Era Lauson, 17: District 11 Male
Hung pictures of patron saints up on my wall
To remind me that I am a fool
Tell me where I came from, what I will always be
Just a spoiled little kid who went to Catholic school
July 5, 73ADD: 2 days before Reaping
The faint hum of the old box fan is the only sound that permeates through the stuffy air. Business has been slow at the shop today. Everyone's been working out in the orchards, tending to the crops. Our quotas have been raised again this year, so work hours have been extended. It's a miracle that I got a day off today, but that means I'm stuck here alone in the shop.
All of a sudden, the hum of the fan stops, pulling me out of my thoughts. The air in the shop almost immediately gets hotter. I unplug the fan and plug it back in, but it doesn't turn on. I fiddle with the dial on top, trying to get the fan spinning.
"C'mon you piece of shit, work," I mutter, like the fan can hear me.
The air in the shop gets hotter by the second. And as the air gets hotter, my patience wears thinner. It's too hot to not have some sort of air flow. In my frustration and haste to get the fan working again, I start banging on the top of it. I've seen Dad just hit the fan to make it spin, but it doesn't want to work for me for some reason. As I'm hitting the fan, I hear the bell above the door jingle. Colin walks up to the counter, sweat making the light reflect off his tan skin.
"Era!"
"Hey, Colin," I say. "How'd you get away from the orchard?"
"I'm working the back rows today, so no one was watching me when I snuck out," Colin says. "What's good witchu?"
"Nothin' much," I say. "Just tryna get this fan to work."
I hit the fan a few more times, but it still doesn't turn on. I fiddle with the dial again, but to no avail.
"Era?"
"Stupid fuckin' fan," I grunt, still trying to turn it on. "Old ass piece of shit."
"Era!"
"What?"
"You really are dumb as fuck, bruh," my best friend says. He walks behind the counter and grabs the cord hanging from the fan. He waves the plug in my face before plugging it back into the outlet on the wall. The fan immediately starts spinning, quickly cooling the shop.
"I didn't see that," I say.
"Of course you didn't," Colin says curtly, brushing a stray strand of curly hair from his face. "Anyways, why aren't you out in the orchards with the rest of us?"
"I got the day off," I say, sitting down on the old stool we keep behind the counter.
"How the hell did you get the day off?" Colin asks.
"I told the boss that Kalia would cover my shift," I answer.
"And your sister was okay with that?"
"Ehhh, not really," I start. "But she'll get over it."
Truth is, I don't really care if Kalia gets over it or not. I've had to cover for her more times than I can count since she loves to go out late at night with whatever guy she can get her hands on. It's time I get my payback, especially now that the work hours are longer.
"Y'know, if I had the day off, I'd be at home," Colin says. "Not sitting in an empty shop."
"My dad said that someone needs to be manning the shop during all business hours," I sigh, rolling my eyes.
"So you still have to work then," Colin says.
"Beats possibly dying of heatstroke," I say. "It almost happened twice in the past week."
"Yeah, I know," Colin says. "I saw one of 'em."
"Really? Who was it?"
"You know Adam, right?" Colin says.
"The dark skinned dude with the cornrows?" I say. "Yeah I know him."
"Well he passed out right next to me the other day," Colin says.
"Damn," I say. Adam is our age, and he's one of the healthier guys we know. They must really be overworking him if he's the one who passed out.
"Right," Colin says. "I had to drag his big ass to the apothecary."
Before I can speak again, the bell at the front door jingles once more. In walks Chasin, another good friend of mine. He's even more drenched in sweat than Colin.
"How'd you get away?" Colin asks.
"I snuck out, obviously," Chasin says. "I was about to pass out in that heat."
"That sun is whoopin' y'all's ass," I say. "Y'all both look a few shades darker."
"I know you probably meant that as a joke but I wouldn't be surprised," Chasin says.
"Yeah," Colin interjects. "I got a mean tan going."
"Serves you well," I say. "You actually look like you're from 11 now."
Colin's always been on the lighter side for District 11. He says it's because of his mom. He says some of her family came from somewhere outside of Panem that's long gone—Port of Rico or something like that. Wherever the fuck that is or was, I don't know. And why would they name the place Rico? The only Rico I know ate tree bark on a bet I made. I don't know if someone that dumb deserves to have a place named after him.
"Shut up, dude," Colin says, punching my shoulder.
"Ow!" I say, rubbing where Colin just hit me. Normally I'd be mad if someone hit me, but with Colin I don't really mind. Mainly because he'd actually try and fight me if I hit him back.
"Oh c'mon," he says. "I didn't even hit you that hard."
"Oh shit," Chasin interrupts, looking at the old clock above my head. "It's almost lunchtime. We gotta go before they come lookin' for us."
"Fuck," Colin sighs. "Well Era, looks like we gotta go."
"Alright, man," I say. "I'll see y'all later."
Chasin rushes out of the shop, but Colin lingers behind. He walks back up to me, leaning over the counter.
"Hey, you wanna hang out tonight?" he asks. "I got some whiskey from the liquor store."
"You know I can't pass that up," I say. "Meet me down by the lake. I'm gonna get fuckin' wasted."
"Bet," Colin says, walking out of the shop. "Just don't chug the whole bottle."
"No promises!" I shout as the door shuts. I watch as Colin runs off and I'm left alone once again. The monotonous hum of the old box fan is once more the only sound that I hear.
Elodie Wilson, 15: District 11 Female
It's spinning me around again
Like a little girl in a pink dress
Darkness was my only friend
Up until the moment we met
July 6, 73ADD: 28 hours before Reaping
"Get up, street rat! Get movin'," a gruff voice barks. I look up to meet the agitated eye of Mr. Hart, the herbalist who owns the shop I slept behind. "You'll scare away my customers if you don't leave."
