District 10 Pre-Reapings

EVIE FAWN (17)

DISTRICT TEN FEMALE

Evie knew that she constantly screwed up.

But she simply couldn't help it sometimes. Her life was but a series of mishaps, a sequence of times when she just made things so much worse for herself.

Many would grumble about how lucky she was, being born into a relatively wealthy family of factory owners who owned a decently-sized house in the heart of Austin.

Many more would seethe at the sight of her dancing skills that she often had no qualms in displaying to everyone, viewing it as a show of arrogance.

Even more would take one look at the number of guys she had slept with, and call her out for being a slut.

But all Evie had wanted to do was to look cool and fit into the coveted bracket of popular girls in town.

And yet, despite her best efforts, she could never get herself into that exclusive clique of daughters of factory owners who hosted their fun sleepovers and dinner parties, and always seemed to be such a tight-knit group of friends, sharing a close bond that made Evie green with envy.

Their blatant refusal to even speak to her infuriated her at times, stoking a flame inside of her that she desperately wished she could control, but simply could not.

And her antics outside of class only got her into even bigger trouble.

Evie sat on her desk, watching the old clock on the walls with flaking yellow paint tick by. Tick, tock, she rested her head against the palm of her hand, bored as she clung onto that last bit of energy in her to make it through Math class in Ringo Alvarez High School, the most prestigious school in Austin. The clock was old, quite possibly on the verge of breaking down, but it reminded her fondly of her earliest memories with her grandfather. A wispy look of nostalgia swept across her eyes as the fading memories of sitting on her grandfather's lap, giggling excitedly as she donned her ballerina outfit, listening to his tales of life during the Dark Days, stories that had fascinated young Evie.

Just a shame she had quickly lost interest in them, and had never gotten the chance to tell her grandfather she loved him.

A tear flickered in her eye as her thoughts swirled around the kind old man she had so cruelly pushed away from her life in favour of seeking attention and validation from her peers, and how disappointed he must be, looking down at her from the heavens above.

I'll be a better girl in the future, I promise, Evie thought, hoping he could read her mind. When that 'future' would be, she had no clue, but she was slowly changing her ways, although it was quite hard to do so at times.

The clock struck twelve and the old, ancient bell tolled in the school courtyard, it's loud sounds of ding, dong! bellowing across the corridors like an ear-splitting cacophony.

But this horrifically eerie sound, one that tormented the ears of most kids, it was like a sweet, angelic melody to Evie, one sent down in a bed of golden flowers. She instantly burst from her seat, eager to get home and away from this school, where she knew she did not belong. Slinging her backpack onto her shoulders, she clutched onto her History of Panem test sheet, the big fat 'F' written in blood red ink glaring back at her, a symbol of abject failure staring her right in the eyes. Biting her lip, she crumpled that paper to bits, eager to shove it out of her mind.

But those popular girls just wouldn't let her, would they?

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the four of them, Caballa, Carne, Roheline and Arwyr, dressed in matching outfits, scooting over to a corner of the classroom, giggling and chattering on excitedly like excitable dolphins as they exchanged test papers. Evie gritted her teeth, her fingers twitching with a burning vendetta that she held against them for the innumerable times they had made a mockery of her, for all the times they had reported her to the dean and even to the Peacekeepers on a couple of haphazard occasions.

Take deep breaths, just chill, you don't want to cause trouble, Evie told herself, checking underneath her desk to ensure she hadn't forgotten anything, and sighing at the sight of the huge pile of worksheets that popped into view, a glaring reminder of her frankly quite terrible decision to take extra classes, classes she would eventually realise might not even help her out much in the context of District Ten life.

"I'm glad I got a C, that's way higher than the lowest score in the class," Arwyr said, sighing with relief as she plopped onto a chair, her face flushed with satisfaction.

Lowest score in the class. That was Evie, and she knew it. Evie furiously jammed a set of notes into her bag, trying to drown out their chirpy voices, which were rapidly quietening down as they tried to keep their conversation secret, to no avail.

"Yeah, I got an F, but Evie got lower than me, so at least I'm not last," Carne chuckled softly, crossing her arms and flashing the other girls a smirk. "Told ya I wouldn't do as bad as her."

Roheline rolled her eyes, fiddling with that seashell necklace that she always wore around her neck, the one she claimed had been brought in by the Masked Merchants from the 'Bahamian Isles'. "Yeah, yeah. Speaking of Evie…" Evie's ears pricked up as their voices grew quieter. "Did you hear about what she did to that little orphan boy?"

