User blog:EmpressOreo/The 93rd Hunger Games

Hey everyone! I'm District1 Obsessed. I'm still fairly new to this wikia, so this will be my first Hunger Games. I've participated in plenty of Games, but this is my first time writing one, so if I'm doing something wrong, please let me know. I will be doing the reapings, training, and the Games. I will be leaving out the chariot rides and the interviews, because those take too long.

Rules

 * Four tributes per user
 * Reservations last 2 days
 * Please no perfect tributes or they will die in the bloodbath
 * Guys, you all have amazing tributes, but there's a pretty good chance they're going to die, so please don't get mad if they do!
 * I will go to profiles
 * Please use the tribute template ^_^
 * Tributes with advice have a higher chance of survival.
 * I only need the name, district, and age of your tribute, but I would like them to be detailed so that it could be easier for me to write them :)

Tribute Template
Name:

Gender:

Age:

District:

Appearance:

Personality:

Backstory:

Weapon(s):

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Fear(s):

Interview Angle:

Alliance:

Bloodbath Strategy:

Games Strategy:

Current Alliances
Careers: Dragon Lord (1), Saffron Star (1), Lily Moon (2), Lemonade Verandi (4), Lime Verandi (4)

Districts 2, 3, and 11 alliance: Mason Spartan (2), Hybrid Javeline (3), and Scorch Flare (11)

Districts 3, 6, 7, 8, and 12 alliance: Katharin Sandstone (3), Ava Poppythorne (6), Mary-Ann Hunter (7), Nile Flame (8), and Lillian Pumpkin (12)

Districts 7, 9, and 11 alliance: Kota Jimslim (7), Kassidy Feekes (9), and Violette Meadow (11)

Districts 5, 10, and 12 alliance: Martin Meyers (5), Maiko Fornis (10), and John McCall (12)

Districts 5 and 10 alliance: Eliza Garret (5) and Holly Wintercrest (10)

Loners: Galina Kiltova (8), Oliver Hemmingway (9), Connor Houck (6)

Reapings
(Warning: There may be some cussing so please don't get mad at me ^_^)

District 1: Dragon Lord's POV
''Creak. Creeeeaaaak. ''I curse under my breath as I slowly pull the door open. When did this person buy their house? 1840, or something? It's so dusty, and looks like it hasn't been cleaned in centuries. And it smells ''awful. ''I recognize the smell. It's the smell of death. My heart falls. I was really looking forward to killing the person that lives here. Yes, I know. I'm crazy. Insane. Go ahead and call me those words; they don't offend me. Death has always excited me - I don't know why. Ever since I killed my parents, I've felt like I have to go around killing people, like I'm required to or something. I go deeper into the house; the death smell grows stronger. Suddenly, I hear soft, quiet crying, coming from the house's bedroom. I open the bedroom door and walk in - the girl on the bed doesn't even notice me. She's hunched over a limp body, tears rolling down her cheeks. The body belongs to a boy around her age. I'm guessing it's her boyfriend, or maybe her brother. But who am I to care? This house isn't completely empty. No, there's still someone left. I reach for the knife on my belt and pull it off. I creep towards the girl, slowly raising my knife. I place the blade to the back of her neck. She screams as she feels the cold metal pressing against her skin. She starts to ask, "Who's there?" but I dig the knife into her flesh and she falls over, blood seeping from her neck. She stares up at me, eyes widened with fear, then her eyelids slowly begin to close. After a couple of minutes, the room stinks, and I know she's dead. Both of them are. I go over to the boy's body and inspect him. There's a long, jagged cut on his chest, but I can tell that wasn't the cause of death. It's partially scabbed over, so it must've formed a couple of days ago. There's a fresh wound on the side of his head, though, likely created by a knife or an icepick. I take both of the corpses and lay them on the bed, then pull the blankets over them as if I were tucking them in bed for the night. Then I walk away without a second glance and step out of the house, softly shutting the door behind me. I dust off my black suit and head down towards the central square, where the reapings would begin in about 10 minutes. This has become a normal routine for me. Every reaping day, I would kill someone random on the outskirts of District 1 before going to the reaping. Again, don't ask why I do this. I just like it.

A Peacekeeper pricks my finger, however I barely feel a thing. I stand in the 17 year old male's section and wait patiently. Eventually, the escort arrives and she takes her place up on the stage. She has bright green curls that fall to her shoulders and her silver skin glitters like diamonds. I chuckle half-heartedly to myself. Clever, I guess.

"Welcome, welcome," the escort says excitedly. "To the 93rd annual Hunger Games!" Her words are met with excited cheers, but I remain quiet, even though I'm probably the most excited person there. "Ladies first, shall we?" A bunch of girls start screaming. I can barely hear the name the escort reads from the slip of paper she pulls out over their screaming. One girl, who wasn't busy screaming at the top of her lungs, makes her way up to the stage. "I volunteer," she says. She is already up there when the screaming girls realize that the name was called. They yell at her but she just stands there, a smirk on her face. "And what is your name?" the escort asks her kindly, handing her the microphone.

"Saffron," the girl says. "Saffron Star."

The escort praises her, then goes over to the ball that holds thousands of boys' names. My eyes brighten and I wait, crossing my fingers behind my back. ''Please let it be me. Please let it be me...''

"Dragon Lord."

I let out a sigh of relief, and begin to make my way towards the stage, when I hear someone yell, "I VOLUNTEER!" I turn around, watching as an 18 year old guy runs over to the stage. "You have next year, kid," he says to me. "This is my last year."

I shake my head. "Sorry, kid," I say, mocking him. "But I was reaped. This is my year." When he tries to retort, I wrap both my hands around his neck and twist it. I hear a loud ''SNAP! ''and let go. The boy falls to the ground, his head awkwardly turned to the side. Ask the Peacekeepers rush him to the hospital, I calmly make my way up to the stage, where I scan the audience. They're all staring up at me with horror. Without asking the escort for permission, I take the microphone from her and say, "Dragon Lord, your victor for this year." A few people clap, although they seem unsure. I grin. I'm intimidating; that's good. I turn to face Saffron and kindly hold out my hand for her to shake. She stares at me.

"Shake my hand," I say. She shakes her head, and I laugh. "What, are you scared of me?" I shake my head. "Some Career you are."

Saffron scowls and slams her foot against mine. I yelp loudly, but before I have time to hurt her back, she's already hurrying down the stage and towards the Justice Building. I smile a little. Man, these Games are going to be interesting.

District 2: Lily Moon's POV
Today's the day! I can barely contain my excitement. Ever since I was a little girl, the Hunger Games have been something I've always wanted to do. When I first started watching the Hunger Games, I thought the only way you could participate was if your name was called. I was never that lucky - take prize raffles, for example. I rarely ever win those. So put my name with thousands of other girls, from 12 to 18 years old. My name is only entered seven times. I have a very slight chance of getting picked.

