Lost Name

by Kaen Okami

"...Victors. In seventy-four years, we have had exactly two." We all know Haymitch, but who was the other victor? Whose story was never told? This is the Hunger Games of Tirion Sagitto, the first victor of District Twelve. ON INDEFINITE HIATUS.

8. Thunderclouds

Angelo's POV

Sora and I are nearly out of breath when we reach the community home, and our wounds fiercely protest our moment of ecstasy, but we don't mind that much. We've grown up always learning to endure what our lives inevitably throw at us. When we reach the old, highly unreliable wooden steps leading up to the door of the home, we both stop short and skid a couple inches on the loose, sandy earth on the side of the road, grabbing the railing of the porch for support as we catch our breaths.

Though it was a bit exhausting to run all the way here from the orchards, and our bruised lungs scream for rest and air, the exhilaration unrelated to darting through the trees all day while we work, under the cold and condescending eyes of the Peacekeepers, is welcome. Sora and I are panting like overtired dogs, but a smile is clearly spreading on Sora's face when she looks at me, and I feel the corners of my mouth twitch up to return the grin. We stay like this for a couple minutes until we've regained our energy and our breathing has returned to normal. I stand up straight, and Sora does the same.

"Come on," I say resignedly, starting for the door. "Let's go."

Sora doesn't answer, but I hear her footsteps as she follows me. I push open the door, which bears signs of recently being kicked open, as the area around the lock is newly splintered and I think I can make out a dusty boot print on the wood, and walk in. The musty smell of old wood, a good amount of people, and the alcohol that Jag always sneaks in for himself on reaping day hits my nose the instant I step in.

"So you two are finally here, then? Took you long enough. It's too bad; I was hoping you would be gone long enough to miss the reaping. Things would be a lot more peaceful around here if the pair of you were languishing in prison for a few months for missing it."

My eyes automatically narrow at the sound of the oily voice. I don't need to look at Jag to know he's smirking. I quicken my pace, wanting to be done with him as soon as I can. Sora does the same, growling in annoyance and striding toward the stairs. Neither of us even glances at Jag, hoping he'll decide that we're not worth his time and to leave us alone for the moment. But of course, we have no such luck.

"Hey," Jag snarls, his voice again rough and harsh the way it normally is. "Don't you just ignore me! Don't you walk away from me!"

I stop, reaching out and grasping Sora's shoulder to stop her as well, before turning to glare at Jag. He's leaning up against the wall just next to a front window - in what would normally be a relaxed position but here looking tense, as though he had been looking or waiting for something - holding a half-empty bottle of beer and looking very irritated. Jag Zirant is one of our least favorite people outside the Peacekeeper corps. He doesn't like either of us; this was made clear from the first day I came to live in the community home, and it only intensified when Sora came about a year later. We are independent. We aren't submissive. We don't do as he says just because it's him saying it. We seem to embody everything he hates about his many charges.

"What do you want?" I say tonelessly. Jag opens his mouth to speak, but Sora will have none of that.

"Can't you see we've both been beaten within an inch of our lives, Jag?" she snaps. She's exaggerating quite a bit, but she does tend to do that when she's irritated. "And on reaping day, no less. We were just attacked by a gang of Peacekeepers for no reason at all and left unconscious to bleed for hours! I had to deal with that literally at the crack of dawn, and I don't need your crap the minute I start to recover!"

Jag alternates between glaring daggers at Sora and glancing at the beer bottle in his hand, probably debating whether to conserve his precious liquor or smash the bottle over Sora's head. I can't hold back a smirk. And neither, it appears, can Janera, who comes out of the kitchen with a bigger smirk on her face than mine.

"I wouldn't push her too far today, Jag," she says, coming to stand beside her husband. "You don't want to end up like McConroy, do you?"

"The Peacekeepers were here?" I say, over Jag's irritated snarling about what he would do to Sora if she tried anything with him, which apparently involves cracking her skull open against the door frame and whipping her raw with his belt.

"Yes, they came about an hour and a half ago," Janera informs us. "Collusk and Dakota came in to talk with Jag – "

"Just the pair of them?" I cut in. "It's unusual for only part of a group of Peacekeepers to come in."

"To intimidate people, right?" Janera guesses. I nod, and she goes on. "I think all of them might have come in, if they didn't want to look foolish. But I noticed McConroy outside, with the big stupid one helping him try to stand. From the looks of it, someone kicked him damn hard, right where it counts…Was that you, songbird?" She raises an eyebrow at Sora, who received her nickname from Janera for having the voice the mockingjays love best.

"Well, it would have been pretty weird if he had been trying to molest Angelo, wouldn't it?" snaps Sora, putting her hand on her hip.

"Of course it was you. Who else is either gutsy or stupid enough to fight a Peacekeeper than you and angel boy here? Anyway, they came in to talk with Jag right after they finished with you. By the way, angel boy…" She turns to me. "You might want to make sure Duncan doesn't end up breaking Collusk's neck for hurting his sister. Clover got in his way when he came barging in here, and, well, he didn't want to waste his breath just telling her to move. She'll have that bruise on her face for a while, I think. Poor little thing," she adds as an unconvincing afterthought.

"You know, Collusk isn't entirely to blame, Tenshi," Jag says bitterly, setting his drink down on the windowsill and coming over to glare in my face. "If you and Fielding hadn't gone off and provoked them, none of us would have any of this trouble."

"It was them who attacked – "

"I don't care!" snaps Jag. "Just keep out of their way, you idiot, is that so hard?" He slams the heel of his hand directly into the middle of my chest, making a new wave of pain sear my bruised and injured torso. I resist the impulse to gasp at the sudden pain and, with some effort, straighten up before he can do anything else. I give myself a moment to decide what to do. Fortunately, a moment is all I need. I know how to get through situations like these; I've been getting through them for years, learning as I go.

