There's not much to say about Maple.
She was an angular, awkward, broad-shouldered girl. Brittle orange hair hung around pronounced cheekbones, a sharp nose, broad shoulders. Her parents were both gone - there's really not much to say about that either. Every inch of her screamed working class, from the dirt on her skin to the callouses on her long, mannish hands.
Her sister was another story entirely, although there's really not much to be said about her either. A soft, sloping nose, large eyes that tilted down, every part of her sloped and draped and slender.
Maple never dressed up for the Reaping. With the number of times her name was written in that bowl, she figured it was only a matter of time. Constance was nineteen, thank god for that. Her frail bones wouldn't last a minute in those games. Maple wouldn't know what to do without her.
District 11 was a bit of a rundown, ugly place. People worked all day, Peacekeepers yelled, someone was always crying. Not much more can be said about that, can it?
On this particular Reaping, Maple wore her best pair of overalls, which isn't saying much. She vaguely remembered brushing her hair, but she didn't really care either. Her only friend, Orchard, a sharp, sparrow-like girl, was drenched in a soft violet material that brought out a glow in her dark skin. Maple didn't know why she bothered.
The escort was a ditz, on the surface. Underneath, Kili was pure evil. He always made sure he knew who he was choosing, placing that one slip just a little bit off from the rest.
It really wasn't a surprise when Orchard's name rang out on his tongue. He'd always had it out for her. She was so slight, so birdlike, so sweet and charitable. He hated her.
Maple's mouth hung a little awkwardly when her name was called. Orchard only smiled, placed one dainty foot in front of the other, and slowly made her way up the stage. She kissed Kili teasingly on the lips, just daring him.
His brains could practically be seen steaming from his ears.
Maple didn't know who the boy was. She didn't really pay attention all she could really focus on was /shit shit shit she should've done something should've done something/ but didn't.
Orchard's sweet smile and delicate shoulders wouldn't make it a second longer than Constance.
There's not much to be said for that, either.
The doors closed around Orchard.