Sorry for the really late update guys but i've been busy at work all freaking day. Luckily for you i am nice so i'm going to give you a double serving, The Reapings fo District 6 and 7 one after the other! :)

Arden Olt POV

Every morning I walk down these stairs and every morning I hit my head on the top of the doorway. "Kay!" I call out to my older sister. "I keep telling you to fix this doorway; I'm going to have a permanent bruise sometime soon."

She walks out of the kitchen and huffs, putting her hands on her hips. "What would you like me to do about it? I'm not a carpenter you know." Kay has taken over the parenting role in our family. Our parents are both transport engineers, and I'm not talking about little pushbikes. I'm talking about cutting edge technology that's going to take Panem by storm. We're not really allowed to say anything but our parents are the one's responsible for inventing hover technology. So far all they've managed to do is get a small scooter to lift itself about a metre off the ground. There's still an issue with sorting out the propulsion system, but my parents are geniuses and I'm sure they'll figure it out. As a consequence though it means they spend almost all their time at the labs, which means we barely see them. Hence why my older sister in the one wearing the apron and flipping the pancakes.

Despite the nature of my parent's experimentation, we still aren't all that rich. They feel like if they applied for support from the Capitol then that will become another thing that is kept away from the district and kept exclusively to the Capitol. So rather than approach them for funding my parents have to make do with what they have. I've been trying to help out, taking the tesserae every year since I was 12 so that the financial burden is eased a little. Thankfully my younger brother Patrick isn't quite as thoughtful and he hasn't taken the tesserae even though he is 14 this year, but I'm glad because I'd never want to see him go into the hunger games. While I'm tall and muscled, he's quite short and skinny and he wouldn't last a second, especially against the tributes from District 1 or 2.

Because I started entering my name so much into the Reaping lottery I decided that I couldn't just sit around and wait to be Reaped. So I started to train myself; really basically. My best friend Dean Molton helped me out because his grandfather was a Victor and he taught him some knife work and a little martial arts. Surprisingly I picked it up pretty quickly, now I actually beat Dean more than half the times that we spar. He and I are like brothers. We grew up together as next door neighbours and have been hanging out ever since. I have a few other friends at school but they're the kind of guys that I don't see too much of out of school. I much prefer to be over at Dean's house playing video games, or at mine crashing and watching horrible horror movies.

After I finish my breakfast I hang around with Patrick for a little bit, he seems a little nervous. "You okay buddy?" I ask him while we watch some old TV program dating back to when my parents were young.

"Yeah I'm ok I guess" he replies. "I'm just a little nervous."

"You'll be fine man, trust me. I've been to way more of things than you, and believe me it gets easier every time."

"But what if I get Reaped?" he whispers.

I can tell that he's actually pretty scared. I turn him around so that I can look him in the eyes. "Then you do the best that you can do with what you got. Okay? Plus look at you, no-one's gonna come after you in the games anyway."

He looks confused. "Why is that?"

"Well you're a skinny little guy, you'll probably just be standing there minding your own business when some big hulking tribute comes crashing through the trees, and then he'll run straight past you, you're so skinny you'll just look like a spindly little tree!"

He rolls his eyes. Nobody thinks my jokes are funny, well except me. But even if it was a bad joke I can tell that he's feeling a little bit more relaxed. "let's go head out then yeah? We'll grab dean on the way and the three of us will head over together."

Patrick nods his head and we call out to Kay that we're heading off to the Reapings. She's 22 so she doesn't qualify for the Hunger games anymore. "Bring Patrick back to me Arden!" she calls out from the kitchen.

"If anything you should be asking him to make sure I come back!" I say in response, and we all have a good laugh at that as we walk out the door.

I barely even slow down as I knock on Dean's door and keep walking. It's a little game that we play with each other, to see who can get the furthest away from the other's house before they catch up. My record is to a little shrub just on the edge of Dean's property. Patrick and I are about 15 metres away from it when I hear his front door open and the thudding of his shoes on the pavement. I'm shattered as he catches up just before we can reach the shrub. "Damn it" I curse. "I was so sure I had you that time."

"Nope" he replies with a childish grin. "I was all ready anyway, waiting next to the door for the knock and as soon as it came, BOOM out like a rocket I was."

I shake my head as Patrick laughs as if Dean's just told the funniest joke in the world. How come Dean has to the be the funny one? I fake moping all the way until we get to the Reaping and we split up, Patrick going over to his age group and Dean and I staying with the 17 year olds. The District 6 Reapings are a little bit of a dismal affair. I'm pretty sure our escort is fed up with us because we haven't had a Victor since Dean's grandfather. The ceremony now is pretty much just her walking up, announcing the tributes and then walking off again. It must look terrible on the cameras.

As expected our escort walks on with a smile plastered on her face, though I can't rule out permanent smile surgery as a potential reason for it. I've seen worse things in photos of the Capitol. With little ceremony at all she reaches into the bowl and pulls out a name as if it means nothing. It's quite pitiful to see how little she values human life.

The, again, as if the words mean nothing she shouts out "Arden Olt!"

Those words that mean nothing to her mean everything to me. I can almost feel the cameras on me as I walk up to the podium. I close my emotions off completely, can't be appearing weak on national television. If I'm going into the Hunger Games then I'm going in to win.

Calla Pyre POV

"Good morning Bright Eyes", Verandoe says as he gently shakes me awake.

