A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while to write. I was a little stuck, but I've received some great advice so please enjoy District 8! This is brand new content for the rewrite.
Soy Nylsen, age 13
District 8 Male
My old lady's quiet breathing fills the apartment as I diligently work on my embroidery sampler. It's a flat, sturdy piece of canvas that's supposed to say "ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS" in red thread letters, but right now it just says "ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THA". When I finish stitching the letters, I'll add some nice decorations to the edges of the sampler. But I have to finish the phrase first.
I'm quiet because my old lady is still asleep. I don't know her name, but throughout the years I've been calling her Nan. She's been a joy to have in my life, which I spent being bounced around foster families and the Community Home before Nan officially adopted me a year ago. She cares for me, and I care for her.
Sometimes I wish things were livelier, though. Nan often has trouble keeping up with me, like right now when I want to chat with her but she needs to rest. Maybe I should get a job like Nan has been suggesting. That way I'll be busier, and have more things to do and people to talk with. Having work would mean less time at school and with Nan, though. Maybe I don't have to think about it too hard right now. The yearly Hunger Games are starting.
I really don't want to think about the Reaping, which will happen later today. I don't want to think about the Hunger Games either. I just want to sew with Nan and play with my friends. I need a distraction. I'm a little tired of embroidery, so I think I'll visit the tree and see if anyone's there.
The tree is one of the largest trees in District 8, which isn't saying much given how urban my District is. I wish the tree was bigger, but it's already very good for climbing. I quietly step outside the apartment, careful not to wake Nan, and practically run to the park where the tree stands.
When I arrive at the tree, a few boys around my age are already there. My best friend Dune isn't with them - he's probably with his adoptive family - but I recognize some of the kids. I smile at a boy who's hanging upside down from a limb.
"Hi Soy," he says, smiling back as he jumps down from where he's hanging. "I'll race you to the top. Everybody clear out!"
I lose the race by a fair margin, but that's because I chat with the kids rather than focusing on climbing. I still make it to the top of the tree and stand in the branches next to the boy. I realize that I know his face but not his name.
"You think anyone will volunteer this year?" the boy says to me.
"I don't really want to think about the Games," I admit.
"Sorry, sorry," the boy murmurs. "That's all I can think about today."
"I've made good progress on my sewing sampler," I say brightly, trying to change the subject. "Nan says that I may be able to sell a sampler or two if I make more of them."
"Who's Nan?"
"My old lady," I say with a smile. "She adopted me about a year ago."
"That's nice."
"Uh oh," another one of the boys at the tree calls out. "Bullies at twelve o'clock!"
Sure enough, a group of older kids is headed for the tree. They look mean, and there are five of them and four of us.
"Beat it, scrubs!" the teenager at the front of the group growls as he clenches his hands into fists. "This is our tree."
The two boys at the base of the tree start shrinking away, and the kid in the branches next to me tenses up. I look down at the bullies from where I'm perched on the tree.
"Technically, I don't think anyone owns this tree, aside from maybe the District or some park worker," I call out with a smile on my face.
"Don't be smart with me, string bean!" the group leader yells, glaring at me. "One more word out of you and I'll flatten you like a pancake!"
I nod. Then I start making annoying noises, honoring my promise to not utter a single word. The other kids at the tree laugh, and so do some of the bullies. The guy at the front of the group looks flustered.
"Why don't we share the tree?" one of the two boys at the base of the tree says. "I think that would be a lot easier than getting into a fight."
"We can take turns at the top," I offer, starting to climb down.
The bullies hesitate. One of them starts walking away, muttering to himself, and the rest of the bullies disperse. I watch them go sadly. Well, at least we tried.
