District 8 female – Gabrielle Buiton, 14

"OK, but what the hell is the point of this whole 'Quarter Quell' thing? Like, the Hunger Games already happens every year, what does adding a twist even do?"

"Makes it more interesting for the Capitol, I suppose. Gabrielle? Gabrielle, are you alright?"

I jumped when I felt my friend Carly's hand touching my head and lifted my head from the desk sharply.

"Are you alright?" she asked again. We were in History class, and I'd fallen asleep.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," I said, looking at the teacher to see if she'd noticed. Thankfully, she was just sewing some bag at her desk, with no attention on the class at all, expecting us all to just get on with our work.

"Anyway, what do you think of the whole Quarter Quell thing?" my other friend, Genna asked.

"What's that again?" I asked sluggishly. I was bored from this class because I was easily bored and hated History, but I was also tired because my family had been out all night at the black market.

"Apparently it's going to happen every twenty-five years," Genna told me. "Remember? The twist on the Hunger Games? They're announcing it tomorrow morning?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, that," I said. "What about it?"

"Don't you think it's a bit stupid?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. To be honest, I couldn't really care less about the Quell, but I knew Genna was always insistent that the system of Panem was awful. "How long until we get to go home?"

"Only a few minutes," said Carly. "Do you guys want to come to my place?"

"Yeah, alright," said Genna. "But I've got to get home tomorrow before they announce the twist. I don't know how bad it will be, and for you two's safety I think I should be alone."

"I can't, sorry," I said.

"Aw, why?" Carly asked.

"Family stuff," I said stiffly.

The bell rang soon after, and I got up, snatching my bag from behind my desk, said goodbye to my friends, and walked out of the classroom, then to the front of the school, where one of my four older brothers, Paul was waiting for me, which I was shocked by because it was usually the youngest of my brothers, Charles, who walked me home.

"Where's Charles?" I asked as Paul and I began the walk to our house.

"With Cyrus. He's been over all day, but I think he's heading home as soon as Mum gets back," said Paul.

"So, Cyrus is still going to be there when we get home?" I asked, and Paul nodded. I felt my heart pounding at the thought of this. Cyrus was Charles's best friend, and I'd known him since I was really young. He was five years older than me and saw me like a little sister, but that didn't stop me from noticing him. Noticing that sharp jawline, those eyes, a shade of green I hadn't even imagined possible before meeting him...

The two of us walked through the yellow, cracked ground of District 8 in silence, and as soon as we were home, sure enough, much to my pleasure and annoyance, there was Cyrus, sitting with my brother Charles, playing some sewing game, and he grinned at me when he saw me.

"Hey, Gabby, how was school?" he asked me, standing up as I entered the house. I felt myself blushing. Cyrus was the only person who called me Gabby. It made me feel like I had some sort of special connection with him.

"It was... good," I said.

"Too bad you only just got off, I was just about to head home," said Cyrus, walking towards me and taking my glasses off and putting them on his own face. "God, Gabby, how blind are you?"

"I'm not that blind," I laughed, taking my glasses back.

"Alright then, goodbye guys," said Cyrus, saluting us all, and then leaving the house.

"What's Mum doing?" Charles asked. "I am ready to go."

"Charles, I told you," said Paul, rolling his eyes. "She and the others are invading the mayor's place, taking that jewellery that his wife got from District 1. They should be back soon enough."

"Alright, well, I think it's time for a snack before we go, then," said Charles, opening our food cupboard, and grinning. I felt bad having snack foods. For most people in our district, having three meals a day was a privilege, but getting snacks was unheard of. Only rich people like the mayor's family would get that.

We weren't rich, exactly, but we easily got money from selling expensive goods at the black market, like the mayor's wife's jewellery, which we were intending to sell that afternoon as soon as the rest of my family came back with it.

As Charles grabbed out a snack for himself, Paul, and me, I turned on a record player that my oldest brother, Jean, had stolen and given to me for my thirteenth birthday, so we could listen to music while we waited.

I loved music. The lyrics, the beat... I loved to sing, and dance, which many people didn't expect of me since I was more of a closed-off person. I would play this record player almost every day and sing along and dance around the house after school. It was one of my favourite possessions, even if it had been stolen.

Just as it had gotten to the best part of the song, my mum, dad, and two oldest brothers, Jean and André, come into the house, all of them holding bags that rattled when they moved them.

"You three ready to go?" my dad asked.

"Hang on, I need to put my shoes on," said Charles, as I turned off the record player.

"Can't we go tonight?" I grumbled. "Fewer people would see us walking there."

"No, Gabrielle," said my mum. "There's more bad peacekeepers out at night."

"Alright, I'm ready," said Charles, after he finished lacing up his boots, which had also been stolen about a year ago.

"Alright, let's go!" Jean cried, dumping a bag into my arms. Sighing, I peered into the bag. A huge clump of shimmer jewellery, all of it presumably stolen from the mayor's home.

So, the rest of my family and I went off to the black market of the district to sell it all and make a small fortune.

