*DISTRICT 4*

*RIVER CLARKE*
*FOURTEEN*

"Do you need help?" River asks for the eighth time, watching her 19-year-old brother struggle to pour himself a glass of water. She looks at him, at how pathetic he looks, with drool dripping down his chin and big, shaky hands, but she can't bring herself to feel sorry. She needs to be strong.

"I can d-d-do it," he stutters, trying his best to get the words out.

"Here, let me." She reaches over and tips the pitcher just so, so that a thin stream of water fills his cup halfway, nothing spilled, nothing wasted. They can't afford it.

"R-r-reaping day," he murmurs, violently upending the glass, so liquid slops over the table. "Reaping Day, River."

"I know, Aquarius. I know. It's okay." Slowly, she mops up the spill as best as she can with the hem of her too-big shirt.

"Not okay. No no no no no."

River knows it's not okay. She does have a heart. She remembers that her parents were shot and killed for treason right in front of him. That day, everything inside her brother got mixed up somehow, as though his thoughts are fine, but his brain can't control his nerves, muscles, or speech. Or anything.

Be strong.

River pats Aquarius on the shoulder with a sad, heavy smile. "Reaping or not, I have to be at work for an hour. Is it alright if I go?"

"No. No leave. River no leave."

She bites her lip. If she gets fired, they will both starve. No question. "I have to, Aquarius. I'm sorry."

He jumps out of his chair and throws his arms around her. "My poor sweet sister. Don't leave me."

She wants to repeat that it's only for an hour, and then they'll be back together, safe and sound. The problem is that it's possible she will get Reaped, and she doesn't know who will care for her brother. After all, what if she gets back and finds him dead? Then what?

Maybe her life would be a little easier. No Aquarius to deal with, no worries about hassling for food for two people, no avoiding Child Services, who surely believe that her brother is an inadequate guardian.

Of course, Aquarius just has to voice her thoughts. "What if you get Reaped, River?"

"Honestly, Aquarius? I'm not sure." She puts both their glasses in the sink and runs barely any water over them, just enough so the milk in her cup won't become crusty and sour.

"W-what d-do you m-m-me-mean?" He sounds so shaky and fragile. "Who will be here with m-me?"

"I'm really not sure." She can't look at her brother's face as she ducks out of their tiny hut, closing and barring the door behind her.

*DAX HEARTH*
*FIFTEEN*

"Yo, Devil!" shouts his boss, a young man with a mohawk and a tattoo of a killer shark on his bicep. "Get over here! You're in charge of the nets today!"

Dax is in charge of the nets at least four times a week, and it's easily the most dangerous job. All sorts of things get caught up in the nets, from electric eels to baby sharks to poisonous jellyfish. The Net Man, as it's called, has to sort through the animals and decide what's worth keeping (oysters, clams, salmon) and what's not (trout, sardines, goldfish). Anything not worth keeping is thrown into a bucket for the fishermen to eat on their break. Anything that is worth keeping is shipped to the Capitol. The one good thing about working nets is that Dax can pocket the good stuff. He has to feed his family somehow.

"Devil's got nets again!" yells Barker Fin, laughing. A few of his cronies snicker with him.

"My name is not Devil!" screams Dax.

"Why do they call you Devil?" asks a small voice.

Dax looks down to see a curly-haired girl trailing him. "You shouldn't be here," he tells his cousin Hayley.

She ignores him.

"I'm serious." He shakes his head as he pulls a shirt over his muscled torso. Dax always comes prepared to dive for pearls, his dream job, but he's never gotten a chance. People are too biased against him. They don't trust him in the water.

"Me too." She shrugs. "Why do they call you Devil, Dax?"

"Because the day I was born, my parents were at sea. There was a horrible storm that day, and dozens of people drowned. They blame it on me. Okay, Hayley?"

"Okay." Hayley skips away.

Incredulously, Dax stares after her.

*DISTRICT 4 REAPING*

As Glory Green, the District 4 escort, crosses the stage to select the female tribute, Dax is still at home.

"It's okay. I'll hide down in the cellar. What will you do without me?"

"I have a job too." His mother smiles, though it's pained. "We'll be in more trouble if you're caught."

"I won't be caught," he assures her, already opening the trapdoor.

"No." She hands him a ripped-up suit, the only thing his alcoholic father left behind. "You need to change. Right now."

Someone pounds on the door. "Peacekeepers! Open for the Peacekeepers!"

"Coming!" Melanie Hearth shouts.

"Are there any children of Reaping age still in the house?"

"Yes, my son, Dax. He's changing. He'll be out in a second."

Before she can finish her sentence, Dax returns with his hair neatly parted and still wet. Troubled, he glances at the Peacekeepers, whose faces are hidden by their tinted helmets. "I'm here, Mom. Let's go."

Back at the Reaping, Glory Green pinches a piece of paper and ceremoniously unfolds it. "River Clarke."

River draws her mouth into a straight line, tightens her wavy black ponytail, and weaves through the crowd. She's short for her age, and no one makes room for her, so she shoves people aside as she goes. When she gets to the stage, she turns toward the audience, stony-faced.

Glory swallows, trying to decrease the awkwardness. "And our male tribute is... Dax Hearth! Dax? Where are you?"

Clearly, he's not there.

Glory has never had to deal with two problems at one Reaping. She turns to Mayor Johanson. "What..."

"I'm here!" It's a holler from the sea of potential tributes, and children move over to allow him to pass. "I'm here."

The escort exhales, relieved. "Give it up for River Clarke and Dax Hearth!"