The Star Crossed Lovers of Distrist 12 (fanfiction)

[<3The Boy with the Bread]

This is the thread where I will post new chapters of my fanfic as I write them. This way they will all stay together.

[<3The Boy with the Bread]

The Star-Crossed Lovers of District 12

Chapter 1: The Reaping

Even on reaping day, we have the same exact breakfast: stale bread. That’s pretty much all we eat here at Mellark bakery, except for the occasional squirrel my father trades from Katniss. Katniss hunts illegally. She’s done it ever since her father died in the tragic mine accident that killed so many. The accident took her friend, Gale’s dad too. He’s been hunting with her since the accident as well. Those two are always together, made inseparable by circumstance.

No squirrel this morning, though. We are saving the two we have for dinner tonight. The likely celebration that will come from not being reaped for the bloodbath that is the Hunger Games. Unlike most families in District 12, my brother and I do not have to take tesserae. Children who are unfortunate enough to have to take tesserae, must enter their name extra times in exchange for rations of oil and grain. Katniss has her name in that reaping ball at least thirty times because of tesserae. Compared to my four, Katniss doesn’t have great odds.

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear my parents usual fighting from the kitchen.

“I don’t like that girl, Ryley!” my mother shouts. I know she’s talking about Katniss. My mom has never liked her. It’s probably because of the history between my father and Katniss’ mother. I don’t know much about it, but my mother has always resented Katniss and her family because of it.

“What do you expect me to do Sessa?” my father screams back, “Katniss provides us with meat for our table that we can’t otherwise get, so unless you can find somewhere else to get it, I will keep dealing with her!”

My parent’s voices fade behind me as I retreat into my room to find some peace. I need to get ready for the reaping anyways. It is required that every child look their best on reaping day. I see it as some sort of sick joke, like bathing pigs just before they go in for slaughter. But, it is on order from the Capitol, so it must be obeyed. I sit on my bed and quietly prepare myself for something no one could ever hope to prepare for.

******************

As I make my way to the town square, where the reaping is to be held, I can’t help but notice the sea of emotion around me. Every child either looks like they will cry, faint, or throw up. I can’t even imagine what is plastered on my face right now; probably some mixture of all three. As I continue to move along with the crowd, my eyes find Katniss, a shining beacon in the middle of a restless sea. She maintains her usual calm confidence, although I see a flicker of uneasiness cross her face as she reaches to grab her little sister Prim’s hand. I finally reach the square and walk toward my required spot.

The square is split into 14 sections. Boys and girls are split, and then there are seven sections for both genders, one for each age group between 12 and 18. I slowly find my way to the section allotted for sixteen year old boys and nervously wait for the reaping to begin. It seems like forever before I hear her voice.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Effie Trinket cheerily pips in her Capitol accent, “And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

As usual, this supposedly harmless remark stirs something inside of me. Probably because for District 12 as a whole, the odds are very much not in our favor. The Hunger Games, put simply, is a battle to the death on live television with only one victor and survivor. The Capitol likes to say it is a reminder of the Dark Days, in which the districts rose up in rebellion against the Capitol. This resulted in the impoverishment of most of the districts, and the complete obliteration of District 13. As “punishment” for this rebellion, each year the twelve remaining districts must each submit two “tributes”, one boy and one girl, to compete in the Hunger Games. This results in a total of 24 children to compete in the Games, which means that 23 children won’t make it out alive. Anyone who’s not from Districts 1, 2, or 4 has a slim chance of making it out alive, but District 12 has been especially unlucky. We haven’t had a victor in 24 years.

“Ladies first!” Effie says as she fishes around in the ball for a slip of paper. My heart beats so fast, I think it might tear out of my chest as I fervently hope Katniss’ name isn’t written on that slip of paper.

“Primrose Everdeen,” Effie calls out. My first reaction is relief, then total and utter shock. Katniss’ sister could not have been picked; she’s only 12 and her name was only in that ball once! But it becomes all too true as I witness what happens next.

“I volunteer!” I hear Katniss shout something that has never been heard in District 12, “I volunteer as tribute!” Now I am almost sure my heart will leap out of my chest because my worst nightmare has come true: Katniss is going into the Games, and will almost surely never come back. I fight the tears as they start to come, and try to clear my head in order to think of a way around this. But I am truly unprepared for what happens as Effie asks for applause. The entire population of District 12 lifts their first three fingers to their lips and lifts them in the air. This is an utmost sign of respect in our district and in this moment it is meant for Katniss.

