Kyra Valente

It's five o'clock. Five o'clock means closing time, but my mother is nowhere to be found. Of course she told me she'd be back hours ago, but I should've figured I'd be alone to close up the shop again.

Our family runs a small shop where we sell grain products to District 9 including flour and bread that I've been able to make in my mother's absence. Although we're the grain district most of our products are shipped off. It's the local stores like the one we run that helps deliver grain products to our own district.

I flip the sign around and begin sweeping the floors. There is a checklist of things to be organize, and cleaned, products that need to be checked, boxes that need unloaded, and sales that need to be calculated. Hell if I'll be able to get that done in the next hour by myself.

A small knock comes from the door and I sigh with frustration.

"Look at the sign! Can't you see we're closed?" I yell.

"Kyra, it's me Avery. I just wanted to stop by to see if you needed any help."

Thank goodness for my best friend to come in to save the day. Avery knows I need help around here, especially as of late.

I let her in and immediately she asks what needs to be done.

"Do you mind sweeping? I know it's a sucky job, but we just got shipment in and I need to get it on the shelves."

She nods and takes the broom. "No problem Ky, but where's Zaria at? Shouldn't she be here on shipping day? You can't take care of all this by yourself."

Zaria, also known as my mother, hasn't cared about me, or this shop since my brother disappeared during a rebellion riot. This isn't even my store, but here I am, forced to run it, forced to stay here from seven to five. I'm homeschooled; so going to school isn't an option to get me away from this mess.

"Mom was supposed to be back two hours ago. She was called about a body that may be Colton's."

Avery raised her eyebrows. "So they think it's him for sure?"

I shrug my shoulders.

"Kyra, do you even care about what happened to your brother? You seem really apathetic about it."

I immediately find myself going into defensive mode. I have heard these words many times from my mother and father and I can't really take it now from Avery.

"Yes Avery!" I yell. "But I'm not one to hang on to false hopes. Sure we haven't found his body, but it doesn't mean he's out there and alive. If he were he would've come home by now."

Avery shakes her head, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever," and I make my way to the back room.

I just wish my mother and father could take a break from their search to spend time with the child that is here with them. I miss Colton dearly, don't get me wrong, but I'm under the impression that he is dead. It's been over a year after all. I've come to accept it, so why couldn't they?

The weight of anxiety feels heavier than the boxes I haul to the shelves where I carefully organize the supplies in their proper places. Even between Avery and I we are not able to get out of the store until 7:30 at night. My mother never showed up to help me, and I return to a dark and empty house. At least tomorrow I'll have to leave the store early. It is reaping day after all.

Boxer Lightwood

"Boxer wake up. Wake up." I am being shaken slowly back in forth as though I am riding waves.

Wake up. I have to wake up. I hear the voice of my brother Dillon. He must be hurt. I have to help him. Wake up Boxer. Wake up.

My eyes shoot open, and I see Dillon hovering above me. His eye looks to be swollen and small drops of blood drip from his nose and land on the covers of my bed. I sit up and turn on the light stunned to see my five-year-old brother in such shape.

I grab his face and tilt it up to assess any damage. It looks like his jaw is okay, but his eye is going to bruise. His nose does not look broken, which is a blessing. "I thought you were in bed, what happened?"

"I wanted a drink of water Boxer. I was thirsty."

"Dillon, I told you that you couldn't get up when Dad is awake, especially in the middle of the night."

Tears begin to form in his good eye. "I'm sorry."

"Oh no Dillon, don't cry. I'm just worried. You aren't big enough to fight back."

I sneak Dillon into the bathroom down the hall, and have him hold ice to his swollen eye, while I try to stop the nosebleed. I don't want to have Dillon tell me the details of what happened while he innocently walked to the kitchen. I can already tell, and I don't want to traumatize him any worse tonight.

Once I have stopped the bleeding and the swelling of his eye has gotten to a point where he can partially open it, I carry his frail body to his room and set him on the bed.

"Don't leave," he murmurs in his stupor, as I'm about to shut the door.

I sigh and take a seat next to his bed. It doesn't take long for him to fall back asleep. I admire his resilience, but I know it comes from years of this violence.

Our cat, Jabberwock, seems to sense the unease, and she leaps on Dillon's bed before spinning in circles and curling up next to him. He instinctively moves his hand over her calico fur, and she purrs. I decide that Jabber will be able to keep Dillon calm enough, and I make my way back to my bedroom.

