A/N An update that didn't take a month! Yay! It was like 90% done yesterday, but I ran out of time and had to finish it today. Still, I think I'm getting better at this.

Once again, I apologize for the crappy District Six Non-Reapings. I'll try to give Diesel and Christina a little more love later on in the story to make up for it.

Enjoy the chapter!

Minisa Amaral, 18, District Seven Female

The axe hits the dead center of the target. That wasn't hard. I think I might even have a natural talent for this. I still don't think I could use it on a person, though. Even the thought makes me shudder. Use this? On a person? Axes were designed to cut trees, not people. Still, it might just be me. There's almost always an axe-wielder in the Hunger Games.

I walk up to the target and yank it out. This gets repetitive after a while. Why am I even doing this? My last reaping is in a few months. Someone else will volunteer. I'll be free for the rest of my life. The Training Center might as well be a waste of my life.

Izzy walks into the room and picks up an axe. "Hey, Minisa. What's up?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure."

"Not sure? Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just in a bad mood today."

"C'mon," she says, brushing her hair out of her beautiful eyes. I can't summon the courage to tell her that, though.

I shrug again. "I guess I'm thinking about life."

"What's so depressing about it?"

"I almost feel like I'm wasting my life here."

"How so?"

"I…. shouldn't even be here. I only have one reaping left," I say, "I'm pretty sure I'm not volunteering. I should be doing more important things than throwing axes at a dummy."

"Don't say that! You could be Reaped. Besides, what would you be doing that is more important?"

"I.. don't know. Maybe making money? It would only be right."

"Look, Minisa, your parents encouraged you to do this! Stop beating yourself down."

"I guess…"

"You know what? Let's go somewhere else, then. This room is too depressing. Maybe the park or somewhere. You need to enjoy yourself every once in a while."

"Sure."

An hour later, I walk home.

"Anyone?" I call. No answer. Of course… while I've been relaxing, everyone's been working. Come on, Minisa, can't you do your part? Why are you always the one not doing anything? Maybe I can clean the house…

The kitchen is still cluttered with dishes from Alec's breakfast this morning; he must've not had enough time to clean up before going to work. I turn on the water and begin to wash the dishes.

As I scrub the oil off the plate, I wonder at myself. I'm not much. I don't do anything big or brave, unlike Mom, Dad, and Alec. They're always working hard and being outstanding. They'll be remembered for generations. But me? What is there about me that's courageous? I can't even directly compliment Izzy for fear that she'll realize how I feel about her. I'm cowardly like that.

I'm startled by the opening of the front door. Hurriedly, I rinse off the last bowl and place it on the rack. How long have I been doing this? Gosh, Minisa, you can't even wash dishes correctly.

"Hey," Alec says, coming into the kitchen.

"Hey," I reply, getting a cup of water while he washes his face. I guess it's what you'd call a sibling thing; it's almost an instinct to know what the other will probably do. I've heard that other siblings quarrel and fight, but I've never understood that. I'd say that Mom and Dad did a good job raising us. I'd probably be a horrible mother…

I give him the water as soon as he's dried his face off with the towel.

"How was training today?" he asks.

"It's was okay," I say, "Izzy took me to the park for a bit."

"Nice. Did you tell her yet?"

I blush as he smiles. "No way."

"I could tell her for you," he offers, "What else am I here for?"

"Definitely not that," I say, laughing. "Please, don't." I harden my face. "If you ever tell her-"

"C'mon, relax," he says, "I won't tell her unless you tell me to. You know that."

"How about you? Anything special?" I ask.

"Nah," he says, "Well, nothing except for the regular. How's it going with choosing a job?"

I shrug. "I really don't know. I'd like logging and what you all are doing, but…" I trail off.

"But what?"

"I don't know."

"Is this the whole 'courage' thing again?"

"Maybe…" I say.

"Look," he says, "Stop worrying about it. What are your options?"

"Logging seems likely," I say, "Though I could always continue school and try to get one of those high-ranking positions. Trainer at the Center isn't that far either."

"What do you want?" he says, grabbing a bit of bread from the refrigerator.

"I don't know… Everything feels so…"

"So…"

I throw my hands up. "I don't know!"

"Are you trying to prove something?"

I don't answer. Come to think of it, that sounds about right.

"You don't need to prove anything to us. You know that."

"I know," I say, "But…"

"Are you trying to prove it to yourself? Prove that you're strong and worth it?"

"Maybe…"

"The right time will come," he says. He smiles. "Don't worry."

I used to believe that it was true, but now I'm not so sure. What if I'm this coward forever?

Pembroke Thompson, 17, District Seven Male

The x's and numbers on the mathematics worksheet are blending together. Twenty-six… A three somewhere… What is this? I slam my pencil down on the desk and groan. I can't focus in here! The cold, unfamiliar room distracts me, and none of this is making sense in my head. It was already hard enough to get my homework done in the old house; this new environment is making everything worse. Schoolwork. With the trial and everything coming up, I can't focus on anything. It doesn't help that I'm pretty sure I have Attention Deficit Disorder. Why do I have to do this anyway? I'm not even going to be in school until after the trial.

