Author's Note
I do not own the Hunger Games.
District Twelve
Sally Himmer, 16
Things had been different recently, and Sally hated it.
Her parents had stopped working their usual hours and started working almost all hours. Sometimes her daddy didn't come home at all and spent all night in the town hall. When he mommy was home, she didn't have patience for Sally.
"I don't understand why they're being like this," she complained, scribbling thick lines across the page of her book.
Hansel laughed. "How many times do you need to be told? It's because of the hacking!"
"But why does that affect us?"
The hacking had been some big event in the Capitol, she knew that. It shouldn't affect her here in District Twelve.
"Don't you know that? You're so stupid!"
"I am not!"
"Then why do you think the Capitol hacking affected us?"
"I don't know! It's just strange!"
"It's not strange! Come on, even I know this!"
"I don't know!" Sally screamed.
Hansel shook his head. "You're such a weirdo, Sal." He leaned against the doorframe. "It affects us, because Tabitha was from here. You remember Tabitha?"
Sally didn't, but she nodded anyway. It was normally what people wanted her to do.
"And they killed a bunch of Capitol kids. So now everyone's mad. Got it?"
Sally turned away. "It's still strange. I don't understand. I want daddy to come home when he's meant to come home."
Hansel scoffed. "Forget it. You're useless."
She shouldn't have lost her temper. Hansel was just a menace.
There was a bang from somewhere downstairs. Mommy made a strange noise. Hansel jumped slightly.
"What are you doing?"
Sally frowned. Something new was happening. She hated new things.
"We're here to collect Sally Himmer," came the answer.
Hansel grinned. "Ooh, what've you done now?"
"Nothing! Why can't you leave me alone?"
"What for?" asked Mommy.
"She's to be taken."
District Three
Rhea Trissu, 13
There was a peacekeeper van on the street outside. That was interesting. Peacekeepers almost never came here. Not like the lower areas of the District.
"Look," Rhea said, pointing it out to Elesa. "I wonder what they're doing here."
No one here had broken any laws.
Peacekeepers rushed from the van and stormed at her house. She heard the door rattling downstairs.
"Someone must have said something bad about papa again," she said. That had happened before. Mom said people didn't like their family because they were jealous at all the money they had. "Shall we go find out?"
Garamond was quiet, but then he always was. Rhea darted over to her bedroom door and stepped onto the landing. In the foyer downstairs, Mom was facing off against the peacekeepers.
"You can't take her. She hasn't done anything wrong."
Rhea frowned, beckoning Elesa and Garamond to follow her over to the railing.
"Unfortunately, it's not a debate to be held. Her name has been chosen. She's to come with us."
Rhea turned to Elesa. "Is he talking about me?"
Her papa and mom had always said they were too busy to have another child, so it must be her. But why? She hadn't angered the peacekeepers.
"Is that her?" asked one of the peacekeepers.
Mom spun round and waved a hand at her. "Oh! Rhea! Go; run!"
"What?"
The lead peacekeeper stomped up the stairs towards her. "Rhea Trissu, your name has been selected. You need to come with us."
District Ten
Aiolin Kalene, 12
"Come on, just eat your food," Aiolin grumbled, holding out the spoon of food to Denica.
Denica shrieked with laughter and slapped it away. The oatmeal splashed across the table. Aiolin sighed and scooped it back up. They couldn't waste food. Her father had died two years ago, just before Denica was born, and money had been even tighter since then.
"Denica, please. Just eat."
"I don't want oatmeal. I want eggs," said Mardon.
"We don't want any eggs."
He shrieked, picked up his bowl, and hurled it across the kitchen. It bounced from the wall.
"I WANT EGGS!"
"Well, now you've got nothing!"
"But I'm hungry!"
"You've wasted your food!"
"You're not my mother!"
"If you want mother, you can try getting her out of bed!"
Two years, and their mother had never recovered from the shock of their father's death. He'd been terrible to her, and yet she grieved him still.
Caspian cried softly, huddling over his own bowl.
Tilden came clattering down the stairs and into the kitchen. "What's going on?"
"I'M HUNGRY!" wailed Mardon.
Tilden turned to Aiolin. She pointed at his bowl. He sighed. "Mardon, you can have half my porridge if you stop behaving like a brat."
"I'M NOT–"
"Fine. Nothing for you."
Acantha and Fleur came charging in from the yard, red-faced and waving their hands.
"What is it?" asked Aiolin.
