A/N

Well, this is it. We are officially DONE the reapings! Finally.

Anyway, here are the District 12 tributes! Hope you like them, and enjoy the chapter!

Eliban Morus POV

I wrap the blanket of my bed – if you can call a mattress on the dirty, dust-covered ground a bed – tighter around myself, wishing for just one more hour of sleep. Or five. Or the entire day.

Because today is the day I've been dreading for the entire year. The Reaping.

Last year had been just awful. I'd never been so anxious in my life; I remember spending the entire morning in tears, even in the square. Of course, I wasn't picked – thank goodness – but ever since that day I found myself dreading the fact that I would have to do this another six years in a row.

Or, I guess now it's five.

No. They haven't picked yet. I'm still an option.

I fold my pillow over my ears, a weak attempt to block the negative thoughts out.

You only have ten slips in there, Eliban. There are eighteen-year-olds here who have hundreds. I try to convince myself.

I'm not very convincing.

I jump with a start at the weight of a hand shaking my shoulder. My eyes fly open, scanning the face above me fearfully.

My nine-year-old sister, Becky. She stares down at me, her eyes tight and cautious, and I could tell she's trying her hardest to not trigger my reaping-morning-anxiety from last year.

"Mom says you have to get up now. It's half past noon." She whispers.

I close my eyes, moaning fearfully, before reluctantly rolling out of bed.

"Tell mom I'm up, Becky. I'll be down in a minute."

She nods at me before leaving the room we share, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

I head over to the hole in the wall we call a closet, looking through the clothes uninterestedly. I only have one reaping outfit; I'll probably be forced to wear it every year.

If you make it through this one.

I shudder at the thought.

Stop it.

I rip the suit out of the closet with more force than necessary, as if ripping the suit could help me rip the thoughts away.

It used to be my father's when he was young. And my grandfather's before that. I wouldn't be surprised if there were others before too who wore it. Did they have reapings before then?

I find myself unwilling to do the math, simply because it would make me keep thinking of the reaping. And no one wants that.

I slip the suit on carefully, not wanting to face my father if I ruin it.

My father is not the most cheerful of men. Hasn't been for about six years now since he lost his job in the mines. We've been struggling to survive even more than before ever since then. If I ruin this suit, my father will have to buy a new one. We cannot afford that.

I assess myself in the mirror. I look exactly the same as last year. Same black hair, same grey eyes, same short and scrawny build. Same grey suit, which apparently was once blue.

Hopefully, the outcome of this reaping will also be the same. Survival for one more year.

Hopefully.

Enda Lester POV

"So how many slips you got?"

Jenna flinches at the question, and I immediately regret it. My friend Jenna has five younger siblings.

"I-if you don't wanna tell me that's –"

"No, no its fine," she reassures me with a timid smile, "I've got 8. You?"

Right. We're only twelve. 8 actually isn't all that bad.

"Four."

She nods thoughtfully, probably thinking of how good our odds realistically are. Sure, a lot of our classmates from the town only have one slip, but there are eighteen year olds from the Seam who have way more.

"We'll be fine. But I'll just feel so awful for whoever does end up being chosen! Last year, both the tributes cried their eyes out!"

They had reason to cry of course. Both were from the Seam, a year or two older than I was, and neither of them lived past the bloodbath.

Such a waste of life. I'm sure those tributes could have had decently bright futures. Maybe they would have found love, had kids maybe. Or just live a happy life among friends and family. But instead they had to die in a fight to the death against twenty-two other children just like them.

Why can't people in the Capitol and the districts just be friends?

Jenna and I spend the rest of our time together in silence, as we so often do. Jenna isn't the biggest talker, and I don't want to force her. If she prefers silence, she can have silence.

After several minutes, we reach my house.

"Are you okay to walk home alone, Jen?" I ask, concerned.

She nods, waving goodbye before continuing down the road.

I let myself into the house with a sigh. Time to prepare.

