Castor Fairchild, 16: District 3 Male

Two thousand on thermometers

Two thousand surroundin' us

Travel two thousand kilometers

To hang out with us

What's up, danger? What's up, danger?

June 27, 73ADD: 10 days before Reaping

The blinding glare of the morning sun peeking through the window of the bedroom wakes me up long before I wanted to. I let out a groan as I bury my face into the pillow.

"Pike," I murmur, voice muffled. "Close the curtains. I'm still tryna sleep."

There's no answer, which is odd. Pike is usually pretty responsive to me.

"Pike," I call again. "Curtains."

Still no answer. I throw my arm around to Pike's side of the bed to try and nudge her awake, but I grab nothing but sheets. I finally decide to turn and look, and my eyes are met with the plain beige wall. We usually get up around the same time, so where the fuck could Pike be at this ungodly hour?

Begrudgingly, I roll out of bed. I stretch and yawn so hard that I just might dislocate my jaw. My eyes still halfway shut, I amble out of our bedroom, down the narrow hallway, and into the kitchen. The smell of cheap hot coffee permeates the air, filling my nostrils. I start making my way over to the source of the smell, still nowhere near fully conscious.

"Well good morning sleepyhead." I'm startled out of my stupor by the sound of Pike's voice, which is particularly perky for this early in the morning. I turn to see her leaning against the counter, sipping on a mug of coffee.

"Mornin'," I respond, reaching up to grab a mug out of the cupboard. I fill my mug and take a sip. I feel better already.

"You don't want any sugar with that?" Our roommate Sam's voice booms through the kitchen.

"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I snap. "It's way too fucking early for you to be that fucking loud! People are still trying to sleep! Quiet the fuck down for fuck's sake!"

"Castor, why are you yelling?" Maria's groggy voice resonates from somewhere behind me. She shuffles into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and letting out a big yawn.

"I wasn't yelling!" I yell. "But this bozo decided to use his built-in megaphone at the asscrack of dawn!"

"Yes you were," Maria says. "I could hear you from the other side of the apartment."

"Oh but you didn't hear your dumbass boyfriend?"

"Dude, chill out," Sam says, pouring himself some coffee. "It's not that deep."

"No, because it is that deep," I retort. "You act like you have no fucking home training."

"Cas," Pike says, voice as calm as night. "Just let it go. We're all up now anyways."

"Fine," I relent with a huff. "But why are you guys up so early?"

"Dude, it's Wednesday," Sam says, much quieter than before. "Pike and I have the morning shift at the warehouse."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that."

"Speaking of which," Pike starts. "Have you had any luck finding a job?"

"Unfortunately, no," I sigh. "I didn't realize that finding work would be so hard."

I'm the only one in this apartment who hasn't found a job yet, and I can't help but feel a little guilty about it. I had been planning on moving out on my own and finding a job when I was 18, but my mother just had to go snooping around and found out about my plans. Then she kicked me out because I didn't want to work for that shady ass operation they call a family business. She literally just stood idly and let uncle Aaron manipulate the shit out of Dad just so she could have more money in her pockets, and Dad ended up going to jail for it all. And she had the nerve, the audacity, to kick me out because I didn't want to end up locked up like my father. Honestly, leaving my parents' house early was a blessing in disguise. At least I don't have to worry about getting framed for their crimes.

Life without my family in the picture hasn't been easy by any means, but it definitely beats being caught up in their pathetic cash grabs. Mom actually wanted me to take over the family "business" before she kicked me out. Now she'll most likely blame me when everything inevitably goes to complete shit. In fact, I'll take great pleasure in knowing that I'm the one who shut that business down. It serves them right that one of their own was responsible for their failure.

"Don't worry dude," Sam says, patting me on the back. "You'll find a job soon enough."

"Hell, I better," I say. "I'm tired of sitting around doing nothing all day."

"Aww, does wittle Cas get lonely when we're gone?" Sam says, mimicking how a parent would talk to their infant child. He reaches out to pinch my cheek, but I smack his hand away before he can touch me.

"Don't talk to me like that, you dumbass prick!" I shout. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Dude- "

"Don't fucking 'dude' me you fucking troglodyte!" I can feel the heat rising in my face. I know my cheeks are probably beet red now. I don't care. Sam took it too far. I set my mug down and walk right up to him. I look up at him as I push my finger into his chest.

"Don't you ever for a second think that you can talk to me like that!" I hiss. "Understand?"

"I was just joking around," Sam says.

"I don't give a flying fuck what you were doing!" I yell. "You don't talk to me that way, understood?"

"But-"

"Understood!?"

"Yeah man," Sam says. "I understand."

"Good," I say. "Because if you ever talk to me like that again, I'll beat your fucking ass."

I swear, Sam doesn't know how patronizing it is to talk to me like that. It's like he thinks I'm a child and we're the same fucking age. What does he think gives him the right to treat me like a kid? I'm not a fucking kid anymore. Sometimes it feels like everyone treats me like I'm a fucking kid. Well, almost everyone. At least Pike treats me like I'm a normal fucking human being.

And I love her for that.

