HELLO HUNGER GAMES FANDOM! I AM SILENT, ANd the caps lock was on, I apologize. ^^" I read all of the trilogy but Mockingjay, which I am in the middle of obtaining so I can read it. So...read on.

Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns all but Marissa, Mike, and her parents, who are MINE.

When I woke up on that day, the day that I dreaded most ever since last year, the room I'm in is empty. My parents were probably trying to find something to eat that wasn't rotten or stale. I shook my head, ridding it of the thoughts and memories of the 73rd Hunger Games, and got dressed so I could go run. Every day I run all around the Seam so I could just collect my thoughts and stretch my legs. Stretch—bad choice of words; made me remember him, and in a bad way too. My mother stops me at the door before I could go and get all sweaty like I do every day, and pushes me back inside. Because this isn't any other normal day—this is the day of the reaping.

The reaping is the day that the Capitol picks "one courageous man and woman to compete in the annual Hunger Games!" More like pick two children to be in a bloody fight to the death. Last year, my best friend was reaped, Mike Jackson. He died in the carnage, and I was forced to watch as he was brutally murdered by the winning tribute of the game. Ever since then I've had a very large hatred for the Capitol. Mike was the only true friend I had—sure, I knew other people, such as Katniss Everdeen and Madge Undersee, but I never really knew them. I'm not the most social person. Mike and I were friends only because he practically forced us to be friends. Although I accept that he's died, I still sometimes imagine what he would do or say in some situation.

"Marissa," my mother begged, "please don't run today. You won't have time to get ready for the reaping."

"Mom," I said, looking her dead in the eye. "Why would I want to look good for the reaping? If I get picked I'll get killed anyway!"

"Don't talk like that!" My father warned. "If you do get reaped then you want to look good for the Capitol people to get sponsors so that you will win the Hunger Games." We all know that's a lie, Dad. Sponsors didn't help Mike.

The way they were glaring at me made me stop. They wanted to protect me, not make me miserable. "Alright," I sighed, putting back my running shoes. "Alright." My parents know that the reaping system is unfair, with the poor getting the worst of it. We get tesserae by adding in my name extra times—tesserae is adding your name into the reaping extra times to get a years supply of grain and oil for one person. I lost count of how many I have in there this year, seeing as my memory is such a bitch. Both my parents work in the coal mines, but my parents push me to add my name in so that we don't starve. They think I have a good chance of winning. I know otherwise.

My mother already had a dress picked out for me. It was a simple white dress with a square neckline, and it went down to my knees. It was a very simple and plain dress, matched with the same shade of white shoes, and it contrasted with my tanned complexion, making it seem very pretty. "You look beautiful," she breathed.

"Thank you," I said smiling. I kissed her on the cheek and head over to the table to eat some of the small amount of bread that we bought just for today. My parents are barely eating, and I'm afraid that anything I eat will just come right back up, but I eat as much as I can handle anyways. I don't want it to go to waste, my parents spent good money on it.

At one I leave for the square. I give one last hug to my parents before going off to sign in and head over to my section. I'm sent into my age's section, and I stare at my shoes. While ignoring the video that plays, I can imagine Mike laughing at me for being so worried, saying that there's one in a billion chance that I'd be picked. I can also see his laughing face being grim in the Justice Building as we talked and said our goodbyes. He tried to win, as he promised—he was like a big brother to me—but failed. The last image that flashes in my mind is the look of horror on the screen that I saw as he was killed by a knife to his throat before I hear the sickeningly bubbly voice of Effie Trinket.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She beamed. I take a deep breath—the odds are a bit more in my favor seeing as I only have twenty drawings and not fifty or so. "Ladies first," she said as she always did, and crosses over to the bowl filled with the names of all the girls between the ages of twelve and eighteen. I look over to the twelve-year-olds and pray that it isn't one of them—twelve-year-olds wouldn't stand a chance. She pulled out a slip of paper and read out, "Marissa Glen."

I froze. What else would you do in that situation? People looked at me and moved, leaving me all alone. Effie motioned for me to walk up to the stage and my body moved for me. My mind was on auto, not being able to do much but walk and have less expression than a brick. "Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" Effie trilled. No one did anything, knowing that this is more of a death sentence than honor. Haymitch, the only living victor of District 12, stumbles around like the drunkard he is. I stared at the crowd, trying not to show any of the fear I was feeling on my face. "Well…ahem…it's time to choose our boy tribute!" Effie said, trying to ignore the silence. She makes her way to the bowl with the boys names, and I'm barely aware of the name she reads. "Peeta Mallark."

Weeeeelllllll that creates a bit of a problem there, Miss Effie Trinket, because of a little thing I like to call teenage hormones. You see…I've developed a little bit of a crush on said boy. He's the bread-maker's son, and although the irony of his name is hilarious, I think it suits him. He and I went to school together, and he was always really nice to everyone. Some days when Mike was taking care of his sick mother while his father was in the coal mines, and I was all alone, he would send me a smile or sit next to me, making me feel less alone. But I could always notice his glances at Katniss, signaling that he had a thing for her. I don't feel resentment towards Katniss, nor do I feel some kind of jealousy. This is just a crush, I would tell myself. It'll pass. That was three years ago. The crush has yet to pass, but it will. I mean, it's only a crush…

And I'm lying to myself. But I am perfectly fine with that, as long as it doesn't keep me from being killed by him. Effie asked for us to shake hands, and I gave him a small smile as he squeezes my hand during the shake. The anthem of Panem plays as we face the crowd for one last time and are hurried into the Justice Building.

