District 9
Hermia Sanders
As I wait for the start of the tribute parade, I visualise the vast fields of wheat and other cereal crops which grow in District 9. Our entire district is dedicated to growing, harvesting and processing grain; in late summer, everything is golden as far as the eye can see. But, for many citizens of 9, life is far from golden. Ours is one of the poorer districts, which means people have to work long hours in the fields and in the grain processing plants just to make ends meet. And the grain we grow is not for our own benefit, but for the Capitol's, so many kids still have to claim tesserae.
That's what I did when I turned twelve. I had no choice; my parents were struggling to feed five children. My oldest brother, Tomas, had been claiming tesserae, but he had died in the Games the previous year. And, of my parents' surviving children, I was the only one old enough to take over from him. So, knowing it would increase my chances of having my name drawn, I went to the Justice Building to sign up - and I've had to renew my claim every year since. This year, I had forty entries in the reaping ball, one of which was drawn by our district escort. And, as is all too often the case in the poorer districts, no-one volunteered to take my place.
That's why I'm standing here now with my district partner, a boy named Baldwin, both of us dressed up to represent the grain industry. My costume consists of a light blue dress with designs of wheat embroidered on it in gold thread, giving the impression of a field of grain against the backdrop of a blue sky. This wheat embroidery is repeated all down the length of the long skirt and again on the sleeveless bodice. I'm also wearing golden armbands and blue slippers with the same embroidery as my dress. Finally, there's the headdress, which consists of a crown of wheat intertwined with blue flowers.
Inevitably given our district industry, tributes from 9 tend to end up in costumes which come in varying shades of yellow, reflecting the colour of ripe grain. The use of blue, albeit in combination with gold embroidery, adds a little variety. Blue is also my favourite colour; my district token is an enamel pendant in the shape of a blue flower. My mother gave it to me before I left District 9, but I don't have it at the moment. It was taken away for inspection when I arrived in the Capitol to make sure it didn't contain any concealed weapons.
Speaking of weapons, that's something I'll have to work on while I'm in the Capitol. Like most people in the poorer districts, I've never handled weapons before, much less used them to kill people. But, if I want to stand a decent chance in these Games, I'll have to learn fast. Even knowing how to wield a knife in combat would be better than nothing, even if my chances of taking out some of my fellow tributes (especially the Careers) are slim at best.
That means I may have to look into forming an alliance with at least one of my fellow tributes, though I'll have to be careful not to get too close to them. Alliances are all well and good, but these are the Hunger Games and only one of the twenty-four tributes can survive. And this can mean tributes who started out as allies having to kill each other.
I think of my family back in District 9, my parents and four younger siblings. My two sisters, ten-year-old Irene and seven-year-old Elvira. My brothers, Emmett who's twelve and six-year-old David. I hope none of my brothers and sisters will ever have to claim tesserae the way Tomas and I did, but I know the only way I can be sure they won't is to win the Games. And what must my parents be going through at this moment? They've already lost one child to the Games and now they face the prospect of losing another.
I stand beside Baldwin as the chariots start to roll out of the Remake Centre.
Baldwin Gardner
Like many kids from outside the Career districts, I always dreaded the thought of getting reaped; I knew it meant facing almost certain death on live TV. For three years in a row, I managed to escape, though this inevitably cost the lives of three other boys. But I tried not to think about that and simply reminded myself that all I had to do was hold on for a few more years, that (barring any Quarter Quells which might remove the twelve to eighteen age limit) I would be safe once I had turned nineteen.
But, at my fourth reaping, my name was drawn. No-one volunteered to take my place, so I became a tribute in the Seventy-third Hunger Games. I'm now in the Remake Centre with my district partner, Hermia, waiting for the start of the tribute parade. Because we come from District 9, our costumes are themed around grain. I'm wearing a light blue tunic and trousers, with matching slippers, all of which have wheat embroidered on them. My headdress is a crown of wheat, but, because I'm a boy, there are no flowers woven into it like there are with Hermia's.
I think about what my strategy for the Games should be. I can handle myself in a fight, but this won't be like the skirmishes I've been involved in with other boys from school. My fellow tributes and I will be actively trying to kill each other and I'll be facing armed opponents, something I've never had to deal with before. What chance will I have against, say, the boy from District 2? I can't see him from where I'm standing, but I saw him when I watched the televised recap of the reapings. He's got to be one of the most powerful of this year's tributes.
I guess I should spend my time at the Training Centre learning how to use weapons, so that I'll at least be able to defend myself against the other tributes. Even then, I doubt I'll last long against some of them, but it will be better than going down without a fight. Especially since I promised Spelt I would do my best to win, even if my best was far from good enough.
Spelt, I should explain at this point, is my twelve-year-old sister. Like most younger siblings, she's a bit of a pain, but we both like each other really. This year was her first reaping and I found myself hoping desperately that Spelt's name would not be drawn. Even though it was her first year and she hadn't claimed tesserae, I knew anyone with at least one entry in the reaping balls was at risk. In the end, Hermia's name was drawn instead, but my relief at my sister's safety was tempered when, minutes later, our district escort called my name.
Anyway, I told Spelt that I would do the best I could, but I think we both knew what the most likely outcome would be. I'll have only three days in which to learn how to handle weapons and I'll be up against tributes who've been training for these Games their whole lives. Working on my survival skills will probably help to an extent, but it won't do me much good if I get ambushed by the Careers. And there are any number of other things that could kill me - exposure, dehydration, mutts . . . and so on. All I can do once I get to the arena is try to stay alive for as long as I can. Which probably won't be very long.
I consider trying to get in with the Career pack, but dismiss the idea. I don't have any skills the Careers might find useful and, even if I did, I know how Career packs tend to operate. Any tributes from outside the Career districts who join up with the tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 are only kept alive as long as they are of use to the pack. The moment they've outlived their usefulness, they will be killed. A few such tributes manage to escape, but not many; they usually get taken out by one or more of their former allies.
I am still considering my options when the chariots start to roll out. The tribute parade is about to begin.