A/N Guess what happened? I'll give you a few lines so you have time to think about it.

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You won't guess? Fine, I'll tell you. School happened. Do you know what that means? Yep, you got it, slower chapters. It kind of sucks, but such is life. But on the bright side, District Two is here!

Also, here's a note on Onyx' unconventional weapon. I've done some research, and throwing knives aren't actually as strong as media would have you believe. It takes incredible training just to get the knife to hit with the right side, and even then, there's no guaranteed stick. The knife is also quite small, so it doesn't have enough mass to make it deadly. Even if it does hit, it probably won't be enough to cripple a person. Some of you will say that Clove threw knives, but I personally think that she either threw huge knives (which are better as a weapon) or used smaller knives to slow the opponent down until she could finish him/her off in person.

Yeah, that was a bit long. On to District Two!

Animata Deeksha, 18, District Two Female

I look around our relatively bare house. We're not rich at all. I sigh, but I can't keep the straight face. Who effing cares?

Those braggarts from One may laugh at our common, plain surroundings, but they can go shove their frivolous riches up their mouths until they shut up.

I chuckle at myself and finish sweeping the floor. A small house is a lot easier to maintain, anyway. I'd hate to have a huge house and spend all my time cleaning. Where's the fun in that? Even if I do get rich someday, I'm not buying a big house. But if I'm a Victor… well, that's a different story. I'll hire someone to clean it. Or maybe I just won't use half the house.

"Alessandra?" I call to my sister in the other room. "Are you done in there?"

"Yes," she replies, "We're done cleaning. You can go do whatever."

I put the broom in the closet. Done with the house. We didn't even have to clean today; it was her idea. Though she's my twin, she's still technically older by a few minutes. I guess that three-minute difference made her more responsible. But then again, Mom and Dad are always busy. We should help out when we can. Even then, I will never be able to completely pay them back for everything they've given me. All I can do is try, and try I will. That's why I'm going to volunteer. But to do that, I'll need to be training every day. Only the best come out of the Games alive.

I step out into the beautiful spring weather. It's been rainy for the past week, but today, the sky is so blue. It'd be a waste to spend my day indoors…

Okay, change of plans. I'll go to Central City, which is only a ten-minute bus ride from the nearest stops. It's a been a while since I went down there, and it's a perfect place to be in the nice weather as opposed to the freezing cold/burning hot, dark Training Center. Besides, Hadrian and Marius will be there too.

After the short bus ride, I stroll down the sidewalk of Central City. "City" is the wrong term, I guess, for this place. It's more of a bigger town. The gray and brown shops on either side of the street match the beautiful sky, and huge pots filled with tulips and hyacinths brighten up the plain sidewalk. When I return from the Games, I should buy some bulbs. Our family always dismissed them as frivolous things, but beds of tulips, daffodils, hyacinths, and other spring flowers in front of my Victor's home would be nice.

I stop and enter a small store on the street corner, smiling as I look at the trademark yellow and green sign. Marius stands behind the counter, and though he's busy with a group of Capitolites, he glances up and waves. This shop sells trinkets and other jewelry, but unlike the flashy stuff from District One, these are simpler and made of stone or plain metal.

As I wait for Marius, I browse through the shelves, my eyes lighting on two oval, stone pendants. A simple leafy design has been chiseled into the border around plain, flat center, and it doesn't seem to be selling very well. Still, it draws my attention more than the fancier necklaces and bracelets around it. It seems to represent us of Two; we find beauty in the simple things. I take two and wait for the Capitolites to leave. To be honest, they're kind of annoying, always squawking and jabbering as if they didn't have a care in the world. I would plug my ears like my two-year-old cousin does if I weren't eighteen years old.

Finally, the shop clears out, and I approach the counter.

"Aren't you supposed to be training?" he asks.

"I couldn't resist the weather," I say, "The Training Academy doesn't feel right for a day like this. Anyway, I'd like to buy these."

"Are you just trying to make me feel better?" he says.

"What?"