I am greeted instantly by Mellia. Of course, our parents are getting last minute hours at the mines before meeting us at the reaping. They spend as much time there as humanly possible most days.

"Enda! Thank goodness, I was getting worried. I've already picked out your outfit, saved you a bit of time," she says with a sweet smile.

"Thanks, Mel!"

I walk over to the room we share, where a blue dress and white long-sleeved undershirt are laid neatly folded on our mattress, complete with my sister's "good luck locket" that she's always worn. The one with that beautiful picture of our family, taken back when I was nine.

The outfit looks vaguely familiar. Probably her old reaping outfit from her first reaping.

I slip the outfit on carefully to not break it, before heading back to the kitchen were Mellia is waiting.

"How do I look?" I inquire with a grin, spinning around in a quick circle to showcase myself.

Mellia smiles fondly, "You look just like twelve year old me!"

I don't doubt that in the slightest. Mellia and I are spitting images of each other, with our Townie-typical blond hair and Seam-grey eyes.

"You ready to go?" she asks.

I nod my head, trying to mask my worry with a smile.

I can tell Mellia notices it, but she doesn't say a word.

Eliban Morus POV

I walk the three steps from Becky and I's room to the kitchen shortly after getting dressed, joining my family for a "delicious" meal of tesserae food. I notice a bowl of the stuff has already been prepared for me. Becky.

I nod gratefully at her and she smiles back at me from across the table.

My father eats without a word, probably wishing he were back in the mines working his old job. My mother is also silent.

Has been for a while now.

After my father lost his job, my mother slowly spiraled into a depression. The longer our poverty remained and the poorer we got, the more my mother isolated herself and closed off to the rest of the world. She barely responds to us anymore, but it's always worth a try.

"So, did you sleep well last night Mother?" I ask carefully.

She doesn't even so much as blink in my direction, her mind somewhere far away from the rest of the family. I doubt she even heard the question.

"Don't bother, Eliban. You know she won't answer." My father grunts.

I look away from him, focusing all of my attention on my breakfast. Anything but the reaping. Any distraction is better than that.

We all finish eating at the same time.

"Alright, we all ready? We can't be late again!" my father exclaims, annoyed already.

We hadn't even been that late last year. The escort had just stepped onto the stage when we got there. And the only reason we signed in late was because I freaked out about having to prick my finger.

Ugh, another unpleasant thing to look forward to.

Becky immediately slips her shoes on, handing my usual reaping shoes to me before walking out the door. The rest of the family soon follows suit.

The walk to the reaping is dead silent, just like our breakfast was. My mother walks slightly unsteadily, her eyes glazed over and distant. My father is ahead of us, practically speed-walking to the reaping, no doubt just wanting to get the damn thing over with. Becky just seems calm, thinking to herself and looking around.

I, on the other hand, am internally a wreck.

Just a few more minutes, and my fate will be sealed. Will I be able to join the rest of the district tonight as they celebrate?

Or will I be on a Capitol train tonight, probably in a far off district, on my way to fight to the death in the Capitol?

A wave of nausea rises within me, and I quickly divert my attention elsewhere, trying to match Becky's calm and relaxed breathing beside me.

Soon enough, we've reached sign-in. My mother and Becky each squeeze one of my hands while my father simply grunts a "good luck" to me under his breath before they all join the non-eligible line to sign in.

I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself before joining the eligible tribute line, behind a group of older girls. There are not enough words to describe how much I cannot wait to be their age, and free from the reaping.

If you make it to that age.

And even then, they still have one more. What if you get picked on your last reaping?

I need to find a way to silence my brain sometimes.

Before I know it, all of the girls have been split up, each of them at a separate booth. I see one of them flinch a little at being pricked. And here I was hoping maybe one day I would get used to it.

"Next!"

I take another deep breath.

Relax, it's just a little pinch. No big deal…

"Next, please!" the voice calls again, sounding irritated.

I hastily make my way over to the empty booth, ignoring the annoyed faces of the other potential tributes behind me.