Evie felt as though someone had jabbed a needle into her heart. Her head swirled with sandstorms of guilt as the memory of her confronting that obnoxious little orphan living on the streets after a rough day came crashing back into her mind, like an unwanted stampede of horses not too different from the one that had killed a farmer near her home a month ago.

She hadn't meant to be so harsh to him.

"I know right?" Caballa murmured in agreement, before uttering a few more lines that Evie was unable to pick up on.

Roheline nodded, a grim expression on her face. "You know, that girl's an absolute snob, She's so rich, if she had given a damn about human society, she would've donated some money to the orphanage."

Arwyr muttered something indistinguishable, but the instant Evie heard the word 'slut', smoke bellowed out of her ears and nostrils. She could feel that blazing fury erupt within her, encapsulating her heart with an uncontrollable rage.

Evie stormed forward, her eyebrows knitted together in a tight scowl. She fused her fingers into steely clamps, forming white-knuckled weapons with her hands as she dug her fingernails into her skin.

She couldn't stand being called a slut.

She charged over and ripped Carne's test paper from her hands, the colossal A proudly displayed, along with the sickeningly childish drawing of a smile. Feeling the heat surge through her body, she ignored Carne's outcry of shock, drowning out the screams as the air turned blue, a whole barrage of swear words being discharged from the unhinged mouth of the girl whose test paper had just gotten ripped by Evie.

Evie didn't care about her, she had gotten her revenge.

She roughly pushed a bewildered Roheline out of the way, before swiftly ploughing ahead, pushing the other students out of her way, all the while barking at them to get away.

They didn't mean anything to her in that moment of blinding anger.

One of the girls, from the poorer parts of town, perhaps, as shown by her dilapidated hand-me-downs, tried to protest but Evie shot her an icy, withering glare and she kept her damn mouth shut.

As she should.

Evie barraged her way out into the dusty streets of Austin, blinking back a tear in her eye as the words of those awful girls sunk in, carving out stinging wounds in her heart.

She just wanted them to leave her alone.

A cat crawled up to her, its fur in a frayed mess and covered in a blanket of fresh mud, its beryl green eyes glancing up at her in a pleading sort of look, as it struggled to move on what appeared to be a broken leg. It purred softly as it rubbed against her ankle, tears almost glistening in its shining eyes. Evie scowled and hissed, "Get away from me."

The cat meowed, wincing as it tried to take another step forward. A burning anger began to stoke up in Evie's heart, but she forced herself to calm down.

She didn't want to kill any more cats out of spite.

She tore off towards her neighbourhood, a pang of guilt storming up in her hearts she glanced backwards, only to see that the cat had collapsed onto the ground, its dirty little body rigid, frozen, as blood pooled into the streets.

She couldn't help, no, she just wanted to go home.

The row of houses with shingle rooftops and silky oak wood walls soon came into view, their relatively charming appearances a stark contrast to the dark slums only a couple of blocks away, an awful place that reeked with a strong odour of animal waste, where people and animals alike slept in makeshift pigsties, and where Evie was forbidden to visit. She jogged into the street, heading straight for her house, the one right beside the large, crumbling ruin of a stone well that sat like an ugly duckling in the middle of the street, supposedly built sometime during the Dark Days, where traitors to the rebellion would be lowered into and left to die, as evidenced by the piles of bones in there. It had always been a place that in Evie's mind was utterly repulsive, an ugly stain on the town, bringing back dark, lingering memories of the barbaric actions those rebels sometimes undertook.

She trudged into the house, her fingernails dug deep into her scalp as a tear began to trickle down her face. Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream.

"Fuck, why did I do that?!" she screamed, kicking at the air in a fit of frustration, but only succeeding in banging her foot against a hard, metal box. Pain shot up her foot, burning like hot coals as she collapsed onto the couch, her body drenched in tears as remorse towards her treatment of the students and the cat plunged into her heart like a Career thrusting a sword into her chest.

Why couldn't she ever get a hold of her own fucking emotions?

The tattered remains of Carne's test paper still lay in her fingers, a staunch reminder of her fiery outburst at that girl, who was horrible, yet at that moment was merely just trying to celebrate getting a good grade.

She hated how volatile she could be.

She lay there, her face buried in her sweaty palms, her legs lying limply over the edge of the couch, unable to stem the steady flow of tears that poured out of her dark eyes, her lips uttering small, sniffling sounds as thoughts of regret and remorse began to ripple through her muddled mind. Usually, she could dance away her woes, feel the weightless rhythm of her moves carry her gently away from the world's burdens like an angel on a cloud.

But today, she couldn't even muster up the energy to dance.

