Author's Note: Hi there! I'm HogwartsDreamer113, also known as Dreamer! I am the author of the boy from Seven, Rocco Fritz. I hope you enjoy. :)

A Second Author's Note: I (Fin) also hope you enjoy Ofelia and Rocco!

Ofelia Velazquez, District Seven Female- InfiniteFinity

Some days I wake up and I still wonder why the house feels so empty, so much colder and distanced from the happiness that I remember in my first ten years of life. And then I look around at the walls of the room that my sister and I share, the room that used to belong to the sweetest person who ever existed.

His name was Danilo.

Claudia's memories of him are dim and fading every day, and Paz's are full of naivety and lack of understanding. But mine are vivid, pure. I was only ten, but I remember seeing him sometimes have a look in his eyes that was so sad, so hopeless, for just a brief second, before he carried on smiling for the sake of others. He was my role model, the person I aspired to and still aspire to be. I wish I could make him see himself how I see him still.

Every morning of the reaping since the world's loss of the kindest guy, I've thought about what he used to say on his reaping days. Even when he was young, only twelve, he would smile at me and say, "It's okay. Nobody wants to reap me. They can't pronounce my name. Nobody seems to be able to pronounce any of ours."

I knew that that wasn't how it worked, but my brother's smile and gentle words never failed to make me feel a little better. He was right, too. Everyone says my name like "Ophelia." Everyone calls Paz "pazz." People call Claudia "claw-dee-uh." People would pronounce Danilo "Danny-lo." It's "oh-fay-lee-uh," "paw-ss," "clowd-ee-uh."

It was "dah-nee-lo." His name was Danilo.

So every day on the morning of the reaping, sometime throughout the day I'll think, They can't reap me. "Ophelia Valez-cwez" doesn't exist.

Maybe I don't feel like Ofelia today anyway. Maybe today is a Lito day. It's not. And just because I'm feeling masculine one day doesn't stop me from being in the reaping. But still.

This is my third reaping. Most people are used to it by now, I think. Maybe they just pretend to be, because that's what I'm going to do. It's Paz's first reaping and I don't want to scare him by acting scared myself. As the oldest sibling in the family anymore, I feel obligated to be brave. I know my parents can do that for all of us, but I just feel like it would be easiest on them if I helped out. Maybe being brave will even affect them.

I get up out of bed after reluctantly pushing the blankets off of me and feeling the coolness of the house around me. I rub my arms to warm them up as I leave my room and head for the bathroom to use it and brush my teeth and everything before the reaping. After that I leave the bathroom and start to head back to my bedroom when, while rubbing my eyes, I bump into Claudia as she comes out of our room.

"Oh, hey, Claud," I say sleepily, smiling at her a little bit. "Morning."

"Morning, Fey." She moves past me, her eyes barely open, heading toward our parents' bedroom. I watch her knock on the door and hear her being called to enter. She's probably going to go sit in their bed and curl up under their blankets, which she seems to find comforting most of the time.

I go to my room and grab what I decided I would wear to the reaping the other day. It's a nice red shirt and black dress pants, with nice black shoes. It's not the best outfit in the world, but it's good enough. Reaping clothes can be expensive. I'm proud to say I bought the shirt and the shoes of this outfit myself, though.

Since I was young I've been using an axe. My mother is also a lumberjack and my father a paper-maker. My mother taught me how to use an axe a long time ago so I would be good at it and able to take up that job when I was old enough to have one. Now that I'm old enough, I bring in money to help my mother and father. Paper-making is much different and the age they usually let you join is younger, so my brother, Paz, has been doing that for a year, although only every once in a while, when things get tough. My parents use their money to buy important things, and I use mine to help and, when I have extra, get things I want or that my siblings want, like my reaping outfit.

I put on my reaping outfit and then go out to the kitchen to make something for breakfast. My father is already in there cooking and dressed for the reaping. Maybe he got up early.

"Morning, Fey," he says as I sit down at the little table we have in the kitchen.

"Morning," I reply as Dad continues cooking. It looks like he's making some kind of soup. It smells good. Reaping breakfasts are always good. I don't know why my parents do that. "I'm so tired."

"How late did you stay up last night?" he asks me as I yawn, sending a glance my way.

I shrug a little bit. I honestly don't remember what time it was when I fell asleep. I was zoning and in and out of sleep for a long time. "I didn't sleep well, though," I tell him.

He nods understandingly. For a long time after my brother died, I had nightmares about it. I was the one that found him in his bedroom. It was awful. I jumped when I first saw him and at any funeral I've ever been to, I always jump at the sight of the body. Bodies scare me.

It wasn't that, though. I let him think it was because I don't want to talk about it and I know he won't ask if he thinks it was one of those nightmares again. Occasionally I still have them and they're all pretty similar. I talk about them when I need to and my parents know that. Sometimes talking doesn't help me.

My mom comes into the kitchen. She's dressed up for the reaping but she looks like shit. I think she might be getting sick. She's been getting paler since yesterday and she's had a cough that has been worsening for a while. It worries me. Depending on how bad the sickness is, there could be potentially no way we could afford to get her proper help. We all try to stay as healthy as possible.