As this is happening, a plan begins to form in my mind. I could volunteer in the place of whatever boy is chosen, and go into the Games in order to ensure Katniss comes home. But it would mean my life in the place of hers. I don’t know if I could do that. I’ve saved her once before, but it was so long ago and a much different situation.

It was over four years ago. I was working in the bakery as I do every other day, when time got away from me, and the bread I was cooking came out singed black as the coals in the fire. I carried them to the back to throw them away, when my mother comes and sees what I was doing. She screamed terrible things at me and hit me across the face. I could feel the welt on my cheek growing as I ran outside to feed the bread to the pigs. As I tore off a chunk and threw it into the trough, I saw her: Katniss. She looked like she was on Death’s door, which she probably was, and as hopeless as a person could get. Without looking to see if my mother was watching, I threw her the first loaf. After a couple of seconds, I threw her the second. She looked at me with a mixture of confusion and gratitude as she quickly got up and ran in the direction of her home.

I keep running over this moment in my mind wondering if the courage that moved me to throw her that bread would move me to sacrifice my life for hers. I wonder if I could bring myself to utter the same words as Katniss, wonder how they would taste in my mouth. I know I have to make a decision, as I hear Effie fishing around in the second reaping ball. And in that moment, the decision is made for me.

“Peeta Mellark,” Effie calls. I start making my way to the stage in a daze, as it’s my name she called. I am relieved that I don’t have to make the decision that decides my fate but also sad that I can’t. I don’t know if having my fate in someone else’s hands is exactly what I want. When Effie calls for volunteers, the only answer is silence. I wasn’t expecting my brother to volunteer as we’ve never been that close, and I could never expect him to sacrifice his life in place of mine.

As Effie tells us to shake hands, I try to keep mine from trembling. My eyes meet Katniss’ for only a second and I can see the recognition burning in them. I can only think she’s remembering that same incident with the bread, the only time I’ve been able to act on my feelings for her. As we walk off the stage and make our way to the Justice Building, I fight back the tears that will most certainly come, even before I am allowed to say my final goodbyes.

[<3The Boy with the Bread]

Chapter 2: Ulterior Motives


I try to hold myself together because I don’t want them to see me cry. This will be their last memory of me and I don’t want it to be of me sobbing like a baby. I try to remind myself that I can cry when they’re gone. I have just calmed myself down when my family walks through the door. My two older brothers stand in the corner of the room as my parents sit beside me, and my father puts his arm around me. This is all the comfort I need from him, and I begin to think we can spend this last moment in silence until my mother begins to speak.

“District 12 may finally have another victor this year,” she says with a smirk on her face. My first reaction is confusion. She couldn’t possibly be talking about me. I probably have the worst chance of survival, always having been lucky enough not to have to work every single day in the hope that maybe I would have food for my table. I have no idea what it is like to survive. Then a thought occurs to me. I may not know how to survive, but Katniss does. My mother isn’t talking about me at all; she is talking about Katniss. My suspicions are confirmed when she continues with, “She’s a survivor, that one.” A pang of betrayal goes through me. My mother doesn’t even love me enough to give me the false hope that I could come home. She decides to slap me in the face with reality, rather than comforting me to the bitter end.

However, a part of me finds hope in that remark. Maybe my endeavor to get Katniss home isn’t as hopeless as I thought. My mother is right: Katniss is a survivor. If I could just keep the Careers away from her, Katniss could probably outlast the rest of the tributes on her own. I am overwhelmed with an amazing surge of hope as I see the plan beginning to form in my mind. The plan that just might make my desperate dream a reality.

We spend the rest of our time together in silence, as there is really nothing else to say. As I see my parents walk out the door for what I know will be the last time, I give them my best attempt at a smile. And when the door closes behind them, the tears that I have been holding in since the Reaping spill out. All the emotion I feel seems to be pouring out in those tears, so when I am finished, I feel empty.

I sit there, and suddenly realize how incredibly alone I am. My family only came because they were just that, my family. They only felt obligated to come because we share the same blood. None of my “friends” even bother to come because they know they won’t see me again. So, what’s the point, right? Then I think of Katniss. She is not alone. There are people who will need her and miss her. I see her holding hands with her little sister, walking to the Hob to trade with Gale, and finally, I see her stepping up to protect her sister, showing the extreme devotion that no family has ever dared to show. And suddenly, I feel the extreme determination to get her home.

