Stitch Gable’s POV:

‘’ What if I get picked?’’ I question Max, the only friend I have that I honestly believe will never leave my side.

‘’ I don’t know.’’ He replies sounding quite worried. ‘’ I guess I will have to go with you.’’

‘’ They’d never allow it. It’s one boy, one girl. Not two boys.’’ I explain.

‘’ I guess, but they can’t stop me. I go where you go.’’ He smirks and we both laugh.

‘’ Blood brothers for life.’’ I say with a smile.

‘’ Blood brothers for life.’’ He repeats and as he does, my mind falls into a reverie.

I think back to the day we became blood brothers. I had been coming home from school, it was lashing rain and Max was at my side – running beside me with our books over our heads to shield us from the rain. I slipped on a corner because of the rain and I ripped open my knee. The blood was pumping and I had been crying.

Max suggested we become blood brothers. At the time, I hadn’t a clue what it was. He simply picked up a jagged rock from the ground and dragged it across the flesh of his arm. When the blood began to dribble out, he pressed his bloody wound against mine and our blood mixed. He told me he heard once that once you become blood brothers, you are bound together for life.

‘’ Stitch honey. Start getting dressed for the Reaping.’’ Calls my mother softly down the hallway from the kitchen.

‘’ OK.’’ I reply. ‘’ Give me twenty minutes.’’

I quickly dress myself, Max stands beside me as I do – already dressed up in fancy clothes, similar to mine only seemingly more expensive. A white shirt without the stains or marks that mine does, black trousers that are actually his size and a pair of shoes with the soles in them. I stand in front of the mirror and use my hand to guide my fringe across my face into a comb-over. I notice Max has the same.

‘’ Stitch! Breakfast is ready.’’ My mother calls and I head towards the kitchen, Max beside me as always.

When I enter the kitchen, my parents are sitting at our small, rickety kitchen table with pieces of bread and some jam in front of them. As we barely ever eat meals together due my parents’ jobs, it is weird to see them sitting here. My mother smiles warmly as I enter, my father gives me a small glance and returns to spreading jam onto his bread.

There is a plate set out for me, with a piece of bread and the jam is sitting in the centre of the table. There is not any plate for Max. I glance at him and he smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

‘’ I don’t mind. I’m not hungry.’’ He explains.

‘’ You’re never hungry.’’ I smile back, and try to think of the last time I’ve seen him eat – a small piece of chocolate he stole with me from a local shop.

‘’ What?’’ Asks my mother.

‘’ Nothing.’’ I reply, shrugging her off.

‘’ Oh, I thought you said something.’’ She explains.

‘’ No-‘’ I begin, but my father cuts me off immediately.

‘’ He was. He did say something. What was it boy?’’ He demands.

‘’ Nothing, I said nothing.’’ I reply, my voice shaking slightly as I lie to him.

‘’ Lies! You were talking to that friend of yours weren’t you?’’ He questions angrily.

‘’ Fredrick, leave it. Please.’’ Interrupts my mother.

‘’ Shut up.’’ He yells, and raises a hand towards her but pauses – obviously thinking back to the last time he did it.

I remember it only too well, the argument had started over the same reason that this one had – Max. My father was roaring at me angrily and my mother screamed at him to leave me alone. He smacked her across the face with the back of his hand. It was the first and only time he’d ever hit her and she had been knocked to the ground in tears.

She got up pretty quick though, with a knife from the table in her hand. She threw him against the wall with the knife at his throat, just resting on the skin.

‘’ I know that murder is illegal – punishable by death in fact – but raise a finger against me or Stitch again and I will shove this through your neck so fast you won’t be able to scream.’’ She had warned, and truly scared him – and me – but she pulled the knife away and we all had sat back down, as if it had never happened.

‘’ Who were you talking to boy?’’ He demands again.

‘’ Nobody.’’ I lie, my voice quavering.

‘’ That imaginary friend of yours? You’re sixteen Stitch. Grow up and start acting like a man.’’ He orders.

For a moment I stand speechless, unsure of what to say to him. Then Max creeps up to me and whispers in my ear. I repeat his words.

‘’ You call yourself a man?’’ I begin. ‘’ What man threatens his son and hits his wife?’’

As my father’s face drops in shock at my words, Max laughs and I turn to him, then smile with him.

‘’ Who are you looking at?’’ Yells my father.

‘’ Leave him alone!’’ Orders my mother.

‘’ Tell them my name.’’ Says Max.

‘’ Max.’’ I say. ‘’ I’m talking to Max.’’

As I say Max’s name, the anger from both faces of my parents vanishes and is immediately replaced with looks of pain, sorrow and sadness.

‘’ What did you just day Stitch?’’ Questions my mother after a few moments, she sounds near tears.

‘’ Max.’’ I repeat. ‘’ Why? Is there something wrong?’’

‘’ How does he know? Did you tell him?’’ Asks my father angrily, glaring at my mother.

‘’ No. We both promised to wait until he was older.’’ Answers my mother.

I stare at the two of them, in complete and utter shock and cluelessness. What are they talking about?

‘’ Get out of here.’’ Orders Max, sounding fearful.