"I handmade those," he says, slightly sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck. "I'm still not very good at it."

"I had no idea!" I say, "Don't say that. You can't only look at your mistakes if you want to improve."

"I guess."

"And I still want them," I say, "Can you engrave an "A" into the center part? For both of them, of course."

"Sure," he says, "If you don't mind waiting, that is. It'll take two days."

"Sounds good."

He gives a price, and I pay for the pendants.

"I'm going to visit Hadrian. You want to come?" I say.

"I wish I could," he says, "But I'm manning the shop by myself. I can't go anywhere."

"I'll see you later, then," I say. He says goodbye, and I leave the shop.

After this, I exit the touristy part of Central City and enter the business side. Huge warehouses line the cold, gray roads, holding steel, iron and other metals that District Two manufactures. The actual refineries and mines are a few miles west of here, though, and the quarries are to the north. It's surprising how many people still only think of stone when they think of District Two. We're much more than that.

I look up, and the sign tacked onto the warehouse has "Ryker's" written on it in a plain, bold, font. This is where Hadrian is most of the time; his family owns this place. When I walk in, the cold air sends a chill down my spine. It's always freezing in here.

"Hey!" Hadrian calls, coming out of the office room that sits in the corner of the warehouse. He's wearing a neon yellow shirt I've never seen him wear, and to be perfectly honest, it looks terrible.

I smile. "Are you sure you can't turn up the temperature in here? It's like you own a huge freezer."

He laughs. "It's a freezer I'm used to. Why aren't you training today?"

"The weather's too nice," I say.

"Try that excuse in the Games," he says, his eyes twinkling. " 'Oh, I'm sorry. I can't fight today. The weather's too nice. Come again tomorrow.' "

"Shut up!" I say, laughing. "You're imitations are terrible. That one was almost as bad as your shirt!"

"What's wrong with my shirt?" he says, "I like neon yellow."

"No wonder you don't have a girlfriend," I say.

"It's not like you're much better," he says, "You scare away all the boys with your steel fingernails." Many years back, Alessandra and I got our fingernails replaced with steel nails. They also double as convenient weapons.

"Hey, I like my nails," I say, playfully poking him with my index finger, "Even so, I don't have to cut them anymore."

"Whatever," he says with a big grin on his face. "You should go train."

I check the time, and I've spent the entire morning. "You're right," I say, "I'll see you later."

"Bye."

Slate Valor, 18, District Two Male

I stare at the no-longer-blank piece of paper, rereading my work.

No one sees; no one knows

Not even the one himself

Lies lived out, till nothing shows

Of the one that hides behind

Concealed so well, buried so long ago

That everyone forgets

That beneath the face of plaster lies the face of a man

It's definitely not my best work; I penned it on an impulse. I almost want to toss it, but something inside me urges me to keep it. I'll improve it later when I can get a fresh perspective on it. I look over to the drawer that holds all my drafts. After I write anything, I need to give it time. That almost always helps me gain a new perspective on things.

"Slate!" my father booms from the other side of the house.

Oh gosh, I have to hurry. He's coming this way. I stuff the papers as well as the pencil into the drawer and get away from my desk. I hope he doesn't notice. "Yes, father?"

"What are you doing here?" he demands, "You should be training. The ceremony is within a week. You have no excuse to be here. Even your sister's there."

"Yes, father."

"You're getting weak. When I was your age…" I don't pay attention to the rest of his frustrated speech. I know what's going on, so it should be okay. As long as he can't tell I'm not listening, I'm fine. He talks every time about how great he was and how honorable he was and how many kills he got in his Games and how he even changed his last name to reflect that. Yep, he changed his last name. It's a problem for the rest of us because honestly, what person's last name is naturally "Valour"? It just doesn't work.

"You hear me?" he says.

"Yes, father," I say, leaving my room. There's nothing I can do except obey. Believe it or not, he's still stronger than I am.