"Name please, make it fast."

"E-Eliban Morus. Thirteen years old, District Twe-"

"I don't need that info, dummy. Just the name."

With that, she sinks her little stabbing-device into my hand with much more force than last year's Capitolite did, and I cry out in pain. I can hear snickering behind me.

She flashes me a sickly sweet smile, "Thank you, happy Hunger Games! Next!"

I stumble over to the thirteen section, holding back the tears with all my might. The last thing I need is more people laughing at me.

Enda Lester POV

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I smile weakly at the Capitol attendant who just signed me in, trying not to focus on the stinging sensation in my thumb. At least she was nice to me, and tried to be gentle. She even said I looked "adorable".

See? Capitol people can be nice, too.

Mellia comes over to me, placing both hands on my shoulders comfortingly.

"Alright, Enda, the worst of it is over. Now all you have to do is go over to the twelve section over there and stay quiet. She'll pick two names, neither of which will be yours, and then I'll come find you when it's over. Okay?"

I nod my head yes, smiling at her gratefully. She smiles back before turning away to head over to the fifteen section. But suddenly a thought occurs to me.

"Wait, Mellia!"

She turns around with a questioning look in her eyes.

"Neither of those names will be yours either, you know."

She just grins at me weakly. I know she's been anxious about this reaping. She has sixteen slips. Could be worse, but…

I try not to think about it as I spot Jenna in the twelve section. I place myself next to her and we barely have time to say a word before the escort starts speaking.

"Hi, hi! Welcome, welcome, welcome! To the very beginning of the 102nd annual Hunger Games! How exciting!"

I can't help but giggle at the escort's way of speaking. Whenever they show interviews of her on television, she always talks about how Effie Trinket was such an inspiration to her because of her amazing "fashion sense". Whatever that means.

I tune out a little bit throughout the Treaty of Treason bit of the reaping. That part has always been sort of boring, and made me sad. I only tune back in once the escort begins speaking again.

"Now without further ado, let's begin the exciting part! Ladies first, of course!"

The Effie-clone walks over to the girl's ball, taking her sweet time to pick the name. Older people in the district claim Effie used to reap her tributes the exact same way, swirling her perfectly manicured nails around the top of the slips before finally plucking one out at random.

She flashes the crowd a satisfied, almost smug smile as she showcases the still-sealed name in her hands. She opens it as soon as she reaches her microphone, belting the name out to the crowd in her cheery, high-pitched Capitol voice.

"Enda Lester!"

I immediately freeze at the sound of my name. No. This is not possible. I only had four slips! Mellia said it wouldn't be me!

Mellia. Mellia will volunteer. I just know it.

We often talk in hushed, awed voices at home about Katniss Everdeen. The face of the Mockingjay Rebellion. Ever since Mellia learned about what she tried to do for Panem (or how she tried to destroy it as they like to teach in school), she's always told me about how much she admires her and wants to be like her. She even once told me she and I could be a modern Katniss and Primrose.

So, she'll volunteer. I'm twelve, like Primrose was in the 74th Games. Mellia is fifteen, but Katniss was only a year older, right? She has to!

But she doesn't. The square is completely silent, all eyes on me.

"Come on, Enda, dear. Don't be shy!" the escort trills.

I slowly make my way to the stage, holding back tears the whole way. Why? Why didn't Mellia volunteer? She could have won. She definitely had a chance! She almost certainly would have won.

While I almost certainly will die.

"Oh, aren't you just adorable! Look at that little dress! Welcome, deary!"

I am in too much shock to be grateful for her kind words. I stare out into the crowd, my eyes briefly meeting Mellia's, which are just as tear-filled as mine.

I will try my best. After all, how bad could it possibly be? Maybe if I stay hidden I could have a chance.

Mellia won't get to be like Katniss, but maybe I could change the story a little. Maybe I could be Primrose, and win the Games like her sister did.

I am hopeful. After all, anything is possible!

