I forgot to mention this... but if I spell something like 'Mum' instead of 'Mom' or 'realise' instead of 'realize' its because I'm from New Zealand. We spell like the British, and Australian. Deal with it. JK :D
***Astrid Romeburg's POV***
I sit at the breakfast table, twirling my silver necklace around and around my fingers, and untwisting it again.
"Hurry up and eat your damned food please, Astrid!" My mother demands, holding my baby sister Kiana on her hip, and feeding her with a spoon. Kiana looks at me, and she must think that Mother yelling at me is some sort of game, because she laughs at me, her blue eyes sparkling, and her fine blonde hairs catching the sunlight. I take a mouthful of the bread in front of me, and Mother has yet another demand for me.
"When you're finished eating, you can get ready, and tidy your room."
"Give her a break! It's reaping day today!" Dad walks in, fully awake, and clothed. "Get yourself changed, and eat, please." He walks over to Mother, taking Kiana off of her, and starts feeding her, making baby noises which she loves. Then, Mother storms out of the room, obviously upset that Dad essentially told her off for yelling at me. "Thanks, Dad!" I smile at him, and he's still making baby noises at Kiana. I laugh at him, as he asks me to go and wake my brother. I walk into Talon's room, and Jump on his bed. "Talon! TALON!" I yell, while jumping on his bed. "What...? Astrid?" I rush out of his room. Talon is the only one I can be weird around, and the only one who sees through my arrogant demeanour. I wander into my room, like I didn't just leap on my 17-year-old brother's bed. Oh well. I woke him up, at least! I open one of the drawers on my dresser, and pull out the outfit I've planned to wear today for a while. I pull on the grey shirt, and then the pleated skirt a shade darker than the shirt. I look in the mirror, and realise I look very monotonous. I was planning to wear my black laceups... Oh well. I'll wear my pink ballet flats. Still very monotonous... Aha! My pink cardigan will go perfectly! I laugh at my ingenuity, and waltz out of my room after putting the cardigan on, into the bathroom. I realise I never even brushed my hair, and run a comb through the shoulder-length auburn tresses. "Astrid! You ready yet?" My Mother screeches at me, from the lounge, presumably. I really do not like her sometimes. "I'm ready!" I yell, rushing out of the bathroom, my hair finally looking presentable. At the front door, Talon stands looking awkward in nice clothing, and Mum and Dad look pretty good, considering their age, and Kiana is lying on the floor, about to be picked up by Mum. "Hurry up! We're late!" Mother informs me pleasantly. Not.
"Hestia, leave her alone."
"Karl! Do not talk-" Mother is cut off.
"If you two would please stop arguing for five seconds, we won't get shot, because we could get to the damned Justice Building." Talon interjects Mother.
"TALON! How dear you talk to me like that! I'm your mother!"
"Yeah, and we're dead meat if we don't get there in time!" Kiana chooses this moment to start crying, and I grab Talon's wrist and drag him out the door, just so he doesn't face any of Mother's wrath. "Come on, we had better get going." I tell him, after shutting the heavy wooden door. We see all the other kids, and I catch the eye of one of my friends, Kal. "Hey Kal!" I exclaim, despite the grim feeling everyone else has saved for this day. She smiles back at me, and we walk to the Justice Building together, me walking slightly faster than Kal, only because I'm eager to lose my parents. "Hi Astrid!" says one of the younger boys from school. I shoot him a dirty look, and continue walking. By now, the crowds are getting thicker, and as I go to get my finger pricked, I lose Kal, but find her again afterwards, as we walk to the 15-year-old's section.
***Spark Challenge's POV***
It's not fair. Life seriously isn't fair for someone like me. I live with my mother, who is seriously overworked. My little sister, Sammy, the only person who genuinely seems to like me was adopted by a elderly woman in the rich part of town. She left me when my father was murdered by the Capitol. This fact alone, that he was brutally murdered, fuels my eternal hatred for the Capitol. And now, starting from today, I have to watch yet another 23 kids get murdered all for the entertainment for the bloodthirsty, horrible inhabitants of the place. That is why, when I go to get my finger pricked, I'm going to try as hard as I can to not get pricked. "Spark, wake up please." My mother tells me, not realising I'm already awake. "Coming M... Mum!" I call out to her. "Make your own breakfast please, I want this day off!"