I go to the Training Academy, but before I enter, I glare at the bold sign that labels this building as the training grounds for the Hunger Games. I used to only be here every afternoon, but now, I'm here mornings and afternoons. It's because my lame excuse for a brother chickened out and didn't volunteer. He always only had his eyes on the girls, only training to catch the eyes of girls that'll cheat on him anyway. Whatever would've happened, because he's too old for the Games now, my father pins all his hopes on me.

I growl as I shove my way through the glass double doors. When I come back from the Games, I'll show him. I grab a bow and fire an arrow into the heart of a dummy.

That was too impulsive. I drop the bow and frantically look around the room as the twack from the bow echoes around the room. No one saw that. No one can report this back to my father. He'd kill me if he caught me doing this merely two weeks before I volunteer. I gingerly place the bow back on its rack and pick up a spear. I hurl it into the target, but it doesn't have the same satisfying thud as an arrow does. It feels practiced, fake, not natural as it should. Once I get into the Games, there's nothing that can keep me from doing what I want.

What I want. I can't imagine what that's like. It can only be good.

When I go to the water fountain to refill my bottle, I hear a soft sniffling coming from the female bathroom. My eyes shoot to the front door. Did someone see me with the bow? No one has entered since I got here, so whoever it is must've been here for a while.

"Hello?" I venture, "Who's there?"

No response. The sniffling stops.

"I can hear you," I say, "Who's there?"

"Slate?" It's Amshu, my younger sister. My father did say that she was here.

"Amy?" I call, "Father's not here."

"Are… are you sure?" she replies, her voice trembling.

"I'm sure."

She peeks her head out. After looking around and seeing that the coast is clear, she runs into my arms and buries her head in my chest.

"What happened?" I ask.

"F- Father," she says, looking up and taking a deep breath before unleashing a river of words, "He was holding a knife and he said that he would kill Mom and then he said he'd kill me if I didn't come-"

"When was this!?" No one told me.

"When you were gone this morning with Karan. And then he started getting close to Mom and I ran and I don't know what happened and… and…"

"Breathe," I say, "Catch your breath."

She gulps down a few big breaths of air.

"And what?" I ask.

"And I- I- I'm scared." She bursts into tears.

"It'll be okay," I say, "I have to volunteer, and when I win, I'll make sure you and Mom don't have to stay with him anymore."

She sniffles, pulling herself back together. "Okay."

"C'mon. We've been here long enough. Let's go home."

"Are you sure that it's safe?"

"It's all good now," I say, "Mom is okay."

"O- Okay."

She goes back into the bathroom to wash her face, and she comes back smiling.

"By the way," she says as we leave the Academy, "You're really good with that bow."

"Don't you ever tell Father."

"I won't."

It's actually a really nice day out in District Two, one of those days where it's warm outside but not too hot. There's a light breeze, and it's partly cloudy overhead. It's a great day. However, the moment he enters the house in Victor's Village, it's as if a dark shadow covered the sun—my father's overbearing presence. They say he wasn't right in the head when he first volunteered for the Games. I wholeheartedly believe it. My mom pokes her head into the hallway to see who just came in, and her somber face breaks into a smile. Amy runs to her and hugs her, squeezing her as if she'd never see Mom ever again. Such is the reality in my house.

I often wish I was born into a poorer family. The money here is nice, but it's not worth the monster that comes with it. It's not worth constantly fearing for my family's life. And, it's definitely not worth living a lie for it, trying to be hard and rough just to meet my father's standards. It isn't me and it never will be me. If only he could see this…

When I win, I'll make him see.

Questions:

1. Do you have any thoughts on Animata? How does she line up with your expectations?

2. How do you feel about Slate? Does his last name make more sense now? Did you expect this?

3. Predictions?

4. Do y'all mind this different updating schedule?

A/N Here's a note for predictions. Remember that it's possible for any combination of the trained tributes (1, 2, 7, 10) to band together. The Inner District Alliance and Outer District Alliance are the two most common combinations, but other alliances are just as likely, from one huge Trained Alliance to everyone on their own.

My goal is to update within a week. We'll see.

See y'all!

~Joseph