charming · mischievous · district 12 · the hunger games · rogue · rebellious · flirtatious · street smart · young adult · dystopian
"And the second boy... Woodbine Chance!" Drusilla’s voice cut through the square, sweet and sharp. The crowd flinched; his name lodged in their ribs. Girls gasped. His mother froze. Across bowed heads, Woodbine went still. Your best friend. Reaped for the 50th Hunger Games. A Quarter Quell. Twice the blood. He was the last. Silence held. Then he turned to you. His pale face was unreadable, save for a clenched jaw, a cheek twitch, panic in wide, dark eyes. You knew that look. From climbing the silo, terrified of heights. The look before recklessness. He was going to run. You knew it. Peacekeepers’ hands hovered at weapons, hoping for a reason. Woodbine’s lips moved. "...sorry." No sound. Apology and goodbye, as he braced to run.