Then my mother explained to me that you could volunteer for another tribute. The process was simple. If someone was reaped, you would simply raise your hand and yell, "I volunteer!" and then YOU would be the tribute for that year, not the person that was reaped. Ever since then, I promised myself that I would volunteer when I was 18.

I'm 18 years old right now. Today's the day.

But, I'm not just doing this because I want to. I mean, it would be great to win the Hunger Games and return home with a truckload of money. I would live in one of the nicest houses ever built, and everyone would respect me. Not that they don't respect me now - I am the most popular girl in school - but you know what I mean. Anyways, I'm also doing this for my deceased friend, Jenny. She was my best friend in the whole world when we were 11 years old. One afternoon, I went to her house to hang out with her, and I found her laying dead on the living room couch. Her parents had beaten her to death. I smiled to myself when they were executed by the Capitol; I know that's a cruel thing to do, but they killed their own daughter, for God's sake. And their daughter was my ''best friend. ''I'm going to volunteer for the Hunger Games this year in Jenny's memory, but also because, when I win, I'm going to give my parents some of the money I get to help them promote their foundation that deals with helping abused kids.

Everyone loved Jenny (except for her parents, obviously). She deserves some credit.

I'm standing in between two of my friends, and I talk excitedly with them. I wear a white flannel dress and my golden hair is curled and bounces so elegantly off of my shoulders. I wait for the reaping to begin in anticipation. I still try to make conversation with my friends, but it's getting harder and harder as I really just want the reapings to begin.

Finally, our escort makes it to the stage. Her name is Vixen. Every year, she dresses in an outfit that gives us a hint about the arena. Last year, she was wearing a sparkling blue dress and a snowflake crown - the arena turned out to be an icy tundra. This year, however, she was just wearing a plain yellow dress.

Huh. That's disappointing. I guess they wanted to keep the arena a huge secret this year.

After what seems like years of her going on and on about the Dark Days and how the Hunger Games came to be, she finally goes over to the girls' ball and selects a name. "H-" She barely gets a name out, when girls start yelling as loud as they possibly can, "I volunteer!" They scramble their way to the stage, and cat fights break out all around. But I'm smart. I slip through the crowd without bothering to fight anyone and I'm the first one at the stage.

"No, I volunteer," I say. The girls below me stare up at me coldly, and I smile smugly. I say my name to the crowd, and then the escort selects the boy's name.

"Jason Black."

Right at that moment, a 17 year old boy calls out, "I volunteer." I watch as a boy with pale skin, black hair, and a scar on his cheek makes his way up to the stage. He would be normal, if not for the fact that he has no eyes. It freaks me out. I recognize him the moment he tells the escort his name. Mason Spartan. I don't let his lack of eyes creep me out too much; after all, I am going to kill him sooner or later. So I straighten my back, turn away from my district partner, and grin at the crowd. They applaud for me. Not him. ''Me. ''I let myself think that, and I assure myself that it's true.

The escort tells us to shake hands. I make a face, and laugh to myself when I know he can't see it. And if he can't see a funny face that I make, then he obviously won't be able to see a tribute coming at him with a weapon, which means he can't win the Hunger Games. Even if he does somehow make it past the bloodbath, he won't win. You know why?

Because I'm going to be the victor of the 93rd Hunger Games.

District 3: Hybrid "The Shadow" Javeline's POV
The Shadow. That's what they call me. It's what they've always called me - 'they' being the people of District 3. They've never told me why that's their nickname for me. Maybe it's because I'm very elegant, and I can hide easily among the shadows. Or maybe it's because I'm cold and dark. I'm practically evil, some would say. I try not to let that word get to me.

They're just jealous that they aren't as good as me.

I walk down to the town square, adjusting the blood red tie on my black suit. Thousands of citizens are filling in their required roped-off sections. I have my finger pricked by a Peacekeeper, before standing in my designated area with a bunch of other 17 year old boys. They all seem very anxious. I'm not, though. I'm calm. I've always been calm, during every single reaping I've been to since I turned 12. It's not likely that I'm going to be reaped. I've never taken tesserae. And even if I am reaped, I know that I definitely have what it takes to win.

The escort, Razor, who wears a bright, sparkly purple suit and silver chains walks up onto the stage. He tells us how the 13 original districts rebelled against the Capitol, then rebelled later on, 75 years later, and called their rebellion the Mockingjay Rebellion. Then he graciously shows us a video from President Snow III, explains the very few rules that you must follow when in the Hunger Games, then finally reaches his light blue hand into the gigantic diamond ball that contains thousands of female names. Razor pulls out a slip and reads it loudly, his voice clear, so that he makes sure everyone can hear. "Kathrin Sandstone," he says. I watch as a cute girl about my age with short brown hair and green eyes nervously makes her way up to the stage. Her cheeks are flushed, and I can see her hands shaking by her side.

"Now for the males, shall we?" Razor says, grinning at the crowd. The boys around me hunch over as they stand. I can see one kid with his fingers crossed behind his back. I, however, slump back in my seat, not the least bit worried.

"Hybrid Javeline," Razor calls out. I freeze in my spot. No...no, that can't be. My name is only in there six times. I've never taken tesserae. How did this happen? How...

"Hybrid Javeline?" Razor repeats. "Come on up; there's no need to be afraid."

I take a deep breath. He's right. There is no need to be afraid. I can win this. I've got what it takes. I can use catclaws. Knives. I'm strong, merciless, agile, and sneaky.

That's why they call me The Shadow.

I rise to my feet, ignoring the sympathetic looks that the other boys shoot me, and walk up to the stage. Obviously, there's still some fear inside of me, but some of it has washed away. I can do this. When Razor orders Kathrin and I to shake hands, she offers me her hand and I take it. I squeeze it so hard that her face turns red. And then, when she passes by me to get into the car that will take us to the Justice Building, I whisper in her ear, "Do you know who I am?"

She looks at me. "Yeah. You're Hybrid Javeline."

I shake my head. "No. That's not me at all."

She tilts her head, confused, and I smile darkly at her.

"I'm The Shadow."

District 4: Lemonade Verandi's POV
''I'm running. Running as fast as I possibly can, the trees passing me in a blur. I try to catch up to him. My enemy. He holds a long knife, and he's chasing my brother. I take a deep breath and quicken my pace. I'm so close to reaching him, so close to being able to slice him open with my trident, when he tackles my brother to the ground. He holds him up and smiles at me, then presses the knife to his throat...''

I jerk awake, sweat rolling down my forehead and cheeks. Sunlight pours in through the window, illuminating the room that my brother Lime and I share. It takes me a few moments to realize what day it is. Reaping day. Volunteering has always been something I wanted to do. I need the money for my family - we're not poor, but we're not exactly the wealthiest family in District 4, either. Plus, my mentor at the training center said that it would be a good idea to volunteer this year. So I am. I'm really excited, but I'm also kind of nervous.

