Hunger Games: Fandom Style

District 8 (Twilight)

Author's Note: I know there's precious little middle ground when it comes to Twilight. Most either adore it or wish they could time travel it out of existence. The middle, however, is right where I come down on the issue, so that's how it'll be presented. Leah Clearwater is my POV character for this district. All vampires will remain relatively minor characters, and although I have no objections to Renesmee, for the sake of simplicity, in this universe, she does not exist.

There were only supposed to be two divisions at a reaping, but in District 8 there were four, and Leah was uncomfortably close to the edge of hers. She was within arm's reach of a vampire and the stench was driving her crazy.
Better the stench than Sam, she thought sourly. Maybe if she got called to the Capital, she'd finally be far enough away not to hear him cooing about Emily in her head all the time.
Her nose wasn't the only thing that was itching. Her clothes were driving her crazy too. Just because 8 was the textile district didn't mean werewolves got new clothes for free, more's the pity. Her mom couldn't afford to keep buying her new ones. Leah'd been forced to make do with flour sacks and burlap. If she lost her temper while she was wearing these, she didn't know what she'd do.
Just don't lose your temper today. Whatever happens, do not lose your temper. We've managed to hide from the Capital all these years. Do not give those leeches the satisfaction of being the first to break the treaty. If those stone cold immortals can hide the fact that they're not human, you sure can.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. The freaky Capital lady was still yapping away about the Dark Days treaty on the stage.
Leah blamed the leeches for the fact that they'd lost that war. If they'd been willing to give up their precious secrecy, they might not be being reaped for the Games now. But ever since their stupid "Volturi" whatevers had been killed by human weapons in the apocalypse, they were treating their immortal lives like they were made of glass. Whatever. They were cowards, every one. The pack had fought. Old Quil told those stories every year after the reaping. The real stories of the Dark Days, not this trash.
"Now for our . . . ladies," the escort said. She gave the girls in the pen a disparaging look.
Leah growled. She was horrified to realize the blond leech next to her had done the exact same thing. She was not like them.
Good luck, Seth mouthed to her.
Haven't had much of that lately, she thought.
"Leah Clearwater."
Okay, that was kind of a new low.
She held her head high as she marched past the ice cold leeches. There were three of them now. What was the new one's name? Bella something?
She glared at the cameras when she got to the stage. They could make her go, but she would not play along with their games. She would go, she would fight, but she sure wasn't going to play nice about it, and if any stylist even thought about touching her . . . well, they could see how they liked playing dress up with a wolf.
Her mom's shoulders slumped, finally defeated. The hard shell around Leah's heart cracked a little. It wasn't fair, not so soon after her dad had died.
Seth was shaking. That was bad. If he lost it - but the others were surrounding him now. They'd get him calmed down.
She refused to look at Sam. She didn't want to see the relief she was sure would be in his eyes.
Someone else was climbing the stage. They must have called the boy. Who was the lucky sacrifice this year?
The smell hit her. She wrinkled her nose instinctively. A leech. This could be bad. Wouldn't she have to be in an inclosed train with him for a few days? And they expected her not to morph? And how could she fight one on her own, without the pack? Hey, for that matter, no leech had ever been picked before. How was he going to hide the fact that swords would bounce right off him? How was he going to handle the bloodbath at the Cornucopia?
He was holding a hand out for her to shake. She did it as quickly as she could.
"May the odds be ever in your favor," he said in a velvety voice that made her skin crawl.
"You'll need all the help you can get, leech."
"Edward," he corrected her.
"Like I said. Leech." She turned towards the Justice Building. A Peacekeeper was trying to push Billy, their District's sole surviving victor, toward it too, but his wheelchair had gotten stuck.
"I've got it," she told him. I've got this. I'll totally win this.
Right?