I came here seven years ago, when I was ten years old, when Jag could still scare and threaten me into doing what he wanted. The funny thing is, a lot of things changed between us once I grew up enough to look him in the eyes. I have no reason to be threatened by him anymore. What's more, as I've matured I've learned effective ways to handle confrontations. I learned to keep all emotions inside when in difficult situations, and deal with them calmly and coolly. From what I've seen, people – particularly Jag, Janera, and most Peacekeepers – hate it when they're angry with me and I don't get angry at them too when confronted, and that usually makes them angrier and less rational, making it easier for me to come out on top, or, at least, appear in the right whether I am or not. So I decide the best course of action is to simply speak the truth, in a quiet and level voice.

"If the Peacekeepers want to pointlessly attack Sora and I," I say, fixing Jag with an intense glare, "that's not our fault. If you've got a problem with it, take it up with them."

"Why would I do that?" Jag yells. "You think I want more of the kind of trouble you force on me? I don't need or want any of that! You bring enough of it already, Tenshi!"

I remain silent, thinking not for the first time that Jag is conveniently forgetting the consequences his own actions could bring – his liquor couldn't have come to him legally, and it's clear all he wants is to make sure the Peacekeepers leave the community home alone so they won't catch him breaking the law – but not calling him out on it. Jag is getting even more fired up by my lack of response, exactly what I expected. Sora, on the other hand, still has yet to learn the art of calm confrontation. While I've taught myself to keep my emotions from rising anywhere near the surface, Sora only flares up right back, even more intensely now, and has become more outspoken and brash, and just as I show what I've become now, she shows it too.

"Don't turn this all back on Angelo!" she yells at Jag. "You just don't want to admit it's the Peacekeepers' fault, so you blame him for everything they do! You're just as bad as them; you make me sick, Jag!"

Jag's expression is one of pure fury. "Shut up!" he shouts. "You two will just never learn your place, will you?"

He lunges for Sora, grabbing her roughly by her ponytail and bringing his knee up into her stomach. He's learned how to deal with his enemies too; he knows to act fast to one of us before the other steps in. So, to my chagrin, he's able to ram his knee into a violently struggling Sora's ribs and stomach three times before she manages to wriggle out of his grip and I, in the next instant, bolt in between them and push Jag away from Sora.

Acting on protective instinct, I wrap my arms around Sora, who is expending extra effort to breathe after getting the wind knocked out of her, and move my body in front of her, shielding her from any further attacks. Jag stares at us, barely affected by me. I hadn't intended to harm him anyway; my only aim was to get Sora away from him. Janera, who is used to seeing this kind of clash between Jag and I, simply stands and watches with an expressionless face.

I back up a few steps, half-carrying and half-dragging Sora with me, moving for the stairs. Sora, after a moment, recovers, straightens up, and resumes sending a defiant glare in Jag's direction. She's willing to fight again if he persists, but I've had enough for today. I wait, making sure Jag is done too and won't come rushing in on us the second we turn our backs. I heave an internal sigh of relief when he glares at us for a moment more, then decides that we're not worth the trouble and with a derisive snort he turns away from us and goes back to his beloved liquor.

Janera, as usual, doesn't comment on what's just happened, just looks at us for a moment longer and then turns back to continue with whatever she was doing beforehand. When I'm sure that they're both finished with us for the moment, I turn and stride quickly upstairs, Sora at my side as we ascend the stairs to the third floor.

Once we've reached the landing and are out of hearing distance from Jag or Janera, I turn to Sora and whisper, "Did all your food make it?"

Sora smirks and pulls a bit of peach from a hidden pocket under her shirt collar. "Some of it might be a little worse for wear, but still edible. I've got enough, how about you?"

"Just enough," I reply. "Bolce might have crushed a good bit of it with his club, but it's better than nothing."

"Alright then," says Sora. "I'll see you later. Hopefully we'll be able to get something else to eat before the reaping; because of those damn Peacekeepers, we were knocked out before we could get back for breakfast."

And with that, she turned and headed off down the left hallway, where the girls' rooms were located. I watch her until she's turned the corner and left my sight, and then start off down the hallway to the right, where the boys' rooms are. I reach the end of the hallway and push open the door to mine, and suppress a smile when instantly four heads jerk expectantly up.

"Hey, guys," I greet my roommates: Jaike, Duncan, Ritch, and Varun.

"Angelo!" they all exclaim at once. Varun steps up to me first, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you all right? Is Sora all right?" he asks, his forest-green eyes narrowed with worry.

"We're all right," I say, adding a dismissive wave of the hand to try and make my injuries seem like less than they are. I don't want them to worry about me, but worry they will, just as I worry when one of them gets in trouble. To my chagrin, my actions don't fool them.

"You don't look all right, you know," Ritch states the obvious, sitting on his bed in the corner of the room, his long legs hanging off the side. "You sure you're good? We could find medicine, like painkillers, I'm sure somebody has some hidden under their mattress or something. And if not we could check the storage rooms to see if there's any there – "

"No," I say firmly. "I haven't needed it before and I don't think I do now. Besides, none of you needs to get in trouble. Jag's already lost his patience with Sora and I and you know how Janera gets about us raiding the storage rooms."

Janera makes very clear to us what she'll do if she ever finds one of us sneaking around in those areas of the basement where basically everything – from food and water to random trash to the things that you mysteriously lose – is thrown if there's nowhere to put it or no use it's being put to. Jag doesn't much care if we go down as long as we don't take anything without his explicit permission; it's mainly Janera who promises to have us skinned alive if she catches us down there. And she's not kidding; the last kid who went intended to grab an extra blanket for himself and his roommate and ended up sleeping outside for a week with Peacekeeper-and-Janera-inflicted wounds. She claims she wants us to keep away from everything stored down there, since it's technically it's community home property, i.e. hers and Jag's. But we've come to the conclusion that there's something down there she's afraid we'll find, and she'll take drastic measures to be sure whatever it is, is kept secret. I doubt it, finding it more likely that she's just looking for an excuse to be horrible to us, but it's a risk not worth taking.