It only served to make her even more miserable, that she couldn't even bring herself to engage in the one activity that consistently brought her joy in life

Just then, the sound of footsteps entered her ears, prompting Evie to peek through her fingers. Catching a glimpse of her mother's long, flowing green dress, she jolted to her feet, dabbing furiously at her eyes as she tried to contain herself.

There would be no crying, not in front of her baby.

Viscera, the little girl she had conceived in one calamitous night full of mistakes, the girl whose birth sparked the dawn of a new beginning for her, a new life in which she would have to refrain from sleeping with guys, and also a new life filled with greater responsibilities. A flush of delight glowed in Evie's cheeks as she made her way to her mother, a loving eye on Viscera, one of the few people she had vowed never to shout or scream at.

After all, she was her own flesh and blood.

Her mother handed the baby to her, and all of a sudden, the tears seemed to dry up in Evie's eyes as Viscera opened her tiny little eyes, giggling as she beamed up at her teenage mother, dressed in clothes made from recycled cloth from Evie's first ballet costume. Her mother wrapped both of them in a tight embrace, giving Evie a warm smile.

"It's gonna be an okay day," she whispered in Evie's ear, an age-old line she had always uttered ever since Evie had fallen during her first dance lesson with her.

But it made her feel good for a change.

JOTHAM VELASQUEZ (14)

DISTRICT TEN MALE

Jotham knew that his life had been a mess.

But truth to be told, he was just happy to be alive.

Born to the governor of Cuatro Cienegas, a town located in rural District Ten, his early life was one that most in Ten could only dream of, filled with rare luxuries and privileges that were beyond the minds of even the most hopeful amongst the slum residents and factory workers. Cuatro Cienegas itself was an idyllic town, far from the sphere of control of those Peacekeepers, a place where the people were more or less permitted to do anything they wanted, so long as it was non-violent and in accordance with the Capitol's main principles. With its yew wood rooftops, chiseled stone walls and everclear night sky, Cuatro Cienegas had an intriguing atmosphere, with a giant memorial to the fallen soldiers of the Dark Days propped up in the heart of town, a memorial that could not have possibly been built anywhere where the Peacekeepers had much influence. Further afield, Jotham could easily ride one of the numerous horses in the communal stables into the wild desert landscape beyond, where a myriad of desert critters danced around shimmering azure pools, surrounded by earthen mountains that guarded the horizon. He and his sister Mel had often rode off into this charming, tranquil landscape to escape the chaos brewing up in their family, evading the loud bickering and screaming within the household. Mel participated in a lot of these fights, sometimes instigating them, but she showed an affection towards Jotham that no one else seemed to show, often shielding him from harm's way and taking him out to explore the rural outback of District Ten. And the meat that they cooked together over the campfire on an enchanting night underneath the canvas of stars and galaxies up above, oh it was simply heavenly. Mel always had a good campfire story to tell, although no matter how much she insisted that they were true, Jotham could tell outright that they were merely works of fiction.

Nonetheless, they were always intriguing, and the way Mel could narrate them with perfect fluency, it made her claims of them being real events almost convincing.

Almost. Jotham could always detect one of her lies, it was a skill that he had been equipped with right from the start, an awareness of the schemes that she often pulled out, some of them harmless, others, well, not so much.

But it had earned him Mel's respect and care.

This blissful youth continued on, blanketed from the blatant bickering of the three older siblings, Abi, Mel and Lachy. Jotham didn't really see too much of their bickerings, always brushing them aside.

Until one day, he couldn't.

The day his father died was the day everything began to go downhill. The victim of a freak tractor accident at the hands of a drunken man Abi later identified to be her friend, a detail that Jotham had found rather suspicious, the end of his life signalled the end of Jotham's lovely, spoiled childhood, and set a chain of unprecedented events into motion, events that would tear the entire Velasquez family to shreds.

Events that he tried so hard to forget, but never could.

Those blissful days at Cuatro Cienegas were now gone, and now, a few laters Jotham found himself in Austin, the capital of Ten,a fugitive who had only brought one of Mel's bags with him.

And the lingering memories of his final night at that accursed town.

Since then, Jotham had been forced to grow up, forced to accept his fate, forced to move on and learn to adapt to his new life.

A difficult, daunting task for young, petrified Jotham thrown out into the world after a prolonged period of living a sheltered life.

Now residing with a foster family who had connections to his father in the past, Jotham still bore the scars of his past, and the nightmares that came knocking on his door every once in a while, spooking him with the constant ghost of the hauntingly beautiful girl with numerous stab wounds in her chest and a faded photograph of two siblings on a horseback ride in her cut palm. It was a dark, unending trauma that he had kept bottled up, in a desperate bid to hide his inner sorrows from the world at large.

