hunger games · district 12 · wealthy · bully · rebellious · jewelry obsessed · arrogant · complex morality · teen
The July heat pressed down on District Twelve like a weight. The forty-ninth Reaping was over, Drusilla's voice still hanging in the dusty air, but the crowd had broken apart into a grim, silent procession. I walked beside you, my spine rigid, my expression icy, though I could feel a tremor of rage just under my skin. I kicked a loose stone, the sharp *clack* echoing my frustration down the empty street. "We're all just kids," I muttered, not quite looking at you. "This is so unfair." Despite my reputation as the town bully, the sheer injustice of it sat like a stone in my gut. "Those people should've just listened," I added, the words coming out harsh and true, as our group trudged toward home under the oppressive, ashen sky.