Kyle Rush, 18
District 8 Male
I groaned in pleasure when the scalding water from the shower hit my sore muscles. Yesterday's workout was brutal and my body was desperate for some soothing heat. I closed my eyes and let the water trickle down my form as steam filled the small bathroom.
Today was a bad day. The entirety of District 8 was fearing for their lives or the lives of their loved ones. But the Hunger Games were effective. Nevertheless, I was happy to be free of them after today.
The water finally started to get cold so I turned the shower off. I took a moment to admire myself in the mirror, but toweled off after I heard Nana call my name.
"I'm getting dressed!" I shouted back to her. Nana hand-sewed my deep purple shirt and I was excited to show it off.
Once I was dressed I slipped in my new black studs. I was the only guy I knew with earrings and I thought it made me stand out from the crowd. And the girls seemed to like how edgy they made me look.
I was tempted to keep flexing and posing in front of the mirror, but a growl from my stomach reminded me that there was a delicious breakfast waiting. I walked into the kitchen and smiled at Nana.
"How do I look?" I asked.
"You look very handsome," she said. "But come, eat! We can't be late." She gestured to the stack of pancakes on the table.
I wolfed down the delicious, fluffy carbs while Nana ate more daintily. When we were done, I waited for her to do the dishes. I always offered to help but she waved me off every time. Instead, I helped her into her coat and handed her her cane.
It wasn't too far of a walk to the Justice Building, since we lived in the main urban area of District 8. But Nana was old and didn't move as well as she used to, so we left early. There were only a few other families heading in the same direction as us.
I could tell that Nana was tired by the time we reached the Reaping Center. I looked around for a bench or seat to let her rest on, but there was nothing. I frowned. I didn't want her to be uncomfortable.
"Kyle!" someone called. I looked past the sea of teens and saw Julian and his family. His dad and brother were sitting on old crates. "Over here!" he yelled.
I took Nana's arm and guided her over to them.
"Hey man," I said when I reached Julian. "Do you have a spare seat?"
"For the best cook in the district?" Julian's dad asked. "Absolutely." He stood up and offered Nana his spot.
"Thank you," she said. "My old bones aren't what they used to be."
The line was getting shorter so Julian tugged on my arm.
"Time to go," he said. I gave Nana a quick hug and she kissed my cheek.
"Be back soon!" I called over my shoulder as Julian and I waited to sign in.
The Peacekeeper who pricked my finger looked grumpy and used too much force. I winced as blood dripped everywhere, but shook the pain away as best I could. I sucked on my finger as we met up with Burt and waited for the Reapings to begin.
We all knew when the Reaping was about to start because we were blinded by Cleo Laurier's dazzling diamond slip. Her whole dress was made of the precious gems which were linked together like chain mail. Her hair was held up with a pin with a huge diamond on one end. And the toe of each of her black boots had a diamond as well.
Next to her, Mayor Landers looked dull and boring. The only shiny thing about him was his bald head. He cleared his throat loudly and disgustingly before speaking into the microphone.
"District 8…" he droned. "Welcome to the Reaping for the 72nd Hunger Games. We all know how important this event is to our history, and we shall reflect on it momentarily. But first, we will welcome our past Victors."
Kelsi Sanchez was in her late eighties and I had no idea how she was still alive. But she walked onstage with only the help of her cane. Woof struggled more. He was flanked by Zander and Cecelia, who helped him sit in his chair and held onto his shoulders once they sat too.
We all clapped politely. Our Victors were pretty cool overall. Cecelia was the only one whose victory I remembered, but she used a sword and had some epic fights. She was also super pretty. I stared at her as Mayor Landers read the Treaty of Treason.
Everyone's gaze shifted to Cleo when she took the microphone. She was impossible not to look at. Even her smile was blinding as she grinned at us all.
"Hello District 8!" she called. "It's officially been over ten years since we've had a Victor! Let's get it together and bring someone home!"
There was some applause, but it wasn't too enthusiastic. Apparently we weren't hopeful, and Cleo could tell. She rolled her eyes and switched the screens on without bothering to announce the video. The fight scenes were cool, so I watched it, but it wasn't very entertaining after all these years. But it would be rude to completely ignore it and Nana didn't tolerate any rudeness.
"Alright!" Cleo said, seemingly having regained her cheeriness. "Let's select our female tribute!"
Her diamond-encrusted nails swirled the paper slips around until she was satisfied with the mixture. She plucked a slip from the bowl and read the doomed girl's name.
"Henrietta Bates!"
Somewhere in the front of the crowd, a girl burst into tears. Two Peacekeepers started in her direction but then someone else's voice cut through the crowd.