Because he wanted to feel as though he'd moved on.

He had since adapted to life in Austin, a more humble, simple life full of hardships and work in comparison to his pleasant days back at Cuatro Cienegas, but a life he was nevertheless grateful to have. He had since met a new family, once considerably less toxic, one that deeply cared for him and experienced little drama, and new friends had come trodding along his way too, friends he could argue were far better than the ones he had back at Cuatro Cienegas.

In the end, he didn't hold any grudges or rue the loss of his former self, he instead filled his thoughts with gratitude that he was even alive.

And besides, ever since he had arrived at Austin, he had discovered the joys of playing chess.

Jotham sat across his opponent, a boy who was a year older than him, staring down at the chessboard, a slew of thoughts flashing through his mind at the speed of light as he tried to anticipate the boy's next move. The pair were surrounded by all of their classmates, who craned their necks to watch them face off in the school cafeteria, having borrowed the chessboard and pieces from one of their teachers. The boy scratched his chin as he picked up his rook and moved it two squares to the left.

Big mistake, Jotham thought, suppressing a smirk on his face. The boy hadn't noticed it, in fact, judging by the shouts from the crowd claiming that it had been a good move, no one else had.

But they hadn't analysed it thoroughly enough.

Jotham moved his queen, and the boy quickly responded by capturing her with his rook, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he did so. "You're gonna lose, Jotham," he declared, glowing with that bright aura of arrogance that Jotham so deeply resented.

But he told himself to keep his head down and just play the game.

He shifted his knight, and all of a sudden, the boy's smile faltered. A dawning realisation seemed to have struck him like an asteroid, and that arrogant, cocky aura instantly crumbled as Jotham allowed himself to chuckle for a brief moment.

"Checkmate."

The boy burst to his feet, his jaw dropped in a thunderstruck silence as he tried to digest his loss. "Y-you slimy brat," he muttered after a while, his voice still echoing with ripples of shock. Jotham raised an eyebrow, his expression a constant neutral, a cloud of maturity about him that contrasted to the boy's long, childish rants as he tried to stomach his first-ever chess defeat. The boy and his cronies gave Jotham one, final glare before the entire troupe of them stormed off, their endless, hushed grumbles causing Jotham to roll his eyes in exasperation.

Those irresponsible sods hadn't even bothered to keep or return the chess set.

Jotham sighed as he grabbed the pieces and placed them neatly into Mrs Merino's bag, before getting up to head to Mrs Merino's house to return the set.

After all, someone had to be the responsible kid.

Just then, he felt a cold hand clamp over his shoulder. A momentary panic seized his guts as he whirled around, balling his fists, ready to take on an assailant.

Relief washed like a tidal wave over his face when he saw the dashing, goofy smile of his best friend Eli painted over his tan face. "Whoa there, Jotham, I come in peace!" he shouted, feigning terror as he put his hands in the air.

Jotham rolled his eyes. "Oh, grow up Eli." The tiny giggle in his voice did, however, betray his true emotions.

Eli winked and made finger guns towards Jotham. "Hey there, Jothy."

"Don't call me Jothy," Jotham told him, a patient look masking the annoyance at the mere mention of that awful nickname that Eli had given him.

It's a testament of your close friendship, he told himself. That's why he gave you that nickname, because he's a close friend, and you're grateful for friends, aren't you? Thoughts like those were what kept Jotham sane day after day.

And yet, Jothy had been what Lachy had called him once upon a time, Jotham could never bring himself to tell Eli that, nor could he suppress the cold shudder that went down his spine as the memories flooded back into his head.

Don't think about it, he scolded himself, brushing aside the thought.

"So, Oscar's invited us to play football at the empty lot right beside the Golden Tavern. You coming?" Eli asked casually, twirling a rubber band around his fingers.

At the mention of football, Jotham's eyes instantly lit up with a bubbly excitement, one he quickly replaced with his usual calm, mature expression. Football. That other bit of jubilation that he discovered upon arriving in Austin. A sport that enthralled him to the point where he could blissfully forget his sorrows, the dark, gloomy trauma of his past, even if just for ninety minutes.

They were ninety minutes of exhilarating enjoyment.

Jotham didn't even hesitate with his response. Nodding briskly, he said, "Of course. But I just need to drop this off at Mrs Merino's place along the way, okay?"

Eli chuckled. "Well aren't you one heck of a responsible kid, huh?" He jabbed Jotham's side and Jotham forced himself to flash a smile in his direction.

