Josie Stone, 12

District 12 Female

I swayed back and forth on my feet, hands in pockets and head down to look as inconspicuous as possible. No one cared much for a little orphaned girl standing on a street corner. It was exactly what I wanted.

The merchant area of District 12 wasn't usually very busy, but today everyone was out shopping in preparation for Reaping Day tomorrow. Groceries and fabric and special desserts all passed by in the hands of various shoppers. But I had my eye on something else.

Old Mr. Hutcherson was the town's baker. Recently, his wife passed, leaving him and his daughter alone. Rumor had it that business had slowed down, and now Mr. Hutcherson was selling his wife's old jewelry to get by. And sure enough, he had a small table set up in front of the bakery.

A group of young women came down the street, each carrying a bursting bag or basket of groceries. They stopped at the bakery to ogle the goods and I made my move. I walked across the street and stood behind them, listening to them gush over the intricate pieces.

"Oh, this necklace is gorgeous!" one of them gushed. "How much is it?" And as Mr. Hutcherson picked up the piece to examine it, my hand slipped through the crowd and I wrapped my fingers around a bracelet.

I slipped it into my pocket and pretended to browse for a few more moments as the old baker and the young woman negotiated a price. But nobody looked at me. So I set off, moving slowly but with purpose.

I made my way past the community home and into the more run-down neighborhood of District 12. The Hob was at the back, almost up against the never-charged fence, and quite a few people there would pay a hefty price for a fancy bracelet. It was a thick gold band with roses engraved into the metal.

I slipped into the dark warehouse and made my way to the back, where Gloria's stall was. She was a shrewd, grumpy old woman who mainly sold antiques she acquired from questionable sources. She was notoriously hard to charm, but she wouldn't cheat you.

"Hello Gloria," I said as I sidled up to her stall. She looked up from the necklace she was examining and sighed.

"Josie. So, what did you steal today?"

"It's an old family heirloom," I said, holding up the bracelet. "It's worth a lot."

Over the years, I'd gotten quite good at gauging the value of stolen goods. Jewelry was my specialty. Intricate bracelets with gems could go for thousands, but I'd only stolen one of those once. And Gloria would never take something that pricey. I sold it to a Peacekeeper's wife and nearly got caught. Now I went for older, less flashy items.

Gloria raised an eyebrow and scoffed.

"Of course it is. How much are you demanding for it?"

"600," I said. She barked out a laugh.

"I'll give you 450."

"500," I replied. Gloria pursed her lips and eyed me. I held her gaze.

"Fine," she finally said. She passed me the roll of cash and handed her the bracelet.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I said with a smirk. Gloria laughed.

"We hate each other," she said. "Don't try to deny it."

But I just winked at her and melded back into the crowd.

Enzo Charmont, 18

District 12 Male

It was warm out, but not hot. And the breeze was mild, barely rustling the tall grass in the meadow. A perfect night for a date… and a fireworks show.

"So… what makes it green?" Brooke asked, peering cautiously over my shoulder.

"Barium powder," I told her, holding up a small black pouch. "Different elements bring out different colors. Strontium for red, copper for blue, and barium for green!"

"Wow," she whispered. I smirked at the awe in her voice.

"It's hard work, but it's fun," I said. "Now, are you ready to see some magic?" Brooke's eyes widened.

"Yes."

I carefully poured the powder into my clay tube and nestled the wick in place. Then I put it out in the dirt patch I'd cleared and stuck a match. I lit the fuse and scrambled back as a loud crack echoed through the meadow and bright green fire exploded forth.

It worked perfectly. Sparks shot into the air, lighting up Brooke's pretty hazel eyes. She stared in wonder as the dusky sky came alive. When the firework finally fizzled out, she clapped excitedly.

"Enzo, that was amazing!" she cried.

"Thanks," I said with a grin. "But not as amazing as you."

Brooke's cheeks flushed and she knocked her shoulder against mine. I turned to face her and reached up to cup the side of her face in my hand. Slowly, we leaned towards each other. I was just about to kiss her when a shout interrupted us.

"Hey!"

It was a Peacekeeper. He had his helmet under his arm and a deep frown on his face.

"Charmont!" he yelled. "What have I told you about fireworks?"

"Sorry Tucker," I called back, slinging an arm over Brooke's shoulder. "But don't worry, it's a small one. And it's safe. I know what I'm doing."

Tucker started towards us and I rolled my eyes. He was always so dramatic. I'd never started a big fire, and it had been years since I started a fire at all. There was something so enchanting about fire, but I knew it was dangerous and I didn't want to hurt anyone.

Brooke extracted herself from my grasp and began to back away.

"Well, it was nice seeing you," she squeaked nervously. "But it's getting late. I'd better head home."

"Wait–" I began, but she was already hurrying away. Tucker reached me and grabbed my shoulder, shaking me roughly.

"You're going to cause a big problem someday," he growled. "And when you do, I'll be right there, ready to handcuff you. Now go home. Right now."

"Fine," I grumbled. I grabbed my backpack and began to walk away slowly, glancing over my shoulder at him.

"Now!" he yelled. "Don't make me escort you back!" I huffed, but picked up the pace.

It was dark by the time I got home. Our house wasn't near the meadow, since my family was quite well-off, at least for District 12 standards. We didn't have enough to pay for medical treatment when my sister Emory got pneumonia, but we could buy groceries and pay the bills. Emory ended up dying. She was only eight.

It was part of the reason my parents were so cold and closed-off. We used to all be close, but when Emory died they pulled away. I grieved alone, and from then on, I did everything else alone too. My parents only paid attention to me when I was in trouble. It was part of the reason I enjoyed lighting things on fire so much.

The other part of it was power. Power and control. I was so helpless when Emory died. There was nothing I could do to save her, or to connect with my parents or my peers. But when I had gunpowder and elements and wicks and clay, I had control. I could make the fire do anything I wanted. And fire was notoriously hard to control. It couldn't be contained. And neither could I.

Hey everyone! Here is the next intro chapter of EE! I know I'm updating very quickly - I'm not in school right now and my gaming laptop is broken so I literally have nothing to do all day except for write. I'm sure it's going to get annoying pretty fast, and I apologize ahead of time. Anyways, thank you to neonfunerals13 for Josie and AstralKnight98 for Enzo. I can see them having some interesting interactions and I'm excited to explore them more in future chapters!

Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of these two! Reviews always make my day and I've been needing some serotonin lately. Thanks!

Have a nice day, be kind to each other, and never stop reading!

- Fiona