Clarissa Seldon, age 14
District 8 Female
I grip Mom's dagger in my hand as I train in my room, going through the knife fighting drills Mom taught me before she died. Before she was tried for treason by the blasted Capitol and executed for wanting to make Panem a better place. Damn it, I hate Reaping Day. It always reminds me of everything that's wrong in the world - the Hunger Games, the absence of Mom, the fact that Mother works so hard but I still have to sign up for tesserae to keep us afloat. Stab left, stab right, block left, block right, duck, roll, attack. Shit, this isn't working. Angry tears pool in my eyes, and I fling the knife into my knife throwing wall. At least it gets a good stick.
I hear a knock on the door. Crap, it's Mother. She can't know that I've been training. I hurriedly pry my dagger from the wall and hide it behind my back. I'll put it back in its rightful place later. The door opens, and Mother gives me a weird look.
"Clarissa, you've been training again," Mother says, her voice laced with disapproval.
"So I have," I say snappishly, peeved that Mother already knows. "What of it?"
"We've been over this before, dear," Mother murmurs, massaging her temples. "Your illegal training won't bring Mom back."
"I know that," I say bitterly. "What if there was another reason why I wanted to practice with the knife today? Like, I dunno, I'm nervous for the Reaping and I want to prepare myself?"
"Honey, I'm nervous for the Reaping too," Mother says, stepping forward and giving me a hug that I return with the arm of mine that isn't holding a dagger. "I don't want to lose you the way I lost Mom. But there are ways to prepare for the Reaping other than… illegal Hunger Games training."
"Not everything that is illegal is bad, Mother," I say as I step away from Mother.
"Well, if something is illegal, there must be a good reason for it, right honey?"
"How can you say something like that?" I yell, flinging the knife to the ground as my voice rises quickly to a shout. "What Mom - your wife - was doing was illegal and you're saying that there was a good reason for her murder?"
"Clarissa, quiet please, I never said that," Mother says quietly, her eyes darting around nervously.
"No, I will not be quiet!" I continue yelling, balling my hands into fists. "How can you still support the Capitol after we've been through this so many times? Right, because you answer to their power. Don't you know that obeying Peacekeepers won't bring Mom back?"
"I just want us all to be safe," Mother says.
"Bullshit, we're already as unsafe as can be the way things stand," I growl. Mother opens her mouth wide to respond, but I don't let her. "I'm going to visit Lanson. I'll see you after the Reaping."
I stomp angrily out of the small apartment Mother and I share, slamming the door behind me. It's a quick jog to the bus stop, which has a bus to the hospital waiting for me. Pretty soon, I'm at the place my best friend has lived in for the past year.
I check myself in and make my way to Lanson's ward, slowing down as I do so. Lanson, who I met at school when we were nine, is literally dying. He doesn't have to know that I fought with Mother.
"Hello Clarissa," one of the nurses says to me as I reach Lanson's room. "Here to visit your friend?"
"Of course, it's his last Reaping," I say, my voice wobbling.
"Yes, I'm afraid his condition has worsened," the nurse says somberly. "He doesn't have much time left. In fact, he almost certainly will not live to the end of the Games this year."
"I know that," I snap. "Can I see him?"
"Of course. He is unresponsive at the moment, but please, take all the time you need."
"Oh shit…"
The nurse opens the door to Lanson's hospital room, and I rush in, taking my best friend's hand. There are so many tubes and wires poking into his gently rising and falling body. All my remaining anger melts away.
I let out a sob.
Aquamarine Equiano, age 35
District 8 Escort
The sky is a smoggy, humid gray as I wait for the Reaping to begin. The buildings around me are crumbling, and the faces of the people in the crowd are somber. Well, things could be worse. Eight isn't rich at all, but at least the people here tend to dress vibrantly, which I appreciate. It's certainly a step up from District 10, which is often uncomfortably hot this time of year. I started my career as an Escort there, and my dear cousin Gwen is that District's Escort now. I'm grateful to Ten for everything they've done for me, but after I brought Hereford White to Victory in the 38th Games it was time to move on.