"That's an understatement," Ritch says, smirking. "But fine, we'll stay put."

Duncan, trying and succeeding in looking tough and strong as usual, sits cross-legged on the floor with his back against the side of his bed. His brown eyes are hard and angry. "You do look bad, man," he says. "But I hope you made sure to give the Peacekeepers a fight too."

"We try our best," I say simply. Duncan slams a fist into one hand, and I can imagine he's picturing slamming it into Collusk's face instead.

"You gave Collusk and his thugs marks to match, I hope? I would have," he says fiercely. "I would have made him pay for messing with you guys."

It doesn't take a genius to know what's got him so upset. His little sister Clover is the only family he has, and he's extremely protective of her. Knowing that Collusk hurt her and he can't do anything about it without getting himself in trouble and ending up harming them both is like multiple slaps to the face for Duncan.

"What a way to start off a reaping day," Duncan growls, confirming my thoughts. "From what I could understand from her, Janera had just finished yelling at her about something, and then Collusk came barging in and smacked her out of the way with his gun butt. Poor kid's got a hard enough life without Peacekeepers pushing her around too."

My stomach wrenches when I realize; first, he's absolutely right, and second, it's partially my fault she's hurt – if I hadn't taken Sora out for a morning alone, the Peacekeepers wouldn't have gone after us and they wouldn't have had any reason to come here and hurt Clover.

"Duncan…" I begin uncomfortably. "Duncan, I'm sorry Clover got hurt. If Sora and I hadn't aggravated Collusk, he wouldn't have come here and he wouldn't have hurt her."

"Don't you worry about it!" Duncan says. "It wasn't your fault. And listen, I'm sorry we didn't come help you. I'll tell you why not; here's what happened. It started after Collusk hit Clover with his gun and Janera told her to get out. Clover knew what to do when Peacekeepers come; when Janera kicked her out of the room she listened at the door."

I give a nod of understanding; the kids of the community home have developed a certain procedure among ourselves regarding Peacekeepers. If they come looking for one of us, someone listens to what they say in secret, if they're able to, and then warn whoever they're after; it's usually either Sora or me. It's not a lot of help against them, but it's good to know when they're here so you won't be caught off guard or without a warning. Or, in our case, to know when they've attacked someone already and their victims may be in need of help.

Duncan goes on. "She listened until the Peacekeepers had gone, but Jag caught her right when she was about to come tell us all about it. He let her come and tell us, but he came with her. He wanted to warn us that if any of us tried to go out and help you guys, he'd call the Peacekeepers back and tell them it was us who smuggled the alcohol in for ourselves, since they wouldn't believe us if we argued that it was him."

I grimace, knowing it's true. Jag has made great efforts to keep on good terms with the Peacekeepers, and they consider him a good informant and overall citizen, because he does his work, doesn't give them trouble, and above all supports them and can always be counted on to rat one of the community home kids out if they've done something wrong. And the only reason we haven't ratted out his breaking the law to the Peacekeepers is because even if he was imprisoned or punished in some way, he'd still come back to the community home, where he has authority over all of us who are stuck here. And if he decided to make the rest of our years here a living hell as punishment, he could do that quite easily. So we stay quiet, none of us having any desire for every day until our twenty-first birthdays – which is when we're assigned our own dwellings and we no longer have to stay at the home – to be as torturous as Jag can make them.

"So," Duncan concludes, "we decided to stay here to make sure nothing else happened. We were all really worried, but we didn't want anyone else getting hurt. Ordinarily, we could have snuck out and gone to help you, but Jag and Janera were keeping an extra close watch on us and make sure we stayed, and we didn't want to risk another Peacekeeper attack."

"I wouldn't risk it, either. And from what I saw, I'm pretty sure Jag was ready to call them at a moment's notice," I say, remembering Jag's readied position near the wall phone, as though waiting for something.

"If he hadn't done that, you know we'd have gone to help you," says Ritch earnestly, "but we couldn't risk pushing them too far."

"I know," I say. "You did right. This way, we'll all be fine for now."

"What about Sora?" says Varun, coming up to me with obvious anxiety in his voice. "Where is she?"

"She's in her room," I tell him. "She's fine."

"Are you sure?" he says.

"Positive. She's more or less in the same condition I am; she'll be okay."

Varun nods slowly. "All right…I'll go see her later…" he says softly, more to himself than to me, and steps back.

Duncan smirks at him. "Don't worry, Sora's a tough girl, she'll survive."

As Varun shoots him a glare, I realize there was one person who hadn't voiced an opinion on anything so far, who had sunk right back down into bed a moment after I came in and not said a single word. I turn my head and address the only silent one.

"Jaike," I say, stepping over to the side of my bed. "Hey, Jaike, what are you doing? Your bed's right there, you know."

"I'll tell you what he's doing," Duncan says, smirking. "Trying to get out of the reaping in the most ridiculous way he could think of."

I raise an eyebrow, puzzled, until Jaike, staying so still that not even an eyelid twitches, mumbles something.

"Look at that," says Varun, leaning with his back up against the wall. "The corpse speaks."

"I don't understand even being alive," murmurs Jaike, his lips barely moving. "I've never seen the point of it. Better to die quietly than get butchered in the arena. Maybe…If I just lie here…and be really quiet…and don't…move…anything…I'll just…stop…living…"

I smirk, used to Jaike's extremely cynical attitude. He doesn't have a very optimistic view of life, but he knows that if he's too melodramatic about it we'll either ignore him or tease him about it. This is one of the times he doesn't mean to be taken seriously.

"Here's an idea, Jaike," I say airily. "Go die on your own bed."

He opens his mouth to mumble a retort, but I quickly slide my hands under his back and throw him up into the air and onto his own bed, placed right next to mine.