"Good morning Doey" I reply in an almost ritual-like fashion. Those are our nicknames for each other. I'm 'Bright Eyes' because my eyes are a dazzling hazel, while he is Doey because Verandoe is quite a mouthful. He smiles and leads me downstairs to where breakfast is all ready and waiting for me. I smile slightly and take care to sit down in the very middle of my seat. I'm Bipolar and slightly autistic, it isn't the best combination as it makes me quick to anger and highly anti-social; but Verandoe is always careful with me, not coddling per se but he knows my triggers and how to avoid them. For the first few months of our 'situation' I was quite difficult to control, but I was only 6 then and have since learned how to control my emotions and outbursts. For those times where my self control just isn't enough, well there's always the punching bag that Doey set up in my room for me to let my rage out on; which I do, frequently.

Verandoe is my foster father, and was a good friend of my biological father Corin. I was 6 when Corin handed me over to Verandoe. I used to blame him before I understood the whole story, now I just feel sorry for him.

My Mother was a brilliant industrialist, finding new ways to incorporate solar energy into society. Unfortunately during one particular testing of a solar powered vehicle, too much energy was stored in the panels and the panels shattered, sending shards flying in all directions. While normally all scientists should have been behind protective screening, my mother had been making some last minute configurations to the channelling equipment. Fortunately she didn't suffer at all. A particularly large shard embedded itself in her cerebral cortex and another severed her spine at the base of her neck simultaneously. She didn't feel a thing. Corin couldn't handle taking care of me. For a while I resented him because I thought he was ashamed of his mentally ill daughter, but in reality he just couldn't handle living with someone who reminded him so much of my mother.

I fiddle subconsciously with the charm on my ankle, the only thing I have from my mother. It's a solar powered bauble that flickers on and off. It isn't made of expensive materials, but it was my mother's so I treasure it.

"I received a letter from the school board today. Apparently you've received an invitation to live and perform in the Capitol once you are past Reaping age. Isn't that exciting?" Verandoe says happily.

I'm shocked at the news and ecstatic as well. I used to be bullied at school when I was younger due to my disabilities. One day I ran and hid in the music room. I had never really seen a musical instrument before and I was insanely curious. I first went to the giant grand piano. When I struck my first key I knew I was home. Doey Hired tutors to teach me. I mastered the piano in less than a year, and then came the guitar, violin, cello, and flute. I became a virtual sensation in a matter of months. From the child that nobody wanted to hang around, I was transformed into the child that everybody envied. Verandoe said that it was because I am autistic that my brain works differently to normal people. I didn't care for the specifics I just wanted to play music.

Verandoe stands up to clear the table, but then screams and bends over in agony. His back must be having a spasm again. I lean him up against the wall in he smiles in appreciation. Even though Doey is 53 he is quite fit, except for an injury he received a few years ago. Verandoe works as a mechanic on the trains that run from each of the districts to the Capitol. In this case, he had performed a routine inspection of the train before the maintenance and found a pearl necklace tucked beneath the seats. Thinking he would hand it in later he tucked it into his pocket and began fixing the machine.

Unbeknownst to him, the lady who had lost the necklace had reported it stolen earlier that day. Peacekeepers turned up and demanded to know where the necklace was. Doey gave it to them immediately, but was confused when they started taking him into custody. Not realising that there had been a mix-up and the peacekeepers had thought he stole the necklace, Verandoe resisted their arrest. I was walking back from school on a route that takes me past the train yard because I like to see Doey while he is working. When I saw the commotion I tried to run over and help, but by then one of the peacekeepers had already pulled out a bullwhip and was lashing him. I scream and told them to stop, attempting to rip the Peacekeeper who was hurting Doey away. He shoved me aside and gave me a single lash to keep me way. Unfortunately that single lash caught me on my temple and left a long thin gash all the way down to the base of my neck. The scar still remains to this day, but doesn't affect me like Doey's often does. The Peacekeeper lashed him so hard that he injured the muscles in his back and Doey had to be hospitalised for weeks while he healed. Every now and again Doey will have a spasm and will need to sit down and relax while his back calms down.

He looks at me with an apologetic look and I know what he is trying to say. He usually walks me to the Reapings as I don't like travelling by myself or being in the crowd of people, but today it can't be helped. I nod and make sure he is in a comfortable position before I grab my things and leave the house. It is quite a long walk to the Reaping which is why I have to leave so early in the morning. On my own the road and the distance seem to be longer. I feel like an age has passed before I finally reach the teeming masses at the District 6 Reapings. I feel incredibly uncomfortable as I squeeze through the crowd to reach the 14 year old area.

Once situated I find myself next to a boy around my height, which is actually quite short. Then I recognise him; it's Patrick Olt. He was one of the boys who used to bully me back before I was so successful. I hide my face from him, paranoid that if he sees me he will tease me again like he used to. In this crowd and the discomfort I'm feeling right now, I'm unsure that if he triggered my aggression I'd be able to stop it and stop myself. Thankfully he seems very nervous and doesn't pay attention to me.

When the Male tribute is called the visibly pales and starts shaking. His older Brother has just been Reaped. Underneath my dislike for him I do have to feel sorry for his situation. But then I'm too distracted to worry about Patrick when I hear the Female tribute's name called.

"Calla Pyre!"

The only sign of the surprise and shock that fills my body is a slight arching of my eyebrow. I make my way delicately towards the stage, waving and smiling as I go. It's very difficult to maintain my self control but I do so with poise and grace. I shake my escorts hand and stand up on the podium as if I were meant to be there.

I seriously hope there's a punching bag in the justice building.

District 7 will be up in a moment :)