District 5 reaping day, 3:00 pm
Female Reaping (I'm sorry; I'm terrible at writing this character…)
"Izzy, you're 13 years old!"
E-Scope didn't care about what she heard from her family members, just about where she was going; to blow stuff up. BOOM, BOOM!
The escort looked at Izzy, bewildered.
"…And what's your name?"
"Izzy!" I said, jumping on her in a way most people would label as "insane". Izzy thinks she actually heard someone mutter that word to someone nearby!
Male Reaping (Damn, that was short.)
I stared at the girl onstage in shock. My bewildered gaze soon turned to her sister. She was staring back at me. My best friend. Not Izzy, of course, the girl I had turned to. She was my age, and reminded me of a fox. She was smart, sly and elusive, and even had the appearance of one. With her fox-like face and sleek red hair, it wasn't difficult to imagine her running through the trees, her prey dropping like flies. Of course, Scarlett would never kill anyone. Why would Izzy volunteer? Especially at such a young age!
Whisper was a muscular, busty girl of Capitol-African descent. She had silky black hair, but her nails were fashioned in the most popular way the Capitol's people did theirs: Talons. Hers were painted black, and appeared to be of an actual bird. Her eyes literally glowed, making them visible even from my group of fourteen-year-olds. They were a bright yellow and her pupils appeared to be nonexistent.
I decided to turn my attention away from the Capitol woman and let my eyes fall to this year's mentor, Owen Croak. I allowed myself to stare; how could someone so big ever win the Games?
That's when someone else stared in my direction. Not just one, but thousands. I looked around at them, as if to say 'What?'
Whisper repeated the name she had said not two seconds ago, this time with a more questioning tone to her voice.
I looked down on the boy, now. He had long brown hair and brown eyes, and was obviously of Indian-Panem descent. Why wasn't he moving? Wait, why did he look so familiar?
…It was me. Having an out-of-body experience.
I watched as a Peacekeeper grabbed me by the shoulders, my body remaining stiff. He literally carried me this way towards our crappy little temporary stage. I finally saw through my own eyes again. I wriggled myself out of his grasp.
"Hey, lemme go, will ya? I possess a talent that seems rare in this district; walking on my own."
He raised his eyebrows as he dropped me to the ground, allowing me to climb up on stage by myself.
"So, Noah, how old are you?"
Silence spread throughout the square. It continued on, and on, and on. I just wished she would accept that no one was volunteering for me and let me go to the waiting room in which I'd say my final goodbyes. Finally, she did.
District 6 reaping, 6:00 pm
I stood next to my best friend, shaking in my dress shoes.
"Hey, you'll be fine! Don't worry; your name's only been in there once!"
"I took the tessarae, Lex. I took out two!"
"Okay, fine. It's been in there three times. There are literally thousands of slips in that bowl."
"Okay, you know what? If you're picked, I'll volunteer for you, if you're that worried. I'm tall, strong and have no problem killing." Lex promised.
"Zoey Teresan!" Bartleby called into the crowd before I could respond to what Lex told me.
I left the group of 12-year-olds and walked onto the stage, brushing off my lacy white dress. Lex looked startled when I looked back. She was right; she would do way better than I ever could. She was pretty, likeable and, physically speaking, unstoppable. She was the best runner in the district, the strongest girl in our year and overall our perfect tribute. I stepped onto the stage, waiting for her to speak up.
She never did.
I felt betrayed as the skin-and-bones escort stuck his bony golden fingers into the boys' fishbowl.
Male reaping (hmm, that one was short, too…)
I stared at the man onstage, feeling my jaw drop. My name was in that bowl about 10 times. Everyone in my family had to take their own tessarae, and the oldest one still eligible for the Games had to take for those too young and old as well. That was me. I was only 15, but few of my siblings were the right age, plus all of the tessarae I'd taken the other two years. And what I took for my parents. I knew Zoey pretty well, and knew her name was only in there four times.
"Harold Weasley!" Bartleby cheered in his stupid Capitol accent.
I stepped up onto the stage. I answered his questions confidently. I couldn't look like a cry baby when the other tributes saw my reaping. Zoey didn't stand a chance, weeping like that. I smiled at my mentor, Walter Hatchet, but he just glared back. I gulped and looked away, trying to hide my fear.