I watch Lime as he wakes up and stretches his arms out above his head. He looks at me for a minute, then his eyes move to the clock above my head, and his eyes widen. "The reapings begin at 2:00, right?" he asks me.

I nod. "Yeah."

He jumps out of bed. "Crap. It's like, 1:05. Why'd we sleep so late?" He dashes into the closet, and comes out wearing a plain button-down and some faded jeans. I change in the bathroom and put on a knee-length turquoise dress and a pair of soft black slippers. I let my green hair hang loosely beneath my shoulders. We eat breakfast as a family; when I'm finished, I check the time again. 1:45. I have like, 15 minutes. I glance at Lime, who's shoveling bacon and eggs down his throat.

"Hey, piglet," I say to him. He looks up at me. "You ready to go?"

He nods and wipes his mouth. He starts out the door and I follow him. We walk together in silence until we reach the town square, then go our separate ways.

When everyone has arrived, the District 4 escort, Tanya Bahamas, struts up onto the stage, wearing a light orange dress that glimmers under the sunlight. She's very pretty, but underneath that fair, flawless skin is a mean old bitch that hates everything and everyone. To prove my point, she goes up to the microphone and says, "Screw this shit, I'm just going to draw the girl's name and get it over with. None of that history crap."

Yes, she's a bit rude, but hey, that's better. I don't have to wait too long. Actually, I just have to stand still for a couple more seconds then I can volunteer. I watch Tanya closely as she puts her hand in the ball and pulls out a slip of paper.

"Hannah Blake."

"I VOLUNTEER!" I yell. Nobody else made a move to hurry to the stage. That's different, but flattering. Everyone knew I was going to volunteer this year. And they wanted me to volunteer; I'm great, and they know I'll return home with the crown. I go up to the stage, and Tanya asks me what my name is.

Ew. I think she spit on me. Gross. But I answer her anyways. "Lemonade Verandi," I say proudly. I make myself appear determined and fearless, when really, every part of me is shaking and I feel like I'm about to pass out. It's not that I'm nervous; I've just never done really well in front of lots of people.

The boys were next. I can't wait to see who my competition is. Tanya draws a slip from the ball. "Christopher-" she begins. I am not surprised when I hear someone yell out, "I volunteer!" I turn my head to the crowd to see who it is,  but I almost wish I hadn't.

The volunteer is my brother.

He comes up onto the stage and tells Tanya his name. "Ooh, sibling rivalry," she purrs. "Excellent! Shake hands, darlings."

Lime turns to me and takes my hand, avoiding my gaze. But I look at him closely. "Why'd you volunteer?" I whisper. "I don't want to kill you."

He sighs. "And I don't want you to die. I have to protect you, Lemon."

I scowl at him. "Idiot. I can protect myself." I slap him on the shoulder and then storm away. But I'm not angry. Just confused. And scared. I'm really, really scared.

I want to win. But I don't want to kill my own brother.

District 5: Martin Meyers' POV
"No, no, this will not do!"

I watch as my mother frantically digs through her closet, throwing dresses that she had designed herself onto the floor. I see a pretty green dress with a purple floral pattern laying on the floor of the closet that she seems to have missed. I go over to it and hold it up. "Mom," I say. She looks at me. "What about this one?"

My mom smiles a little. She takes the dress from me and hangs it back up in the closet. "Thanks for trying to help, Martin, but I don't think I should wear that dress. It probably doesn't fit me anymore; I made it when I was 16." She inspects me carefully. "Plus, you're more important than me right now. The reapings are in one hour and you still look like you just woke up!" She takes me to the bathroom and starts to brush my hair.

"Mom, I can brush my own hair," I tell her. She nods and goes back into her room to look for a dress to wear. I roll my eyes and comb my red hair. When I'm done with that, I quickly brush my teeth and then head into my room, where I find that my dad - also a fashion designer - has laid a fine black tuxedo on my bed for me to wear. I get dressed, then walk back to my mother's room to check up on her. "You find a dress yet?" I ask.

"Yeah. I think I'll wear this one." Mrs. Meyers holds up a slightly frilly sky blue dress. "Go eat breakfast while I get dressed, honey." I bow my head in response and obediently head downstairs and into the kitchen, where I find my 18 year old sister Lauren making toast and scrambled eggs. It takes her a moment to notice me, and when she does, she leaves the steaming food alone for a few minutes and hurries over to me.

"There's my handsome little brother," she says with a smile. She obviously can't help adjusting my tie real quick, then places a kiss on my forehead and goes back to fixing breakfast.

Around 10 minutes later, the food has been made and my mother has finally finished fixing her hair and painting her nails, and doing whatever else it is that women do. My family and I sit down at the table and eat in silence. My father often tries to bring up some new designs that he's been working on, but other than that, the house is quiet. Usually, every member of the family is quite chatty, but not today.

It isn't possible to be chatty on reaping day.

When everyone's stomachs are full, my dad puts the leftovers up, then checks the watch on his wrist. "Reapings start in 20 minutes," he says. "Let's get going." We leave the house together, and walk quietly down to the town square. After I have my finger pricked, I start to head over to the 16 year old boys' section, when Lauren pulls me to the side for a minute and wraps her arms around me.

"I love you," she says.

I sigh. "You're acting as if I've been reaped."

Lauren pulls away from me, and looks me in the eyes. "You might be," is all she says before she walks away. I watch her go, slightly confused, when I feel something slap me across the back. I turn around to see an angry looking Peacekeeper, glaring coldly down at me.

"Go to your damn section," she yells at me. I dip my head and shyly walk over to where the other 16 year olds stand, trying my best to ignore the snickers that I hear from the people that saw the incident. I try not to let them get to me. They wouldn't be laughing if they had been in my position. I stand still, looking downwards, when the District 5 escort, Ramen, finally makes his way up to the stage.

"Welcome to the 93rd Hunger Games," he says. The only sounds of cheering that her words are met with are from the Peacekeepers, and a few claps from the mayor. Everyone else remains silent, staring grimly up at the stage, although I continue to keep my eyes on the ground. Frankly, I don't care about Ramen's 5 foot tall orange hair and bright, cherry red skin. I just don't.

Ramen goes over the concept of the Games and the history of Panem. I'm hugging myself without noticing it, my entire body shaking with fear. Even after not being reaped for five years since I was eligible to compete in the Hunger Games, what Lauren said earlier worried me greatly.

"Ladies first, as always," Ramen says. He pulls out a slip of paper and reads the name in his head before saying it out loud. "Gracie Garret."

I look up when I hear someone cry out in shock. I watch as an 18 year old girl makes her way up to the stage. My eyes widen when I see a bump on her belly. ''Making a pregnant girl go into the Hunger Games? ''I think to myself. That's not right.