I sigh a little bit and run a hand through my short hair. I like the way it is, short but full on the top and thinner on the sides. It fits both sides of me. Longer hair would make me feel uncomfortable on a Lito day, but short hair still feels cool on an Ofelia day like today.

Claudia comes out of our parents' bedroom and into the kitchen and comes over to me. She pulls the chair next to me close to mine and sits, leaning against me. I wrap my arm around my little sister. "Are you sleepy, Claud?" I ask her softly. She nods, her eyes already shutting as we all listen to the sounds of my father cooking breakfast. When it's finished, he sets bowls of the soup at all the places on the table. Two places are empty instead of one today.

"Where's Paz?" Mom asks before she starts to eat, looking around for my brother.

I take my arm from around Claudia and stand up. "I'll go find him," I say.

I go into the house, my fingers lightly tracing the walls. It's kind of cold. I wish my shirt was long-sleeved.

I look at the walls. There are a few pictures on the hanging on the walls. The paint is fading and the bright smiles of the pictures are a stark contrast to the gloominess of the dark hallway with dimming paint. There's a picture down at the end of Danilo.

I go to Paz's room and knock on the door. "Paz," I say when he doesn't open the door. I knock again. No answer. Frowning, I announce, "I'm coming in," and then I open the door and step into the room. I find Paz lying there on the bed, having fallen asleep.

I go over to him and nudge him lightly. He's always been small, despite being amazing at baseball and practicing whenever he can. He finds refuge in the sport, refuge from the difficulty of his life—what with our financial issues, loss of Danilo, and his dyslexia—and from the idiots that bully him.

I think I might be regarded higher in the community if people didn't know me to pick fights so often. I can't help it. You don't pick on my little siblings.

I don't know if Danilo was picked on much, but I think he was a little bit. It disgusts me. I don't get how people don't understand what that stuff does to a person. Admittedly, I'm a really judgmental person, but I keep it to myself. What if their words caused an impact? What if they saw how devastated my parents were when he died? What if the people who said shit to Danilo saw how dramatically that impacted my life?

I shouldn't think like this, but on days like this—the reaping—I can't help but let my mind wander to the worst things.

Rocco Fritz, District 7 Male- HogwartsDreamer113

For the first time in a long time, I wake up on my own to sun trying to stretch its way into my room through the curtains. I yawn, taking time to stretch my arms and blink sleep out of my eyes. Across, the room, my little brother, Ryland, snores quietly, his mouth hanging half open. I decide to let him sleep. The reaping isn't until eleven-thirty, and glancing at the clock, I see we still have two hours to go. He can sleep in a half hour more. There's no harm in it. After all, there is no school or work today. Normally, even on weekends, Mom makes sure we're awake by eight-thirty. Reaping Day, while terrible in every other sense, is the one exception to that rule.

I slip out of bed and creep over the hardwood floor, careful not to wake Ryland. In the tiny kitchen down the hall, Mom stands at the stove making oatmeal, while Dad drinks his tea at the table.

"Morning," I say, sitting down besides Dad.

"Morning," Dad replies.

Mom turns to face me. "Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

I nod. "Fine, thanks."

Mom smiles warmly before setting out bowls of oatmeal and spoons. I half-heartedly begin to eat. Oatmeal may be boring and bland, but we can't afford much else. We're lucky we can even eat full meals at all.

After about twenty minutes, Mom goes to the back bedroom to wake up Ryland. Shortly after my eleven-year-old brother bonds out of the room. His eyes light up when he sees Dad and I.

"Daddy!" Ryland hugs Dad before turning his attention to me. "Rocco!"

Ryland's slender arms wrap around my midsection, and he gazes up at me with the utmost affection. Born when I was five-years-old, Ryland was unexpected, but our parents chose to love him from the beginning. However, from the moment he was born, it was clear Ryland was not a normal little boy. He was born with a flatter face than most babies, along with a smaller head and shorter neck. He has upward slanted eyes and small ears. His hands are broad and short, and he has a single cease on each palm. He was average size at birth, but his development has been slow, taking twice as long as other babies to reach milestones such as sitting and crawling. Since then, Ryland has been mentally disabled, and has had trouble learning in school. My parents have never been sure what is wrong with him. None of the healers or doctors in Seven could tell them. Yet, Ryland is the sweetest kid I've ever met, and we wouldn't trade the world for him.

I smile affectionately at my little brother. "Hey, buddy."

Ryland grins a clings on to me, not letting go until Mom brings his breakfast to the table. After breakfast, the whole family dresses in our best clothes, simple dress shirts and plain black pants. We start out walking to the square together before I branch off to meet my girlfriend, Zee.

Zee waits for me outside her home, the rest of her family already at the reaping. She is wearing a grey suit with a red bow tie around her neck and a second bow in her short dark brown hair. Her blue eyes light up when she sees me. She gets to her feet and kisses my cheek.

"Ready?" Zee asks. I nod, taking her hand.

"After the reaping we should do something fun," I say.

Zee smiles. "Yeah? Like what?"

I grin. "Whatever you want, beautiful."