District 8 hasn't produced a Victor since the 21st Games, but that won't stop me from trying my best to bring a tribute home this year, unlike some people. Tullia Weave, the Victor of the 17th Games, sits next to me, looking a little inebriated. Throughout the six years I've been the Escort for Eight, I haven't seen much of her at all. Most of the time she doesn't even mentor, allowing the elderly Cordelia Kim, Victor of the 1st Games, to take on mentorship duties in her place. And the one year Tullia did mentor, she spent most of her time locked up in her room, probably getting drunk judging from the smell. I hope she'll be more functional this year and do her job as Mentor, but I doubt it. I get that being a Victor is hard, but come on.
At least the other Mentor this year, James Needle, is the best Mentor one can ask for: kind, diligent, and hardworking. He won four years after Tullia, mostly through a lot of luck and hiding, just like her. But otherwise the difference between the two is like night and day. Everything about Tullia is dark - her skin, her hair, her eyes, and her attitude. Whereas James is light in both appearance and personality: while Tullia is reclusive and bitter, James is a sunny sweetheart. Come to think of it, why is Tullia mentoring this year?
"Why is Tullia mentoring this year?" I ask aloud to no one in particular. "Is Cordelia unwell?"
"Cordelia is fine, Aquamarine, we just decided to let Tullia ease Cordelia's burden a bit," James answers me. "Besides, Tullia has never mentored alongside me. Maybe this arrangement will bring something new."
"I hope so," I say, smiling at James. "I for one will be trying my best to bring a tribute home this year. You can always count on me."
"Thank you," James says, smiling back.
"Hmph," Tullia grumbles, though she shoots a pointed glance at James, who nods. Huh.
"How has everyone been?" I ask lightly. "I've been well. Topaz has started walking and talking."
"Is that your second son?" James asks.
"You know me so well, James," I say, beaming. "How are things in Eight?"
"More or less the same," James says.
"Smoggy and broke," Tullia mutters. "Don't pretend you're happy to be here, Aquamarine. Obviously it's a total downgrade from your perfect Capitol."
"I-I always try my best to do my job," I protest. "Is there something I can do better?"
"If you really want to do better, come talk to me on the train," Tullia says. James shoots her a pointed glance, and she nods.
"Will do," I say with a smile. "Please, Tullia, I'm your colleague. Don't hesitate to point out how I can do my job and work with you better."
"Hmph," Tullia grumbles again, looking away from me.
I turn to the other person sitting on the stage with us. "How have you been, Mayor?"
The Mayor, who's usually quiet but effective, glances at me without smiling. "One of my children turned nineteen this year, but the other turned twelve," he says. He does not elaborate further.
"Ah," I say with a knowing nod, unsure of what else to do. That's probably why the role of the Escort was created for the Hunger Games. If the Mayor of a District had any personal ties to a tribute, things could get hairy very quickly.
I find myself waiting impatiently for the Reaping to start and at a loss of words for once. I start staring at random things because I've always found it hard to sit still. The sky, my clothes, the crowd. The sky, my clothes, the crowd.
Finally, after who knows how long, the Mayor stands up from his seat next to the Mentors and walks over to the microphone at the center of the stage, signaling the start of the Reaping. He makes his usual presentation about what the Hunger Games are and then introduces District 8's Victors.
"Cordelia Kim, Victor of the 1st Games. Tullia Weave, Victor of the 17th Games. James Needle, Victor of the 21st Games. Tullia and James are this year's Mentors, who will be helping this year's Tributes through the Games." The Mayor gestures at where Tullia and James are sitting, and the District breaks into polite applause.
"Now let's turn things over to our Escort, Aquamarine Equiano. Let's welcome them to center stage."
There's more polite applause as I stand up and walk briskly to the microphone. I smile and wave at the District, which as usual is dressed in bright colors. At least my pale purple skin, chin-length blue hair, white blazer, and aquamarine eyes don't look as out of place as if I was escorting for, say, Twelve.
