I wanna tear down boundaries
I wanna greet my enemies
I wanna see what I haven't seen
Cause I know there's more
Taffy England, 12
District Five female
"Taffy darling, it's fine. Just leave it be," my mother says as I straighten the salmon colored candles on one of the cakes that she is making. She comes up behind me and places her hand on my shoulders.
I squint my eyes real hard and place where exactly the candles would look best in my head. I guess you could say I am a bit of a perfectionist. If things aren't completely in order and organized, it really grinds my gears. Momma doesn't think that symmetry is the most important thing when baking cakes, she says it's all about they way it tastes. Her cakes are beautiful but sometimes they aren't exactly even.
My mom is a cake baker and designer while my father is the vice mayor. Both of them have taught me everything that they know about what they do. I personally prefer the baking, though. There is something about the way you can turn plain and simple ingredients such as flour and sugar into a masterpiece. Through the white dust that flies around the kitchen comes something so beautiful and personal. I've been baking and decorating my own cakes since I was only six years old. It's my favorite hobby.
"Just put this one here and it's perfect," I smile at my mom, moving the candle. I dust my hands off on my salmon colored apron and head towards the door. "I have to go help dad now. I'll see you at home, momma!" I shout over the loud buzz of the electric mixer. She waves me off and I walk out into the loud industrial streets of district five.
When I was ten, my dad had me help him get messages to different important people throughout the district. Somehow, it turned into a part-time job to help bring extra income to my family. I spend most of my days riding my bike around the district delivering messages to people and then bringing back important information to my dad. He always told me that a job worth doing is worth doing right, so that is what I live by. If I try something and fail, I get right back up and try again. I don't stay down for long.
Riding my bike through the district gives me time to think. I value this time by myself. I spend most of the day out here, delivering messages back and forth. This part- time job definitely helps me with being more social. If it were up to me, I would spend more time alone than with the other citizens of District five. Momma thinks it's strange that I don't have much interest in being with the other kids. I call it maturity.
The sun was hot today, and I can't wait to go up to my bedroom and crack open a good book. I love the way that you can just completely lose yourself in a story. The characters become your friends and the storyline becomes your life. The whole back wall of my bedroom is lined with bookcases and each shelf is lined with different adventures in alphabetical order of course, for me to lose myself in every time that I crack open a new crisp page. I read every night until my eyes get heavy, and then I drift off into a new adventure.
"Are you sleeping Taf?" My door creaks open, the hinges obviously needing to be oiled. My dad walks in and sits on the edge of my bed.
"I was, but I've been awake for a few minutes. Bad dream," I tell him, sitting up straight and adjusting my red braid that is perched on the side of my head.
"You left the knives out in the kitchen last night. You've got to be more careful. We can't have people finding out that you are training. That would get both of us in a world of trouble," He says, adjusting my purple comforter.
"Sorry, dad. I'll be more careful. Since they are already out, though, and I'm awake, maybe we could go throw for a little bit," I half tell him and half ask him.
"Sure, but make it quick and effective," he says motioning me towards the door.
When I was ten, I watched the Hunger Games on tv for the first time. I was fascinated by the swiftness of the knife throwing. Later that night, I snuck down into the kitchen and found my mom's best knife set. Holding the wooden handle in my fingers made me feel cool and the shiny silver metal protruding from the end of the handle scared me but excited me.
I drew a little target on the wall and stood back behind the center island. I threw the knives one by one and at first, they fell to the floor. But with each night that I practiced, they began to stick into the wall and then eventually they hit the bullseye.
One night, my dad walked into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. He is often up late nights, doing important work for the district. He was furious at first. I swore when he saw me holding the knife, smoke came out of his ears. He sent me to my room and the next morning the holes in the wall were filled in and the knives were not in their normal place.
He didn't talk to me for a few days but one night, he walked into my room and invited me down to the kitchen. He told me that he thought about it for awhile and that since I was only ten years old at the time, and I had eight more years with the opportunity to be reaped, that training wasn't a bad idea.
Each night, he worked with me more and more until each knife that I threw hit the target straight on. I still do it occasionally, but now that I'm twelve, I have other responsibilities that are more important to me. I know that I'm still young and that I have my whole life ahead of me, but I like my little-organized bubble.
My life isn't the average life that a twelve-year-old lives, but then again, I am not the average twelve-year-old.
You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You've been remade.
Jaxs Williamson, 18
District Five male
I live in a world where I am free to do anything that I want and honestly, I have access to anything that I could ever want. On one condition, though, I keep all my real feelings and emotions bottled up inside of me.
Money is the most important thing in life, right? Wrong. Well, not if you are my parents. Money makes the world go round and as long as I act appropriately, I am entitled to everything that they have.