Just when she's about to reach the stage, I hear someone yell, "I volunteer!" Ramen has a look of surprise plastered on his face, since District 5 doesn't normally have volunteers. I watch as a girl younger than Gracie runs up the the stage. She throws her arms around Gracie and tells her to go find their mother and father. This girl is obviously her sister. But isn't the older sister usually the one that volunteers for the younger one?

"Well, that's quite a surprise," Ramen says cheerfully. He takes the girl's arm and helps her up onto the stage. "And what's your name, dear?"

"E-Eliza Garret," the girl says. She's shaking with fear and she looks like she's about to cry, but she straightens her back and attempts to smile a bit.

"That was your sister, I'm guessing?" Ramen asks. Eliza nods, and he chuckles. "Well, good thing you volunteered. A pregnant girl would be quite useless in the Games." Eliza glares coldly at him, and he hurries over to the other ball, afraid Eliza will twist his head off or something. He draws out a slip of paper with a boy's name printed on it. "Martin Meyers!"

Suddenly, I feel like the whole world freezes just then. I look up slowly, and every other person in the square turn their heads to stare at me. I can faintly hear my parents crying and begging for my life, but I barely pay them any mind. The person I focus on his Lauren. She's standing with the other 18 year olds, frozen in place. She's sobbing because she can't volunteer for me. I feel like crying, too.

I can't do this, I think. ''I CAN'T DO THIS! ''

Without realizing it, I leap out of my spot and try to run away. I know I'll get myself killed for this, but I can't go in the Hunger Games. I hear my mom screaming at the top of her lungs, telling me to stop running, but I ignore her. I shove past other kids who watch me run with widened eyes. That's when I feel a sharp, burning pain in my leg, and fall over. A Peacekeeper had shot me in the leg to get me to stop running. I feel tears roll down my cheeks and I try to get up on all fours and scramble away, but my leg hurts too much. The Peacekeeper drags me to the stage by the collar of my shirt. I recognize her as the mean lady that yelled at me earlier. She throws me onto the stage and I lay there, paralyzed with fear, before everything turns black.

District 6: Ava Poppythorne's POV
Fate and cruelty. They're like brothers. Twins, actually. Fate is cruel. It has always been cruel, and it always will be. For me, at least. Fate graciously decided that it would kill my parents several years ago. Fate also thought it would be cool to have me be captured by the Capitol and forced to go into the Games when I was 16. Fate has been an enemy of all human beings since the beginning of time. If it weren't for fate, there wouldn't even be a Hunger Games. Who agrees with me?

I'm sitting on the window-sill, staring out into the forest that lays beyond my small house that my sister and I live in. I'm playing with a small gold ring, twirling it and rubbing it in between my fingers. I hear a door open and close, and I watch as my little sister Herbert walks into the room. I've been taking care of Herbert ever since our parents died. She means the world to me, and if it weren't for the Capitol, I would definitely stay here with her and take good care of her. She's so young, so innocent. But I have to volunteer. And she's going to have to live in the foster home for a few weeks.

"I can't believe the Capitol is making you do this," she whispers to me. I sigh and hug her.

"Me neither." I frown. "Fate is cruel," I say grimly, using the phrase that people in the district have heard me say often. I sit with Herbert, hugging her for several long, minutes. The few moments of time that I can share with her in peace before I'll have to leave District 6, either for a few weeks or forever.

"Hey," I say quietly. I look down at Herbert and smile gently. "There's no need to worry. I'm going to come home, okay?"

Herbert just sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "Promise?"

I nod. "I promise." I glance at the golden ring that is still in my hand, and I give it to her. "I want you to have this," I tell her. "It's one of the rings that I've found in the soil." Herbert is the only one that knows about the riches I discover when I explore the woods. She takes it gratefully and slips it on one of her chubby fingers.

"We should get going," I say quietly, after a few minutes of silence. Herbert nods, and I help her up out of her seat. We walk down to the town square together. Herbert is only 10, not yet old enough to be reaped, so she doesn't have to have her finger pricked. I place a kiss on her cheek, and assure her that I'll be fine. She hurries over to where the citizens not eligible to be reaped are told to stand. She goes to the front of the roped-off section so that she can see that stage better. A Peacekeeper takes my finger and pricks it. He inspects me carefully, then smiles slowly when he sees who I am. "Avala Poppythorne," he purrs. "Pleasure to have you here."

I shyly hurry away from him and over to the 16 year olds section, where I stand in between two nervous looking girls. I, of course, am nervous also, but I try not to let it show. Nervous people don't usually volunteer. Instead, I try to keep an emotionless expression as I gaze at the stage, waiting for the reapings to begin.

The District 6 escort comes up onto the stage. Her skin is dyed bubblegum pink (it was light blue last year) and she's wearing a neon green bikini. I don't wonder why. The citizens of the Capitol are very strange. The moment I say the word "Capitol" in my mind, my face slowly transforms into a small scowl.

They say the most colorful things are usually the darkest at heart. Well, maybe it's just me that says that, but still. It's true.

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the 93rd annual Hunger Games!" says the escort, Bianca. Her voice is high and squeaky, and she's waaayy too excited. "As you all know, the Hunger Games is the outcome of the Dark Days, when the 13 districts rebelled against the Capitol..." Blah, blah, blah. I'm sure you know the rest. I wait impatiently, tapping my foot against the ground, when Bianca finally comes to a conclusion, and she says, "As always, ladies first!" She draws a slip of paper from a large glass ball. Whether that slip of paper reads my name or not, I still ready myself to jump out into the aisle and go on up to the stage.

"Tara Beatrix."

"I volunteer," I say shyly. Gasps rise from the crowd. Tara Beatrix is one of the most popular girls at my school, and everyone knows she doesn't have a sister that would volunteer for her. Maybe it's one of her friends, I'm sure they're wondering. I know I'm going to surprise them when I head up onto the stage, and the next set of gasps are even louder. Is that Ava Poppythorne? they're all thinking. The girl who's parents were executed by the Capitol?

Bianca smiles at me and puts an arm around my shoulder. "A volunteer! We don't get those everyday." She hands me the microphone. "And what might your name be, dear?"

"Avala Poppythorne," I say in response. I take a step back so that Bianca can pick the boy's name. While I wait, I anxiously bite my fingernails, barely realizing that I'm actually doing it. It's a bad habit of mine, but it helps me think.

"Connor Houck," Bianca says. I watch my new district partner closely as he makes his way up to the stage. He has muddy blonde hair and freckles that dot his face like sprinkles on a cake. He smiles even though he's obviously on his way to his death, and I can't help but presume he's idiotic and childish. When Bianca tells us to shake hands, he extends his hand towards me and grins, showing two rows of pearly white teeth. My hands don't budge from where they hang by my sides. I stare at Connor, inspecting him carefully. He looks a bit wimpy, but his legs are actually well built, giving the idea that he's pretty fast. He might be a good ally to have in the Games, but who's to say if he's trustworthy or not? And he might prove to be a distraction.

