my last day in district 8.

Two of my friends, Andrea and Jaydlyn stand nearby and I feel the slightest bit comforted.

Soon, the Reaping is in full swing and after the speech, our escort walks over to the bowls. "Cat Oxnard!"

My knees almost buckle but somehow I manage to get onto the stage. The escort smiles at me, like I'm not about to die. She walks over and pulls out the boys name.

He walks up and we shake hands. We're civil now, but soon we'll be trying to vote each other out.

Kevlar Clark

I stand with Fabien, my best friend and kinda crush. I say kinda because I honestly have no idea about my sexuality and at this age I don't really care. All I know is that I think Fabian is hella cute.

I don't go weak at the knees around him, pretty good seeing as he's my best friend and all, but I struggle to look in his chocolate brown eyes.

"Cat Oxnard!"

A girl I don't recognise with bright red hair in two plaits comes to stand on the stage, looking like she could faint at any moment. She's small but not the kinda small that could be an advantage, just short.

"Kevlar Clark!"

Give me an instrument, any instrument and you could guarantee I'd be playing the funeral march right now.

Cat Oxnard

My family comes rushing in. "Goodbye Kitty." My father says, crying. "We love you."

One by one my family hugs me. I'm going to miss them.

Thistle, my best friend, comes running in next. "I'm gonna miss you Kitten." He tells me.

He calls me Kitten because A: I'm small for my age, the smallest of my friend group, and B: my name is Cat.

Maybe, when we were older, me and Thistle could have been something more.

I'll never know.

I have other friends, but my time is now up.

I'd give anything for this to be a sick nightmare but of course, this is reality.

It sucks.

Kevlar Clark

My whole family walks into the room, instantly making it crowded. Dad seems to be out of breath and holding something.

My trumpet.

He hands it to me carefully, making sure I don't drop it. "This is your token."

He says it as a statement, knowing there was nothing I'd rather have with me.

Except my family, and I'm pretty sure the Capitol doesn't allow humans as your token.

Fun fact (supplied by Moonlessgalaxy): Peanuts are an ingredient in dynamite.

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