My dad is just above the mayor in District Five so the Williamson name is well known in the district. The name comes with a lot of responsibility. We have an image to upkeep and a name to uphold. Nothing bad has ever really happened that was bad enough to taint our family name. But that is because there is a strict set of household rules in place at all times. This way, we act appropriately and my parents can rest easy at night knowing that their reputations are being upheld.
The first rule, stay quiet and never speak out against anything, even if you disagree. Talk about it in private later with people that you know won't spill the secrets. However, they prefer to not talk about any issues at all. This rule has always been hard for me, but as I've grown up, I've learned that keeping emotions all bottled up inside wasn't as hard as people made it out to be.
The second rule, always be well mannered and well behaved. This means, that no matter what the situation, you have to be on your best behavior. If you showed in the slightest that you were upset or scared of something, it meant that you weren't using your manners in a respectful way. It was almost as if my parents didn't want me to have fears at all.
From the time I was a little boy, these rules were enforced and if I didn't follow them exactly, the punishments would be severe. I was never brave enough to actually break the rules to find out what one of the punishments would be, after one night when I didn't behave and my father took my supper away for the rest of the week. If that was one of the easier punishments, I sure as hell wasn't going to find out what the severe ones were like.
Watching all of this happen, instilled a deep fear in me from the time that I had just learned to walk. I don't have any interest in being the perfect child, but I have been conditioned into being so. Perfect appearance, perfect grades and the perfect behavior. From someone who is on the outside looking in, it seems that I have a perfect life. I have all these material things that people in district five would only dream about having and I didn't even have to work for it. But it came with a steep price to pay.
Because of the fact that all I've known how to do my entire life is suppress my emotions, when I actually do try and feel something, I can't. Life isn't perfect and things happen. Terrible, sad things and no matter how hard I try, I feel nothing. I've even put myself through a series of home experiments. I've watched the saddest movie that you could possibly imagine, I've read sad books and thought about things that could probably get me locked up in insane asylums, but nothing happens. No tears and ever worse, no feelings.
The counselor at my school says it's because I don't know how to feel and even that I am scared of it. She might be right, but I wouldn't know. This is all that I've ever known. The rules and perfect behavior have become my life, but I am not going to let it stay that way. In order to get out of the house more and more specifically away from the crazy rules, I got a job at one of the local power plants in the district. I am only supposed to be a maintenance worker, but thanks to one of the rogue security guards who hates the Capitol, I am usually able to look around at all the supplies and engines.
It's exhilarating knowing that I am doing something that I'm not supposed to be doing. I could be caught at any moment and while I know the punishment at home would be incredibly severe, it almost seems worth it.
This job is my only escape really, no one here really cares about the prestige that my parents hold. They just want to get their job done and go home. They could care less about my personal life and for once that is exactly what I need. I spend a lot of the time here alone, which gives me time to think, but at least I'm not being watched under a microscope. The security guard with a vengeance towards the Capitol is one of the main people I talk too. I live through his crazy stories and experiences.
I long for that one day, to be able to say and do whatever I want without the fear of being judged. I know that it will happen one day, I can't live at home with my parents forever, but that day seriously can't come soon enough. I'm not sad or even angry about the situation that I am in. I can't help but wonder if I would be if I had the emotions of a normal eighteen-year-old boy. My life is definitely not average and it's not the ideal life. I wouldn't wish it on anyone to be honest but me personally, I am indifferent to it.
In life, we have to go through the motions and just make the best of the situations that we are put in. For me, that means doing what I am told and behaving the way that I am expected to behave until I can start the next chapter of my life.
I'm scared to start the next chapter though, I don't know anything else. I'm almost positive that I will never be a normal man. The only emotion that I am positive that I can still feel is anger. All of the anger that I can feel, is directed towards my parents for making me this way.
From the time we are born, it is up to our parents to shape us into the people we will eventually become until we are old enough to make our own decisions. A parent isn't just some title you earn by having sex and popping out a baby. A parent isn't someone who is distant and far away. And only spends time with you when they are delivering a material possession. A parent is someone who is supposed to love you unconditionally and help you through life's hardships.
I can't do anything with the anger I feel though, I will suppress it and pretend it's not there just like I have for eighteen years. I will be quiet and well mannered and I will follow all the rules. For now.
I don't have any answers
The more know the more I grow
I don't know where I'm going
But I'mma search cause I see hope
Taffy England, 12
District Five female
"Stop straightening your food and just eat it, Taf," my mom says, obviously annoyed at the fact that I am lining my green beans up by size.