"Hello District 8!" I say into the microphone with a bright smile that isn't returned. "I'm your escort, Aquamarine Equiano, and I'm glad to work with you to get a Victor this year. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor. Let's meet our first tribute, shall we?"
I walk over to the Reaping Bowl designated for female tributes and pull out a name. I walk back to the microphone, open the slip of paper, and announce the Reaped tribute.
"Clarissa Seldon!"
"Fuck!" a voice yells loudly as the Reaped tribute makes her way out of the section for fourteen-year-old girls. She looks extremely angry and sad, and is visibly shaking as she walks briskly to the stage, her hands clenching into fists and unclenching. By the time she takes her place next to me, there are tears in her eyes, but she looks determined.
"Are there any volunteers for Clarissa?" I ask, but there are none. "Alright then, let's meet our second tribute."
I pull out a name from the other Reaping Bowl and read it aloud. "Soy Nylsen!" When nobody moves, I say, "Will Soy Nylsen please come to the stage!"
It takes a while for the Reaped kid to walk out of the section of thirteen-year-old boys. He looks like a deer in the headlights as he walks to the stage, his green eyes wide and shocked.
"Are there any volunteers for Soy?" I ask, but as usual there aren't any. "District 8, your tributes, Clarissa Seldon and Soy Nylsen!"
I pause, hoping for a round of applause, but there isn't one.
"Tributes, shake hands," I say, and the young Tributes comply gingerly. I step away from the microphone, turning things back to the Mayor. I frown slightly. Panem has had a few fifteen-year-old Victors, but that's the youngest anyone has ever won the Hunger Games. Well, there's always the hope that Soy and Clarissa will surprise me and one of them will become the nation's youngest Victor. We'll just have to wait and see, and in the meantime I will do my very best to help one of my tributes this year come home.
As the Reaping concludes, I make a mental note to seek out Tullia on the train, and to check in with her during the Games. She may be bitter and often drunk, but she is my colleague, and she seemed to have something important to say…
Soy Nylsen, age 13
District 8 Male
I sit completely still on a sofa in the room I'm in. I'm still so shocked about being Reaped that I'm not crying. I don't think the truth has sunk in yet because what were the odds? Sure, thirteen-year-olds have gone into the Games in the past, but there were so many other slips in the Reaping Bowl. Will I really have to be presented to the nation only to fight and die in the Arena?
The door to the room opens, and my best friend, Dune Tydahl, shuffles in. We met when we were little in the Community Home, and even though we've been adopted by different people we remain close. Dune stood next to me in the crowd during the Reaping and now he looks just as disbelieving as I am, far from his usual outgoing self. He takes a seat across from me.
"Hi Dune," I say, attempting a smile.
"Hi Soy," Dune says back. "Sorry I wasn't at the tree earlier today. I was kind of grounded."
"Wow, really?" I ask. "What did you do?"
"Nothing really, my dads just hoped I could spend the morning with them," Dune says quietly. "That, and they're still a little angry at me for going beyond the fence last week."
"I told you not to do it," I say. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone, okay?"
"Won't dream of it," Dune says. "You got a Token?"
"Yeah, my embroidery sampler," I say, fishing in my pocket for it and showing my work to my friend. "It's not done yet. Maybe I can finish it in the Capitol."
"Have fun there," Dune says, still looking somewhat shocked. "Eat all the world's best food for me."
"Of course."
Dune and I continue chatting until we decide there isn't much more to say and he leaves. My next visitor is my old lady, and I don't hesitate to run straight into her arms.
"Oh, Soy," Nan says with a tear in her eye. "I'll miss you so much, you poor thing. My poor little boy."
"I'm not a poor little boy, Nan," I say, breaking away from the hug and sitting on a sofa arm. "I'm thirteen. And I'm well taken care of, thanks to you, Nan!"
"Of course, of course," my old lady says with a sad smile. "I'll still miss you so. Do your best out there, honey."
"I will," I say with a smile. "And the same goes for you too!"