And I just can't take my eyes off his damn clown nose.

District 7: Kota Jimslim's POV
''The girl is running, running as fast as she can, as buildings topple over behind her. The once fascinating city was now a mountain of rubble. She was breathing heavy, but she refused to stop running. There was one tribute left, but she wasn't focused on killing him right now. She just wanted to get out of the falling city - alive.''

''Just then, she flew through the air and hit the ground, the remaining tribute on top of her. He grinned at her and raised his sword. She begged for him to stop, but he deliberately ignored her pleas, and plunged the sword into her chest.''

My girlfriend, Madyline, pries the TV remote out of my hand and turns off the re-runs of the 91st Hunger Games that I had been watching. She turns to face me, her hands on her hips. "You're obsessed," she says flatly.

I shake my head. "I'm just observing what the victors did in order to win," I tell her. "I could be reaped this year; you never know."

She sits down next to me and rests her head on my shoulder. "I hope you aren't," she says quietly. I sigh and pull her closer to me in a reassuring embrace.

"Yeah, let's hope I'm not," I say. I kiss her gently, although I part from her only a few seconds later when I hear my younger sister yell, "EWWW!" from the kitchen. I hear Madyline grumble something under her breath, something like, "Snobby little girl." I shoot her a glare, and she shrugs. "I know you love your sister, Kota, but you need to tell her not to interrupt our lovely, romantic moments, like the one we were just having."

"Fine." I storm into the kitchen and look down at Addie. "Can you not be so damn immature for once in your life?" I snap. "You're gonna wanna kiss boys later on, you know."

Addie sticks her tongue out. "No way! Boys are gross!" She shoves a handful of potato chips into her mouth.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for the reapings, anyways?" I ask, taking the bowl of chips from her. She reaches into the bowl and quickly takes another handful of chips before skipping down the hallway and into the room. I sigh and take the bowl back into the TV room, only to find one of the other kids that live in the group home, Derrick, flirting with Madyline. My girlfriend is looking at him with a disgusted look on her face, but I'm bothered by what I'm seeing nonetheless. I walk over to them and slap Derrick's shoulder.

"Go get your own girlfriend," I snarl. "And don't mess with mine."

"I was just asking her about the science homework that's due next week, sheesh," he says. Ha! Like I'd ever believe that. I spin around and look at Madyline. "Is that true?"

Madyline opens her mouth to reply, when the owner of the group home tells everyone to form a single file line. "The reapings are going to begin very soon," she announces. I shoot one last intimidating glare at Derrick, before taking Madyline's hand and stepping into the line with her. I don't even know where the fuck Addie is. "ADDIE!" I yell. "GET YOUR FACE OUT OF THOSE POTATO CHIPS!"

Addie barges out of her room, wearing a sunset orange dress. "I wasn't eating any freaking potato chips, gosh," she retorts, rolling her eyes. She slips into the line with her little group of friends and begins to chat with them.

"What do you think she's going to be like when she grows up?" I ask Madyline.

"Well, she did tell you she wasn't interested in boys," Madyline says with a giggle. "So maybe she's going to be a crazy cat lady or something." This statement cheers me up a bit. After everyone has gathered together, the owner of the group home takes us down to the town square. Once we're there, we all separate from each other to go off to our designated roped-off sections. I kiss Madyline quickly before hurrying to get my finger pricked. Who would've known that kiss would be our last?

"Ladies first," I hear the escort say, after she had finished rattling on and on about what the escorts are told to say to us before the legit reapings actually begin. She pulls a slip of paper out of a glass ball and reads it in her exotic Capitol accent. "Mary-Ann Hunter! Congratulations!"

Congratulations? Why would you say that? You've picked a tribute to be sent off to their death. A frail girl with wavy blonde hair and light blue eyes nervously makes her way up to the stage. Damn, she's hot. My eyes flicker over to where Madyline stands, and she's glaring at me. Oops. Guess she saw me staring at that Mary-Ann chick.

She won't be able to get in a huge fight with me though, because a very familiar name rings through the air. "Kota Jimslim!" the escort says. "Interesting surname, Kota!" Madyline's glare has turned into a look of shock and fear. Even Addie, who was screaming at me just ten minutes ago, is now sobbing into her friend's shoulder.

Crap. Wow, okay. Didn't expect this. And to make matters worse, I would've been able to get a new house next year. Well, either I return home and get an even better house in the Victor's Village, or I die in the Hunger Games. I'm not weak. I can do this. For Addie. For Madyline. For District 6, and for my parents that were turned into avoxes years ago.

...When did I get so soft?

I walk up to the stage, my arms and legs shivering with fear, but I keep a straight face and I grin proudly at the crowd. They look up at me, confused. The escort tells Mary-Ann and I to shake hands, and I do. I take her hand in mine and I wink at her. She blushes and looks away from me. My eyes then move to the crowd, where I see that Madyline is once again glaring. Just before we're taken off to the Justice Building, I yell, "I promise I'll win for you, Mady!" and she starts crying again. I had no idea my girlfriend was so damn moody.

District 8: Galina Kiltova's POV
I'm sure no one has felt pain as great as I. Plenty of people in Panem have lost a sibling or a friend to the shadows of the Hunger Games, I'm sure, but not one has witnessed betrayal and murder on a bright silver TV screen in the same way I have. As I stand among about a hundred other 14 year old girls, waiting patiently for the reapings to begin, the memory of Clefter's death comes flooding back to me.

. ..

''"Congratulations to the final five of the 89th annual Hunger Games!" Head Gamemaker Rowanne Ambrose's voice boomed, her voice echoing throughout the entire arena. "The Games are coming to an end, but they're not over just yet. Please continue with the bloodshed and we absolutely can't wait to see the one that remains standing!" A clicking sound signaled that she was done speaking. The remaining Careers exchanged glances.''

''"Well," said Clefter. "I guess it's time our alliance splits up now." Her allies nodded in agreement. Clefter gathered her share of the supplies and bid farewell to the girl from 1 and the boy from 2. "Good luck, guys," she said, before heading off into the woods. The other two watched her go in silence. "Good luck, Clefter," the girl from 1 called.''

''Not too long after Clefter started to leave, 1 and 2 looked at each other, nodded, and grinned maliciously. The girl from 1 leaped into the air and tackled Clefter to the ground, while the boy from 2 wrapped both hands around her neck. "We're true Careers," he whispered in her ear. "We don't just let our allies go safely."''

''Clefter started wheezing. "You're going to hell," she rasped. The girl from 1 grinned.''

''"Well, I guess we'll see you there," she purred. She nodded to the other Career, and cleanly snapped her neck with a flick of his wrists.''

. ..