"I'm almost done and besides, I don't eat meat. You know that" I say, turning my nose up at the piece of meat that is basically mooing at me from my plate.
"You're right dear, I forgot. I'm sorry. You need to eat everything except for the meat, though, you have a big day ahead of you," my dad says, stabbing the steak and putting it on his plate.
"Are you nervous?" My mother asks me, tying her red hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. This is her baking hair, it means she is about to delve into a serious cake project.
"Of course, I am, can't I just stay in with you and make cakes for the rest of my life?" I throw my head back to add some drama before giggling at how dramatic the gesture I just preformed actually was. "Talk about hunger games, people in this district participate in their own every single day with the amount of sweets that they take in," I say.
"Not everyone has a set workout plan at twelve years old, honey. Some people might actually think that you are crazy," my dad chuckles.
"I never said I wasn't, daddy," I joke, shoving a forkful of green beans into my mouth.
I like to be fit, I think it's important to start taking care of your body when you are young, that way you can avoid all of the undesirable health issues in the future. You want to be able to live life to your full potential when you are able to do so, so I started taking care of my body now.
"Alright, sweetie. Go upstairs and get dressed I laid out a pink dress and your strappy white sandals for you to wear today," my mother points down the hallway to my room as she starts to clear the table.
I crinkle my nose and try to hide my disgust at the mention of the frilly pink dress. I decide not to argue today though, it seems to me like today is more for show and for my parents as opposed to me, the one who might actually be chosen to participate in a horrendous activity.
I slide into the silky fabric and strap on my shoes, letting my braid out creating an ocean of red waves. My freckles are extra prominent today, exactly how I like them. Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it and if it's not, I will make it one.
But don't you know who you are,
What's been done for you?
Yeah don't you know who you are?
Jaxs Williamson, 18
District Five male
"I just don't know how you don't see it man, girls stare at you everywhere you go," Xander says, styling his hair to perfection and then messing it right up again, that is just the kind of person that he is.
"I see it, I just choose to ignore it. It's not like I would even begin to know how to have a relationship. That requires feeling," I tell him as I straighten my bowtie and tousle my hair to perfection. My parents would have an absolute meltdown if I was on TV without looking perfect.
"I wish I had that problem. Feelings complicate things. You could literally just mow through girls with no feelings and every guy in the district would be jealous of you," he says.
Xander is loud and boisterous and the complete opposite of everything my parents raised me to be. We click, though, we balance each other out, even if I do want to punch him in the face occasionally.
"Well, we haven't got much time to waste. Let's roll," he says, opening the door and heading out into the world that we call District Five. I look around the house just to make sure that my parents are around to say bye too, but they are nowhere in sight. I'm not surprised, though, they are never here.
The air is tense and people don't want to talk so it's eerily quiet as we wait for the escort to take the stage. Once she does, though, I almost miss the quiet.
"Hello, there! Welcome to the District Five reapings, I am honored to be here and talk to you little midgets about the amazingness that is the Hunger Games," she shouts into the microphone. "My name is Zee and I don't want to waste any time," she says, twirling and sending her pink and blue polka dot dress swaying in the nonexistent breeze. She has a beehive of purple hair piled onto the top of her head and big circles of pink blush on the apples of her cheeks.
She walks over to the female bowl and pulls out a slip without a second thought.
"Our female tribute is… Taffy England!" A cry erupts from the people who are watching the reapings. A small girl slowly starts to walk forward from the twelve-year-old section. She has a straight face and doesn't look phased. I can't help but wonder if she is feeling scared at all, being so young. She walks right past the escort and takes her place on the stage.
"Well, I guess this little one doesn't have anything to say, so let's move on," she walks over to the boy's bowl and takes her time, this time, moving the paper slips around with her spindly fingers.
"Our male tribute is… Jaxs Williamson!" The crowd gasps, but I don't really know what to feel so I just walk up to the stage and shake the escorts hand. I feel blank, which is nothing new, but seems like it shouldn't be normal in this circumstance. Zee makes us shake hands before leading us into the justice building, her annoyingly puffy skirt, rubs against my leg the whole way, but that is the only thing that I am feeling.
Hey, guys. :)
I wanted to genuinely apologize that this chapter took me so freaking long to post. I had been dealing with some personal things and then when I finally felt like writing again I got the news that a good friend of mine had passed away, so my mind has been occupied. But I'm okay now and I am excited to get this story back on the road.
Thank you so much to glittergirl20 for Jaxs and to Platrium for Taffy. I loved writing for them and they both came really naturally.
What did you think of Jaxs and Taffy?
Who has been your favorite so far?
Predictions?
Also, let's keep the random questions going. What is your all-time favorite food? :)
XOXO
Jenna