There's a knock on the door. "Come in!" I call.

My mom opens the door and enters the room. The smells of her cooking enter with her. "How is it?" she asks.

I rub my forehead. "Not so well."

"I'm sorry," she says.

"It's not your fault," I say. I throw the pen at the wall. "Still, I can't believe that Dad took her side over mine."

"I understand."

"Doesn't he know me well enough to know that I would never assault anyone? I'm his f***ing son!"

She puts her hand on my shoulder. "I know," she says, the pain clear in her voice, "I can't believe it either."

I sigh. This hasn't been easy for her, either. Separating after nineteen perfectly good years of marriage can't feel good.

"How's unpacking?" she asks.

"I've cleaned out about half of the clothes. I've still got two boxes."

"Take your time, okay?"

"Okay." I look back down at the worksheet. Argh… "How's Laurel?"

Mom's face brightens. I haven't gotten her do that in a while. Lately, it seems like I've just been causing pain. No, I haven't. Cassia is.

"She's doing well," she says. "She doesn't understand the idea of unpacking important things first, so she only unpacked her toys."

I smile. "Sounds like Laurel." My 7-year-old sister is nothing like the rest of us. She's nothing Like Dad, who's always stern, or Hazel, who stuck to Dad, or even Mom or me. I don't get how she manages to always be happy, but she somehow does. "Wish I could have a bit of her happiness right now."

"It will all work out. They'll see that there is no evidence to convict you. We'll get through this, okay?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Still love you."

"Thanks."

She leaves.

Oh… Cassia, Cassia, Cassia. What did I ever do to you? Break up? Is that the worst you've ever had? That's what I get for dating the mayor's daughter.

"Pembroke?" mom calls.

"Yeah?"

"Ivy's here to see you."

Ivy. Here to see me. She, along with Poplar and Glenn, should've done that when I needed her, not now that everything is quieting down. Still, my curiosity is getting the best of me. "Coming!"

I walk down the stairs.

"...I'll take your jacket," I hear my mom say.

"Thank you, Mrs. Thompson," Ivy says. She looks up. "Hey, Pembroke."

"Hey," I say. My mom goes back to the kitchen. "What are you doing here?"

"I… just thought you'd want to know about everything you've missed."

"Yeah? What."

"Well… Cassia's pretty much ruling the school. People buy her stories, even though she changes it a bit every time. She's turned almost everyone against you."

"That's right," I huff. Even you, I silently add.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Are you seriously asking me what's wrong? She's even turned you against me, that's what's wrong. While she made her accusations, every single one of you stayed away from me. And now you think you can come back as if nothing ever went wrong? It doesn't work like that!"

She stares at the ground, takes a deep breath, and swallows. "I'm… sorry for being such a bad friend."

"HuH?"

"I'm sorry," she continues, "I apologize. At the time, I was so scared that she'd accuse me of something if I stuck by you. I didn't realize that you needed us-"

"Us?"

"Yeah. Poplar and Glenn are coming around too in the next few days. I didn't realize that you needed us the most. That's actually why I came tonight, to apologize."

I take a deep breath. "I won't say it's all okay—because it isn't. But I guess we could work past everything."

The smile returns to her face.

"So…" I say, "How are you?"

"It's hard," she says, "It's weird walking through the halls every day with Cassia playing everyone. You?"

"Just thinking about the trails scares me," I admit, "She's the mayor's daughter. Everyone loves her. I'm pretty sure she could play the judge and get him to say I'm guilty."

"Why'd you break up in the first place?"

I shrug. "She got too demanding. I never should've fallen for her. Now I'll get jail time and a mark on my record and everyone hates me."

"Not-"

"C'mon, it's pretty much everyone. Even if I do end up not guilty, everyone will still think that I'm a cruel person who broke up with the mayor's daughter just to see her suffer. I'll have no future. No one's going to hire me."

"That's not-"

"You know it's true." I throw up my hands. "If everyone hates me that much, I might as well volunteer for the Hunger Games. Then everyone can watch me die on national television."

"Stop it, Pembroke! There has to be a way."

"What way?"

"I- I don't know. Aren't you the cheerful one today. You were always the positive one, not me."

"Not anymore."

"Please. Where is the old you?"

"You don't like me now?" I say, "Then you might as well leave like everyone else."

"No. I'm not leaving. But just so you know, if you run into the old Pembroke, tell him I miss him."

I sigh. That's never going to happen. Whether I stay in District Seven or volunteer for the Hunger Games, I'm never going to be able to go back to the cheerful person I used to be.

I kinda wish I could.

Questions:

1. How do you feel about Minisa? How will her outlook on life influence her performance in the Games?

2. Thoughts on Pembroke? How do you think his situation will play out?

3. Predictions?

4. Favorite District so far based on the tributes?

5. Which characters from the previous districts do you not remember?

A/N So... yeah. I hope the next chapter gets out faster. Thanks for all your patience with this updating schedule.

See y'all,

~Joseph