A shiver runs down my spine as I remember how shocked I had been when Clefter died. Nobody knew we were related. We were both separated at a young age when our father got a job as a Peacekeeper and was moved to District 4. Clefter's death didn't only surprise me, but it left the entire continent of Panem in a state of shock. She was so strong, so powerful, and she was the Capitol's favorite to win. Her odds of winning were 3-1, and she received a whopping training score of 11. After I cried my eyes out for weeks straight, I suddenly felt angry. Like I wanted to personally storm the Career districts and kill each and every person living there. It's not fair that the girl from 1 stepped out of that arena victorious. It should've been Clefter. Ever since her death, I've wanted revenge on the Careers. And if I am to be reaped today, I'll make sure that the Careers stain the grass red beneath my axe.

The District 8 escort, Shiver, struts up to the stage, his nose pointing towards the sky as if he owns the place. He could've been born in some place other than the Capitol, as he has tanned skin and shoulder-length brown hair, however is pursed lips are an unusual white and he gazes at the crowd with blood red cat eyes. He smiles cheerfully at us. "Welcome, one and all, to the District 8 reapings of the 93rd Hunger Games!" he yells out in his thick Capitol accent. When his mouth opens, you can see two pointy, bloodstained fangs that stick out of his gums. Either he likes his steak rare, or that's fake blood. How should I know? People from the Capitol are freaks.

I don't seem to realize that I'm dozing off a bit until Shiver finishes his speech about the Dark Days and announces, "Time to pick the girl tribute!" I watch, interested in seeing who's going to be one of the District 8 representatives for this year. I'm not worried about getting reaped myself - I mean, I've never taken tesserae, and my name has only been entered 3 times. And there are thousands of other girls that are just my age in District 8. It's more likely to be Sandy Burlow from my school; she's 18, and she's taken the tesserae for her six younger sisters, so it can't-

"Galina Kiltova!" Shiver says. My eyes widen. Is it really...? No, I must be hearing things. It was someone else. Someone with a name similar to mine, and I just heard it wrong.

But by the way everyone turns their heads to look at me, I know I'm the one that's been reaped. I sigh. Well, there's nothing I can do about it, is there? Plus, this might actually be a good thing. This will be the only chance I have to avenge Clefter's death - even if it means dying while trying. I make my way up to the stage, putting on a proud, determined expression for the cameras. I stand beside Shiver, straightening my back, and watch him while he reaches his hand into a separate diamond bowl and pulls out a slip of paper that reads, "Nile Flame!"

I scan the audience, trying to find this Nile kid. He looks pretty average, and he blends in with the other boys his age, but I can easily tell he's the one that's been reaped because his thin body is shaking with fear and his face is beet red. He shyly makes his way up to the stage, his head facing towards the ground. When he's standing beside us, Shiver inspects us carefully, then says, "Please give a hand for this year's District 8 tributes!" A few people clap half-heartedly, while I can hear some soft crying near the back of the square, probably belonging to whoever Nile lives with or my mother. Shiver tells us to shake hands, and we do. Nile looks so shy, so helpless. I feel a bit sorry for him, but I instantly shove my sympathy for my new district partner out of my mind.

These Games are all about me. It's me that's going to return home, not Nile. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that happens.

District 9: Oliver Hemmingway's POV
"Who's Oliver Hemmingway?"

"He looks familiar, but my memory of him is very vague."

"Guys, remember? He's the guy that killed his own parents."

I feel like crying. Not only was I reaped for the Hunger Games, but everyone knew who I was and that I am the reason my parents were killed two years ago. I remember that I was the smartest kid in my class, and all of my teachers loved me. I promised them I would create the most amazing science fair project in history. Well, it was definitely amazing, and definitely one to be remembered, but it left the school in ruins, the burned corpses on my parents underneath...

. . . 2 hours earlier . ..

I'm wandering around the busy streets of District 9 - people are rushing around to get things done before the reapings begin, and the town square is very noisy and clustered. I decide to leave the square and walk down to the edge of District 9, where the grain fields are. The fields have always been the place where I can feel at peace. Normally, I'm stuck at the foster home, since my parents are...not around, I guess you could say, and I'm surrounded by loud, bossy other kids all day long.

Before I reach the grain fields, something else catches my eye. It's a ruined building that hasn't been paid attention to in ages. I go closer to it, and my heart breaks when I realize what it is. I see a metal plate sticking out of the ground that used to hang above the doorway. On it reads Jonathon H. Nine Middle School - the school that I used to attend. I drop to my knees and bury my face in my hands. This is where the accident happened. It's where I brought in my science fair project and started to show my teachers how it worked, how cool it was. But it shorted out... a fire started to spread, and my teachers frantically searched for a phone to call the Peacekeepers on, but the fire was spreading ''fast. ''I was able to jump out through a window along with some of the other students and a few teachers, but everyone else burned to death. I was thinking to myself, ''At least I'm safe, and my parents are safe... That's when I remembered that my parents had been watching ''me demonstrate my science project. I watched a group of Peacekeepers drag out of the bodies of the victims. I saw my dad first, and then my mom...

I had killed my own parents.

Nobody would ever understand what I went through. It's not everday an innocent young child kills his own parents by accident, and then he starts to become to shadow of District 9. The person that everyone avoids.

I lift my head out of my hands and wipe the tears from my eyes. Then I adjust the tie on my suit and make my way back down to the town square, where I walk around, lost in thought, until 15 minutes before the reapings begin. My finger is pricked and I sit down with the other 15 year old boys. The ones near me slowly scoot away. I'm slightly offended, but those actions are expected. I would also scoot away from a murderer if I were them.

The escort comes out, and she talks about the origin of the Hunger Games and excitedly shows us a video that was delivered from President Snow III. Then she reads the female tribute's name. "Kassidy Feekes."

I watch as a pale girl with brown hair and freckles, probably around 16 years old, nervously makes her way up to the stage. Once she's there, she stands very still as if she is a statue, her eyes wide.

"Now for the male tribute," the escort says, after giving Kassidy a reassuring pat on the back. She draws a slip of paper from the males' glass ball. "Oliver Hemmingway," she calls out.

It's as if the world stops spinning just then. The atmosphere is extremely quiet for a few moments, when I hear a few people speak up.

"Who's Oliver Hemmingway?" somebody asks. The boy on my right pushes me out into the aisle so that everyone can see me. I hear a few people gasp.

"He looks familiar," a girl replies. "But my memory of him is very vague."

"Guys, remember?" someone yells. "He's the guy that killed his own parents."

People start muttering thoughtfully about the fire that occured two years ago, as if I'm not even there. I quickly hurry on up to the stage and take my place beside Kassidy. When we're told to shake hands, she looks at me with a worried expression.

"I'm not who you think I am," I say to her. "I promise."

She just shakes her head in disgusts and walks away without bothering to take my hand and shake it. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and die. I didn't mean to kill my parents!

