okay i don't usually publish this fast but i have time on my hand so i thought why not? plus i'm excited to get the intros over with so we can get into the fun part (not that intros aren't fun-)
anyways, reapings are next! it's gonna be one chapter from isla's pov recounting the reaping in every districts, and then after that we get on the train to the capitol!
i hope you like this chapter! let me know what you think!
(disclaimer - i don't know anything about golf)
~ kathy
Palladia Asquith, 17
district 1 female
"Come on, Iridia! You call that a strike?" Palladia raised an eyebrow as her sister raised her short sword again, holding it defensively in front of her body. They were hidden away in one of the reservable private training rooms, and Palladia was still unfortunately beating her sister's ass. "Come on, sis, if you lose the volunteer competition I will actually sob."
Iridia groaned and made a quick slash towards Palladia's unprotected arm, but the latter was quicker, raising her own short sword to meet her sister's blade in the middle, stepping aside to get her arm into a better position to attack. "Less talking, more training."
"Ugh, why they think I have more potential when you train like you do is still a mystery to me," Palladia mumbled under her breath as she easily defeated the next blow that came her way. Her sister was too predictable, always one to stick to the familiar techniques. It wouldn't get her far in the arena, not that Palladia would ever tell Iridia that. And against inexperienced fighters, it wouldn't be a problem. It was the other careers that Palladia worried about. Those who knew what they were doing and had been training as hard as Iridia had been.
"RIGHT!" Iridia exclaimed, blocking Palladia's thrust with her arm and twisting her hands so that Palladia was locked under her arms. She took a breath, asserted her situation, and gave a swift kick to her sister's ankle, using the moment of distraction to slip under the arm and wrapping her arms around her sister's abdomen to flip her over. Iridia gasped as her arms were pinned to her side, her sword clattered on the ground a few feet away, and Palladia sitting on top of her chest.
"You need to work on your assertion skills," Palladia stood up, offering a hand for Iridia, who took it, brushing off her clothes as she went. "The opponents won't make the same mistakes every time, and many are unpredictable. You need to be able to switch up your techniques and adapt to your opponent's fighting styles. Observe, then attack. You have good skills, Iridia, and you will get far. But if you want to win the games? You need to learn to adapt to your surroundings and be more open minded to changing up your attacks."
There was no malice behind Palladia's words, and Iridia took it all in stride, nodding along as she took her hair out of the messy bun it was tied up into. "Do you think I could actually win this fight?"
"I think you can do anything you put your mind to," Palladia said earnestly, taking her sister's hands in her own. "You're one of the smartest and strongest Asquith. Everyone believes in you, and I know you believe in yourself too."
"You know, I used to think that too," Iridia looked away, pulling her hand back and offering Palladia a small, hesitant smile. "But recently, all that had been in my head was Grandma Celeste and Grandpa Ambrose's games. They look at me with distrust, you know? Especially the older trainers. They're hesitant to choose us. Not for lack of skills, no. They fear our lack of follow through."
Palladia squeezed Iridia's hands, looking into similar blue-grey eyes (sometimes Palladia felt like she was looking into a mirror whenever she faced her older sister). "That's not going to happen to you, okay? You're so amazing, and you're one of the most skillful trainees they had in years, they said so themselves! Everyone is convinced that you'll be chosen, the eighteen years old this year agreed too!"
"I won't let them down," Iridia squeezed her hands back, before pulling away and placing the sword back to its place on the rack. "Do you think Mom will come watch the competition?"
"She'll be a fool not to, especially since her oldest daughter is going to be kicking ass," Palladia grinned, and bumped her sister playfully on the shoulder as they walked out of the training room together.
Rhodrio was sulking on the bench next to their mother when Palladia got herself ready for the competition. Her hair had been tied into a high ponytail, and she was dressed in black leggings and black sports bra. She wore a jacket over it for now, as the air conditioning was blasting at lower temperature than comfortable.
She didn't want to join the fight, but the trainers were insistent that she got in the ring, so here she was. It wasn't like she didn't want to go into the games, she just never had much interest in it, preferring to put her attention elsewhere. Like whatever was causing her seventeen years older younger brother to sulk like he was five.
"Still sad that you lost the competition yesterday?" Palladia squeezed in next to him and another trainee, who glared but scooted over. She wove to her Mom, who had a tight smile stretched across her lips.