I slowly sit up, trying to shake away the cobwebs that crowd my brain. It's super early and I was able to sleep fairly deeply despite laying on the rough concrete.
"You got five minutes, kid," Mr. Hart says. "Take any longer and I'll call the peacekeepers."
I can't afford to have the peacekeepers called on me. They'll either throw me in a group home where I'll probably be treated even worse than I do out on the streets, or worse. If they figure out where I came from or who I belonged to, they might just shoot me dead.
Mr. Hart walks back into his shop, closing and locking the door behind him. Still a bit groggy, I stand up. I gather my meager belongings and stuff them into the old burlap sack I carry around. I half stagger, half walk out of the alleyway, my eyes adjusting to the sunrise. The streets are full of people walking either north to the orchards or south to the fields. I join the crowd walking northward. Some people close to me notice me and keep their distance. Even in a poor place like District 11, the homeless are looked down upon. I've been without a home for over three years now. I've become used to how other people look at me.
"Eddie!" I whip my head around, looking for the one person alive who calls me by my nickname. "Eddie, over here!"
Sam waves her hand enthusiastically as she wriggles her way through the crowd of people. When she catches up to me, she hugs me.
"You didn't stop by my house," Sam says. My best friend looks concerned about the break in our daily routine.
"Sorry, I woke up late," I explain. "Then Mr. Hart threatened to call the peacekeepers on me if I didn't leave."
"I thought I told you not to sleep behind the herb shop," Samantha sighs. "Mr. Hart always talks about how the homeless drive away customers."
"I know, but I was tired and wasn't paying attention," I say. Normally I'm more intentional about where I choose to sleep for the night, but I've been working to near-exhaustion this whole week. I was too tired to pay attention. My entire body aches from how much work I've been put through.
"At least you got away," Sam says. "You hungry?"
My stomach rumbles painfully. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning when Sam gave me some of the breakfast she was able to sneak away from her house.
"I'll take that as a yes," Sam says. She hands me two small slices of toast out of her lunch bag, probably swiped from her kitchen table just a few minutes ago. I quickly scarf them both down. "Did you eat anything after work yesterday?"
I shake my head. In 11, food is hard to come by, even for the more well-off folks. It's even worse for the homeless. I'm lucky if I can find just a morsel of food once a week. If it weren't for Samantha, I would've starved to death a long time ago.
"My gosh, Eddie, how do you do it?" Sam asks.
"Do what?"
"Survive," Sam says. "It can't be easy."
"I don't know. I just do," I say. "You help me out a lot, though."
"I feel like I'm not helping enough," Sam says. "Maybe I should start giving you all of my lunch instead of just half."
"But what about—"
"Don't worry about me," Sam interrupts. "I'll be fine, I promise."
"Your parents, though," I say. "They already don't like me. What if they find out you're giving me all your food?"
"Who cares?" Sam shrugs with her palms turned upward. "They'll live."
"Thanks, Sam," I say. "I owe you big time."
"You don't owe me a damn thing, Eddie," Sam says. "I just want to see you in a better place."
Samantha and I arrive at the orchard along with numerous other workers. The air is still relatively cool, but based on this week's weather, that won't last long. The orchard manager, Mr. Mayfield pulls up in his old truck soon after we arrive. He steps out looking tired, just like the rest of the crew.
"Alright crew, listen up." Despite his fatigue, Mayfield's voice is still booming. "Because of the Reaping tomorrow, work hours have been extended. You'll be working until 10 tonight."
There's a collective groan, mainly from the younger workers. Everyone has grown more weary by the day. Some people could barely stand after yesterday's shift. We already had a few cases of heatstroke earlier this week from having to work such long hours. It's bound to happen again today.
"Fuck, man," one worker not too much older than me says. "I should've taken today off instead of yesterday."
I wish I had the privilege of being able to take days off work. I can't afford to take even half a day. For me, not being able to work practically means certain death. Even with Sam's help, I still need what little money this job pays me.
There's a few more seconds of chatter amongst the crew. Most of them are complaining about the extended hours, but I hear some murmurs about tomorrow's Reaping.
"You nervous about tomorrow?" Sam asks.
"A little," I answer. "But I'm used to it now. It'll be all over after tomorrow then it's back to normal."
"How many times is your name in there this year?"
"Seven," I say. I've had to take out tesserae every year since I turned thirteen. Luckily I've only had to take it for myself. I know of some people with big families that have their names in the bowl twenty times or more. They're at a huge disadvantage compared to my seven slips.
"That's really not all that bad considering everything you've been through," Sam says.
"The perks of living alone, I guess."
"Okay, crew, settle down," Mr. Mayfield says, putting an end to all of our side conversations. "We have a long day ahead of us, so get to work. You'll have a break at 2 pm."
Samantha and I along with the rest of the crew make our way to our stations. It's gonna be a tough day, especially for myself. But at least I get tomorrow off.
Well, this is by far the quickest I've gotten a chapter out for this SYOT in years. I would've had it out even earlier, but I still had other business to take care of. Nonetheless, I'm glad I was able to get this chapter out as fast as I did. I hope you all enjoyed reading these intros.
Thanks to Axe Smelling God for Era and to CavaKel for Elodie. I thoroughly enjoyed writing these intros.
Era: Saint Bernard by Lincoln
Elodie: Where Do You Go by Yebba
Only one more intro chapter left, guys. I'll see y'all (hopefully) soon in District 12!
Until next time,
Ty