Wash Hayner – District 7

Living in the community home wasn't where I expected to be when I turned seventeen. I'm sitting on the edge of my bed when Miles comes in. He's my best friend and I'd do anything for him, even volunteer for him in the Reaping. Of course, that will never happen because I've been praying that Miles won't get picked and he hasn't for the last three years. If he does and if I was never here, he'd lose. Half the time, District Seven's tributes are killed in the Bloodbath.

I button up my white shirt, and then tie my grungy, leather shoes. In the orphanage, we don't have much. We've got the bare necessities. Food, water, shelter, and occasionally clothes. Usually, we have to buy our own. Miles goes to his closet that we share and puts on a sky blue shirt and tie. "You're tying your tie wrong," I tell him, chuckling.

"What? I'm doing it perfectly fine!" Miles says, putting on a funny face. His tie is definitely not fine. It's in a knot, nearly choking him. I laugh even more, gently pulling his tie off. I untie it, then wrap it around his neck, tying it for him.

"You're fifteen and yet, you still don't know how to tie a tie," I say. "What's going to happen when I'm not here and you're going to go on a date with a girl and need to tie a tie?"

"Stop messing with me, Wash," he says. Miles and the other kids at the orphanage call me Wash. Wash is short for Washington. Miles shortened it. Ever since my mother died when I was fourteen and when I moved into the community home, Miles has been there. "It's you and me against the world. That's what you told me when I asked if you'd be my adoptive brother."

Two years ago, after I'd been at the orphanage for a year already, Miles asked me if I would be his big brother. His parents and brother were killed by Peacekeepers. They showed the slightest bit of mercy towards Miles by sending him to the community home. For years, he spent his days at the orphanage and after he hit the age of seven, he decided it was time to give up hoping a family would adopt him. As soon as I got into the home, I gave up on finding a family that would take me in. I was a teenager and no family would want that riff-raff in their house.

I finish tying my purple tie and tug on my brown blazer. I ruffle Miles's hair as we tromp down the stairs. "Wash! Wash!" a small voice says. I pick up a little girl named Fleur. She grins at me, giving me a hug. "You're not going to the Games this year, are you?"

I laugh at her, lightly tapping her nose. A lot of the small kids like me, also seeing me as an older brother. "Of course not, Fleur. I can't miss your school play next week." I set her down, greeting some of the other children. Gloria and Ian, the twins, come up to me, smiling devilishly.

"Wash, who was that girl that was here yesterday?" Gloria asks, giggling.

"She was pretty," Ian says, nodding.

"She was just a friend," I say. We all walk outside, down to the District Square.

"What's her name?" Gloria says eagerly.

"Well, if you must know, Ms. Nosey, her name was Liliana," I say, holding her hand. They've both just turned twelve. Their names are in the lottery once, but they could still be Reaped. I pray that they won't. I don't know if I could stand to watch Fleur or Gloria or Ian and especially Miles go to the Games. They mean everything to me. They're the only thing I have left.

Gloria and Ian leave once we reach the square to go to the twelve year old section. Fleur, who is just six, joins some of the workers from the community home. "Promise me you won't get Reaped," Miles tells me.

"I'll do my best. You promise me that you'll learn to tie a tie." We laugh together and look around as the mayor and escort arrive. Miles stands by my side for a while until we separate. I stand by myself in the seventeen year old section. There aren't many older kids in the orphanage. I've got friends at work, but they're not close. They're just work friends. Nothing special.

The mayor steps up, speaking into the mic with a monotone voice. He sighs a lot and has a sad look on at all times. Maybe that's because several years ago, he had his own son go to the Games and he died. To be honest, I never ever thought that his son could have won. Really, no one here wins. We haven't had many victors, maybe two or three. We only have one victor alive. The other two died from old age.

Petunia Superbia glides across the stage, her high heels clicking on the ground. Her orange and purple hair that is tied into a large bow on her head, bounces up and down. She looks like a giant piece of candy with the orange and purple swirls all over her body. She giggles into the mic and talks about Panem.

She jumps up and town, clapping her hands together. She's more immature than the five year olds at the community home. "Girls first!" She sniggers and reaches for the bowl with scraps of paper with names on them. "Oooohhh, this is such a pretty name!" More laughing. "Clara Lignum!"

A girl in a red plaid shirt and black pants stands in the crowd with a shocked expression. Her long, dark, brown hair blows steadily in the wind. She's pretty tall and strong looking. She must be a worker in the lumber yard. I notice Miles gawking at the girl too. Maybe she'll have a chance. Well, have a chance at escaping the Bloodbath. Otherwise, she'll probably die. I know it's bad to have little to no district spirit, but I think I've got good reasons seeing as our tributes always die.

The girl named Clara slowly walks up to the stage. She sits down next to our last victor, Arbor Pianta, and shakes his hand. He has a small smile on his face. He's not as sad looking as most district victors, but that might be because he's a morphling addict. He said he's clean, but obviously, that's a lie.

"Let's do the boys now!" Petunia chortles, drawing at name from the boys' bowl. I cross my fingers, hoping it's not me or Ian or—"Miles Fratello!"

The name doesn't register in my mind at first…

"I volunteer!" I scream.

"NO!" Miles pushes to the front of the crowd as I make my way towards the steps.

"Stay back, Miles," I tell him, shoving him away. "I volunteer as tribute."

"No! Washington, don't!" Tears are streaming down Miles's face. "You're my brother. Don't go!" He tries to ram into me, in hopes of knocking me out of the way. It does nothing since I'm nearly a foot taller than him.

"Stop it now! I'm volunteering for you." He clings onto me, but his hold loosens as Peacekeepers tear him away from me. I stagger onto the stage and tell everyone my name. "Washington Hayner." The crowd claps timidly. I shake Clara's hand before plopping into the seat next to Arbor. She gazes at me with her big, brown eyes. She tries to smile, but it falters.

Petunia giggles even more, closing the ceremony. Minutes later, after most of the crowd has dissolved, Clara and I are whisked away to the Justice Building. In there, I'll have to see Miles. He'll tell me to win for him, and I'll tell him I promise to. In the end, even if I do win, I'll die inside. Best bet, I'll have to kill a kid or two. The fact that I live with a bunch of younger kids doesn't make it any easier. They're going to be watching me. They're going to watch me kill kids younger than me.

If I come back, will they see me as Wash or Washington Hayner, the monster of District Seven?