Jaike's dark eyes fly open and his mouth falls halfway open, making for a priceless expression as he flops down onto his lumpy mattress. He sits up, rubbing his head and glaring at me.

"That's it, Tenshi, you're out of my will," he says resentfully as the other boys roar with laughter.

I want to reply, but then I notice movement in the blankets behind Duncan. He turns and grimaces. "Oh, wonderful, we woke Clover up," he hisses. "Thanks, guys."

"You're welcome," says Ritch, "but it was a group effort; you shouldn't give us all the credit."

Duncan glares, but his face softens as his little sister stirs behind him. Clover's petite form emerges from under the blanket, with the sort of exhaustion on her face that only comes when you've been woken up too soon. "Duncan?" she asks blearily. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Clover," Duncan says, his voice gentler and kinder as it only gets when he talks to Clover. He puts his hand on her shoulder and tries to make her lie back down. However, Clover gets other ideas once she looks up and she notices me.

"Hi, Angelo!" she says, pushing herself up on her hands. I resist the urge to cringe when I see what Collusk did to her. Her whole cheek is marred with an ugly purplish-black bruise, and since she's tiny even for a ten-year-old, the wound covers almost half her face. That's probably why she's here instead of in her own dormitory like she's supposed to be – the other girls would be of comfort too, but she wanted the protection of her big brother.

I don't want to make sensitive little Clover feel any worse about how she now looks, I ignore the heavy feeling, like a guilty weight in my gut, and force a smile. "Good morning, Clover," I greet her.

"Are you and Sora okay?" she asks quickly. "The Peacekeepers came and they said they left you hurt, and we wanted to go help you but Jag told us not to or he'd call the Peacekeepers back, and we were so worried – "

Her voice is quick and her eyes wide with anxiety. "We're all right, Clover, don't worry," I reassure her.

"Oh, good! So…Did you bring us anything to eat?" she asks, which brings forth a new round of snickers throughout the room. "What?" Clover says indignantly. "That's what Angelo and Sora went out to get, and I'm hungry, aren't you?"

"The Peacekeepers attacked us…" I begin slowly.

Duncan raises an eyebrow. "So, did you bring us anything to eat?"

I grin, take out the fruit, and start breaking them into pieces and distributing them around the room. They know us well, I think. They know we're more often than not one step ahead of the Peacekeepers and will not let them down.

Ritch gives a victorious laugh as he takes a bite of peach. "We knew you'd have something for us. It'll take a lot more than Peacekeepers to keep you back, Angelo."

Varun smirks, nibbling a green grape. "Is there any such thing, I wonder?"

Jaike, abandoning his corpse act and sitting up to accept half a strawberry, sends a skeptical glare at Ritch. "Yes, in fact, there is," he says dryly. "It's called a bullet to the head. I've heard it's quite effective."

Chewing and soft conversation cease, and bodies tense and eyes narrow all throughout the room. On hearing the alarmed noise Clover makes, Duncan automatically snaps, "Shut up, Jaike."

Clover, having gotten over the small shock, considers Jaike's words instead of immediately denying them. "Well…it hasn't happened yet," she says in a hopeful tone. "Angelo knows not to go too far, so they won't kill him. If you do something bad many times, they just watch you. And they haven't killed anyone in a while. Maybe they think it's enough."

Clover, satisfied with her explanation, gives me a smile and goes back to her piece of melon. The rest of us exchange dark looks, knowing what could really happen. Clover's childish naivety means she doesn't really think about what bad things happen in our lives, preferring not to dwell on them for as long as she doesn't have to. As she gets older, she'll understand. The rest of us, however, are old enough and have lived with me long enough to understand completely. Sora and I are skilled and smart enough not to get caught breaking the law most of the time, but we've been caught a good amount of times over a period of about seven years.

The Peacekeepers marked us as troublemakers a long time ago, and they look on us with hatred and contempt because we so often outwit them and get away with what we do. But unfortunately, emotions like that coupled with the power they have over everyone could prove a fatal combination. Though we'd never stop doing what we do, both for our friends' needs and for our own, there is always the lingering fear at the back of our minds – which, incidentally, Jaike once remarked, is the place the bullet hits when they kill you – that one day we may get caught one time too many, and our luck will run out.

Although, this can be something of an advantage, in a way, as we find fear to be a very good motivator. It was partially fear of starvation that led Sora and I to learn to steal food in the first place; and now the fear of being caught and punished for our actions makes us be just that little bit more careful, a little bit more aware, and to take just one more look over our shoulders, with sharper sight, for any possible danger. It gives us both a bit of an edge, but it's also the shadow of fear that marks our every move.

For obvious reasons I prefer not to think about this, and so I shake my head and gesture for the others to drop the subject, taking a piece of dried plum for myself and tearing a bit out of it with my teeth. The rest do the same. They can think of nothing to change the subject to, though, so we simply sit eat our fruit in relative silence. As I do this, I look over each of my friends.

As it was his remark that brought on the tension, my eyes turn first to Jaike Zirant, Jag and Janera's son. Unlike the others, who are starting to talk again - albeit very quietly and uncomfortably seeing as it's hard to segue into another subject right after talk of being shot in the head before the whole district – Jaike remains silent, lying on his back and glaring up at the ceiling. He's only thirteen, the youngest of the group, and yet he's already written off life in this District as a pointless waste, and as a result is usually bitter, distrustful of most, and extremely cynical. Most of us try to stay somewhat optimistic, but Jaike chooses not to expend the effort.

To me he's a saddening sight. Sometimes I just want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him out of it, but other times I feel similarly, and can hardly blame him for feeling the way he does. As he hasn't exactly grown up with the best parental role models – Jag wants his boy to grow up to be just like him, and Janera doesn't care about him one way or another - I've tried to fill that position as best I can, but even now I don't know if I've succeeded. He's a strong kid, but he never seems to see the bright side of things like we do. Mentally sighing, I look to the far side of the room for more positive personalities, and Ritch, Duncan, and Clover are perfect examples.