District 10: Holly Wintercrest's POV
''Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. ''I watch the clock intently, my foot tapping against the ground in anticipation. ''Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. ''Usually the sound of a ticking clock helps me think better. I don't know why - just having something else in the background, like a soft, rythmic noise, is better than complete silence.

The sounds of my house clock are interrupted when the tall clock standing in town square rings out loudly, signaling that it is a quarter before 2 o'clock. A quarter before the reapings. I sigh, and bring my knees up to my chest, then I begin to softly rock back and forth. I'm only 15 years old. Whenever my sister Seline, sees that I'm nervous, she points out that I'm very young and it's not likely for me to get picked. But she's much younger than I am, too young to understand. You all know what the tesserae is, I'm assuming? Seline just thinks it's something that the older kids do in order to get food for their family. But it's much more complicated than that. After I began taking the tesserae, I have had my name entered much more times than typical 15 year old girls. Sometimes I hate myself for taking the tesserae in the first place. I'm putting my life closer to danger, every single year. I mean, I'm very talented with throwing knives. Most of the food my family eats comes from the forest outside of our district anyways. The food that I catch. However, I found out that I was able to sneak into the forest after I took the tesserae.

My mom comes into my room, interrupting my thoughts. She smiles gently at me, and lays a mint green dress out on the bed for me to wear. I quickly bathe and then slip my skin into the soft, silky fabric. I head downstairs, where I find my parents and Seline, all waiting patiently for me.

"Let's go," my dad says. We start out the door and quietly walk together to the town square, where the reapings are going to be held. I hold Seline's hand so that she doesn't wander off. She's quite adventurous and outgoing, the opposite of me, and she'll talk to anyone, whether that person be someone from her school or a Peacekeeper.

To prove my point, when we pass by the train that came from the Capitol, Seline waves to the District 10 escort, Trinity, who's just stepped out. "Hi Trinity!" she yells. Trinity smiles at my sister but I can tell it's forced. One time, when Caesar Flickerman was interviewing Trinity on TV, she told him that she hated kids but her boss told her to put on a sweet act for the younger citizens of District 10. Around the tributes my age and older, she's snobby and mean, and she doesn't care about people's feelings.

I gently yank on Seline's arm. "Come on, Sel," I whisper to her. She starts bothering me, asking ever so dramatically why she can't say hi to other people and just live her life. All I do is roll my eyes and continue to walk. Over the years, I've learned how to ignore Seline. Not all the time, of coruse, but I ignore her when she's acting like a total drama queen.

My family and I finally reach the square, after a long walk from the outskirts of District 10 where we live to town, which is right in the middle. I wait in line to have my finger pricked. When I reach the front, the Peacekeeper roughly yanks my hand towards her and pricks my finger. "Next," she grumbles. I bring the now red area on my finger to my lips to keep it from throbbing. It hurts way less than a small paper cut, but this is only my fourth reaping and I still have to get used to it.

I shyly make my way over to my roped off section, where I stand in between two girls from my school. I watch as some of the girls meet up with their friends and stand by them, chatting to them before the reapings begin. I, however, have no one to talk to. I just stand there, playing with a loose piece of thread that's hanging off of my dress. I've always been a loner, mainly just because I prefer to keep to myself most of the time. My only friend is Drake, a 16 year old boy that I met while I was hunting in the woods. He's the only other person I know of that goes there. My eyes search for him, but I don't have much time to look because the reapings begin just a few seconds later. Trinity gleefully exclaims the line that all escorts are told to say: "Welcome, welcome, to the 93rd annual Hunger Games!" She flips her bubblegum-pink hair out of her face and beams at the crowd. "Don't you all just love the Hunger Games?" She giggles. She obviously knows that District 10 is more of a rebel district, and she understands that all of us (or most of us, at least) hate the idea of the Hunger Games with every fiber of our soul. But she talks about how interesting and inspiring they are anyway.

After a brief introduction, she gradually turns into her normal self. "Now," she says. "You all know how this begins and ends. 13 districts foolishly rebelled against the Capitol, the people that loved them and cared for them dearly. I mean, how can you guys be such idiots? Sure, you had to pay taxes and work hard to recieve food and supplies from the Capitol, but didn't you have to do that before they took over? Seriously. I'm sure you know what happens next. The districts - weaklings, you all were - fell to the wrath of the Capitol, or so you all say. We don't really have a wrath. We just care about training and fighting, because what if we're sucked into another war?" She puts her hands on her hips. "That's why I like the Career districts better than you guys. Seriously, I'm super jealous of Vixen and Tanya for getting to be the escorts of districts 2 and 4. They actually want to train for the Hunger Games. They're smart - they know they have a pretty fucking high chance of getting reaped and they're gonna want to know how to fight and protect themselves. I especially love the people who volunteer. It's good to want to bring honor to your district. Not like you, District 10. Don't you want that? Don't you want to be bathed in riches? I know I would. But nooo, you would just prefer to live the slobby life of working with noisy chickens and cow shit all day long. Disgusting."

I tune Trinity out as she continues to blab on and on and on. I begin listening again when I see her head over to a gigantic glass ball. Tiny slips of paper are filled to the top and are close to overflowing. So many slips. So many girls in District 10. I have a tiny chance of getting reaped. I keep telling myself this, and I feel a bit better. "And the girl tribute for this year is..." Trinity opens the small, folded piece of paper. "Holly Wintercrest."

Dizziness. That's the sensation I'm feeling when Trinity calls my name. Like I'm going to fall over and pass out. Me? How was it me? That's when I remember - I took the tesserae. I have a higher chance of getting reaped than all the 16 and 17 year olds combined. I take a deep breath in through my nose, and let it out through my mouth. I force myself to step out into the aisle and begin walking towards the stage.

"Holly, wait!"

I turn around, my eyes widening a bit when I see Drake running towards me. He grabs my shoulders and I tell him to go sit back down. I don't want him to get carried away by the Peacekeepers.

"Holly, just let me do this real fast," Drake says to me. Before I can ask what he wants to do, he kisses me. Gasps rise from the crowd, and my heart quickens. I'm so confused, yet excited and happy at the same time. But also sad. Did he really think it would be okay to kiss me, right before I'm sent off to my possible death? Now I'm going to miss him so badly while I'm in the arena. And it's not good to be distracted while-

My thoughts are interrupted when Drake pulls away from me and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a silver locket, and opens it, showing a picture that him and I took together. He puts the locket around my neck and hugs me tightly. "I love you, Holly," he says quietly. "Win for me."

And just like that, he's gone, heading back into the guy's section. It's as if that was all just a dream.

People in the audience are staring at me. Some of the popular girls from my school are giggling. I blush madly and hurry up to the stage. Trinity looks at me and grins. "Well. That was...interesting." She chuckles a bit, then draws the boy's name. "Maiko Fornis," she says.

