The Fourth Quarter Quell

Reaping Day: District Eight

DJ Fitz's Perspective

If I wasn't going to get killed in the Hunger Games, I would probably die at my brother's hands. I'd been pacing the hallway floor outside our shared bedroom for the past hour, making a ton of noise, and I was surprised to see he hasn't woken up to tackle me.

I shook myself out of my stupor and went to the living room. My nerves had kept me up all night and even though I was running on next to no sleep, I felt like I could run a marathon...away from the Reaping, hopefully.

I ran a hand through my dark hair. No, I couldn't get reaped. I just couldn't. I'm only fourteen so my name is only in there so many times. But then again, from the looks of the other districts, I should expect the unexpected.

I sat down at our beaten up kitchen table and buried my head in my hands. It's bad enough that we have to send kids to kill each other every year but it really hits home when someone you know was a tribute.

One of my friends, Parker, was a tribute in last years games. Although he was thirteen, he got a pretty good way into the Games. He got in the final ten but was killed by last years victor.

"DJ? What's wrong?" A voice asked from the corridor.

I turned my head to find my brother, Aaron, who had awoken from his seemingly impenetrable slumber. He yawned and took a sit opposite me at the table.

"Just thinking about today." I answered.

"Deej, there's nothing to worry about." Aaron said. He was twenty; completely unscathed from the Games what with never having been Reaped. "If I made it through six years without being called, so can you."

"But it's a Quell, Aaron. Who's to say things might change?" I protested.

Aaron went silent. "I don't know for sure, DJ. But all you have to do is be calm. If you don't make yourself a target, you won't be seen as one."

I nodded my head. "Okay."

"Good. Now let's go wake up mom and dad. They need to go to this things too." Aaron said before jogging off to awake our parents.

•

Two hours later, I was trying to refrain from screaming. The overall feeling of the reaping made my skin crawl. I couldn't deal with the fact that my name could be called and my life might end.

Thankfully, I would soon be out out of my misery. Our escort, Felicity Fellsworth, sauntered over to the microphone in her red and gold Capitol couture.

"Welcome to the reaping of District Eight! Time to select our tributes!" Felicity says with a nasal Capitol accent. She was one to get right to the point.

She strode over to the girls bowl, picked a name, and unfolded the slip.

"Mandy Hemmings!"

There's no noise as a girl slowly made her way up to the stage. She stands by the microphone with Felicity.

"How old are you?" Felicity asked.

"Sixteen." Mandy mumbled. If Felicity hadn't moved the microphone towards her, no one would have known what she said.

"Wonderful! Now for the boys." Felicity said.

She repeated the process and unfolded the name. In the meantime, I glanced over to my brother waiting outside the crowd with the other adults. He mouthed "it's okay."

I prepared to mouth something back when my voice was cut off by Felicity's.

"DJ Fitz." She exclaimed.

What. What. What. What. What.

I began to panic, pivoting around, tacitly begging for someone to volunteer. Everyone is selfish, of course, so I'm left as a tribute.

I weakly stumbled out of my section, barely making it up the stage. My legs were trembling and it was getting harder to breathe.

"Age, my dear?" Felicity asked.

"F-fourteen." I stuttered, trying not to look like a fool in front of the entirety of Panem.

"This years tributes from District Eight. Mandy Hemmings and DJ Fitz!" Felicity shouted one more before guiding us into the Justice Building. Doors shut, we are forced into separate rooms, just like the other districts before us.

I got my tears out quickly and began thinking up my tactics. I had to win this. For myself, for my family, and for Parker watching up above. And if I am to die...well, at least Parker and I would be able to hang out again.