Foxx's A/N: G'day mates! Hope you all enjoy this chapter that we've both equally worked on, hehe. Jolly good show, folks.
Subject's A/N: Hello readers! This is the second installment of the fic Foxx and I working together, Snev would be here, but she is currently MIA. This character was all Foxx's magic. Read! If you're wondering how we can update a story live from thousands of miles away, thank Google Documents. (And yes, I am a lovely purple pickle)
~SFSFSF~
Chapter 2 - Maia's Reaping
I smirked in delight at the thick, leather-bound wallet in my hand. The Peacekeeper never noticed my long fingers slip into his back pocket. How easy it is, to just take things like that. This wasn't my first theft, far from it. I've been managing to steal silently since I was six, now fourteen, when my father died of cancer. Funny how the Capitol can fix everything except the problems that ail their districts. It's not that it matters though, I hardly remember him. If he was worth anything, I would have more memories of the man who impregnated my mother.
"Maia," Jessamine's voice called out from behind me. I turned to face her, the smirk still cosily sitting on my face. "Did you do it?" I held up the wallet in response, widening my pride-filled smirk. She smirked back, grasping a gleaming pearl bracelet, obviously one of wealth. We high-fived, laughing. The Peacemakers passed by us, too high and mighty to pay any attention of us useless district teens.
"Where's Leela?" Jessamine asked, calling my mum by her first name, as usual.
I paused for a moment, thinking. "Pretty sure she's in the office, marking some of her students' stuff or something," I replied, not really caring where my single guardian was.
"But it's reaping day!" Jessamine squealed, her face pale with tension. The Reaping was always a tense time for her, seeing as how she lost her only brother to the brutal death sentence.
"We need the money, can't blame her," I said, shrugging it off. If mum wants to work, she works, that's fine with me.
It was a hot day, the air thick with humidity and suffocating tension. No one was ever relaxed on reaping day, especially in here in district seven. We've had a few Victors over the years, but only on the odd rare occasion. Most of the time, each tribute fell under death's kiss and never returned, sending our district into mourning.
As we made our way down the street heading towards town square, I noticed a group of adults talking in hushed voices by the jewelry store. I smirked, once again. For Jessamine and I both knew their topic of conversation. Only late last night did we shoplift a heap of goods. They were all oblivious to us. The adrenaline rush from being a thief is a thrill like no other; one that sends you on a pleasure-filled high.
Although they threw no suspicions our way, we quickly walked past, determined not to show any signs of guilt. Once around the corner, Jessamine and I burst into a fit of giggles. We were partners in crime and the closest of friends. I don't know where I would be in life without her. The reaping was just at the end of the street and the overflowing crowd was prominent, my sight focused on the pen of fourteen-year-olds to which we were headed. I hate large crowds in tight spaces, it makes me claustrophobic; one of the many reasons I hate the Hunger Games.
Our obese district escort, Nicolia Freel, elegantly helped herself to the podium. "Good morning, district seven, and welcome to a new year of the Hunger Games!" The crowd seemed to moan in unison, a collective sigh filling the air. Odd, even for my standards, I began giggling, amused at the ridiculous accent Nicolia portrayed. I almost never giggled. I promised to myself it wouldn't happen again.
Once I was done mentally slapping myself for giggling, I went back to paying my attention to the reaping before me. The town's mayor was saying his speech, the same as always, explaining in great depth how these Games are our punishment for rebelling, but how it was an honour for us to serve the Capitol in that way.
Honour my ass. Puck you, Capitol, was all I could think. I had to stop myself from flipping off the mayor, even though he did nothing wrong. Although giving him the bird was tempting me, I forced myself to listen to the female tribute's name to be called out when Nicolia pulled out a slip of paper from the glass jar.
"Maia Quill," she read, peering at the name on the slip of paper in her hands. She unwittingly pronounced my first name wrong, but, when I smirked over at Jessamine, her face was frozen in pure shock. I did a double take, letting the events of the past few seconds sink in. Was I just reaped? I looked to Jessamine for confirmation and she only nodded solemnly, slightly pushing me forwards.
I took a few steps, muffled. What was going on? Suddenly it all dawned on me. That was my death sentence. Well, I thought, If I'm going down, I may as well go down with some pride, and a few tributes. And at that, I held my head up in pride, my nose turned up at the sky, and I strode up to the stage. Upon shaking Nicolia's hand, I cocked my head to the side with a teeth-filled smile. Looking miffed, she all but shoved me towards my seat.
Maybe acting all macho will get me some sponsors. I stayed seated, keeping a straight face, as Nicolia strutted over to the bowl filled with male names, her heels clicking loudly on the wooden flooring of the stage. When she reached her hand in, her 'talons' almost speared through the slips of paper, about to snare more than one.
Retracting her hand from the bowl, she read aloud the name of the poor soul to be reaped, "Saxon Grey."
A man stood up from the seventeen-year-old section. He had his head down, but a determined posture, as a tall boy, presumably Saxon, made his way to the stage where I was seated. His hair was cut closely shaved, his build strong and stocky. I wondered whether he was going to be a formidable contender in these Games. We shook hands and his grip was firm. I smiled up at him, but he kept moving towards his seat.
The reaping ended quickly afterwards and we were sent over to the building where we would receive our final goodbyes. On our way there, I noticed I hadn't even seen my mother once through the whole reaping. Was she even there? If not, then she wouldn't even know I have just been signed off to death himself.
The room the Peacekeeper escorted me to was scantily decorated, just two threadbare chairs divided by a table. It was awfully small, bringing back the feeling of a claustrophobia. I sat and waited for someone to waltz in and wish me goodbye. And waited. And waited. Finally, after a Peacekeeper had warned me that I only had one minute left for visitors, Jessamine ran in, panting.
"I," she gasped, "couldn't find the correct room!" Wheezing, she continued, "I have some really bad news! It has to do with your-" She was interrupted by a Peacekeeper rushing in, grabbing her by the neck of her blouse, and yanked her out of the room. I gaped, unsure of what to make of it. What was she trying to say? My mind reeled, still trying to get my head around the fact that I was heading into the Hunger Games.
"Time to go," a Peacekeeper, different to that of before, came in, ordering me to leave. Soon enough, I found myself settling into a seat on the train, saying my last goodbyes to my home, certain I would never come back.
Foxx's A/N: Hope you liked! Last chapter was mostly Subject, this one was mostly my creation. If you hated it, loved it, or it made you claw your eyes out, let us know! Click the review button below.
Subjects A/N: Another chapter cranked out! Please make sure you give Foxx all the credit for this chapter. R&R because this very well be the first Hunger Games fic that has co-authors! Please press the magic button that feeds the starving children! Snev was actually here, editing what she felt needed. Thank you Snev