"Is it Percy?" asked Tilden.
"Men! Peacekeepers! Come here!"
Sure enough, a moment later there was a bang on the door.
"Wait here," said Tilden.
Aiolin gathered the younger children around her and pushed them under the table, standing between them and the door.
"Can I help you?" asked Tilden.
"We're here for Aiolin Kalene," came the reply.
Acantha wailed and tried to grab her leg. "Aiolin, don't go!"
"Stay here," she replied.
Her siblings cried as she left the kitchen and walked to the door. Tilden was arguing with the Peacekeepers, insisting she'd committed no crime.
"I'm Aiolin Kalene. Can I help you?" she asked.
"You need to come with us."
District Seven
Phoebe Farley, 18
There were no variances inside the prison. To an extent, that made it safe. Every day was the same. Wake up. Toilet. Brush teeth. Breakfast. Lessons. Lunch. Yard. Cell. Supper. Bed. The only difference was on the days when she needed to add shower into her morning section.
Phoebe had never minded the monotonous nature of it all.
When she turned nineteen and was released, she and Falcon might still follow the routine, except they'd have to put 'work' where lessons and yard went. But it was a fine schedule and shouldn't be messed with.
Which was why when she was marched through to the warden's office, she knew something was wrong.
This was not routine.
She was not one of the inmates that broke the rules and required punishments.
It was not her birthday.
Something was different.
When she arrived at the office, Falcon was there too. Phoebe smiled to see him, and saw the relief in his eyes, but they both knew something was up.
They were both here, but this was not schedule.
Something was happening.
"Take a seat, Phoebe, Falcon." said the warden.
He used their names, but Phoebe didn't know this man.
She sat on the floor and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap. Falcon sat beside her.
The warden sighed. "Very well. If that's the way you want it."
"What's going on?" asked Falcon.
The warden signalled to the Peacekeepers next to them, who closed in at their sides. "We've received a request from the Capitol. Congratulations. I may never know why, but you two have been chosen for a very special event."
"What special event?" Phoenix signed.
Falcon shook his head. "What special event?"
"I'm afraid I haven't been given any other information."
"Can we refuse?"
"No."
The Peacekeepers took their arms and hauled them to their feet. Phoebe squirmed free, shying into Falcon.
"She doesn't like to be touched," he said.
"Hold your hands out," said one man, impassive.
They did so, and the cuffs were snapped into place.
Behind them, the warden said goodbye.
District Nine
Wolf Willows, 18
"Are you Wolf and Wren Willows?" asked the Peacekeeper.
"What have they said we've done now?" asked Wolf. The people of the District were constantly talking about them, accusing them of various crimes, looking at them with accusing eyes.
Two of the Peacekeepers produced sets of cuffs.
"It's not what you've done. It's what you've been chosen for."
Wolf stepped back. "We're not interested in your demands, and we haven't done anything. Get off our land and fuck off."
"This isn't your land, or a legal living location, and you are both being detained."
Wolf closed the door.
"What do they want?" Wren asked. She was sitting by the fireplace, watching the fire burn.
"They want us." Wolf took his crossbow from the wall and slotted a bolt into place. "How much firewood do we have?"
"Enough."
"Stack it up against the walls."
Wren grinned. "Are we burning the cabin?"
"If we need to."
The door boomed and bent under the force of the peacekeepers' blows.
"You cannot ignore this summons!" thundered one, a woman.
"Is this about the Barric brothers?" Wren asked.
"That was years ago. If they were going to arrest us for it, they'd have gone so long ago."
And those boys had been alive when they left them. Whatever the state they were found in, they were alive when the twins left.
The door gave a last dying crack and flew open. The peacekeepers poured inside. Wren kicked fire from the fireplace over the rug, which caught eagerly.
"Whatever they're saying we've done, they're wrong!" Wolf roared.
Guns clicked as they raised them. "Put the crossbow down, boy."
Wolf bared his teeth. "I just want an answer."
"We don't care about your reputation, boy. You've been chosen for a very particular game, which we're here to collect you for."
"I don't like games. I don't like people," said Wren.
"And we don't care what you don't like. Surrender, or be shot."
"Or burn," said another peacekeeper dryly as flames licked across the floor.
Wolf was halfway tempted to tell them to shoot him, but that felt like it would be a waste. He turned and hung his crossbow back on the wall. "I'll remember your voice," he said as he took Wren's hand. "You'll regret this."