Nova Petersson, 16: District 3 Female

I don't know how it ends, I can't see it in the distance

But can you ever reach the end of a timeless existence?

I'll bet ya I can run faster with no wind resistance

I'll fly under no conditions

Teach myself complete submission

While I grant myself complete permission

June 29, 73ADD: 8 days before Reaping

I take a glance at the clock on my nightstand. Its screen reads 8:55 in bold green numbers. Only five minutes left until Dad is done and the basement is at my disposal for the rest of the day. Having to wait to conduct my experiments every morning has really tested my patience over the past month. Ever since school let out for the summer, I've had nothing to occupy my time. I spent the first week of summer break drafting up experiments, but I got so carried away that I drafted too many. It'll take me most of the summer to get through them all. So now I just sit and wait in my bedroom until Dad finishes up.

Dad has been even more on edge than usual since school ended. It was already a struggle just to get Dad to let me use the basement lab for most of the day. He only conceded after Mom talked to him. Thank goodness he said yes because I don't know what I would do if I couldn't experiment all summer. I'd probably lose my mind.

I take another glance at the clock. 9:00. I leap up, grab my notes, and scurry down the stairs. I dash through the living room and throw open the door to the basement. I rush down the wooden steps at breakneck speed, eager to start today's experiment. After turning the corner at the bottom of the staircase, I see Dad's figure hunched over at his desk. He's muttering something to himself, but it's too soft to make out what he's saying. I step up closer, looking to see what he's working on and what he could be saying.

"Dad?" I get no answer. He's completely focused on whatever he's working on. He keeps on muttering to himself, but I still can't quite hear exactly what he's saying. I take a few more steps, getting close enough to see that he's fiddling with an intricate circuit board. He has a thin copper wire in his hand, trying to insert it in to an almost microscopically small hole on the board. With a few more paces, I'm close enough to hear what he's mumbling about.

"C'mon, Kaj," he murmurs to himself. "You've done this before. It shouldn't be this hard."

Dad's hair partially covers his face, but I can still see the dark circles under his eyes. His usual five o' clock shadow has turned into a brown and gray stubble. He's been up all night again, probably working on this same circuit board. He used to be able to put together the most complicated circuit boards with almost no effort. But that was before the incident.

A few years ago, Dad was walking home from some sort of marketing event. It was well after dark, and the streets were practically empty. He was almost home when according to his account, a guy dressed in all black attacked him from behind. He tried to fight back, but he was no match for his armed assailant. He held onto his wallet for dear life, but a couple well-placed stomps broke his grip and his hand. The beating didn't stop there. His attacker kicked him in the head, rendering him unconscious. When he regained consciousness, Dad's pockets were totally empty. He'd been robbed, and there was no one on the streets to witness or prevent the heinous act. Dad somehow got up and dragged himself home, collapsing into Mom's arms as soon as he stepped through the front door.

Dad never did fully recover from that night's attack. Neither physically nor mentally. His hand never regained its full range of motion. He didn't let that stop him from trying to work again, but he never would return to his former self. He just doesn't have the dexterity or flexibility to arrange the tiny parts of a circuit board. He still tries though, no matter how difficult it gets for him.

Ever since the mugging, Dad has become more and more withdrawn by the day. He used to tell me about his engineering projects for hours on end, but now it's like he tries to avoid me. He hardly ever talks to me. I've tried to get him in on my experiments, but he doesn't seem to be interested in the slightest.

"Dad?" Dad jumps in alarm, fumbling the copper wire. It drops to the floor. He turns in my direction.

"It's my lab time now," I say. Dad sighs an exasperated sigh. Without saying a word, he gets up and leaves the basement. I hear the door shut, and I'm left alone.

With great haste, I open one of the many wooden cabinets, pulling out a beaker, conical flask, round bottom flask, two clear tubes, and a connector. Out of another cabinet I grab two hot plates. Then out of a glass cabinet, I grab a pair of latex gloves and a pair of protective glasses. I slip the gloves and glasses on before filling one of the flasks with just enough water to fully cover the bottom. I connect one tube to the conical flask and connect the other end to the connector, which sits on top of the round bottom flask. I set the beaker and conical flask on each hot plate. I attach the second tube to the other end of the connector, then take a step back to admire my setup thus far.

And now I wait.

Elias and Laius should be here any second with the rest of the supplies for the experiment. I called Elias last night and told him to bring ice and sodium bisulfate for this experiment. He told me there was no way he could get any sodium bisulfate in a night, so I called Laius and just told him to hook me up. Laius told me he didn't care about my experiment, but I know he'll come through with the goods. He always does.

This experiment is a smaller one, but it's one I need to do to. It'll lead to something much bigger I have planned for the future, and it'll help me do what I've wanted to do for years now. It'll put my name on the map.

I'll finally be known.

Hey guys! Here's District 3. I really loved writing these guys so much. Huge thanks goes out to timesphobic for Castor and to mykindleisawesome for Nova. I can't wait to write more of these guys.

Castor: What's Up Danger by Blackway and Black Caviar

Nova: No Wind Resistance! by Kinneret

See you guys in District 4!

Until next time,

Ty