*DISTRICT 6*

*MINNIE MONTE*
*THIRTEEN*

My back hurts. My back hurts. My legs hurt. My back aches. My head hurts. My back stings. My back hurts. Oh God, my back hurts so bad. It's all Minnie can think as she slumps on the floor. She'd tried sitting on the couch, but pressing her back against anything just made the pain worse. How could they whip her like that? And just before the Reaping, too!

Her head spins, her stomach swoops, and her brain is actually pounding. How have people ever gone through this? And she didn't have her parents here to take care of her. Yeah, they'll say goodbye, but they'll only have three minutes with her, and then she'll never have their comfort again. And they need to take care of her.

"Minnie!" Her mother races in, skidding and almost collapsing onto her daughter. "I didn't know where you were this morning, and then we saw you . . . we saw you in the square." Mrs. Monte is sobbing uncontrollably now, clinging to her daughter, her body racking with her tears. "They were hurting you. Oh my God, baby, they were hurting you."

"I know," Minnie whispers back, trembling. "I know. And my back hurts so bad, Mommy. My back hurts."

"They'll do something for you, once you get to the Capitol," Mr. Monte assures her.

"They will?" Minnie lifts her head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he says decisively, not sure at all.

::

Somehow, Minnie isn't expecting her younger brothers to show up. He's too small, too impressionable. Minnie is positive that her father covered his eyes during her beating. Mrs. Monte would have covered Minnie's, too, if she was with them. Yet she was the one being whipped. What a fucking paradox.

God, her back hurts. And her head. That hurts too. She's having trouble controlling her thoughts. She supposes she could peel her shirt away from her wounds, but then blood would pour down her skin and she'd be lightheaded and she doesn't think she can cope with that right now.

"Uh, Min?" asks a little voice.

"Peter!" Minnie leaps up, throwing her arms around her brother. "I love you."

"I'm sorry you got Reaped, Minnie," he says softly.

"It's okay. I'll be okay."

"You're going to die, Minnie," he states.

"Will not." Minnie fake-pouts and crosses her arms. The good big sister until the end.

"Will too," he protests seriously.

"Will not," she insists, then wonders why she is arguing over her own death. Especially with her six-year-old brother. He shouldn't even know what death is. "This is so wrong," she can't help murmuring.

God, her back freaking hurts.

So bad.

::

There's a small window in her room that faces out to the square. That isn't protocol, but the reason is because there was a massive downpour about a week ago, which was accompanied by a huge flash flood. About an eighth of the Justice Building had been washed out, so Minnie is in temporary tribute housing until they can rebuild her section of the edifice. But by that time she'll probably be gone anyway. Far gone.

She presses her nose against the dirty glass, scanning the square until she finally spots the one person who she wants more than anything to talk to. Darrell.

Unfortunately for them, he's attired in steel handcuffs, attached with a chain that is held by a Peacekeeper who appears to be guiding him back to his house, clearly with the goal of not allowing him to speak to Minnie.

Why me? Minnie thinks desperately. Why does all of this happen to me?

She can't see the boy she loves, she can't say goodbye before she dies, and she's going into the Hunger Games.

This honestly can't get worse.

*CARSON FAIR*
*FIFTEEN*

His corduroy pants are beyond uncomfortable. They're two sizes too small, scrounged by Becker off the streets of District 6. District 6 has the least amount of people out of all the Districts, and besides 12, it is the District that is paid least attention to. Rats and bugs swarm the roads and cottages. Clothing is chewed through by moths and mice. Nobody is rich, even the mayor.

Carson has been lonely all his life. He watches over his younger sister, Chesney, but she has many more friends than he does, and often uses them as an excuse to escape their dismal home and wander into shops and stores, never buying but always observing with her thoughtful eyes. She sees more than she lets on, in Carter's opinion. He wonders if she knows why their parents fight so much.

He doubts that they'll visit, or even if they'll realize that their son has been Reaped. They're probably beyond intoxicated, taking bets on the children (older or younger, whether they'll cry, whether the girl will be wearing a skirt). They keep a percentage of any bets people make (most people will wager something, or risk being informed on; the Fairs, when they're not inebriated beyond reason, tend to be the first to tell of any illegal activity, other than their own drinking and gambling).

Chesney will be off with her friends, probably, or possibly treading along after Mr. and Mrs. Fair. She's shy enough that she won't want to visit her brother alone, whether or not he's about to go into the Hunger Games. She'll be terrified of being abused or shot, and with good reason.

Sure enough, by the time his escort comes to fetch him, not one person has come to see him.

The door opens.

"Carson?"

"Yes?" he replies dully. It's his escort.

"Carson, bud. It's me!"

He whips his head around. "Wh - Becker?!"

"It's me, bro!" He's clothed in khaki shorts and a green shirt, with old brown sandals. Although he's homeless, he probably dresses better than Carson dies, collecting everyone else's leftovers and fixing them up until they look as good as new. He does have a lot of spare time, doing nothing all day. "Look, good luck. I'll try to watch, Carson."

"Thanks, Becker," he says. "I'll miss you, buddy."

"You too." Becker claps Carson on the back, giving him a one-armed hug, then slides out the door.

*DISTRICT 6 TRAIN*

As soon as the Peacekeepers let Carson out of his room, he makes his way over to the girl tribute. She is hobbling along, one hand pressed against the small of her back, like an old woman. Peacekeeper Ronan's attack has probably crippled her for life. But the remainder of hers will probably be quite short anyway, unless she has some hidden tricks up her sleeve. "I'm sorry; I didn't exactly catch your name," Carson begins courteously.

She looks at him, confused but grateful. "I'm Minnie," she replies. "Minnie Monte. And you're Carson . . . "

"Fair," he says immediately. "Carson Fair. It's nice to meet you." He hears his voice crack a little, but thankfully she ignores it. Or maybe she's just not listening that closely. "Um, so, allies? I mean, since we're from the same District and . . . " And there's no way I can leave you alone in that arena, not after that show.

"Uh, sure." She studies him, then smiles. "I guess it can't hurt, right?"

"Right," he agrees, grinning back.