Harper Foulard, District Twelve Female (Age 12)

I rummaged through the garbage can. It was mostly dirty cloth or general waste, yet sometimes I'd find something okay to eat. Or something that would taste old and gross, but wasn't entirely rotten. It wasn't like I had many options.

My mom had me when she was sixteen and my deadbeat dad abandoned us on the streets. We would've both died if it wasn't for Gretchen, a sweet old woman who took us in. I ended up fine but my mom died soon after. She was just too sick.

Gretchen raised me most of my childhood until she died two years ago and I was left all by myself. I missed her more than I'd like to admit.

I'd seen the District Twelve orphanages and I knew to stay far away. The kids in there looked drained of life without anything they could do about it, and I'd never want that to happen to me.

I finally found a half-eaten apple in the junk. It wasn't even dirty. I bit into the fruit and it tasted like cardboard but I didn't care, I hadn't ate anything all morning. I devoured it until there was nothing left, not even a seed. Even then, my stomach wouldn't be quiet. It almost hurt.

I'd have to take a risk and attempt to steal something. Maybe everyone would be too distracted by the Reapings later today to notice me.

My name was in the bowl only twice. The tesserae I collected had been enough to sustain me for about two weeks. I didn't want to take any more because I was too terrified of increasing my odds. What chance would a starving twelve year old stand?

I ran away from the trash can and through the main street. I was small and nimble enough to get around without anyone looking at me. My feet lightly pattered against the uneven stone road and I wove my way between groups of people, keeping an eye out for open pockets or exposed valuables.

I spotted a boy who looked around fifteen with open, loose pockets. I followed him and quickened my pace as I ran through the Reaping Day crowd until I was right behind him.

I slipped my hand in his pocket and felt a coin. Score. I ran off before he would notice anything.

I decided not to do any more pick-pocketing because I only ever stole when I had no other options. It was mostly the fear of getting caught that stopped me, not moral reasons.

Near the edge of the District, there were two shops with a tiny alleyway between them. Small enough to go unnoticed and keep Peacekeepers out, but not too small for a malnourished twelve-year-old to pass through.

I slid between the buildings, stood with my back facing the left wall, and inched my way forward until I was able to turn and walk. A flaw in its construction made the alley thinner on the outsides, so it was comfortable enough having a shelter in the middle.

"Did you find any food?" Dottie asked, resting her head on a raggedy old pillow. "I'm hungry."

"I found half an apple but ate it, I was starving." She began to groan. "But- I stole a coin." I showed her the piece of gold I stole from the boy.

"Ooh." She admired it. "Whatcha gonna get?"

"Food for later." I told her, putting the coin in my (well concealed) pocket. "After the Reapings, though."

"Fine." Dottie sat up. "Patch is out pick-pocketing. Maybe she'll find something too."

"Maybe." I was thinking about the Reapings. My name was only in the bowl twice but it was far from uncommon for a twelve-year-old to get picked. Luckily for them, Patch and Dottie were both eleven so they didn't have to worry.

You could say I didn't have to worry either, but that didn't stop me from doing it anyway.

Emerson Sayne, District Twelve Male (Age 14)

I threw the rock at the window as hard as I could, smiling when I heard the familiar sound of shattering glass. It felt good to ruin something.

"Shit, nice one, Em." Parker said as he picked up a pebble. "I'm gonna get it through the roof."

"No you won't." Brandon scoffed. "It's probably too well made. Try for the other window."

Would this make you get out of the stupid mines and treat me like your son for once, Dad?

"Fine." Parker groaned. He missed the window and I smirked.

"Nice try. You did your best."

"Oh fuck off, bitch boy." Parker growled. "You just had a lucky shot."

Brandon rolled his eyes at the two of us. "You're both idiots."

We were well concealed by the evergreens around the merchant area so there wasn't a need to worry. Most people were in the square for the Reaping anyways. The Peacekeepers were preoccupied with more important things than a little bit of damage on a house.

"Watch this." I picked up one of the bigger rocks and launched it at the wooden roof. It flew and flew and-

CRASH!

The roof caved in and left a big, gaping hole. I gasped. I didn't think it would work. The three of us stared at it in shocked silence.

"That was fucking amazing!" Brandon laughed. "Some rich asshole's gonna get it!"

"HEY!" A Peacekeeper was pointing at us and walking up the hill we were on top of. Fuck. Not again. "Stay right there." He yelled. We weren't going to do that.

I darted away. Down the hill and around the merchant neighborhood, moving as quickly as I could, not looking back.

I made it to the main street and took a moment to catch my breath. Parker and Brandon weren't in sight. They might've been caught by the Peacekeeper or might have gone a different way.