***************

My tears have stopped by the time the peacekeepers come to escort me to the train. I have no need for the tears now that I am incredibly certain of my mission. It is surprising to think how liberating walking to your death can be. As I reach the train I almost feel as light as air, until I see my surroundings. I have walked into the most lavishly decorated room I have ever seen. As much as I am in awe, I almost feel sick to my stomach. To think that half my district is starving and that the Capitol lives like this on a daily basis makes me want to punch someone.

My eyes lock on Katniss, and I give her a smile. She doesn’t notice me though, as she is too distracted by our surroundings. I know she must be thinking the same thing I am, considering she lives among the chronically hungry. I turn and follow Effie to my room before I begin to scream.

My room makes me just as angry. I hold myself together because I know I am being filmed at every moment. I can’t let them see me openly cursing the Capitol. If Katniss can control herself, I surely can. I strip off my clothes from the reaping, and take a shower. I dress in a simple shirt and pants and head into the dining car for the first meal.

I am completely taken aback by the sheer amount and richness of the food. After one plate I am stuffed.
Effie says, “You are much more civilized than the last group; they ate their entire meal with their hands.” This shows how truly clueless she is. Those kids probably never had a decent meal in their lives, and when it came in front of them they dug in, eager to get as much as they could because they thought it could disappear at any moment. I look up and notice Katniss has started to eat her meal with only her hands. I can’t help but smile at how much it seems to be bothering Effie.

After dinner, we go into another room to watch recaps of the reaping. To see what we’re up against from Districts 1 and 2 makes me almost pass out. How can I expect to get Katniss home when this simply monstrous boy from District 2 will stand in our way? Then I see the little 12 year old girl from District 11. How could she even hope to stand up to these giant Careers who have been training for this their entire lives? The Games suddenly seem just a bit more despicable. As I watch our Reaping back, I see what I seem to have missed while being to absorbed in my feelings to notice. Our mentor, who will be my partner in getting Katniss home, Haymitch, was so drunk that he fell off the stage during the reaping. I can only hope he won’t be like this for the entire duration of the Games.

As if on cue, Haymitch walks into the room completely inebriated and vomits on the plush carpet. Effie takes this as time for her to leave and for us to deal with our drunken mentor. Katniss and I clean up the vomit on the carpet, and then I see Haymitch is covered in the stuff.

I turn to Katniss and say, “I’ll go clean him up; you should get some sleep.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I can get an attendant to help you if you want.”

“I don’t want them!” I snap. She seems to understand what I’m saying and backs off. She doesn’t seem to suspect my ulterior motives. She doesn’t suspect that my only reasoning for doing it alone is to convince him to keep her alive at all costs.

“Well then, good night,” she says as she walks out the door.

I take Haymitch to his tub and run water on him. After his clothes have been cleaned I take them off of him and drape them over the towel rack. Then I set to trying to convince him of Katniss’ survival.

“Look, I know you have to choose one of us, and I want it to be her,” I say.

“Why do you think either one of you will get out of there, boy?” Haymitch says coldly.

“I don’t know if one of us will, but if one of us is to win it needs to be her. Give her all the sponsors. I am going to be trying my hardest to get her home in everything I do, so it would be nice to have a little help!” I am practically pleading with him now.

“Look, I will see what I can do but if neither of you show potential, it will be like every other year. You two will die in the Bloodbath, and I will spend the rest of the Games drinking.”

This is at least a start, and I doubt I can get anything else out of him in this state. “Trust me, I will do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen,” I say, and I walk out of the room leaving him under the running water.

[Foxriver]

You have composed another fantastic piece of writing Kira,i thoroughly enjoyed re-reading the first chapter and reading chapter two for the first time,i've read it a couple of times already and i will definitely re-read it in the future.
I eagerly await the next installment.

[<3The Boy with the Bread]

Thanks! I will try to get a new chapter up every week. I can get most of my writing done over the weekend so I will most likely post on Mondays.

[laactress]

That was fantastic! It makes me want to write fanfic too! I have never done it but makes me want to try Incredible writing.

[Foxriver]

as you are going to be using this thread to post all your writing Kira i'm going to Sticky it for you.