Ritch, with his omnipresent playful grin back on his face, is trying to tell Duncan an older joke of his that he thinks has still retained its charm. Duncan is smiling but paying him no mind, as his attention is all on his sister, who is chatting animatedly to him about something her teacher said in school yesterday. Mentally, I smile too. Ritch and Duncan are the pair I can usually count on to keep an optimistic outlook on things. Fifteen-year-old Ritch Cedar always has a smile on his face and a permanent spring in his step to go with it. He's proven himself to be a good actor, so one must wonder if he's really just faking it. But if he is I can't tell the difference between that and when he's actually being a positive person. Most of the time Ritch is bright and optimistic, and it rubs off on the people he's around – the quality I like best about him.

However, if there's a downside to Ritch's personality, it's the fact that he's naturally slim and light, and rather fragile if you come right down to it. To his credit, Ritch is exceptionally fast, but he's not very strong. This makes him a prime target for Peacekeepers looking for someone to abuse. He refuses to be beaten down emotionally, and will always see the good in things until the worst is thrown in his face. His satisfaction with his lot in life and how he can make good with it irritates them, and though he's fast enough to outrun and most of them when they decide to go after him, he's not strong enough to fight them off or endure their attacks if they do catch him. While I do worry about this a lot with Ritch, Duncan's a different story.

Duncan Félixe has never been the type to back down from anything, and while he is the optimistic type, he keeps spirits up in a different way than Ritch does. He's only sixteen, but he's so tall and brawny that he could easily pass for an adult. He's always been big, but the work his job entails – heavy lifting, managing difficult equipment, and similar things – has made him muscular and strong. I've seen the other boys he works with. A few are brash and outspoken like him, but most keep to themselves and use their strength for nothing other than their work. Duncan doesn't do that at all. He's proud of his strength, and he uses it all the time, whether he has to for his line of work or to keep his friends and sister safe, or he just wants to show off or mess around for kicks. But like Ritch's bright personality is countered by his physical weakness, Duncan's strength is countered by his short temper and quickness to fight.

Duncan is usually an easygoing person, but he'll lose it in a second if he sees someone hurting his loved ones, especially Clover. Aside from Sora and me, he's the one who's most likely to get in a mess with the Peacekeepers, or in any fight with anyone, really; I'm beginning to wonder if he actually enjoys it a little. They love looking for an excuse to punish him, as his strong will and confidence are similar to mine and irritate them just as much, but unlike me Duncan is painfully easy for them to goad into attacking. Scars from the many times he's challenged them to defend someone else are scatters all over his arms, torso, and back, and there's three deep scars across his right cheek from when a Peacekeeper let one of his dogs loose on him and it clawed his face. However, though he is young, Duncan is one of the strongest people I know, and in every fight, whether he loses or not, he makes sure to give his opponents (as he puts it) marks to match his own.

Finally, I look at Varun Zephero, who is, as usual, quiet and observing everything from his bed on the opposite side of the room, with the constant still, waiting posture of a hunting cat. Varun is my age, seventeen, and he is my and Sora's closest friend, who we've known since we were four. Though I've never told him, it's his attitude of calm determination I've been trying to adopt since I met him. Varun is the least confrontational of our group; he'll stand his ground and fight when he needs to (in fact he's the most skilled fighter of all of us), but doesn't do anything to incite conflict like the rest of us. He's not much of a talker, but he always looks as though he's deep in thought, and so when he does speak, his words usually have a lot of thought and meaning behind them. He's very serious and pragmatic, and he frequently seems slightly brooding and sad as well. He says that when he looks like that it doesn't mean he's upset, it's just the way he is, but I think there's another reason for it.

The rest of us came here because our parents died, save for Jaike and his little sister Jordan, who are here because their parents run the place. Sora's parents were murdered, as was my father, and my mother died in childbirth. Ritch's mother and father were killed in a terrible fire that broke out in the cornfields during a dry spell. It was one of the worst the district had ever seen, and it spread too fast for any of the workers to escape. Duncan and Clover's mother died of tuberculosis and their father had it as well; he tried as best he could to survive and care for them, but he died as well, and Duncan took over as his sister's caretaker. He was able to keep the secret that they had no parents for about a year and a half, and then the district found out and sent them both here. But Varun is a different case.

As Janera explained to him when he was a child, and he later explained to us, he was left at the community home when he was six weeks old, with only a note that said his name. Varun was abandoned by his parents, and ever since he was old enough to understand what they had done, he's been brooding over it. He decided when he was eleven that he wanted to find his parents himself, but for six years he's had no luck. He tried tracking the surname, but found no one of that name anywhere or anytime, and he suspects it may have been made up. As a result of growing up abandoned by his parents and with no one loving him except for his friends, Varun devotes himself to two things in his life: first, to find anything he can of his family, if only to just know and not constantly have it gnawing at him; and second, to protect his loved ones at all costs, since they're the only things he's ever cherished or who have cherished him. Now, Varun catches my eye and returns my stare, his dark forest-green eyes boring into my gold ones with their calm intensity.

One dark brown eyebrow raises in question, and we've known each other long enough to be able to read each other perfectly without words. 'You're sure you're all right?' Varun wants to know. I nod reassuringly, and then I reach for my wrist. My fingers brush the small, makeshift wooden box tied tightly on a string around it – my most precious possession. A few years ago, I "borrowed" a knife from the kitchen and carved two thick pieces of wood out of it, which I attached with more string and put in the small drawings I've done of all my loved ones. I did this because after my father died, I started forgetting things about him, most prominently what he looked like. So I drew detailed pictures of everyone I love when I could find the time at school, the only time I had access to paper and a pencil, so that if anything happened to them I could preserve them in some way and I would never forget. Varun knows that Sora is the one I've drawn most, and so he associates the "box" with her. I touch the wooden surface slowly and deliberately, and then gesture to the half-open door with a raised eyebrow of my own, asking Varun if he wants to check on Sora now. He nods and starts for the door.