District 8 male – Patch Corvin, 18

"Oi. Oi, Corvin! Corvin! Can you hear me, or are you deaf?"

"Maybe I would hear you if you used your manners. Oh, Patch, would you please come here and talk to me? Please? Pwetty pwease?"

"Shut up, Corvin." The kid who'd been demanding my attention finally came over to me, his arms crossed. He couldn't be any older than thirteen.

"Yes, random child I've never spoken to before?"

"I heard you're a dealer? I want to get into morphine. All my friends do it," he said.

"Hang on, did I hear you correctly? Do you want to get into morphine? You willingly want to give yourself a drug addiction?" I said, stifling a laugh.

"Do you want my business or not?" the kid snapped. "How much do you charge?"

"Alright, well, how desperate are you?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"I'm really desperate, Corvin," the kid said. "I'm getting bullied at school. I'm skinny, and I'm a nerd. I don't want to be that anymore. I need to be one of the druggos."

I almost burst out with laughter at the stupidity of his statement, but I contained it, and said, "Twenty dollars per bag."

"I'll take three," the kid, pulling out a load of cash. I wanted to ask where he got that from, but I left it, took the money, and then handed him three bags of morphine.

"Have a nice day," I said, as he tucked them into his pockets and walked off, out of the black markets. I turned around to put the cash into my bag, but almost jumped when I saw the back of my best friend, inspecting a bag of drugs. "Hello, Calico."

"Patch!" said Calico, spinning around to face me, the bag of morphine still in her hand. "How much would this bag be? For me, as your best friend."

"A billion dollars," I said, taking the bag from her and placing it back down.

Calico snorted. "I don't have a billion dollars."

"Good," I said. "You don't want to get into that shit. Have you ever glimpsed at my parents?"

"OK, sorry," said Calico. "But to be fair, you are selling the thing that is slowly killing your parents."

"Because I need money to keep myself alive," I said. "You know this."

"Yeah, OK," said Calico, then she called out: "Oi, anyone want some morphine? The best thing you'll ever have."

I rolled my eyes at her, but her tactic had worked. An older man was now coming over to my stall, looking around to make sure no one was looking at him.

"I'll take a bag," he said.

"Twenty dollars," I said.

"Mmm, I only have ten, but I can pay you back Monday," he said.

"I don't work Mondays," I said.

"Alright, well Mondays and Fridays are the only days I can come," the man said.

"You can just go get your money now," I said.

"Yeah, alright, hand me the bag and I'll go grab some cash from home."

"No, I'll keep the bag until you have the money," I said.

"Just give me the bag," the man said gruffly, trying to reach out and grab the bag, but I hit him across the head with it before he could get it.

"You can pay for it!" I snapped, handing the bag to Calico.

"Give me the bag!" he shouted, climbing over the table that divided him from Calico and I. Before he could get any closer to the drugs, I gripped his neck and shoved his head against the table.

"Either pay for what you want properly or piss off!" I yelled into his face, lifting his head up and then bringing it down hard onto the table.

I let go of him and he slumped to the floor, the back of his head bleeding. He took one look at me, then scurried off like a weak child.

Calico laughed. "God, you're dramatic, Patch."

"Whatever," I said. "I'm going home."

"Can I come to yours?"

"No, I'm at my dad's," I said. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Yeah, alright," said Calico. "See you."

I helped her pack up the stall, and then we both went our separate ways to our houses. When I got to my dad's house, he didn't answer the door when I knocked, so I had to break into my own house.

"Thanks for unlocking the door for me," I grumbled as I passed him, passed out on his bed, an empty bag of morphine next to him. I slumped into my own bed and counted out the cash I'd made that day. Not bad for one afternoon after school.

The twist of the Quarter Quell was announced the next morning, that the tributes would be voted into the games by their district, and I began to think about who might be chosen.

It would probably be criminals, so I could be in the running, however, I hadn't done anything bad enough to land me in jail, so I didn't think I would be voted in. It would most likely be the worst of the worst youth criminals.

I was changing over to my mum's house that day, so on my way to her house, I went to the town square to place my votes. I just voted for two random people because I didn't really care, and then I made my way towards my mum's house.

She, like my dad, was addicted to morphine, and when I came into her house, she was sitting upright, staring into space with her fists clenched so tightly I was surprised she wasn't drawing blood on her palms.

"Hi, Mum," I said to her, even though I knew she wouldn't respond. "Well, I'll be off to work then. See you tonight."

I swung my bigger bag full of smaller bags of morphine and made my way towards the black market once again. I would be working with Burton that day, who was older than me, around thirty years old, and was my biggest supporter when it came to drug dealing. He was the one who got me into it in the first place.

"You excited for the Quell?" he asked me when I arrived, playing with his beard.

"Eh, it'll be alright, I suppose..."

Thank you to Dani H. Danvers for Gabrielle, and Victoria the Bipolar Tribute for Patch. What do you all think of these two? See you in the next district!