Eliban Morus POV

I am shaking so hard my skeletal structure might just disintegrate. I can barely even see the girl who's just been called, the stress in my mind overtaking all of my senses.

I jump at the feeling of a hand suddenly on my shoulder. Gin. My only friend, who happens to be "the biggest geek in school" according to our classmates. He's a cool guy, though: we bonded over our mutual understanding of what it's like to be ignored by everyone else.

"Relax, man. You won't be picked. The odds of that happening are relatively miniscule. I can explain the mathematics to you if you'd like."

I almost consider accepting that offer merely because it will be a distraction…then again, he is technically analyzing the reaping. The very thing I'm trying to avoid thinking about, despite the fact that it's in full swing at the moment.

"No, thanks," I choke out, trying to calm my nervous tremors to no avail.

"Well! This has all been very exciting, but there is only more to come! There is still a male tribute to choose now, is there not?! Let's get on that!"

Moment of truth.

I keep my gaze fixated on those long, unnatural nails swirling mysteriously over the slips. Eight of which have my name on them.

This is it. Any minute now, SOMEONE'S name (not yours) will be picked from that ball and you can finally go home. And you won't have to suffer through this whole ordeal again for a whole year! That's good, yeah…that's good.

I've almost managed to completely calm myself down with the soothing thoughts when the escort finally calls out the unlucky name.

"Eliban Morus!"

I freeze in place, all the calm immediately melting away to fully unleash the panic I have been holding back all morning. No. This can't be happening. It can't – I can't…

I'm hyperventilating, tears streaming down my face faster than I can stop them. For once nobody laughs. Nobody calls me a crybaby, or tells me to suck it up.

Because for once, I actually have a valid reason.

I stumble onto the stage, taking my place next to the girl who I can now see is not much older than me. Maybe even younger. A strange mix of blond hair and gray eyes. She's crying, too, but somehow she seems to have more dignity.

"Wonderful! No tears, children! I know it's all very overwhelming, but just think of the amazing and glorious things ahead of you! Now, shake hands."

I shake hands with the girl, both of us a sobbing mess of tears.

Well, this is where it ends. It's been a good life, I guess.

Enda Lester POV

There are no longer any tears left for me to shed. Somewhere between the handshake and the Peacekeepers essentially shoving me into this room they stopped flowing, leaving my eyes feeling swollen and probably bloodshot red.

I can't stop thinking about Mellia. I know it is somewhat selfish, but I can't help but feel shocked that she didn't volunteer. Why didn't she? Did she get scared? Did she forget it was an option?

Does she not care as much as she's always said she does?

I don't have much time to ponder; before I know it Jenna has entered the room, her eyes looking almost as swollen and red as mine feel.

"You'll try to come back…won't you, Enda?"

Her tone of voice almost makes me break down all over again. She sounds so hopeful, and I can hear it in her voice that she thinks I have a chance.

"Of course I will, Jenna! I won't give up the fight, I swear!"

She nods, satisfied, and comes over to take a seat next to me. She pulls me into a hug and before I know it I find myself crying all over again. Jenna says nothing. As usual, she comforts me with her actions rather than her words.

We stay that way, silently holding each other, until the peacekeepers come for Jenna. She obediently leaves the room as soon as they summon her, giving one last squeeze before she does.

My family steps in as soon as she steps out, both of my parents covered in coal dust. They probably just left the mines in time to hear my name being called.

Mellia looks like a complete wreck. Almost as bad as I currently feel.

She doesn't even let anyone get a word out.

"Enda! Enda, I'm so sorry I didn't volunteer! I just froze up and I completely forgot how to speak and –and –"

The guilt sinks in immediately. I cannot believe how selfish I've been. Wishing Mellia had volunteered to take my place in a fight to the death!

"Mellia!" I cut off her rant, "Mel, it's fine! I understand."

She stays completely silent, her eyes misting over.

