Everything is reserved(no spots left). Just waiting for Reservations to come in! (D1 female, D4 male, D7 female)

POINTS: (remember, you can use this for Bidding! if you don't know what that is, look at the second chapter)

Author196: 35

kealimepie: 20

AtruxDragneel: 15

GalaxyPika: 15

Muddyboots: 30

jul312: 30

DeadlyHuggles: 45

Bananananananana: 5

BabyRue11: 15

murphyyy2000: 35

Elim9: 10

Jolteon2404: 20

The Wandering Phantom: 10

Poodlenoodles: 5

BloodedInk: 25

EllaRoseEverdeen: 10

Pi Or Pie: 5

Rowan Loranger (D8 Male)

I yawned, sitting up in bed. The day was clear in District Eight- the sky a pale gray color and the sun barely showing through a thin swath of clouds. A small strip of light shone down, enough to brighten my small room. I could hear my mother in the other room, already up and setting the table—an invitation to get out of bed

Then again, I didn't want to get up. I hadn't had this good a sleep since last year's Reaping. Today was a holiday, so we didn't have to go to school, and we could just sleep in until the people gathered in the Square and we were forced to get up.

My room was small, yet taking up a large portion of our house anyway. The only things there were included a bed that emitted strange squeaking noises when you put weight on it, plus also a set of unsteady wood drawers.

I looked down at my small collection of pictures, one of my dad, one of my mom, and one of my little sister. With a small sigh, I tucked them into my pocket. I would need them today; they would provide me strength for the journey ahead. The long journey ahead.

I headed out into the main room and ate a quick breakfast, not really feeling hungry. My mind was too focused on what I intended to do- volunteer in the Reaping so I could provide my mother with all the riches of the world. We would never be poor again, for as long as we lived.

I wore the same thing I did every year- a simple tuxedo that was getting a bit small, but would do. I didn't have anything else, anyway.

"Mom, I'm leaving!" I informed her as my hand grabbed the doorknob.

"So soon?" She looked up from washing the dishes, her amber gaze burning with alarm. "The Reaping doesn't start until 11..."

"Yeah, I'm going there early," I stated. Mom nodded, though she still looked distinctly troubled, and I promised myself I would make it up to her. I would get those riches, no matter what stood in my way.

The clear sky was more obvious now that I was outside, walking along the edge of District Eight to get to the Square. It was a shortcut I had discovered a few years back, and it was better than weaving through all the streets just to get to the center of them.

There wasn't much of a crowd since the Reaping was still in two hours, so I got first pick of where to stand. I figured the front would be a better place to volunteer; everyone could see me there. Even the escort hadn't arrived yet, Mora Lee, a woman who must've been at least forty, but looked to be not a day over twenty, thanks to the Capitol's makeovers and all that.

We only had one victor, Woof, who won the 17th Hunger Games, but I would be sure to change that. I would come back victorious, with gold and silver and all the riches nobody else could hope to have. I would give it to my mother, and we would have a better life.

The District congregated faster than I would've thought possible, in the period of two hours. I saw my family, my mom holding my sister's hand, as they walked across the street among crowds of other people, using the long way. I waited impatiently, intending to tell them my plans to volunteer, but as everyone pushed around me, I couldn't get a good way out of the front. Was this just going to come as a surprise to them? How would they react? I berated myself for even staying in the front.

Mora Lee was very, very beautiful, but in that way that seemed extremely fraud at the same time. She had dark orange hair that went all the way down her waist, and pale violet eyes, seeming to sparkle in the sunlight. She was quite thin, but had to have at least more meat on her bones than the starved people of Eight. Her skin was dazzling and flawless, her lips full and rose-red. I couldn't imagine her reaction at stepping into this dusty, bedraggled community.

She was completely dressed in a pair of bright pink heels that looked ridiculously tall, a ruby dress going all the way down to her knees, and what looked like diamonds embedded into her skin, on the corners of her eyes. Talk about fancy.

Her voice, made loud by the microphone sitting on her podium, spoke of years in the Capitol, for it was filled with mirth, along with the typical accent, and could not be changed by anything, even a few days here. She gave her speech of, "Our mayor, of course, has done a great service to the Capitol. He will be remembered."

Then she spoke of our victor, Woof, who had won nineteen years ago, and was now in his thirties. He would be my mentor throughout the Games, giving me tips, helping me win. I didn't really care who the female tribute was- she would have to lose anyway if I were to come home. So my mind was somewhere else when Mora drew out the female tribute's name.

Her lips pursed slightly as she read the name on the paper, "Lace Riverworth."

Oh, no. Oh no no no no no. I knew Lace- she was a year older than me and excelled in her studies at school. She was rebellious- she would most likely be killed by the Capitol first day. She would probably be spitting insults the whole time.

She stepped up, almost laughing. There was a smile on her face, but it seemed worn, as if she had been smiling the whole time. Would she be good competition? I wondered. She was pretty good at gymnastics...and her stubborn personality could earn her a couple sponsors...

I brushed the thought away- she wasn't even a chance against me! I was great with snares, from preparing on my own all those years, and I excelled at sword-fighting. I had built up strengths on my own, and what had she done? Laughed at the Capitol! If she continued her disrespectful attitude, she would get killed by their sheer temper.

Then Mora Lee put her delicate white-gloved fingers into the boys' bowl. I watched in anticipation, waiting for the moment when I would volunteer. The escort unfolded the paper, a small smile curling across her face at making us wait. Could she just hurry up? A silver sheen of sweat was starting to form across my face.

"Rory Filips," Mora announced. My eyes traveled to a boy in the same section as me- seventeen years old. He was tall for his age, with dark hair and eyebrows that went straight up in surprise. Slowly, he began to make his way up to the stage.