"When you were Reaped, I realized something," Nan says as she sits down onto the sofa. "Come sit on my lap, dear."
I scramble onto Nan's lap and look up at her expectantly.
"I never told you much about myself, Soy," Nan murmurs. "I never even told you my real name."
"I don't think you did," I say.
"How silly of me, keeping so many secrets from you," Nan says. "My name is Gerda. Gerda McReary, though you are free to keep calling me what you've always called me."
"I probably will," I say with a smile. "Do you have any more cool secrets? How was District 8 back when you were young? Did you have friends and family? How did you learn how to sew?"
"One at a time, one at a time," Nan says with a slight chuckle. "We won't have enough time for me to tell you everything. But I suppose we can start somewhere…"
Clarissa Seldon, age 14
District 8 Female
I'm still pissed about being Reaped when Mother runs into the room I've been dumped into and embraces me tightly. She's sobbing, and I find my anger melting away as I hug her back.
"Clarissa, my dear daughter, why did it have to be you?" Mother frets, pulling away and sitting on the couch next to me. "First Sienna, and now you? Why must I lose everyone I love?"
"You haven't lost me yet," I say with determination. "I'll win by any means necessary so you won't have to deal with more bullshit."
"Don't do anything illegal, though," Mother says worriedly, her eyes darting around. "I'm just so scared and worried for you and me."
"I…" I say, about to retort, but I bite it back for Mother's sake because I don't want her feeling worse. "Fine. But you can bet that I won't go down easily, or at all."
"That's my girl," Mother says with a small smile. "I'll miss you. I'll miss you so, so much."
"I'll miss you too, Mother, but I'll be back in a few weeks," I say, my voice steely. "And… I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier today. I hope we can put that behind us."
"Of course, Clarissa, of course."
We continue talking, hugging, and crying until Mother's time with me is up. My next visitor is Mrs. Stone, my best friend's mother. I sit up straight as she comes in and doesn't take a seat.
"How's Lanson?" I ask, perhaps a bit more sharply than necessary.
"Alive, for now," Mrs. Stone says with a sigh. She looks tired. "But he has days left at most…"
"I know that," I snap, my voice wobbling. Then I start crying. "Please… please take care of him. He a good person who doesn't deserve this."
"I will, I promise," Mrs. Stone says, crying as well. "Thank you for helping him all those years back and being his friend."
I think back to when I first met Lanson, at school, after he was crying alone at lunch because his older sister, who was only twelve years old, had just died in the Bloodbath in that year's Hunger Games. That was when we were both nine. Throughout the years he's never stopped being a kind person, even after he started wasting away from illness. The fact that I'll never see him again no matter what happens brings fresh tears to my eyes.
"Mrs. Stone, thank you for letting me stay with you when I'm mad at my Mother," I say, trying to wipe away the tears so I can get my game face on when the cameras find me. "I… you can go whenever you need to. Spend some extra time with Lanson. I need to… prepare for what's coming and I can take care of myself."
"Of course, Clarissa, thank you again," Mrs. Stone says. She leaves the room, and I am alone to plan my strategies for the Games. I already have a few things in mind… obviously the biggest threat, at least in the beginning, is the Careers. If I want to stand a chance against them, I'll have to have a plan. I'm not sure what that plan is at the moment, but I will definitely need allies no matter what I decide on. Probably not my District Partner, because he's so small and skinny, but maybe he'll impress me. If not, I'll have to look elsewhere.
Fine by me. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to survive.
A/N: Many thanks to cornellfann for submitting Soy, our District 8 Male, and thanks uniqueUsername1024 for submitting Clarissa, our District 8 Female! What do you think of Soy, Clarissa, and Aquamarine? If I wrote your character, how did I do? Please let me know what you think of the characters and the chapter in the reviews!
Up next will be the District 9 Reaping, which will introduce Kauri Balestra and Ohio Lequi.
Thanks for reading, and may the odds be ever in your favor!