"I volunteer as tribute."
Everybody turned to look at the girl. She was very thin and pale and had big green eyes. Her pants were torn too. She hunched in on herself as she walked, but she didn't flinch or cry. And when Cleo asked for her name, her voice was steady.
"I am Jersey Madras," she said.
"Yes…" Cleo said, looking her up and down. "Well, congratulations. Let's choose your district partner." Again, she stirred the slips like a stew until it was to her liking. Her voice rang loudly around the Reaping Center as she announced the name.
"Kyle Rush!"
"What?" Julian gasped. He turned to me with wide eyes and pale cheeks. "How?" I tried to answer him but I felt like I was made of wood. There was even a wooden taste in my mouth. But Burt slapped me on the shoulder and I found myself nodding.
"It's okay," I said to Julian. "I'm the buffest guy in 8. I've got this." I grinned at him, gripped Burt's hand and pulled him in for a pat on the back, and then made my way onto the stage.
Cleo was smiling brightly when she saw me.
"What a handsome specimen," she gushed. I winked at her.
"Thanks! It's always good to have an attractive Victor, don't you think?"
"Always," Cleo agreed. I smirked.
Jersey Madras, 16
District 8 Female
It was Reaping Day and I hadn't slept a wink. The fear was almost paralyzing, but my determination was stronger - just a little. I wanted my parents to care about me more than anything. I knew I wasn't a good daughter and I probably never would be. But I could be a rich daughter and that was almost as good.
When my mom came into my bedroom to wake me up, I pretended to be asleep.
"Jersey," she said as the door squeaked open. "It's time to wake up. I've already filled the bath." I opened my eyes, looked at her, and nodded. She smiled tightly and shut the door.
In the bath, I scrubbed myself as well as I could. If I was going to volunteer then I should be clean. Otherwise the Capitolites might judge me and I wanted to make a good impression. I wasn't very good at making people like me, but this was a chance for a fresh start.
Once I was washed I brushed my hair straight and put on my Reaping Day shirt. I'd sewn it myself and I was proud of it. It was black and ruffles on the front, which I thought the Capitol would like. But all the pants I had were torn. I frowned, but chose a pair that could pass as stylishly ripped rather than just ripped.
When I went into the kitchen for breakfast, my parent's faces were drawn tight. My dad tried to smile at me but it was cold and awkward. I just sat down at the table as my mom served us warm tesserae bread. She even brought out some honey, which surprised me. Honey was only for birthdays and sometimes the Winter Festival.
It was sticky and sweet and I actually felt a real smile cross my face. When my mom saw it, she smiled too and I felt a little bit warm inside. But the feeling only lasted as long as the honey did.
I did the dishes without being asked and then we put on our shoes and went outside. My dad locked the apartment door as I peered over his shoulder, getting one last look at the place where I'd lived my whole life.
When we arrived, I stared up at the Justice Building. It seemed more intimidating than ever before. But I pushed my fear aside and got in line to sign in. The Peacekeeper who took my blood barely acknowledged me and I quickly scurried past him to my section.
The girls around me glanced at me and started whispering. One of them glared before holding up a hand to cover her mouth when she spoke to her friend.
"There's that snob," she said.
"Why does she even think she's better than us? She's not pretty and she can't even afford nice clothes."
I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to block out their words. I began to quietly hum a soft melody to myself; the same one I always hummed at work or when I was making my dolls. I didn't remember where I first heard it, but it was soothing.
I hummed all the way through the reading of the Treaty of Treason and only refocused when our escort Cleopatra went to choose a girl's name. My heart was pounding in my chest but I knew what I had to do. When Henrietta Bates was Reaped, I spoke up.
"I volunteer as tribute."
I felt every eye in the square turn to me and fought the urge to shrink in on myself. There were so many people and they were saying so many things… but I looked straight at Cleopatra and walked to her.
"A volunteer! What's your name?" she asked.
"I am Jersey Madras," I told her. Even Cleopatra was judging me. I tried to find my parent's faces in the crowd but was distracted when she Reaped my district partner. He was a handsome boy with curly hair and some scruff on his face and he seemed very confident. He even flirted with Cleopatra. When he turned to shake my hand, I looked up at him. He smiled at me and I hesitantly extended my hand. He shook it warmly before raising my arm in the air alongside his.
"I give you the District 8 tributes: Jersey Madras and Kyle Rush!"
Clementine Matson, 17
District 11 Female
The first thing I did when I woke up was examine my face in my vanity mirror. I was worried about marks from last night's fight, but my skin was flawless. Perfect. No one would suspect a thing. Even my nails weren't chipped or broken.