[<3The Boy with the Bread]

Thanks fox

[<3The Boy with the Bread]

Okay guys, here's chapter 3!!! Hope you like it

Chapter 3: The Girl on Fire

I watch helplessly as the monstrous boy from District 2 closes in on her. Then, without warning, the sword plunges into her body and she falls to the ground. I manage to make my way to her, dragging my injured leg behind me. I hold her limp body hopelessly in my hands as the boy turns to me to finish me off.

I wake with a start. My body has broken into a cold sweat, and my heart is pounding. Everything about that dream was so painstakingly real. I look out the window and see the sunlight streaming in. We will be arriving in the Capitol today. I strip off my sweaty clothes, shower, and dress in something clean.

When I enter the dining car, the only person there is Haymitch. This is good; maybe I can talk strategy with him while he’s sober.

“How are you feeling?” I ask. He can’t be feeling too great. He might not have remembered any of our conversation last night.

“Hung over. What exactly happened last night?” My heart sinks. Nothing I said has stayed with him. I might as well have been talking to a sack of flour last night.

“Well you stained the carpet and your clothes, and then I asked you to save Katniss instead of me.” Might as well get straight to the point.

“How very selfless of you. All hail the conquering hero! What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have someone you want to go back to?”

“My family can live without me. Katniss’ can’t. I have no one who cares about me anyways. The only person I would have to go back to is her, and obviously we both know that can’t happen. She barely knows I exist anyways.”

“That right there is something I can work with, kid. You have potential. Why are you so set on letting her have all the glory? You do realize you’re supposed to be enemies, not lovers.” Haymitch seems to find this idea hilarious and breaks into a laugh. I can’t stop the blood that rushes to my cheeks.

At this moment, Katniss walks into the room. I don’t know how much she heard but she definitely saw the blush on my face. She doesn’t say anything though; she just sits down and begins to fill her plate.

“So, Haymitch, you’re supposed to be our mentor right? Got any advice?” Katniss says.

“Stay alive,” Haymitch says with a laugh as he pours something out of a flask into his orange juice. I am so enraged by this that I knock the flask out of his hands, and spill the orange juice all over the table. Haymitch reacts and punches me in the jaw. Haymitch goes to reach for the flask, but Katniss grabs a knife and misses his hand just between his fingers.

Haymitch looks impressed. “Looks like I got a pair of fighters this year.” He turns to Katniss, “Can you hit something with that knife besides the table?” Katniss throws the knife and hits the wall right in the seam.

“Look, I’ll agree to help you guys as long as you do exactly as I say.” I walk over to put some ice on my jaw, and Haymitch says, “Let it bruise. It’ll show you fought and didn’t get caught, which will show the sponsors you would be a formidable opponent.” I put the ice back in the bin and walk back to the table. “When we get to the Capitol, you guys will meet your mentors. No matter how much you don’t like it, you will do everything they tell you.”

Well, that doesn’t sound good. I don’t have much time to think about it though because as soon as he says this we pull into the train stops. We must be in the Capitol. I go to look out the window and motion for Katniss to follow. She comes and stands beside me for a few moments and then leaves because I’m assuming the bright people of the Capitol disgust her. They disgust me too, but I have to get them to like me, so I can get sponsors for her. I smile and wave at the crowd, which causes them to go ballistic. I keep smiling even though I know these are the people who will watch me die.

******************

I sit in a chair waiting for my prep team to come in. They are supposed to get me ready for my stylist; I don’t know exactly what that means. My prep team enters talking in their chirpy Capitol accents. There are three of them: Accalia, Horatius, and Marius. Accalia has the dark eyes you would see in the Seam of our district. The similarities stop there. Her skin is died a rainbow of colors striped down her body. Her hair is a bright blaring red that is far from natural, and she is wearing bright red lipstick to match. Horatius and Marius aren’t quite as outrageous. Horatius has glittering silver tattoos running down his arms and up his neck, and his hair is spiked out in a million different directions. Marius could almost be normal if it weren’t for his bright red eyes and his face covered in a layer of makeup including black lipstick to make him look truly frightening.

They come and circle around me as if they are trying to see what to do with me. I can’t help but feel self-conscious with three pairs of eyes inspecting my every flaw. Accalia is the first one to speak.