"You'll do great, darling," mom smiled in acknowledgement, but it felt like she was trying to swallow her own words. Golda Asquith had never approved of her children's training, especially seeing how it had almost torn their family apart, but she was forced to acknowledge the fact that having a victor does have economic benefits for the family.
Rhodrio finally looked up, his face emotionless as he shrugged. "You know I was never one to want to become a victor. Plus Noble got the role, which thank god because-" he leaned in to whisper in her ears. "-I will not survive a day in the games. And I don't want mother to lose her favorite child."
Palladia snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Her favorite child?"
Rhodrio shrugged, as if saying 'what could I do about that' and Palladia shoved him playfully as Rhodrio's face fell again. Palladia frowned. "So, what's the long face? Is your crush on the mysterious trainee eating you alive?"
Her brother blushed, and looked around the room as if the crush would come running at the mention of him. "Keep your voices down!"
"Oooh, Rhodrio has a crush?" Noble suddenly swung by, smile charming and eyes twinkling. His attention wasn't really on her brother though, as his dark eyes seemed to drink in every part of Palladia. "You know, I heard that you just might become this year's volunteer! I thought I should come watch the fight, to get to know my teammate and stuff, right?"
He winked, and Palladia shrugged in response. "I think Iridia has a better chance of being chosen, she does show more potential than I ever did. Speaking of teammates, I watched you fight yesterday. It was absolutely ruthless."
"What can I say? You gotta do what you gotta do to get into the game," Noble grinned cheekily and winked again. Palladia found in unnerving. There was something about Noble that she could never quite place, not that it matters. He was the golden boy in everyone's eyes, and Palladia wasn't going to let some gut feeling ruin her sister's chance of a good partnership in the games. Sure, they might eventually turn on each other, but at least they would build a strong enough relationship before that point (if she had doubt that her sister would win against someone like Noble? Then she won't voice it).
"You know it," Palladia smiled politely and watched from the corner of her eyes as Rhodrio greeted Art enthusiastically, hands running through his hair. Noble turned and followed her eyesight.
"They make a good couple, they're cute," Noble observed, and Palladia shrugged.
"I don't know if they're dating."
"Oh trust me, they definitely are," Noble grinned again, a lopsided smile that made Palladia want to trust every word that came out of his mouth. "I'll see you in the ring, partner."
He saluted, blowing Palladia a seat before finding a place on the stand. Palladia shook her head a few times to clear it, before turning to read the clock atop the arena. It was show time.
"Be honest, did you let me win?" Iridia stood at Palladia's doorway later that night when they got home. Palladia busied herself with getting ready for bed, making a show of flattening her bedsheet before she climbed in.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Palladia finally looked up, her eyes purposely looking at the hinge of the door instead of her sister's eyes, which she knew would be filled with disappointment. "You won fair and square."
So what if she purposely missed a few shot, and dodged a little less, it was her sister's dream to get into the games, she wasn't going to let her down.
"Okay," Iridia blinked, but there was skepticism in her voice. "Goodnight, Palladia."
"Goodnight," Palladia echoed back as her sister started retreating from her room. "You did well, sis. Don't let the doubt cloud your mind."
Her sister paused but walked away without acknowledging her words.
Tucker Polk, 13
district 8 male
The highlight of Tucker's day is golfing.
And if that was largely due to a cute girl who goes golfing there every day after school, then that was no one's business but his own.
"If you keep drooling, your body will run dry like the sahara desert," Tucker blinked back into reality and stared at his dad with a scandalized glare. They laughed and closed Tucker's mouth. "What? I can't observe my son and his crush? I think it's cute, really? But I hope you know that if I didn't have this golf club membership, I would not bring you here after school everyday."
"I enjoy golfing," Tucker protested, as his dad ruffled his hair teasingly.
"Sure, but you enjoy watching that girl more," they wiggle their eyebrows, and Tucker groaned and moved away from his dad.
"Why can't you be like my other friend's dad? Neglectful and not embarrassing at all," Tucker looked away and his dad shrugged.
"I guess I'm just too cool," they ruffled Tucker's hair again and Tucker moved away, as much as he possibly could while in a golf cart anyways. He stared out of the cart as Elizabeth sat by the shade, a book in her hands. She was one of the prettiest girls he had ever laid eyes on, but Mark was convinced that she was just a bitch with no personality and no hope of redemption.
