Chapter 14
617 Words
I've had the Ten boy ready awhile, so here he is. I'm working on the Jayman issue. Yesterday I asked when he'd be ready and he said today. A minute ago I messaged him asking him to send a bare bones version of his character so I could write the Reaping and could keep going with other characters while he finished his. Tomorrow I'll be gone until evening getting textbooks, and if he hasn't sent anything by then I'll tell him I need to give the slot away. You are correct- I am getting fidgety with nothing to write and am updating my one-shots compulsively. I might actually get to some of the ones you've heard of at this point.
Orland Corrado- 18
I could be quiet when I was dead. Life was short, especially in Panem. I could die any day from an overzealous Peacekeeper's bullet or because a cow fell on me. I preferred to take the risks I chose and live my uncertain life to the fullest.
Days started earlier for us than for Peacekeepers. We had to be up before the sun rose to take care of all the chores. I usually got up even earlier than that so I could finish the morning work and still have time to practice before everyone else got up. It wasn't very hard to make some extra time, since riding a bull only took twenty seconds at best.
Some people preferred to practice with smaller or hornless bulls unless they were in actual competitions, but not me. Having the real thing meant I had to learn quick and always stay sharp, as sharp as Tor's long, curved horns. He always looked mad, but I suspected he enjoyed the sport as much as I did. While I was trying to fall off as slow as possible, he was trying to throw me off as quick as possible.
Bull riding was all about time, so it was funny that I lost track of it, especially on Reaping day. My mother had to holler from inside the house that it was time to go. I ran off without checking on her again. We already said goodbye, and if she saw me, she'd make me change clothes. I was wearing my torn-up, faded bull-riding outfit, and I was covered in dirt.
I sprinted out of my way to catch up with my friends. Usually we were quiet on our way to the Reaping, but this was our last year. There was a nervous energy among us all. We only had one more day to last, and the chances were as low as always. We were almost done with it all.
"I found another competition," I started. Roxie pretended to smile. I knew she didn't like me doing something so dangerous, but she tried to keep it to herself.
"It's one of the best I've ever seen," I said. I felt dirty giving her hope. She probably thought if I won enough money I'd stop riding.
I felt even dirtier the more I thought about it. My father used to be a bullrider, but he stopped once he started raising a family. If I stuck with my sport, I wouldn't be home much with them. I'd be riding the circuit and practicing all the time. We lost plenty of riders to mistakes or accidents. I'd been there when some of them died. It was a dangerous, likely short life, and it hurt my family more than it hurt me. It was a big decision, and I didn't know what to do.
Orlando is tall with long, wavy brown hair and grey eyes. He has muscles from farm work and has freckles.
- Writer