‘’ Why?’’ I ask aloud, this time all my parents do is look at me – my father doesn’t bother screaming, his jaw is open wide with shock.

‘’ Just do it! You don’t want to hear this.’’ He explains but I find myself routed to the spot – unable to move myself out of both fear and curiosity.

‘’ No.’’ I reply finally.

There are a few moments of silence until my mother finally speaks.

‘’ Stitch. There’s something we need to tell you.’’ Begins my mother.

‘’ What?’’ I ask, mentally preparing myself for the worst news possible because of the tone of her voice. Is she going to die? Are they separating? Did they lose a job?

‘’ You have a twin brother.’’ She explains.

‘’ Had.’’ Corrects my father immediately.

‘’ Had.’’ Repeats my mother. ‘’ As you know, you were very sick when you were born. Weak. Well so was your brother. Unfortunately, your brother didn’t survive.’’

‘’ What? Why haven’t you told me before?’’ I ask in confusion as I feel sadness welling up inside me.

I have a brother?

‘’ We didn’t think you could handle it.’’ She explains.

I glance over my shoulder at Max, he is avoiding eye contact. He has a guilty look across his face.

‘’ You knew?’’ I ask.

‘’ I’m sorry.’’ He replies, still avoiding eye contact.

‘’ He’s here? Right now?’’ Asks my mother.

‘’ Don’t be stupid, that’s impossible.’’ Says my father. At the beginning of the sentence he sounds angry, but it gradually vanishes as he continues speaking.

This is obviously why he has always been so bitter and angry all this time. All my life.

‘’ He is.’’ I explain. ‘’ He’s always been there, for as long as I can remember.’’

My mother begins to cry. However before anyone has a chance to speak, the claxons around town begin to sound – signally it is time to go to the Reaping.

‘’ Let’s go.’’ Instructs my father, getting to his feet.

‘’ No! We have so much to talk about.’’ Argues my mother. ‘’ Let’s just stay here, they won’t notice.’’

‘’ They always notice.’’ Corrects my father, and helps her to her feet.

‘’ We can talk afterwards mum. Tonight.’’ I explain.

‘’ Alright.’’ She says after a few moments and we leave the house, heading toward the town square to the Reaping.

Phox Halebrooks’ POV:

I stand in the twelve year old section, unable to move, barely able to stay standing. The voice of District Eight’s escort still echoes throughout the town square – my voice on her lips.

I glance at the girls around me that are supposed to be my friends, all have taken a step away from me so I am alone in the centre of the section. None of them are returning my eye contact when I look at them desperately for help.

‘’ Come on Phox. Please make your way up to the stage.’’ Calls the escort once again.

Reluctantly, I exit the twelve year old section and slowly approach the stage. As I walk, I almost lose my footing but regain my balance. I look at the faces of people I pass, most look sympathetic, sad even to see my approaching the stage, however some look impatient to see that I am taking so long.

I almost trip up the steps to the stage as I walk, because I am glancing at the crowd as opposed to the ground in front of me.

‘’ Hello there deary.’’ Smiles our yellow haired escort warmly as I step onto the stage. ‘’ Please, tell me Phox, wait am I pronouncing that right?’’

‘’ It’s pronounced like the fox you’d find in the woods. F. O. X.’’ I explain.

‘’ Oh OK then, good. Please, tell me, what age are you Phox?’’ She questions.

‘’ I’m twelve and a half.’’ I explain. ‘’ My birthday is in a few weeks.’’

‘’ Oh how exciting! Let’s hope you’re still alive for it then!’’ Laughs the escort although she laughs alone.

She stands awkwardly for a second, then clears her throat.

‘’ Tell me Phox, what word would you use to describe yourself?’’ She questions.

‘’ Fast. I’m really fast.’’ I explain.

‘’ How interesting! I’m sure we’ll hear more about that during the interviews. Good luck in the Games, go have a seat over there.’’ She instructs and I do as she asks.

I watch her approach the Reaping bowl for the boys, she has a broad grin on her face.

‘’ Now then, the male tribute representing District Eight in the Fifth Quarter Quell is...Stitch Gable! Congratulations, please make your way up onto the stage.’’ She beams excitedly – how horrible!

A boy that looks about fifteen approaches the stage and from somewhere in the crowd, a woman begins to scream for her son. I find the woman pretty quickly, she is trying to push her way towards her son but a man – perhaps her husband – is holding her back. The boy glances back towards them, tears in his eyes and then makes his way onto the stage.

‘’ Hello there Stitch. What an unusual name.’’ She smiles. ‘’ What age are you?’’

‘’ Sixteen.’’ He replies after he wipes tears from his eyes.

‘’ Cool. Now tell me, what one word would you use to describe yourself?’’ She asks.

Stitch mutters something over his shoulder then turns back to look at our escort who looks slightly confused.

‘’ I don’t know. Just get out of my face.’’ He responds and walks past the escort and takes his seat beside me. Surprisingly, his response causes the crowd to laugh.

‘’ OK then.’’ Begins our escort, sounding somewhat shocked. ‘’ That’s all for today. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour!’’

With that, she steps away from the podium and leads us off the stage.