Tucker and Rivet were more reserved on that opinion though, as they believe everyone deserves a chance before they get judged based on their outside character.
"I think I can make a really good professional life out of golf," Tucker turned to his dad, who glanced at him with raised eyebrows. "What? I think it could actually be a possibility!"
They hummed in response, and Tucker pouted. "If golfing was more popular like in the old world, yes. But while golf is stuck operating in only district eight, I don't know if you will get far with that career. Golf is meant to be played with many people from all over the world so you can challenge yourself!"
"There are plenty of people from district eight," Tucker reminded his dad, who still looked skeptical but turned back on the road, pulling into the lot before parking the cart.
"Well, here's our first course. Your girl is right there if you want to impress her," they nodded in the direction of Elizabeth, and Rivet's loud groan interrupted their thoughts.
"Okay father-son, let's all agree that Tucker is hopeless and that we are all here to play golf," Rivet jumped out of the backseat, grabbing his golf sticks, swinging the bag over his shoulder before starting his set up. Tucker exchanged a look with his dad, before they both shrugged and made their way to Rivet, who took out a club and had started swinging his arms around as a form of warm up.
"Watch where you're swinging," Tucker reminded Rivet, narrowly dodging his club, while Rivet just rolled his eyes but placed down his club before doing more arm circles. Rivet was a friend that started out somewhat fake before they had talked things over. While Rivet's family was rich, Tucker's family was just a tad bit richer, and believe that if Rivet and Tucker get married, they would be able to reap the benefit from his family.
But Tucker had made it clear that he wasn't interested in any form of romantic relationship with Rivet, and while Rivet had understood, his family… not so much. But they had slowly come to accept the fact that Rivet and Tucker would just be what they are to each other, friends. Beside, Tucker's crush on Elizabeth wasn't going away anytime soon, as evidently by the teasing both his dad and his best friend refused to stop.
"I bet Harry will be reaped tomorrow," Rivet offered half heartedly as he swung his club, watching as the golf ball flew across the field. "You know, he has been taking more tessera lately. And he always gets chosen first in class whenever the teacher picks popsicle sticks."
Tucker looked at his dad, who looked uncomfortable but refrained from making comments, simply stepping up to the ball and letting their club swing. Tucker thought it over. "I mean, I guess that is possible."
The reaping wasn't really something Tucker concerned himself over. His name had only been in the bowl twice, as he had never taken any tessera and he was only thirteen. While the odds weren't bad, it wasn't good either. Look at Prim Everdeen for example. A twelve year old with only one slip of paper in the bowl who got picked in her first year. So he wouldn't quite count himself out yet, but rich kids don't usually get reap.
There were so many other names to choose from, the chance of the name being his is slim to none.
So really, there was nothing to worry about.
"HAH! GOAL!" Tucker watched as his ball fell into the hole by the flag, and Rivet threw down his club in anger while his dad patted him on the back proudly. "TAKE THAT RIVET!"
Rivet only stormed into the golf cart with his bag of clubs hugged close to his chest. "I am not talking to you until the next round."
"You're talking to me right now!"
"AM NOT!" He turned to Tucker's dad. "Tailor, please drive us to the balls."
Tailor saluted before hopping into the cart after Tucker, who turned towards Rivet. "Admit it, I am a better golfer than you are."
"I'm sorry, Tailor. Is that little boy with black hair talking to me? I can't hear over all this noise?"
Tucker rolled his eyes and turned to Tailor.
"Tell Rivet that he's being a little shit and it's not as deep as he thinks it is," Tucker crossed his arms while his dad rolled their eyes.
"You two had got to figure out how to sort out your own shit without involving your dear old dad," they turned a corner at the course, just as Rivet reached across the seat to push Tucker off the golf cart.
Highlight of his day… indeed.
Sorghum Grane, 13
district 9 male
Sorghum spends his lunch time with Luke, a neighbor he had known since they were just kids. He didn't really mind, as he always thought it was better to have one good friend than to be surrounded by many. He had read in poems, people who were surrounded by familiar faces yet had never felt more alone.
Nothing is more
lonely than being
surrounded by people,
but dreaming of
somebody who is not there
So no, Sorghum didn't mind not being surrounded by like his sister, Maize, who's personality attracts much attention. Yet her direct approach and straight forward words never quite attract anyone enough to stay. She was a dreamer though, and she long to one day find the one.