"Varun, are you going to see Sora?" Clover asks brightly. When both he and I nod, she asks, "Is she all right too?"

"Of course, Clover, she's perfectly fine," Duncan assures her before I can open my mouth.

"About the same as me," I say, not wanting to sugarcoat anything.

"Not so fine," mutters Varun.

"Well, you'll be oka – Oh!" Clover breaks off with a startled yelp, and her eyes are all of a sudden wide with terror, and she darts behind her much bigger brother. As Duncan follows her gaze to the doorway just behind me, his face contorts with anger. Before I can ask them what's wrong, I hear a voice as unwelcome as a Peacekeeper's behind me.

"So as of now, there's two kids beat up by Peacekeepers this reaping day," says Janera with the air of a cat playing with a mouse in its claws. "How about we go for seven?" I turn to see her with a smirk on her face I recognize, a familiar 'I've-got-you-now' expression.

"Hasn't there been enough bloodshed from here today, Janera?" Varun says softly.

"Well, I don't know," Janera says, putting her hand on her chin and pretending to think about it. "Since angel boy here's been a lot more trouble than he's worth…" Her eyes pass to each person in the room, none of whom moved or said a word, lingering on the incriminating bits of fruit in their hands.

"And you and Dad missed it when they got beat the first time," mutters Jaike.

Janera narrows her dark blue eyes at her son, who glares right back at her with his identical ones. "Shut your mouth, boy, you'll just get yourself in deeper," she snaps, glaring around the room to show that her words apply to all of us. When she turns back to me, her expression reverts back to the smirk. "I have to say, angel boy, you're taking this quite well. I'm glad I only have to deal with you now, and let the Peacekeepers deal with songbird's shrieking and carrying on. There'll certainly be a long delay for the reaping, what with the Peacekeepers having…let's see now…" She starts absently counting on her fingers. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, that's all of you plus songbird and Clover…And then there are the rest of her roommates too, which makes…Eight, nine, and ten…So they'll have ten public punishments to get done before the reaping. Such a troublesome delay," she adds, but her anticipatory tone contradicts her words.

"Hey, Janera…What about Jordan?" Duncan asks, reminding Janera that she's included her eleven-year-old daughter, who she has clearly shown that she prefers over her son, in her list of potential victims of the whip.

Janera's eyes narrow at him. "That's not your concern, Félixe," she snarls.

"The hell it's not - !" Duncan leaps up and starts to yell, but breaks off when I quickly put a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," I say firmly, and then turn to meet Janera's eyes. I recognize the look on Janera's face in more ways than one. I recognize an opportunity. With Jag, there's no way to talk your way out: he yells and he taunts and then he calls the Peacekeepers, in whichever order. But with Janera, there's a chance to bargain.

"Janera, Varun's right," I say carefully, as though I'm dealing with a predatory animal instead of another person. "There's been enough bloodshed today."

She gives me a poisonous smile. "Oh, but I'm afraid that's not for you to decide, angel boy," she says.

"I'm completely aware of that," I say. "But it's reaping day, and isn't that enough to bring pain for now? You certainly don't need to bring more into this day."

"And just how do you plan to stop me from doing just that?" she inquires. "You do deserve it, after all, and I would enjoy it."

"If that's what you want, I'll admit I can't stop you from doing so," I say, and then I pull what's left of the fruit I took from my pocket. "However, I can make your silence worth it if you don't."

Janera raises an eyebrow at the fruit and then at me, not saying anything but visibly interested. I keep silent and stay expressionless, as do the rest of the room's occupants. I resist the urge to give an identical smile to Janera's, because that would rub her the wrong way and ruin everything. I know that offering her stolen food could very well land me in deeper trouble, but I also know from experience that with Janera, that won't happen. As a result of her position here, she does have access to a bit more food than the rest of us, but in the long run that's not much of an advantage. She's as hungry for a tasty piece of fruit, of the kind that never comes around in our daily rations, as the rest of us and unlike Jag she's not too proud to take it if it comes from me. I've done this before to get out of trouble with her, and I know from experience that it usually works.

And it looks like this time is no exception. Janera, after a few moments of deliberation, takes a quick step towards me and snatches the food from my open palm.

"Pleasure doing business with you, angel boy," she says with a smirk, as though she's the one who's gotten away with what is technically a criminal offense, and she turns on her heel and saunters out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Ritch and Clover lets out huge sighs of relief, as Varun and I let our breaths out softly. Jaike lies back down on his bed, turning on his side with his back to us, but not before I catch the trace of anger on his face. Duncan glares at the door, still upset as well, while rubbing Clover's shoulder to calm her. Varun makes for the door to go and see Sora as he was doing before Janera walked in on us, but he's barely touched the knob before it swings open again, and he has to jump back to avoid getting slammed with the heavy piece of wood.

"Are you guys all right?" shouts Sora, throwing her whole upper body into the room, one hand gripping the doorknob and the other one gripping the door frame. "Jordan heard what was going on and she came running to tell me and so – "

"Relax, Sora," I say, and she stands up straight and looks curious. "I paid Janera off with what food I had left."

"And she left just as happy as if she'd gotten to see the living daylights whipped out of us all," snarls Duncan, sounding disgusted.

"We're okay, but are you?" Varun asks, putting a hand on Sora's shoulder with a worried look. Our close friends are all like family here, but to me it's Varun and Sora who appear most like brother and sister. Varun's looked after Sora like a little sister for years, and he's as protective of her as Duncan is of Clover.

"I'm fine, Varun," Sora assures him, "just like always."

"I just like to make sure, is all," Varun says, looking her over to judge the severity of her wounds, and then giving me a glance to compare them to mine.

"I know." Sora gives him a smile before turning to me. "Would you guys mind if I took Angelo from you for another few minutes?"