I am left alone in a room filled with the richest things I have ever seen, thick carpets and couches and chairs with a nice felt covering them. My parents come into the room with the warning of three minutes to talk with me. I can't cry—there will be more cameras later. Crying would just hurt me later on. But when I see my mother's face with her puffy eyes and my father with a grave look tears well up.

"You can win this," my mom said, trying not to cry. "You just have to outsmart them and outrun them."

My father tried to give me a smile. "Maybe you can wait them out until everyone but the last tribute is there, and then if you kill them you can win."

"You guys know that I probably won't make it," I said, wiping away the tears. "But, I'm going to try."

"That's my little girl," My dad said.

I could hear Mike saying, "That's the Mari I know. Stop crying like a baby and show them you're different."

I smiled. "I'll miss you. And don't forget me, alright?"

"Promise," my mother sniffled.

"Promise," my father repeated. The Peacekeepers came in and I hugged them once more before they were pushed out of the room. The next person who came in was Madge.

"Madge?" I asked. "I wasn't expecting you here."

"Look," her tone of voice was urgent. "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" She held out a circular gold pin with a mockingjay on it.

My eyes widened. "I can't, that thing is way too expensive for me to wear—"

She held out her hand to silence me. "I'll put it on your dress." She pinned it on my left shoulder then looked me in the eye. "You are worth more than you think. If you're going to go out, go out with a bang, got it?"

I smiled. "Got it." We hugged, and she was ushered out the door.

Katniss bursts through next, and hugs me instantly. I freeze for a second then hung her back, not really expecting the awkward hug. "I'll miss you," she said when she let go. "But you have to try and win. I've seen you run—use that to your advantage. Also try and learn to use something—anything—as a weapon. Even the smallest knife can be deadly."

I nodded, taking in her words. "Alright. I saw Prim earlier—you take care of her, got it?" She smiled at the mention of her sister and nodded. The Peacekeepers began to show her out of the room, and she showed me the old District 12 sign, holding three fingers to your lips then holding them in the air. I raised an eyebrow but she just smiled and left.

We went into so that we could head over to the train station. It was a short ride, but it was still really weird. In the Seam we only travel on foot. I was biting my lip and freaking out the whole time. Peeta's eyes were swollen and red, showing he's been crying and he's not even trying to hide that fact. There were so many cameras at the train station that it freaked me out big time. I ignored Mike's voice in my head to hold my head up high and smile to the cameras, and did what my cowardly instincts told me to do—I put my head down and tried to not look at the cameras, scared out of my wits. We had to stand in the doorway of the train, while the cameras took a bunch more pictures of us, before they opened and allowed us inside. The second after we were inside the train began moving.

I have never been on a train, ever. But this was much different than what I was expecting. It was going so fast, one of those high-speed models that went 250 miles per hour. Effie tells us to do whatever and wear whatever we want, that everything was at our disposal. We were sent into our rooms; when I was in mine I took off the white dress and put on black pants and a purple shirt made out of some fabric I had never heard of.

I add on the little gold pin right on the sleeve of the purple shirt, and look at it. It had the mockingjay in a gold ring standing on an arrow. The mockingjay made me smile—it was like a slap in the face to the Capitol. During the rebellion that caused the Hunger Games, the Capitol bred a series of genetically altered animals as weapons. The common term for them was muttations, or sometimes mutts for short. One was a special bird called a jabberjay that had the ability to memorize and repeat whole human conversations. They were homing birds, exclusively male, that were released into regions where the Capitol's enemies were known to be hiding, and basically just recorded conversations. It took people awhile to realize what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted, then the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild, but the jabberjays mated with female mockingbirds creating a whole new species that could replicate both bird whistles and human melodies and sounds. I loved mockingjays because of the fact that even though the Capitol wanted them to die, they didn't. Their will to survive was greater than their will to do whatever the Capitol wanted them to.

That reminded me of…well…me. The Capitol wants me to die, and I probably will, considering the fact that I don't have any skills to help me. But I'm going to make sure that I will not be easily forgotten, just like the mockingjay.

Now I know you guys might hate me...I started another story when NONE of my multi-chapter stories are completed, but if you kill me, I won't be able to finish any of them! So yes, I started a Hunger Games fanfic, and yes, I plan on finishing it. This is going very close to the book, but my character will not be a carbon copy of Katniss. This will have movie qualities, and you will see them in there. I wanted to do this because I bought the movie and watched it last night (I CAN WATCH IT FOREVER ITS SO GOOD BUT WHY DIDN'T PEETA LOOSE HIS LEG HE SHOULD'VE LOST HIS LEG AND KATNISS WITH HER EAR THAT NEEDED TO HAPPEN OMG FEELS AUFYSBUVINOMOINYKJP) so I decided to write this! Please review and all flames will be used by the Gamemakers. No, seriously, don't flame, I take things like that to heart. Constructive criticism though, would be nice-I really want to improve my writing. I LIVE off of reviews...and air...and water...and food...well this just got awkward. Um...bye.