It didn't matter to me much. I had so many friends who'd gotten in bad trouble and left, I had lost all feeling when it came to losing people. They were all interchangeable.

The center of the District was crowded with everyone heading to the Reapings so I just followed them. My dad probably didn't even care about the Reapings, he was always in the goddamn mines. I wasn't going to get picked but it's a tradition to wish your kids luck and give them a token.

Why the hell did it matter? I never saw him at all. Why should I care what he does?

Harper Foulard, District Twelve Female (Age 12)

District Twelve only had one Victor out of all nineteen. Her name was Azalea Monsoon and she only won because she was used to surviving in rough circumstances. The arena that year was a forest with no food or water at the Cornucopia, so the tributes had to make do. Most of them starved or died from dehydration.

I remembered watching those Games with Gretchen on the tiny television in her home. I was old enough to understand them at nine, and when she was crowned Victor the District erupted in celebration.

It was a little glimmer of hope for the least fortunate of Panem. We'd only lost one kid that year, and Twelve had finally made a name for itself. Right after her Victory Tour ended, however, the flames settled back into ashes and the ashes into dust. And with the next Reapings the dust blew away into nothing.

Lillian Hypnos, our escort, seemed irritated at something. I didn't know what, since she was a Capitol citizen who had everything she could ever need. She was glaring out at us with her round, unnatural purple eyes.

People from the Capitol didn't look like people, and next to District Twelve they were like aliens.

"Welcome! Welcome!" Her voice sounded cheerful but her face looked dead serious. "Today is Reaping day, so we're going to pick two tributes for the Twentieth Annual Hunger Games. Of course, you all know why we're here." She forced a laugh.

The crowd was silent. There wasn't really any tolerance for anyone like her in the poorest District.

Lillian strode over to the first bowl, the town hall towering behind her.

"Ladies first."

My name was in there twice. I turned the gold coin over and admired it some more. I'd hopefully spend it on a good loaf of bread or even a pastry later. My mouth was watering at the thought.

Lillian chose a slip at the top, until putting it back and grabbing another.

"Harper Foulard!"

I froze. It was the first time I've heard my full name in years and it meant I was being called to my death, oh God.

"Miss Foulard?"

I choked back tears and felt a burning sensation in my eyes. All the girls in my group were looking around, unsure who Harper Foulard was exactly. I raised my hand, shaking, and wove my way through the crowd just like I did this morning.

All eyes were on me as I climbed the stairs and felt a ringing noise in my ears.

Lillian smiled at me, exposing her pearly, sharp white teeth. "Anything to say, dear?"

I scowled at her. She was why I was here and why I would die and I felt a tear roll down my cheek. "Just pick the guy and get on with it." My voice was scratchy and fear overtook me.

I'd spent my whole life evading death and it was all for nothing.

Emerson Sayne, District Twelve Male (Age 14)

I literally could not care less about the Games and I just wanted to get home and forget what happened with the Peacekeepers earlier. My name was in there just three times, since I flat out refused to take any tesserae. So it wasn't like I'd get Reaped. Or I'd care about little miss "pick-the-guy-and-get-on-with-it". What a brat.

Lillian shuffled around all the papers for such a long time it felt like forever. Dumb bitch, get on with it already.

I looked around at the other fourteen-year-old boys. Some were shaking and one was crying. What a bunch of pussies. I bet now they regretted putting their names in a shit ton of times. This was why nobody took District Twelve seriously.

"Emerson Sayne!"

Fuck. Fuck. Shit. My name was in there three fucking times and of course they chose me over one of the eighteen year olds who could possibly win. Fuck. Someone will volunteer, right?

The kids around me all took a couple of steps back, probably not wanting to be mistaken for me. Again, what a bunch of pussies. I stormed past them and stomped up to the podium, glaring at the crowd.

At least my dad will regret ignoring me.

"Hello, you must be Emerson! Got anything to say to your District?"

Fuck them all. Fuck them all. A bunch of pathetic cowards.

"No." I clenched my fists and frowned at Lillian, whose smile didn't even falter. "Not a fucking word."

AN: These two were fun to write. Emerson reminds me of actual fourteen year old guys I know, so props to his creator! His part probably also contained the highest frequency of swearing I've ever written, and I swear like a sailor. I'm probably going to use his edginess as comic relief. Also, sorry this chapter was kinda short. Thanks to platypus27 and Elim9 for submitting them. I still have a few slots open including two Careers so submit! Questions:

1. Opinions of Harper and Emerson?

2. How long do you think they'll last in the arena?

Thank you so much for reading and thanks for all the reviews!