We arrive at the square within minutes and stand in line to have our fingers pricked. As we wait, Zee lets out a sigh.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's silly."

I frown. "No, it's not. If something is bothering you, I want to know."

Zee hesitates . "It's just… I hate how they separate us into male and female. There are more options than just that."

I gently place my hand on the same of her back. Zee is a demigirl, which, as she explained to me, means she only partially, not wholly identifies with being female. Most days, Zee feels feminine, but others, she feels more gender neutral. As a result, she uses the pronouns she or they, and is pretty lenient of what people call her between the two. For simplicity's sake, we both agreed I should call her my girlfriend.

"I know," I say softly. "Maybe that will change someday."

Zee sighs. "Yeah, and maybe we won't even have the hold the reapings at all."

We reach the front of the line and are forced to break away. I find the sixteen-year-old male section and search for my best friend, Kristoff. I spot him quickly, since he's waving wildly at me.

"Hey! What took you so long? Making out with Zee?"

I grin. "Yeah, totally. We were almost naked when we realized we had to go," I say jokingly. "We're still on time though. It's 11:25."

"Yeah, well, I've been here for almost fifteen minutes. You know my parents. They're so scared of being late."

"True," I reply. Kristoff's parents are two of the most paranoid people I have ever met. It's a wonder how Kristoff ended up with such a joking nature.

Eventually, the escort, Verity, comes to the stage, standing tall and proud. She plays the national anthem and shows the same video that has been played every year for one hundred years. I continue whispering to Kristoff, because the peacekeepers aren't really paying much attention to such small details. Most people don't care and aren't paying attention anyway, but one boy a few rows ahead of me turns around to glare at me. I ignore him.

"I'll start with the girls," Verity says, reaching into the bowl. Not Breezy Wayne, I think, anyone but my girlfriend.

Thankfully, the name isn't Breezy Wayne. It's Ofelia Valezquez.

"Now for the boys!" Verity draws a second name. She takes her time, but I wish she'd hurry up. I want to get out of here.

"Rocco Fritz."

I freeze. No. Not like that. I can't have been reaped. Besides me, Kristoff swears. "Dude, it's you!"

My hands are clammy and my legs seem on the verge of collapsing as I shuffle towards the stage. I almost make it, before I trip over a stair and land on my face. Some people whisper, others laugh, while most remain in a stunned silence. I can feel my face grow warm. Well, I'm the center of attention now, so I might as well take advantage of it instead of seeming like a total loser. I laugh cheerfully before grinning and waving at the crowd. There. I just turned an awkward moment fun. If only the circumstances were different.

"Oh… Well that was quite the entrance," says Verity. "Tributes, shake hands."

Ofelia and I shake hands politely. I am then escorted to the justice building, where I wait to say a final goodbye to my loved ones. My family comes in first.

"Rocco!" Ryland says, flinging his arms around me. He was no idea about where I'm about to go, and that I probably won't make it back home to me. "Momma and Daddy said you have to go to the Capitol! Why?"

"I have to pay a game," I say, choosing my words carefully. "If I win, I'll come back home."

Ryland frowns. "You'll win right? I don't want you to be gone. I don't want you to go at all."

"Of course, buddy. I'll win."

Mom seems to be on the verge of tears. "We believe in you, Rocco."

Dad nods. "Do whatever you can to win. Whatever it takes. You're still our son, and we'll love you no matter what."

I nod slightly, biting my lip. Dad is giving me permission to kill. Could I follow through? I'm not sure if I can, but if I want to see my family again, I'm going to have to.

"Here, take Fuzzy, so you're not lonely," Ryland says, handing me his old, raggedy teddy bear. He never leaves the house without it, and for him to give it to me means a lot.

"Are you sure?" I ask. "You may need him."

"No," Ryland says. "You need him more."

"Thanks, bud," I reply, hugging my brother for possibly the last time.

After my family leaves, Kristoff enters. "You can do this, okay?" He says frantically. "Don't give up now."

I shake my head. "Don't worry. I won't."

"Good," Kristoff says. "Remember, be yourself in front of sponsors. You're a likable guy, Rocco. Be as loud and outgoing as you are here, and you'll be fine. Don't forget to show off your skills."

We chat for the rest of his visiting time. It's easier to act as though I am going on a short trip than to say final goodbyes. Soon, he leaves and Zee bursts into the room. Her lips are tightly pursed, a habit she has when she is upset. She climbs onto my lap and buries her head in my shoulder.

"Don't you dare die on me," she says. "Promise?"

We both know I can't promise anything though. Instead, I try to comfort her by stroking her hair. "I don't plan on it," I say softly.

We sit in silence, and my mind starts to wander. Zee and I have been dating for about six months now. I know there is no one else I'd rather be with. Yet, there are still three words I have not said to her. I was just looking for the right time, but now, I have to let them out, in case I never get another chance.

"Zee, I love -"

Zee yanks back suddenly and looks me in the eye with a stern expression.

"No," she snaps, interrupting me. "Don't say it now. Saying it now is like you're giving up. Tell me when you get back."

"Okay," I mumble.

All too soon, Zee is forced to leave me, and I'm left alone to meet my fate.