District seven reaping, 11:00 am
I stepped onto the stage, proudly. I finally knew what to say when she asked me a question.
"My great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great aunt invented weapons. Before her, everyone just had to use their fists. Yeah, like, so sad." I bragged. Sure, it may not have been entirely true…
"Oh…really? Well, that seems…fortunate." Blainley smiled. I could tell she didn't believe me; I had to kick it up a notch.
"Yeah, it totally is. And my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great uncle invented fists. Like, before him, people just had slap-fights."
"And my great, great, great-"
"How old did you say you were, again?" She cut me off
"Oh, I'm 16. Did you know that my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandpa invented ages? Before that, nobody had an age. So sad, like, really sad."
If everything that girl onstage was saying was true, she'd be hard to compete against.
But not for TYLER!
"I volunteer as male tribute!" I yelled, cutting off something else my fellow tribute tried to say.
I started to run towards the stage, but the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, causing everyone in the district (especially those from the crowd of 16-year-olds I just came from) to laugh hysterically. I laughed myself, acting like this wasn't normal for me.
A/N…I'M OUT OF INSPIRATION FOR TYLER AND STACI! I. AM. DONE. WITH. THEM! …For now…
District eight reaping, 1:00 pm
No. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. I was only 12; my name was only in once! And yet, there it was. In Janed's blue fingers. The tall, black-haired woman stared into the crowd.
"Bridgette Jenson" she repeated, her green eyes darting through the crowd of minors, her large, pointed ears wiggling in a strange way. She hadn't had those last year; they must have been a recent surgery. I knew that the wiggling of the surgical area was common in the Capitol's plastic surgery procedures.
"Bridgette Jenson!" she was starting to lose her patience. Maybe if I didn't move, she'd pick a new name.
No, everyone was staring. Standing on the end of the crowd, and closest to the back, I could probably make a run for it.
So, I turned on my heel and did just that. I don't know where I was planning to go, but I knew that I had to get out of there.
Walking and I have always had a complicated relationship; I don't know why I would try running.
I ran and soon tripped, falling flat on my face. When I looked up, two tall peacekeepers stood in front of me.
I felt terrible for the girl onstage. She'd been forced onto the stage in extremely brutal, painful-looking ways by the Peacekeepers. And on top of this, she was only 12. Janed strutted to the boys' bowl. My name was only in there 7 times…there was no way that one of those little slips that read-
"Devon Joseph Mason!"
Now what are the odds of that? I felt myself well up, tears threatened to spill over.
The muscular African-Panem boy forced himself to make his way to the stage. Slowly but surely, he climbed up the steps and the tears had already began to flow.
"Devon, are you alright?"
"Yeah…I'm…I'm fine!" he sniffled. "I'll just miss my momma, that's all."
This made the crowd stir, a few muttered "aww"
"How old are you, Mister Mason?"
"I'm 18, ma'am."
"Yes" he continued to sob. His 12-year-old District counterpart put a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was surprising that she could reach this high. Devon "DJ" Joseph Mason was an extremely tall boy, and, even for a twelve-year-old girl, Bridgette was small.
Both of them sobbed as they were taken into custody of the Peacekeepers. One hit Bridgette upside the head, obviously for her earlier attempt at an escape. DJ wanted to stand up for the girl, but he couldn't get a word out, with his uncontrollable tears and snot flowing.
They stepped into their rooms of the Justice Building, waiting for their visitors.
A/N: Yes, I'll be doing the visits for each tribute after I'm finished with their reapings. Up next, districts 9-12. The order of events will follow:
-Visits, in order of districts. A full list of tributes will be included at the bottom of the chapter (I will try to do them all at once).
-The tribute parade
-An interview with the mentors, their thoughts on their tributes.
-Caesar Flickerman's interview with the tributes.
-Training scores, plus an illegal showing of the known alliances.
-The Games will begin
-Interviews with the families of the fallen at the end of each chapter
-Interviews of the family of the final 8 tributes
-The Games will crown their victor
-Interview with the victor