I saw the perfect opportunity to volunteer- while everyone was sad and depressed and all that. Lace stood back with the same detached expression on her face, though a flicker of emotion had shone through as Rory came up, lower lip twitching uncontrollably like he was going to cry. Lace's eyes had shone with a sort of sadness, I thought. Maybe a memory of some sort.

I pushed my way to the stage. The people around me realized what I was doing and flinched back, as if I were a plague they didn't want to catch.

Then I shouted, as I had seen on the television in the Career Districts: "I volunteer as tribute!"

Lace Riverworth (D8 Female)

My eyes flitted to my parents, Thread and Neem, who all gazed anxiously back at me and my sister Ferne. I hope Ferne doesn't get picked...

I tried to smile at my parents are the video narrowed to a stop. I wasn't exactly worried for my own safety... That would be amazing to finally get to show up the Capitol. But Ferne, who was thirteen this year, had a small chance of getting chosen, and that was what my thoughts were about as the Reaping proceeded.

Mora Lee chose from the girls' bowl first, as she always did every year. I crossed my fingers for Ferne, but also hoped for a few moments that I would get picked, because it would be so great to spark a rebellion right on national television.

She unfolded the paper, musing over it for a second, before she announced, "Lace Riverworth."

I took a deep breath out. So it wasn't Ferne. It was me. I could survive the Hunger Games. If I died, it would all be worth it, because I would shout curses at the Capitol the whole time. And everybody would hear, everybody would realize the Capitol isn't so great as it seems, and they would follow my example.

It was all there, written in the stars for me to fulfill. With a smile on my face at the Capitol getting what they deserved, I crossed to the front of the stage, looking out over District Eight. It was actually a lot bigger of a crowd than I had thought from my place within it, but now I had such a great view over everything. I could see Ferne, her eyes red with tears, and my mother and father were trying their hardest not to do the same...

Don't worry, Mom, Dad, Ferne, I thought. I'll be fine.

Mora's clawed hand then sifted through the boys' bowl of paper slips, reaching for the one that was destined to go to the Games. She paused at one, drew it from the bowl, purred out, "Rory Filips." Huh. I didn't really know Rory that well, anyway.

But then, as I saw the tall boy, the dark hair and the gray eyes widening in disbelief, my heart skipped a beat. He looked so much like Azo...who had died from a previous Games...I remembered the muscular boy from One who had chased him down and threw a spear into his back. He had bled to death, not a single soul to help him.

Rory could almost be mistaken for Azo, I would try to save him if I could in the Games, because, well, memories. But then, another boy pushed through the crowd to the stage and yelled, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Those four words were almost foreign in Eight, and I had to blink to understand them. He volunteered as tribute? I wanted to go into the Games and prove their whole thing wrong, but I wasn't that crazy.

"What is your name?" Mora asked in a pleased tone of voice, sending the sniffling Rory back to his spot in the crowd.

"Rowan Loranger!" he declared, standing next to me. He was taller than I was, even though he was a year younger, but that was probably based on the fact that I was short for my age. He looked very confident indeed, jittery with nerves and almost bouncing on his toes.

"And how old?" Mora questioned next.

"Seventeen," Rowan replied, grinning from ear to ear. "I will win the thirty-sixth Hunger Games!" His confidence was almost too much to comprehend. So he thought he could actually win? I smiled smugly. Then let the Games begin.

We were led to the Justice Building to say our goodbyes- of course, I only had my mom, dad, and Ferne, since Azo had died a few years back and I hadn't gained any new friends. The place was really large and we crossed so many hallways I grew almost bored.

Finally we reached the rooms we were designated in. I sat alone in the room on the right, drumming my fingers on my knees in what was probably nerves, until my family came in. Ferne was the last to enter, and her eyes were horizon-red from crying; her foggy eyes threatened more tears to come.

"Ferne, c'mon, can't you give me a little more hope?" I teased. "I'm going to the Hunger Games, I'm not gonna just collapse in the middle of it from your lack of cheering."

"You won't be able to hear me cheer," Ferne pointed out, blowing her nose.

I shrugged, a bit irritated but trying not to let it show. "Yeah, sure, but I need to know that you will be cheering."

Ferne stared at me, thinking for a moment. Finally, she blustered, "I guess I will."

"Great motivation." I clapped her on the back, thinking the exact opposite, but with or without her wishes, I was going to be the winner. I was going to show the Capitol how terrible they were and maybe I'd bring them down.

My mom hugged me tightly; it seemed to last forever. She said, "I love you so very, very much, honey. Please, try your hardest." She hesitated, looking down. "I know you haven't much training... but, well, you're good at gymnastics, aren't you?"

"Yes," I confirmed obediently.

"Then good." My mother cupped my face with her hands, looking straight into my brown eyes. "Remember, in the Bloodbath, do not get supplies. Run for your life, or there will be a Career out to get you near the Cornucopia."

I nodded fervently. I already knew all that. I wasn't so sure about the supply thing; I just hoped the cameras didn't catch me running to the Cornucopia, because I was sure I'd starve to death if I didn't get supplies.

My father cleared his throat gruffly. "You can do it, Lace. We all believe in you." We exchanged a brief hug and I felt my eyes sting.

"I love you, Daddy," I whispered, feeling the reality sink down on me and my strength weaken. I could not keep this up any longer...this mask that going to the Hunger Games was no big deal. I probably would never see my parents again.

"I love you too, Lace," my father wouldn't even look at me as he said these sorrowful words. "Remember that in the arena."

With those departing words, my family was ushered out. The last thing I saw of them was Ferne's black hair, disappearing around the corner. Perhaps forever.

7/25/17