I watch as a young, dark-skinned boy steps out of the 13 year olds section. I recognize him. He's a total nerd at my school. I'm not like any popular girl, though, and I don't judge him. He nervously comes up to the stage, and I feel bad for him when I see tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He turns his body and faces the crowd. Then, for some reason, the audience starts to clap. Some people even cheer for him. Either they're excited that a nerd like him is going off to his death, or I haven't been paying attention much and he's greatly respected by the people of District 10 or something. Either way, it confuses me.

I shake Maiko's hand, giving the poor boy a reassuring squeeze. He looks at me and smiles a little, as if saying thanks for the small act of kindness that I showed. Then, Trinity leads us into the Justice Building.

District 11: Scorch Flare's POV
Everyone calls me a badass. When I was younger, I was considered a mistake, the kid my parents would be embarrassed to have. Those people were wrong. They're fucking idiots and they don't understand that my parents love me. Even though they love my brothers, Jimmy and Hontri better, they still love me. I have to remind myself that. Whenever I'm causing trouble in some way or another, I remind myself that my parents will still love me even if I get in big trouble some way or another. Little did I know that what I got into three hours before the reapings for the 93rd Hunger Games could possibly cost me my life.

I found a bomb. Don't ask me how I got it, because I'm not going to tell you. I took the bomb and I snuck it into the Peacekeepers' quarters. I'm such a badass. This is so damn scary for me but when I walk out of the quarters, the timer on the bomb slowly ticking down to zero, I can't help but feel super proud of myself. I might go to hell for doing this, but the Peacekeepers will be in hell first. They deserve to be blown up. Plus, you only live once, right?

I duck behind a tree and wait for the bomb to go off, counting down in my head. 5, 4, 3, 2... I cross my fingers behind my back, praying that the bomb will work, and it does. An explosion forms inside the quarters and a fire spreads throughout the inside and around the outside of it. I hurry back home, chuckling quietly to myself, then slip inside my house as if nothing is wrong. My mom sees how dirty my brand new suit is, and she sighs. "Scorch, I just bought that." She wipes off the dirt and holds me firmly in place. "I want you to stay right here until the reapings. Okay?"

"Okay," I respond. She nods and continues to make breakfast, when a loud crashing sound catches my attention. I spin around and watch as the Head Peacekeeper knocks down the door and storms into my house, angrily looking around.

"Where's the boy?!" he screams. He sees me, and I swear I can  see steam coming out of his ears. He yanks me upwards by the collar of my shirt. "You," he hisses. "YOU BLEW UP MY HEADQUARTERS!"

"Oh," I say, calmly crossing my arms. "Those belonged to you?"

He seethes at me. "You're coming with me, boy." He takes me out of the house, ignoring my mother as she begs for him to put me down. The Peacekeeper slams the door of my house and tosses me into his car, where I black out.

. ..

My eyes open. I find myself in a dusty cell, laying on a dirty cot. I sit up, frowning when I see the Peacekeeper, staring coldly at me from the outside of the cell. "You're awake," he says.

"Yeah." I fold my arms over my chest. "What are you going to do with me? Kill me?"

The Peacekeeper laughs. "Oh, no. No, I'm going to do something much worse than that." He steps into the cell and pokes my chest. "Listen, boy, if you ever want to see your parents again, you're going to volunteer for the Hunger Games this afternoon. Understood?"

A shiver runs down my spine. "What if I refuse? Are you just going to keep me here?"

He laughs. "No. If you refuse to volunteer, I'm going to take you to hell." He grins at me. My eyes widen; I don't have to ask what he means by hell. I ''know. ''He means the prison in the Capitol. Where they torment your mind with tracker jacker juice and whip you and cut your skin open little by little...

Yeah, I'd rather volunteer for the Hunger Games.

The Peacekeeper leaves and I sit alone until a different Peacekeeper comes and gets me, telling me that the reapings are going to begin soon. I get in the car, and she drives us down to the town square. I get out, have my finger pricked, and stand in the 18 year old guy's section. I'm standing there for a long time - since I came with the Peacekeepers, I'm like, the first one in the square. Eventually, though, more people begin to fill in, and soon enough, everyone's here and the reapings begin. The escort jumps up and down on the stage, her icy blue pigtails bouncing in sync with her body. Man, she's excited. "Welcome, one and all, to the 93rd annual Hunger Games!" she chirps. She talks about the history of Panem that I've heard oh so many times, and finishes off with, "The Hunger Games are an event where a young man and woman are picked to represent their district in the honor of competiting in the annual Hunger Games, where they will fight against 22 other tributes from 11 other districts to the death until only one tribute remains and is crowned victorious. They are then bathed in riches and taken back home to their family and friends." She sticks her hand into a diamond ball. "Will one of District 11's tributes be this year's victor?" She pulls out a card and reads it. "Violette Meadow!"

A small girl steps out into the aisle, and all I want to do at that moment is reach up and snap our escort's head clean off. Violette is ''12. ''12 year olds should NOT be forced to go into the Hunger Games. They're so young, so innocent. It should be 15 to 18, if you ask me, not 12 to 18. Actually, it should be no Hunger Games at all. If you know what I mean.

I feel relieved for the little girl when someone yells out, "I volunteer!" A 17 year old makes her way up to the stage, but Violette steps to the side, blocking her path.

"Thanks," she says, "but no thanks. This is the only chance I'll have to get revenge on..." She trails off for a moment, then speaks up again. "Revenge on District 4." The 17 year old sits back down and Violette heads on up to the stage. When she turns and faces the crowd, I recognize her, but I can't tell where from.

"And now for the boys," the escort says. She pulls a slip of paper out of the second diamond ball. "Thomas Monk."

"....I volunteer." I ignore the surprised faces that turn my way. I just hurry up to the stage and face them, a proud, determined look on my face. I notice the Peacekeeper in the back, who nods at me and gives me a thumbs up. But I don't care about him. The people I focus mostly on are my family. My mother is crying and my dad looks shocked and angry. Shocked that I would volunteer, angry at the Peacekeepers for making me volunteer, I'm assuming. But I just stand there, staring at the crowd, not nervous at all. Well, maybe I am a bit nervous. But I know I can win. I've done dangerous things before, and if I want to return home to my family, I can win.

I can prove to that old ass Peacekeeper that I am not the one to be messed with. And when I come back, I'll kill him personally.

This makes me even more determined to return home.

When the escort tells us to shake hands, I turn to face Violette, and suddenly remember why she seems familiar. Her brother fought in a Hunger Games two years ago, but he died in the top three, killed by the two District 4 tributes. I guess that's why she said she was going to get revenge on District 4. Violette doesn't seem scared, however - not like most 12 year olds. She stares up at me with a fierce glow in her eyes, and there is an extremely confident expression on her face. I admire her determination, but I admire mine more.

I know this is cruel to say; I mean, she is only 12 years old. But District 11 is going to have a victor this year. And it's going to be me.