“Well, we won’t have to do much with you; you’re already so handsome. We’ll just cut your hair a little and do the usual treatment.” I’m a little afraid as to what she means by the usual treatment. As it turns out, I should be. As Marius cuts my hair, Accalia comes out with a syringe filled with a suspicious looking liquid. She tells me to hold out my arm, and injects the liquid into my arm. I feel a burning sensation in my face for a couple minutes, and then it goes away as suddenly as it came. Accalia tells me it will keep me from growing a beard in the arena, but she doesn’t tell me how long it’s supposed to last. They finish my prep. I don’t feel much different except for the fact that my morning stubble has been replaced by smooth skin.

After a few minutes, my stylist comes in. I can’t help but notice how ordinary she looks compared to my prep team. Of course her hair is a bright orange-pink color, but it almost seems pretty as it brings out the gold flecks in in her eyes. She is wearing pretty minimal makeup: her eyes are lined with black and she is wearing deep red lipstick. Not the obnoxious color Accalia had but a more subtle color. The most different from my prep team is her clothing. She is wearing a simple black, form-fitting dress. It is a nice break from the usual blaring colors of the Capitol. She introduces herself as Portia and asks me if I’ve eaten and I say no. She leads me to a small table where we can eat lunch. The food is again so rich that I have trouble keeping it down.

“So, what will we be wearing for the opening ceremonies?” I ask. I sincerely hope they don’t plan on putting us in coal miner’s outfits like every other year. It would be hard getting Katniss sponsors with that first impression.

“Well, my partner, Cinna, and I both think that District 12’s usual costumes are rather uninspired. We want to help you guys make an impression, and in order to do that it has to be unexpected. Whereas most stylists focus on the miner, we want to focus on the coal itself. More specifically, what the coal fuels, fire.”

In an hour I find myself standing by my chariot in simple black leotard, a gold headpiece, and a cape with a flame pattern on it. I wipe my hands off on my outfit to get rid of the sweat that has begun to form on them. I can’t believe Portia is doing this to me. In a few minutes my cape and headpiece will be lit on fire. She told me it will be completely synthetic, but I’m not convinced. Working with it on a daily basis, I’m fully aware of how unpredictable fire can be.

I see Katniss walk up and she looks just as scared as I am. “I’ll tear off your cape if you tear off mine,” I say to her. She just nods and we climb onto the chariot that will take us out to the audience. Cinna, Katniss’ stylist, comes behind us and lights our capes and headpieces. I don’t feel a burning sensation on my skin so I trust that Portia must have been telling the truth. Katniss must realize this too because she makes no moves to extinguish the flames.

After the District 11 chariot leaves, it is our turn. As we go into the crowd, I can just make out Cinna telling us to hold hands.

“What did he say?” asks Katniss.

“I think he wants us to hold hands,” I reply as I reach for her hand. I think this bothers her a little, but she complies. We take in the enormous crowd before us. They’re already screaming for us, but when we begin to smile and wave to them, they go crazy.

I don’t understand why they are screaming for me; granted, the fire makes my blue eyes pop, but I’m nothing special. But, when I look at Katniss I want to scream for her myself. She looks like a fiery angel, shining and brilliant. I have to force myself to look away and focus on the crowd. I make a silent note to personally thank our stylists. Thanks to them, much of these opening ceremonies are focused on Katniss.

We pull in front of the stage where President Snow will address the tributes. I can already see we are getting a good amount of screen time, especially as it gets darker, making our costumes glow brighter. President Snow even seems to be focused on us, specifically Katniss. It seems no one can take their eyes off the beautiful Girl on Fire.

As we pull back into the training center, Cinna and Portia seem very pleased with our performances. As does Effie, who is simply bubbling with joy. I think it’s the first time she’s finally had a pair of tributes make a splash at the opening ceremonies. Haymitch even seems particularly pleased.

“Whose idea was the hand holding?” Haymitch asks.

“Cinna,” I reply.

“Perfect,” he says, “just a touch of rebellion.”

It’s that word, rebellion, which will change my life forever, and threaten to crush everything I’ve ever loved. It will threaten to take Katniss away from me.

[Foxriver]

Can i have chapter 4 now please???? Excellent storytelling again Kira-when the story is written in Katniss perspective Peeta seems quite weak and i was not that bothered about his character,when i see the story through his eyes as you have written he appears a stronger and extremely determined and that makes me respect and like him.
Great work Kira