Sorghum has Luke, and really, Luke was all he needed. "How is this year's harvest looking?"
Luke turned to Sorghum, half a sandwich hanging from his mouth. He flushed in embarrassment before taking a bite of his sandwich, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. "What?"
"How is this year's harvest looking in your field?"
Although they both worked in a cornfield, they were hired by different farmers, and while they were paid regularly, they also got a small percentage of that year's earnings. So it was important to Sorghum that his field looked ready and ripe before the harvesting season, sometime next month, August.
"Better than last season," Luke sighed, taking another bite of his sandwich as he leaned back against the large tree providing shade. While their school has a cafeteria, they prefer to sit outside, away from the rest of the kids. And their cafeteria air conditioning had been broken for as long as Sorghum had been there, so sitting outside in the summer was honestly a plus. "Mr. G still doesn't think it's going to get us as much money as three years ago, but it should be enough to last all of us through the winter. Lucy and I will be taking more tessera this year, I think."
Sorghum patted Luke's back in sympathy. "I don't think my fields are looking any better. Ever since that storm rages through them, I don't think the corn has been the same. Ms. West claims that ten percent of our crops have already died and we're barely to the season yet. They're trying to reclaim the soils again by letting it rest for a season but that means half of us will be out of work because while Ms. West has multiple fields to profit from, we only have one field to work on. And her other field doesn't need more workers."
"Yeah, hopefully it'll get better soon," Luke sighed again, taking another bite into his sandwich. "I could always put in a good word for you with Mr. G if you ever need work."
Sorghum smiled in thanks, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence, as Sorghum bit into his sandwich as well. It was a tuna sandwich today, which meant it was probably her mother's good day. Tuna was hard to come back and it had to be imported all the way from district four, so if her mother bought Tuna, it meant that she must have had a good day with her business.
Sometimes little things like having Tuna in his sandwich brings Sorghum a little hope, that maybe one day it will be okay. That it would get better as he gets older.
"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
"Do you know my sister still has a hard crush on you?" Luke suddenly brought up, and Sorghum bit his lips slightly, tilting his head.
"Does she?"
"Yep, she can't stop talking about you. It's actually non-stop and it's starting to get really annoying," Luke groans, before making his voice a pitch higher. "OMG have you seen Sorghum? He's so adorable. I want him. Like really, really want him. Ugh, he's just so hot. Lukeeee, have you seen his arms? He can choke me anyday-"
Sorghum covered his ears while making a face. "Okay, that is not stuff I need to know. You know I love your sister-" Luke glared. "-Not like that! She's sweet, but I just can't see myself liking her romantically, no offense."
"None taken," Luke shrugged casually, relaxing his shoulder. "I mean I would obviously love to have you as a brother in law, but I wouldn't want to inflict the pain of having my sister as a wife on anyone. You know, when we were still babies and in the womb, she liked to slap me in the face."
"There's no way you can know that," Sorghum laughed, but paused when Luke kept his serious face on. "Wait, can you?"
"My sisters claim that I'm lying but I swear I have a really vague memory of getting hit in the face while I was in goo. So it has to be Lucy making her debut as an annoying sister. Thank gosh I was born first. Can you imagine the ego Lucy will have if she was born first? I will be absolutely destroyed and a hundred percent would need to run away from home if I want to survive," Luke shuddered at the thought and Sorghum laughed again.
"I'm sure you could live with me," Sorghum offered. "I can hide you in my closet and sneak you food after dinner."
Luke sighed dramatically. "The beautiful life I could've lived. Instead I was cursed with being born first."
"I thought you wanted to be born first, so your sister doesn't annoy you to death," Sorghum frowned, as Luke brought him in for a hug.
"To live with you, I would trade being born first."
Sorghum pushed him away playfully. "You're so sappy, you know that, right?"
"You love me," Luke made fake kissing sounds as Sorghum fake gagged, the two of them laughing until the lunch bell rang again.
To fight aloud, is very brave -
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Calvalry of Wo -
Who win, and nations do not see -
Who fall - and none observe -
Whose dying eyes, no Country
Regards with patriot love -
We trust, in plumed procession
For such, the Angels go -
Rank after Rank, with even feet -
And Uniforms of snow.