I wonder where my mother is tonight. Perhaps she's working the night shift or wandering around the streets too fearful to come home. Maybe she's lying dead in the bedroom.

No, I can't think of these things.

"Boxer wake up!"

Upon hearing those words I snap awake and am ready to go into action, but all I see is my friend Alyce who is sitting next to me.

"You fell asleep in your sandwich." She says as she crunches into her apple. "Are you alright? You look scared to death."

"I'm okay. I was just having a nightmare."

She picks up a napkin and hands it to me as I try to wipe the remnants of my lunch off the side of my face.

"Long night?"

I nod, and Alyce pats my hand with sympathy.

"You're a good brother. I hope you know that. Some things are just out of your control."

"Yeah," I look over at the distant wheat fields. I want nothing more but to tramp through the grain until I am in so deep you cannot find me. I have so much anger to get rid of, and no place to put it. "I know."

Kyra Valente

Where is my mother? I reminded her today was the day of the reapings and that she needed to take over at one so I could get home to get changed.

It is now 1:10 and I'm about to close the shop early, and just split.

I wait around for another ten minutes and then start locking everything up. Just when I'm going to leave my mother moseys in.

"I'm sorry Ky! I lost track of time and I didn't realize how late it was."

I cross my arms. "Well I need to get out of here since I'm already running a half and hour behind."

"Kyra I'm sorry. I just…"

"Save it Mom, I have to go."

I push open the door.

"Good luck, honey!" She yells after me.

I rush home, and try to comb the random flecks of grain in my hair. I then pull out the first random dress I see and squeeze it over my head. The look I have achieved is not what I wanted, but it'll have to do.

I rush out of the house and to the square, and only manage to make it just as the last few people are checking in.

"Cutting it a bit close," I hear on of the Peacekeepers say.

"Not my fault," I mumble.

I finally get settled in, and I try to find Avery. I finally catch the back of her head, but there's no way I'll be able to get her attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 9, I'd like to welcome you to the first annual Hunger Games!" A capitol woman who resembles a poodle turns the microphone over to our Mayor who mumbles some unintelligible words as he reads a large scroll.

Finally the poodle woman announces that it's time to pick the tributes. She waddles to the male bowl in her uncomfortable looking shoes and plucks out the top slip.

"Our male tribute for District 9 will be… Boxer Lightwood!"

A tall bulky male with olive skin and brown hair makes his way to the stage. Poodle girl welcomes him and he only manages a half grin.

"Now for the ladies! She decides to dig deep into the bowl this time for the slip and wobbles once again back to the microphone.

"And the female tribute will be… Kyra Valente!"

How? How is it that out of those hundreds of slips mine got picked? I can't hide the surprise look on my face. I must remain calm, I remind myself. The cameras will certainly catch any look of horror on my face that will be broadcasted across Panem later tonight.

A sense of irony floods over me. In the process of finding my brother, my mother has lost the one child she had. In a way I want to laugh at it all, but it seems highly inappropriate for the circumstance. I wonder what she'll say tonight when it is me who is not at the shop for closing.

Boxer Lightwood

I've been spending the whole time on this train thinking about brother. The thought of survival or a strategy has not crossed my mind, and I can only think of Dillon alone in the hands of my father, and the neglect of my mother.

In the process of being destroyed, my brother will also be destroyed in the process. He is too small and frail to defend himself like I was able to. I can't help but cry as I stare out at the wheat fields of District 9.

"What's wrong with you?" I look over to see Kyra, my lovely district partner, plucking grapes off the buffet table and pouring herself a glass of wine that I know does not belong to her.

"Haven't you noticed that we're on a train to our deaths?"

"Yeah that may be true, but best to milk all that I can on the way there." She picks up the bottle. "Wine?"

"Um, no thanks."

"Fine, suit yourself, but laying around feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to get you back home. If you continue this you might as well start digging your grave now."

"Why are you acting like such a bitch? Can't you just leave me alone?"

She takes another swig from her glass. "I get that a lot, you'll get use to it. And I could leave you alone, but I know you have some fight in you. I have a proposition. Did you ever hear of an alliance? It might be a good idea if you want to survive past the first day."

"Alliance with you?" I feel like laughing. There's no way this girl could ever be trusted.

"Yeah, an alliance with the bitch."

I'm about to say no, but then I realize she may be right. I need to get back home to Dillon and this so-called alliance could be a great opportunity to get supplies and another set of eyes to watch my back. If the time comes I'll be able to just kill her anyways.

I know she cannot be trusted, but that doesn't mean I can be trusted either.