Duncan, Ritch, and Jaike smirk and snicker at her words, finding another meaning in Sora's request for alone time with me. Clover looks confused at their amusement, while Sora and I glare, and I think I see Varun look somewhat disappointed for a moment before doing the same as us. Sora grabs my hand, saying, "I'll take that as a yes," and pulls me out of the room. As she leads me down the hall, I hear Ritch call after us.

"Hey, don't take too long; before we know it it's going to be time for the reaping!"

"All right!" Sora yells back to indicate she heard. She clearly has every intention of hurrying whatever she wants to do up, as she's running down the halls and up the stairs at the end of the last one, the stairway which leads to the rooftop.

Once we get there Sora lets go of my hand, and I raise my eyebrows at her when she turns to glance at me. We don't come up here that often, but when we do it's usually because either Sora or I have something important to do or say. I wonder what she's up to.

Sora suddenly looks a little awkward, and she drops her eyes for a moment. We stay in silence for a moment as she walks over to the opposite side of the rooftop. She seems nervous for some reason, which is very unlike her, and my curiosity is sparked. I move hesitantly to her side, and to break the silence I search around in my mind for anything I could say.

"It's still beautiful today," I say, gesturing to the sky and knowing it's stupid to be talking about the weather, but it's the first thing I can think of to say. And it's true, also. The sunrise was lovely, and now the sky is a clear, bright blue with the clouds rolling across it in unique shapes.

Sora nods and makes a little noise of agreement. "It's nice," she says. "But not for long. Look over there." She points in the direction of the northern corn fields, where I can see an imperious layer of dark gray against the horizon.

"A storm coming?" I say, and chuckle darkly. "It looks pretty bad already. And with our peoples' luck, it'll be pouring all over the district by reaping time."

"Yes," Sora says, and I'm surprised at how potent the note of sorrow in her voice is. We've worked all day in torrential rainstorms a few times before. She was never this upset over it; so is something else on her mind? "Angelo…" she begins tentatively. "I know this sounds so stupid and far-fetched, but…I've been having a bad feeling about this reaping for the past couple weeks."

"That's not stupid or far-fetched in the least," I say, confused. "Don't we all feel that way?"

"I know, but…I just feel like there's an axe over my head about to fall. Figuratively, of course," she adds quickly.

"You think something bad is going to happen today?" I say, and from the look on her face I can tell I've hit on the source of her fear.

"My stomach's twisting…my heart's wrenching…my blood's gone icy…Yes, I feel like something horrible is about to happen. It's a feeling of – Oh, what the hell do you call it – premonition," she says. She looks at me with the kind of pain in her eyes I only ever saw once, when she ran to me for comfort when her parents were killed. "I feel like we're going to lose someone today, someone precious," she whispers.

The vulnerability and barely veiled terror in her voice have shaken me, as it's so unlike Sora. Letting down her emotional guard is something Sora just doesn't do. If she really believes one of us is going to be lost to the Games today, it would be her worst nightmare come true. The same goes for the rest of us, and the bad thing is it is entirely rational. We all have taken out tesserae to support ourselves – something Jag and Janera never objected to, provided we forked over a share of the grain and oil to them – and so we all have many more entries in the reaping balls than is normal. We're all afraid that we or someone we care for will be sacrificed for the Capitol's entertainment, but for some reason Sora seems convinced it will happen today, and it scares her even more than she is letting on.

I wrap my arms tightly around her out of both protective instinct and that I don't like to see her so unnerved. "Sora…" I begin, unsure of how to comfort her. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what to say to you. I could tell you that of course all of us are safe…but I don't want to lie to you, because none of us are safe."

Sora, instead of tensing up as I expect, fiercely returns my embrace. She rests her head on my shoulder, and answers, "I know; I just wanted to tell someone, no matter how it sounds. I know how ridiculous it is for me to act this way." I hear her swallow, and then feel her cheek against my own as she lifts her lips to my ear. "I won't lose you," she whispers. "I won't let you go." Then she says four more words that make me freeze in place: "I love you, Angelo."

Feeling the sudden stiffness of my body, Sora pulls her head back, sees my startled expression, and she apparently gets the wrong idea. She turns her eyes away from me and mutters, "Sorry." Embarrassed, she drops her arms and tries to step back, but her awkward feelings turn to surprise when I pull her back and press my lips against hers. I feel her mouth form into a smile as she drapes her arms around my shoulders and leans into the kiss. We stay locked in our passionate embrace for about a minute, until I finally break it, letting a grin spread across my face.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that to you," I tell Sora, and she smirks.

"Well, then I'm glad to be the one to finally get it out there," she says, a trace of triumph in her voice.

"Yeah, me too," I laugh. Then my face reverts back to its serious expression when I remember that this isn't what she brought me up here to tell me, and I feel bad that I haven't given her at least some form of comfort. "Sora, I can't tell you to stop worrying about this bad feeling you have, because I know you can't. But I can tell you this – If any of us are reaped, we won't just roll over and die, if that's what you pictured."

"Of course I didn't," Sora cuts in indignantly. "None of you ever would. If you really want to know, I actually thought of – " She catches herself and breaks off midsentence. "Never mind, I think you can guess the rest. But I know you wouldn't go down without a fight; is that what you were going to say?"

"Right," I agree. "Sora, none of us would leave our family short one member willingly. We'd fight every minute to get back home and keep us whole. You know, out of all those in the district, we're some of the best equipped to win the Games."

Sora looks confused for a moment, and then she starts to nod. "Oh, I get it," she says. She sounds hopeful, but the speed and pitch of her voice suggest something else. "Varun, who can fight brilliantly and keep a clear head all the time; Ritch with his speed, he could get out of anything; Jaike would probably be the cleverest tribute there; of course Duncan with both brawns and brain, unlike most Careers…And then there's you. I doubt even the best of tributes can fly through the trees like you and I do. And combined with your skill, there's nothing that could stop you."