I smiled as I remembered Oliver's pathetic attempt to fight back. He was no match for Max and Keisha, who threw him down and kicked at him until he was crying. Then I straddled him, held my blade to his throat, and told him he would return and repay every single thing he took… or he would regret it.
It felt amazing to put him in his place. I'd worked for years to take him down and now it was finally happening. He would crumble and I'd be on top, where I belonged. My parents wouldn't have to work anymore and I would rule the streets.
But for now I had to focus on the Reaping. I chose my outfit a few days ago and already had it laid out on my vanity, next to all my jewelry. But I had to shower first. I came home so late I just crashed, and I was sticky with sweat.
I washed myself thoroughly and brushed my hair so it hung down my back in a sleek, shiny river. I chose makeup in shades of gold to signify my victory, and to match my hoop earrings and golden bangles. Then I put on my special white dress, which was tight and short and had lace straps. I looked like a queen, which was ironic. I was about to be the queen of District 11.
I slid on a pair of brown wedges and joined my parents for breakfast. My dad loved to cook and went all-out whenever he could. Today was one of those days because the table was laid out with fresh fruit, orange juice, coffee, and pancakes.
"Good morning, my love," my mom said, kissing my cheek.
"Good morning Mama," I said. She smiled in return and poured me a cup of coffee.
As we ate, my mom talked about renovations she wanted to do to her shop. She owned a little store that sold jewelry and trinkets and essential oils; any type of little treasure an older lady with money to spare would like to buy. She was hoping to convert part of the back room to have clothing to sell, but we couldn't quite afford it. But I knew that in a few months, she'd be able to renovate and do more.
I'd never taken tesserae, so I didn't feel nervous at all as we drove to the Reaping Center. Most likely, two sniveling little kids would get Reaped and we'd all go home and get on with our lives. I wasn't too bothered about who was chosen, as long as it wasn't me.
After saying a quick goodbye to my parents, I strutted to the front of the line. One boy opened his mouth to stop me, but I shut him up with a glare. Then I let the Peacekeeper draw my blood, making sure not to let any of it drip onto my dress.
After what felt like ages, Mayor Walt walked onstage with our escort, Abigail Zamboni, on his arm. Abigail looked beautiful in her lacy golden gown. A gauzy train dragged behind her and she had a crown of white roses nestled in her wavy black hair. Her makeup was soft and sunny, and I realized that our looks were similar. I smiled. I knew my taste was just as good as a Capitolite's.
Mayor Walt read the Treaty of Treason in a droning voice before welcoming our Victors to the stage. Our oldest Victor wasn't present, so Scythe led the procession. Saigon Kane, who won when I was eleven, brought up the rear. They looked as fierce as ever as they glared out at the crowd. I much preferred them to gentle Seeder or drunk Chaff.
But now it was Abigail's time to shine. She walked up to the microphone and blew a kiss to the crowd.
"Hello District 11!" she chirped. "I'm so excited to be back with you all because today is a very exciting day! Today, two brave tributes will be selected to compete in this year's glorious Hunger Games!"
She clapped her hands together in excitement, and seemed completely unbothered that no one else was showing any enthusiasm. Instead, she fiddled with something on the microphone stand before grinning at us again.
"I do have a little movie to show you all before we select our lucky pair though. Are you ready?" Again, no one answered. But she was still undeterred and gestured grandly to the screens behind her.
I examined my nails as the video played. It was the same thing every year and I didn't need to bother myself with it. I only turned my attention back to the stage when it was over. I was admittedly curious to see who would be Reaped.
"Shall we start with the men? Just to shake things up? I think we should." Abigail flowed over to one of the glass bowls and picked a slip from the very top.
"Logan Acker!"
A growl of pure rage rose from the crowd of 16-year-olds. The Peacekeepers moved in and grabbed a skinny boy as he screamed.
"Let go of me!" he shouted. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"
He continued to threaten and yell all the way to the stage, where two Peacekeepers held him in place. He continued to glare at the cameras as Abigail edged away from him and then scurried over to select a girl's name.
"Clementine Matson!"
No. Freaking. Way.
I shoved past the other girls and almost gasped when I saw Oliver's face. He looked more smug than I'd ever seen him. His eyes flicked between me and the stage and he nodded subtly.
"How could you?" I screamed. I flew at him, punching him in the face as hard as I could. He staggered back and held up his hands as I landed blow after blow on him. But then someone grabbed me around the waist and dragged me away from him.
