Author's Note
I do not own The Hunger Games.
Submissions are now closed! I received enough submissions to fill all the slots, which is amazing! Due to revelations to be made in a couple of chapters, I won't be revealing the tribute list just yet, but we'll be moving pretty quickly from here.
District Three
Toshiro Micron-Bundar, 13
"Five more today," said his uncle, shaking his head.
"I understand their anger, but there are better ways of doing this," said his aunt.
Toshiro pretended not to hear.
His family had been like this his entire life. His uncle committed small acts of sabotage in the factory, nothing that could be traced back to him, but enough to give some poor Capitolite a nasty burn, while his aunt passed messages around the District.
Toshiro preferred to build things and stay out the way. His life was scarier since he'd turned twelve, but his aunt and uncle earned just enough for him and his cousin to never need to take tesserae, and so he tried not to think about it. The odds were in his favour.
"Aren't you finished with that yet?" asked Michiko.
"I did. But Auntie asked me to improve it again. She wants the frequency to go further."
His cousin crouched at his side. "It looks like it goes pretty far already."
"I know, but Auntie wants it better."
Michiko laughed. "I have faith in you."
"Thanks." Toshiro twisted another wire into place. He didn't know where this thing was from or going. He didn't want to. Sometimes with stuff like this, it was better not to ask.
He glanced at Michiko. "What?"
"I just wondered…"
"Whatever it is, the answer is no."
"You never have any fun. All you do is play with your machines."
"Playing with my machines is fun!"
"Only you, Tosh. Only you." Michiko ruffled his hair as she stood. "Lemme know if you want to do something more fun tonight. We're having a party."
"I have to finish this," Toshiro said as she left.
District Eight
Meredith Singer, 18
The dust of District Eight got everywhere. Every time the shop door opened, it entered.
Meredith leant down to set Bonnie back in the playpen with Dennis and Jean. Since learning to crawl, she had become a little terror. Behind her, the bell rang.
"What can we get you?" Meredith asked as she turned.
"Sir," Reese added.
It was one of the peacekeepers she didn't recognise. He must be new.
"Aren't you two a bit old to not be working?"
Meredith looked down at her bloodstained apron, the large knife in her sibling's hand, and then at the baby slung across her back. "We are working. What can I get you?"
She knew what he meant, of course. He meant working in the factories. The Capitol wanted everyone at work in the factories. But someone had to handle food.
"Oh, you are, are you?"
"Yes sir. What can I get you?"
"Where are your parents then? Off lazing about while your Capitol needs workers?"
"I'm sure they're having an excellent rest in their graves, sir," said Reese.
"Who owns this place then?"
Meredith grinned. "We do! Family owned, just like the sign says! Best cuts and joints in Eight!"
"Permit?"
Meredith opened the safe, pulled out their papers, and passed them over the counter. The newbie flicked through them. "Everything seems in order here." He stomped back to the door. "I'll be watching you two."
The bell chimed again as he slammed the door closed.
"Asshole," muttered Reese.
"Don't swear in front of the children," Meredith chided.
"Well, he was! I don't even know who he is!"
Meredith shoved the papers back in the safe. "I'll tell the Commander next time he's in."
He came by often enough to buy steaks.
Reese rolled their eyes. "He's not gonna do nothing to one of his own."
Meredith laughed. "He will if we start giving him subpar steaks!"
District Nine
Amarine Feller, 14
"Amarine, Amarine!" Cheryl flew from the school gate to meet her, blonde hair flying about her face. "Guess what?"
"What's that?" Amarine asked.
"Ms Riley says next week we're going to go out to the east woods and look at the flowers and bunnies there! Isn't that cool?"
Amarine laughed, taking her sister's hand. "That'll be lots of fun! Come on, let's get Briana."
Cheryl bounced at her feet as they moved over to the hut where classes were held for the nine to twelve year olds. Zea gave her a concerned look. They both knew the classes held out in the woods were the start of survival lessons. At Cheryl's young age, they'd only be held once a week, but as she grew older, she would take more lessons, and once she turned twelve they'd start learning self-defence.
Most years it didn't protect their tributes from the careers, but it gave them more of a fighting chance than they might have had.
Briana came out in a whirl of excitement, eager to show off her latest sketch.
"It's very nice. You'll have to show it to mom and dad once we get home," said Amarine.
"Do you think they'll like it?"
"Of course they will!"
The route home took them alongside the east woods, down the rough track between the trees and the fields. Most of District Nine was wheat and grain fields, but a section in the north contained the grainary factories, while a border of trees ran around the District, a five kilometer stretch in all directions before you would reach the electric fence that stopped anyone leaving.
"Have you been out here?" asked Cheryl, bouncing on her feet.
"Of course I have!"
Not once a week anymore, normally more like once a month, between her other regular classes, her extra survival classes, and work, but she still came.
"Just remember, you have to be careful," she continued.
"Of what?" asked Briana.
"Well, it is the woods. And you know what lives there."