"There is that," I admit. "So…I won't say there's no need to worry, but I hope it reassures you to know that if one of us did get reaped, we'd try with everything we had to win."

"I know you would," says Sora softly, her gray-green eyes fixed intensely on my amber ones. "You'd never leave us incomplete."

"Of course not." I move my hand up from her hips to her face, and gently tuck the one lock of gold hair that always comes loose from her long ponytail behind her ear. "Our friends all mean the world to me, and…I love you more than anything, Sora." I chuckle before continuing. "You've got no idea – what am I saying, of course you do – how wonderful it feels to tell you that. And speaking for myself, though I'm sure they all think this way too, I'd go through anything if it meant that I could stay the rest of my life with you all."

"You usually don't talk this much," Sora says, "but based on what you've been saying I think you should do it more often. My mother once said the right words can work magic on people." She leans closer to me and her voice softens. "I think she was completely right."

I smile as she does too, and as if the same thought has occurred to both of us at the same time, we both move in for another kiss, to enjoy one another even more than ever before. But just when our lips are so close that I can smell the scent of fresh fruit still on her breath, a shrill call of our names startles us into jumping back.

"Angel boy! Songbird!" Janera shrieks from the stairwell. "What are you two doing up there? We need to be at the square in less than an hour! You've wasted enough time, now get down here and make yourselves camera-ready!"

Sora grimaces. "Thanks a lot, Janera. Thanks a bunch."

"You damn well better be thanking me," Janera snaps. "The other scum in this district might not care how the Capitolians see us, but it'll be a cold day in hell before I let you be broadcast to the whole nation like them and have it connected with me!"

"We've got time, and we would have come on our own if you'd let us alone," I point out.

"Of course you would," she sneers. "I doubt it, based on the noises I heard you two making a minute ago. I swear, you two better not bring any babies in this house or I promise you, I will –"

"All right!" Sora yells, a furious crimson blush spreading on her tanned face. "You're reading way too far into this, Janera!"

Janera snickers, says "Whether I am or not, you'd better knock off whatever you were doing and move it!", and then we hear her heavy footsteps descending the stairs to go find someone else to yell at.

When she's gone, Sora and I glance at each other, and she sighs. "Guess we'd better go then," she says. I let her step out of my arms and I follow her back the way we came. As my eyes take in her form, I suppress my own deep sigh. All my insides were tingling and my blood was racing as I anticipated the pleasant sensation of Sora's soft lips against mine. Oh, well. Perhaps I'll be able to sneak in one more kiss before the reaping, for luck. And when my thoughts are returned to the reaping, another feeling floods my body as I look at Sora. I love her too much to let the Capitol separate us. If worst comes to worst, and I do end up in the Hunger Games, I can be sure of one thing – I will not let anything get in the way of my return home. If the other tributes believed they could stop me, they'd have another thing coming. I would turn off my emotions as I've learned to do so well, and show them exactly what I will do to keep my family whole.

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A/N - Why do these chapters end up so long? I don't mean for them to, they just stretch on and on! Taiga's POV was supposed to be a part of it too, and I cut that off and made it its own chapter to make this one shorter, but that backfired a bit…And speaking of her…

Name meanings –

-A taiga is an evergreen forest in the tundra. It has no relation to Taiga's character, but I was looking for a name for the character at the time and in science class I thought it sounded nice for her and so it stuck. Weird, hm? Her last name, Vernesh, is made up and has no meaning.

-Brodie, according to various websites, can either mean "ditch" or "earth ridge."

-Jag and Janera are made up names, but Jaike (sans the 'i') means "supplanter" and Jordan means "descends" or "flows down." Their last name Zirant is derived from the Swahili word 'zira' (which I learned from the Lion King II character) which means "hate," and applies more to Jag and Janera than to their kids.

-Varun means "rain god," and his last name Zephero is derived from 'zephyr', which means a light wind.

-Duncan means "dark warrior" and Clover is named after the flower. Their last name, Félixe, is derived from the name Felix, which means "happy and prosperous."

-Ritch (sans the 't') means "rich and powerful ruler", and his last name, Cedar, comes from the kind of tree.

On a side note…I happened to have a Disney playlist going while I was writing the last part of this chapter (sorry if that part's not very good, by the way, I'm new to writing romance), and One Jump Ahead from Aladdin started playing. Now, Angelo doesn't have much in common with Aladdin at all…But that doesn't mean I didn't end up imagine him singing it!

Angelo: Gotta keep one jump ahead of the breadline

One swing ahead of the sword

I steal only what I can't afford

That's everything!

One jump ahead of the lawmen

That's all, and that's no joke

These guys don't appreciate I'm broke!

Peacekeepers: Riffraff! Street rat!

Scoundrel! Take that!

Angelo: Just a little snack, guys…

Peacekeepers: Rip him open, take it back, guys!

Angelo: I can take a hint, gotta face the facts –

You're my only friend, Sora!

Taiga&Clover: Oh, it's sad Angelo's hit the bottom!

He's become a one-man rise in crime!

Janera: I'd blame the parents but he hasn't got 'em!

Angelo: Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat

Tell you all about it when I got the time!

Er…Anyway. I would really appreciate reviews! I want to know if you're enjoying the story, what you like about it, which character you like best, what you think I should work on…In the case of that last one, tips would be very helpful. So come on, please review!

Angelo: Now, Kaen…*sings* Let's not be too hasty…

Sora: *puts her arms around Angelo's shoulders and swings her leg onto his hip* Still I think he's rather tasty!

Angelo: Uh, Sora? Please don't ever do that again.

Sora: *smirks* Sorry, Angelo. I couldn't resist.

Kaen: All right, enough, you guys. Readers – I'm done with lengthy OC introductions for the moment, and now we're getting into the reapings! Next chapter will bring Tirion and Kaia back into the spotlight, and trust me, it'll be a much quicker update!

R&R?

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