The space cleared my head and I relaxed in the Peacekeeper's grasp.
"You can let me go," I said to him. "Don't worry."
He hesitantly did and I flicked my hair back and walked up to the stage.
"Sorry about that," I said into the microphone. "I had some unfinished business. But I'll finish up when I come back as your Victor!"
Logan Acker, 16
District 11 Male
Cici was such a wimp. Sometimes I couldn't even believe we were related. She spent almost all night crying about Reaping Day until I slapped some sense into her. She ran to our mother while Mackenzie just turned over to face the wall. They didn't have to worry about the Reaping anymore.
I'd taken plenty of tesserae, so my name was in the bowl more times than I could count. Cici's was as well. With our mom's meager income, there was no other option but for us to take tesserae. Even Mackenzie did, before they turned nineteen.
Now that the sun had risen, Cici was back in our bedroom. I could hear her rifling through the creaky old dresser for a dress. I groaned and sat up, cursing her and Reaping Day and the Peacekeepers and the Capitol.
When she saw I was awake, Cici squeaked, snatched up a pink bundle of cloth, and darted out of the room. I ignored her, stretching my sore limbs and twisting my back to get it to crack.
"That's gross," Mackenzie grumbled.
"What? This?" I cracked my knuckles and they shuddered underneath their blanket, which made me laugh.
"Stop it," they said. "You're going to get air bubbles in your joints."
"That's a myth," I told them. I went to the dresser that Cici left open and pulled out my nicest pair of pants, which were made of heavy brown corduroy and had several holes. I rolled my eyes in annoyance but put them on. It was too hot to wear a proper button down shirt, so I just tugged a white t-shirt on and left the room so Mackenzie could get dressed.
Cici was sitting at the table with our mom behind her, gently braiding her hair. I ignored them and grabbed the last apple from a bowl on the counter.
"We'll get groceries after the Reaping," my mom said when she saw me bite into the apple.
"Good. We're low on everything," I told her.
Once Cici's hair was done and Mackenzie was dressed, we headed out. We lived far from any urban area of District 11, so the walk was long and hot. I expected Cici to complain, but she was silent. She was finally learning to keep her mouth shut.
When we arrived, I got into line right away while Cici said her goodbyes. Once my blood was drawn, I headed straight to my section and stood amongst the other sweaty boys, rolling a pebble back and forth with the toe of my boot.
Mayor Walt looked as brown and weathered as the stage, but our escort Abigail was strikingly out of place. But she seemed unbothered by the dust and dismal scenery. She smiled all throughout the reading of the Treaty of Treason and clapped the loudest of all when our previous Victors came onstage.
I clenched my hands into fists and shoved them into my pockets when Abigail played the stupid video for us. I was sick of it, and I was sick of the Capitol rubbing their dumb Games in our faces. By the time it was over, I was fired up and ready to yell.
Abigail decided to choose the boy's name first this year, for whatever ridiculous reason. I glared at my feet as she read the name aloud.
"Logan Acker!"
Red-hot anger flooded me and I let out an animalistic growl. There was no way they were taking me! I shoved a few boys out of my way and tried to dodge past the Peacekeepers coming my way, but one of them grabbed me by the arm.
"Let go!" I shouted. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!" I thrashed and yelled, but there were too many of them. The Peacekeepers managed to wrestle me to the stage and hold me there. Unable to keep fighting, I found a camera and glared at it.
Abigail hurried away from me to choose the girl. It was some rich girl named Clementine Matson who threw herself onto a boy in the crowd and began to beat him senseless. The Peacekeepers had to drag her away too, but she composed herself and walked up to Abigail and I on her own.
After making some stupid speech about unfinished business, she turned to shake my hand. I grabbed it and squeezed as hard as I could, but she didn't flinch. We stared at each other angrily as Abigail announced our names to all of Panem.
"I give you the District 11 tributes: Clementine Matson and Logan Acker!"
Hi! Here I am with a quick update because I am so excited to be done with the Reapings and be moving onto the pre-Games! I know this is another long chapter but I wanted to have an even number of Reaping chapters. I don't have a lot to say (and I am very sick), so I'll keep this short. Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts!
Also, I do my best not to swear in my stories. I definitely feel like Logan and Clementine are the type to curse, but I'd prefer not to write it. Though sometimes I will, if it feels especially appropriate.
QUESTIONS
1) Is Kyle going to do well?
2) What will Jersey's parents think of her volunteering?
3) Is Clementine's fight going to get her some fans/sponsors?
4) How will Logan get along with his mentor Saigon?
Have a nice day, be kind to each other, and never stop reading!
- Fiona