Zea grinned and nodded.
"Birds?" asked Cheryl.
"Foxes?" asked Briana.
"Monsters!" Amarine raised her hands, bearing down on them. "And the Big Bad Wolf!"
"Really?" asked a wide-eyed Cheryl.
Zea nodded along. "Oh yes. He lives out there in his little cottage, just waiting for little girls to come across his cottage."
"Then he'll jump out and eat you all up!" yelled Amarine, jumping up to grab at them.
Her sisters shrieked with laughter.
Something cracked in the trees.
Zea froze. "Was that you?"
"Maybe it was the Big Bad Wolf?" suggested Amarine. Cheryl and Briana clung to her hands. She pulled them close. "Who's out there?"
"The Big Bad Wolf," came the dry reply.
Amarine pulled her sisters away. "Oh."
One of the Willows twins. They lived out there in the woods at the edge of the District, had done for years. They visited the town on occasion, but otherwise avoided people.
"Well, it was good seeing you!"
"Who was that?" asked Cheryl as Amarine bundled her away.
"No one." She glanced over her shoulder. "Just one of the monsters in the woods. Aren't I brave?"
Her sisters laughed, Zea smiled, and everything was okay again.
District Seven
Terro Fields, 18
Terro dragged his cart to the next section and set about emptying the buckets of apples into it. At the gates, his sister and her friends were arriving late. The foreman was at the other side of the meadow, so they might get away with it.
The orchards had been a 'new' addition to Seven a Little over twenty years ago, when Eleven was having a bad year and someone in the Capitol decided Seven should have some fruit trees to go with their lumber. It was one of the nicer areas to work, and many there were under eighteen or women with children who needed a job but couldn't do lumber work. Sometimes the peacekeepers would even turn a blind eye when they saw someone sneaking out an apple or an orange.
It took him half an hour to reach Iris's section. She was singing, as she usually did, her voice high and sweet, but short two buckets. They'd fall short of their quota.
The District Two girl carried another bucket of apples over, dropping it at the collection point and grabbing two empty ones.
"You're short," Terro grunted.
She turned and flounced away, passing the buckets to Poppy Beech and then scrambling up the tree. When she first started, she looked like a baby bird learning to fly, all flailing limbs and grasping hands. Terro had lost count of the number of times he saw her fall, but she always seemed to bounce back to her feet, more determined than before.
He finished his round and loaded the boxes into their slots before turning to head out again. Behind him, the foreman moved in to inspect the goods.
Terro had reached the halfway point of the first section again when he heard shouting. The foreman was in Iris's section, pointing at their buckets. Two peacekeepers flanked him.
"What do you call this? You're short!"
Terro held his breath. If the foreman was in a good mood, he might let it slide. If not…
"Show me your buckets!"
The women lined up to do so. He kicked several over. One of the older women pointed at Iris. Terro dropped the cart to run towards them.
One of the peacekeepers grabbed Iris and dragged for forward.
"Terro! Don't!" she shouted.
And then the District Two girl was in front of her, all arms and legs. Terro caught snatchers of her explanation that this was all her fault because she made them late and then dropped a bucket and damaged some of the apples.
The foreman backhanded her and ordered the Peacekeepers to restrain her against a tree.
Neither followed.
"Well?" demanded the foreman.
One pointed at the firm and muttered something about his commander, shaking his head. The foreman cursed and whacked Two with his whip. She swayed to the side and he swung it at her again, this time bringing it down across her shoulder.
"What are you all standing about for? Get back to work!"
Terro ran to Iris's side, grabbed her arms. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." She turned to Two. "A? You okay?"
She nodded, rubbing at her shoulder. Her dress had torn and there was an angry red welt across the pale skin underneath.
"Yeah." Her eyes followed the foreman. "What's gotten into his tea?"
"Increased quotas. Which you would have known if you'd been here on time," replied Terro.
Iris looked at him. "You better get back to work. You'll fall behind."
Terro grumbled a response and headed back to his cart, loading it up and continuing on the round. When he reached Ivy Beech's section, she pressed a small tub into his hands. "For Adrianna."
Terro stuffed it into a pocket. They shouldn't let that girl keep working here. She was an occupational hazard.
A few other women tried to hand him medicines on his way round, and he muttered that he already had a tub. Although it was every person for themselves when it came to punishment, those in the orchards looked after each other afterwards.
Terro dropped his cart at Iris's section. This time there was only one less bucket than there should be. He supposed having an extra pair of hands helped a bit. Iris's voice was no longer quite so upbeat, a more broken, sad melody filling the air. He called for her. The three girls tipped the contents of their buckets into one and she scrambled down to meet him. He handed her the tub. "From Ivy Beech."
She slipped it into her pocket. "We got some from Rose, but thanks."
He loaded the buckets into the cart. "You ought to teach her to keep her mouth closed."
"Oh, Terro, she didn't mean any harm."
"Aye, she never means any harm."