But deep inside, he could feel an old wound throbbing in his heart.

Because those were the exact same words Mel had told him when he had insisted on clearing the stables every night after one of their trips.

Mel.

The name stung like the stings of wasps in his chest. His sister, the only one of his siblings who showed any form of love towards him, the girl he shared so many bygone memories of yesteryear with.

The girl who had saved his life, only to be brutally murdered, at the hands of someone who was of her own flesh and blood.

He shoved that thought aside, bottling it and clogging it into another section of his heart. Letting his true emotions show would be far from ideal, he simply had to keep them hidden, especially from Eli, who had meant no harm with his words. After all, he had spent years bottling up his emotions, it was something he had grown accustomed to. "Yeah, someone has to be the responsible kid, right?"

Eli shrugged. "Eh, I suppose so, now come on, let's hop over to that old bird's house, don't wanna be late for Oscar's match, after all."

He grabbed Jotham's hand, a little too roughly for his liking, and dragged him along out into the dusty streets of Austin. Just outside the schoolyard, Jotham spotted the massive pair of granite doors doused in a cloud of dust and cool mist that marked the entrance to the Austin Prison, where the District's most notorious criminals were sent to endure torturous pain for much of the remainder of their lives. As Jotham gazed up at one of the sullen, fogged-up windows of the prison, covered in thick steel bars, he caught a glimpse of a dark, hooded figure glaring back at him, a mop of brown hair shielding his eyes as he sat cross-legged on the floor, murmuring quietly to himself.

It was him.

Jotham looked away, his teeth clenched together in agony, unable to bear the thought of who that figure was, and the crime he had been wrongfully convicted of.

Mrs Merino's house wasn't too far away from the schoolyard, in fact,J it was only a couple of blocks away, near the old well in that relatively wealthy neighbourhood. As the pair strolled into the neighbourhood, the large, imposing ruined well greeted them with its ever-foreboding stance, the eagle ornament perched atop it glaring down at them, challenging them to approach. As Jotham knocked on Mrs Merino's door, he could hear the sound of a girl sobbing in the house right next door.

The house of that dancer girl.

Jotham had only met the girl who was supposedly a brilliant dancer once, when she had screamed at him to buzz off. Such rudeness had instantly put her in his bad books, he certainly didn't want to associate with someone as mean as her, although he didn't actually tell that to her face when she confronted him. He would never insult someone like that, it wasn't in his blood.

He was grateful that he never saw her again after that.

Jotham rang Mrs Merino's doorbell, the old buzzer producing a strange, almost duck-like noise when the button was pressed. No response. Jotham rang again, but once again, no one came to the door. Jotham glanced around, scanning the surroundings, a perplexed scowl on his face. Her bicycle was missing, and her favourite pair of shoes were missing from the shoe rack, so that meant she was probably out to buy supplies.

"Just leave it at the doormat," Eli called out, peering at the large clock propped up at the end of the street.

Jotham picked up the chess set, but instead of simply leaving it at the doormat, where he knew a porch pirate could easily snag it away, he strolled over to the window of the house, one he had observed to have been left wide open.

Why can't she ever remember to shut her windows? Jotham wondered, but he didn't complain this time. He slid the chess set into her couch, just underneath the open window, and strolled back to Eli. "Look at Jotham being the goody-two-shoes as usual," Eli chuckled. "Now come on, Oscar's waiting for us."

The pair shuffled off, in the direction of the Golden Tavern, where a small, dusty lot hosted the majority of the town's football matches, usually played by kids and teens like Jotham and Eli. As a ball was sent flying towards Jotham's feet, Jotham took a touch to it, before flicking it up into his hands. Allowing a small smile to invade his usually neutral expression, he gazed forward at the group of children on the makeshift pitch, dressed in tattered clothing, shouting for him to hurry up. "Game on."

It was a game Jotham was grateful he got a chance to play.

A/N: What did you think of Jotham and Evie? Do you think they could win? And what on earth could have possibly happened to Jotham to cause him to flee his hometown? Let me know your thoughts in the reviews, those really do make my day aha (but you don't have to review if you can't, wouldn't want to stress you out). Thank you to Gomex for Evie and Josephm611 for Jotham, I really liked these two, even if I did spend a full week deleting and rewriting their POVs oop. Yeah, I spent way too much time on this and even then I'm still not fully satisfied with the final version, aka the tenth version of it. But yeah, that's all for today, I guess, hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you guys next time for, uhh, whichever District comes trotting along next, I guess lol. Stay safe, stay tuned, and cheers :)