"Yes, Mum." I walk into our tiny kitchen, and look at the bare cupboard. A stale half-loaf of bread, and some cheese about to go mouldy. Not quite 'bad' food, yet, but certainly not 'good' either. This meal is a far cry from the delicious and plentiful food we had back before Dad got murdered. Most say he 'died' but I know that's not true. He was murdered. I sigh, and try to forget about the nightmares that had haunted me for so long. As I pull the slightly stale bread and the cheese out of the cupboard, I think about who might get reaped from District 5 this year. Maybe it could be one from the rich part of District 5. The ones who haven't missed a meal. Or maybe it could be a kid who has to work, as well as their parents, for every meal. Someone who might actually have a chance of winning. I wish for it to not be me. "You finished yet?" Mum asks me. "Of c... course," I reply "I'm going to get ready, OK?"
"OK. Be quick."
I wander into the small room I call my bedroom, and glance at the hastily folded pile of clothes on the floor by my mattress. In it, I'm sure, is a brown shirt, and tan khakis. One of the few things left over from our days of doing well, of having money, of never skipping a meal. I put on the small brown shirt, and the sleeves seem slightly too small, and realise the tan khakis are too short in the leg. "Mum! My reaping clothes are too small!" I call out.
"Too bad!" Comes the answer. I look ridiculous. I'm just going to have to live with it. "I'm ready Mum, let's go." I tell her.
"Alright." She walks out of her room, with an old necklace from our rich days, and looks gorgeous in it. "You look n... nice, Mum!" I tell her.
"Thanks." We walk towards the Justice Building in silence. As we get there, I see a couple of the popular girls. Astrid, and her friend... Kal! I pay more attention to Astrid than I do her friend... I glance at the dreary surroundings, and realise the dark mood everyone seems to be in. Despite the bright banners the Capitol has put up around the square, there is a sad kind of aura around everyone. The extra Peacekeepers, the cameramen on the roofs, and the massive screen don't help the mood. I subconsciously move along the line of children walking to get their fingers pricked. At a seat behind a table is a woman dressed in Peacekeeper's uniforms, but her head and face are exposed, showing wrinkles, which means years of being a Peacekeeper. I involuntarily shiver, and realise it's my turn to get pricked. I slowly, shakily place my hand forward... and jerkily pull it back. I'm too late, and the woman grabs it, and forces the foreign needle in my finger, and shoves my finger she just pricked onto the piece of paper, and scans it with another hand-held device. She tells me I'm done, and I'm surprised I wasn't shot for resisting a Peacekeeper. I guess everyone's feeling a little generous today, knowing 23 children will be sent to their deaths. I'm just hoping I'm not one of them.
"Spark! Spark!" I hear a familiar voice behind me. "Sammy! Hey! H.. how are you?" I ask my little sister. "I'm good," She answers, "She's nice to me. I miss you though." It seems as though she genuinely misses me. "I miss you too, S... Sam," I start, "But I have to go now..." I walk towards the roped out section for 13-year-olds. As soon as I stand there, that bloody escort wobbles on-stage. "Welcome! To the reaping of the 76th annual Hunger Games!" She throws up her hands, as if expecting a round of applause. She is met with silence. "Well, how about we go for the boys first?" How about no! She reaches into the glass ball on the left, and pulls out a white slip of paper. "Spark Challenge!" I sigh with relief, then remember my name. I'm Spark Challenge, and I'm out of here. I take off, with the only sounds being my feet hitting the pavement, and the blood rushing to my ears. Before I know it, I'm thrown to the ground, and my nose hits the concrete below me. I'm dragged to my feet, and I see the white of Peacekeeper, and the red of blood. My own blood.
***Astrid Romeburg's POV***
I'm not sure why that weirdo Spark ran off like he did. I'm pretty sure he's not coming back in one piece. Then, I hear deep, heavy footsteps from behind me, and I, along with everyone else, turn around to face the sound. The Spark kid is being half-dragged, half-carried by a couple of Peacekeepers. They pull him onto the stage, where the escort is waiting, in her electric blue clothes and sickly yellow hair. Spark looks dejected, and now finally sombre, as the Peacekeepers hold him firmly so he doesn't try a stunt like that again. The escort regains her composure, as she walks to the other ball. I gulp, and wish for not only my safety, but also Kal's. But wishing that it wasn't me didn't help a single bit. I'm going to die in the next couple of weeks. I take a deep breath, and try to move my feet. Nothing happens. A rough hand pushes me, and as I don't expect it, I fall, and my wrist bends at an unhealthy angle. It takes everything I have to not scream out in pain. But I know I will be doing just that in a week or so. And not because of a sprained ankle. Something worse, definitely.