"I'm still sorry. I can't protect you now. I'm a horrible big sister. I could never be like K-"

Wisely, she stops that sentence dead in its tracks. This room is under heavy surveillance. Any mention of Katniss Everdeen these days is extremely dangerous.

Apparently no one caught on, because nothing happens. No Peacekeepers come flooding into the room. We're safe.

Or maybe they decided to let it slide. The Peacekeepers can be good people, too.

"You are the perfect big sister, Mel. And you always will be."

After many hugs, words of reassurance and goodbyes, the Peadekeepers finally come for my family.

I am ready for this. If I put my mind to it, I can do it.

I just know I can.

Eliban Morus

As soon as I am alone, I collapse onto the floor. I curl up on the cold, hard ground, wailing at the top of my lungs. I don't care who hears me, or how much of a baby I'm being.

I'm going into the Hunger Games.

I can feel my breathing picking up again, slowly turning into hyperventilation, when I suddenly feel myself being yanked roughly onto my feet.

"You won't win the Games with that kind of attitude, son."

I flinch at the sound of my father's gruff voice.

"You need to be tough. No more crying, no more screaming. Be a man, for Christ's sake!"

I nod my head in understanding, wiping the tears away with the back of my hand. I have to listen. My father's right.

And winning is what I need to do. Not only do I absolutely NOT want to die, but the fortune it will bring could do wonders for our family.

I look over at my mother, who looks even more distant now than she ever did. This outcome was just as bad for her mentality as it was for mine.

I squeeze her hand, tears flowing freely despite my father's words. I need to at least try. Maybe it could bring her back to us, living in the Victor's Village with good food and money.

Becky hugs me, wrapping her little arms around my waist.

"You can do it, Elibus."

I hug her back, trying and miserably failing to hide the tears.

They leave shortly after, probably due to my father not wanting to see his pathetic son cry any longer. I don't expect any more visitors.

Until Gin suddenly waltzes in.

"There will be twenty-four tributes in the arena."

I stare at him blankly. Um, thanks for the heads-up?

"All between the ages of twelve and eighteen. You are thirteen."

"…yeah?"

"Realistically, six of those twenty-four of those will be careers. Four of them will likely kill each other off, the other two often teaming up until the very end, statistically."

I can see now what Gin is trying to do, and I hang onto every word.

"That leaves twenty tributes, eighteen of which are not careers. Statistically, most tributes are an average of fourteen to fifteen years old. Not much older than you. We can expect about seven bloodbath deaths, based on previous years. That leaves us with thirteen, eleven of which are not careers."

"Most tributes end up with an average of two kills in the Games. That means two for you. Eleven tributes, nine non-careers."

"Each career will probably have double the amount of kills. Four each."

"What does that leave? You and the two careers, who will turn on each other in a bloody battle. All that will be left for you to do is kill the one who does not die first in his or her state of weakness. Just stay hidden before then, and you will be victorious."

He leaves without another word. I am speechless, shocked…

And hopeful. Gin has managed to spark a hope in me that no one else was ever able to.

I can do this. I can win.

Hopefully.

A/N

Done! Words cannot express how happy I am that these damn things are over, and I'm SUPER sorry that it took a year and a half or so! They're just so tedious and I'm a huge perfectionist, but most chapters from here on out will be a little shorter and so they'll probably take less long.

Now, a little bit of info about where this SYOT will be going. The next chapter will be written by my fanfiction partner in crime, InkblotsOnThePage. It will basically be an introduction to the Head Gamemaker and what's going on in the Capitol in preparation for the Games (I think. We discussed it ages ago xD). So yeah, once that's over there will be a very brief filler chapter (like max 3 POVs) just showing how the tributes are getting along with their district partners and stuff, and then I'll move on to the Parade chapter.

In your review, please tell me which tribute (or tributes) you would like to see featured in the "filler" chapter! If I don't get enough requests, I will choose the remaining ones at random (and if I get too many, same concept but from the ones you chose).

Thanks for sticking with me and stay tuned!

Candy ~