So thank you for coming here to read this! It's not my first fanfic but it's the first one I'm publishing. It's all really just to pass my time, and I appreciate suggestions as to how the Games should continue. And of course I'm also accepting pleas as to who should win them, because that's also yet to be decided.

I can't promise much about how often I'll update and so on, but I've got the first few chapters ready to go and plenty to write for the next ones. I've just been so curios about what happens behind the scenes of the Hunger Games, so I decided to make it up.

Oh, I'm also looking for a beta!

Ava

"You're lucky," I tell my best friend Brooke. She turned nineteen in the spring. "Your name isn't in there a single time. You made it." Though not everybody sees it that way, I believe that it is a strange and lucky accomplishment to have passed out of your childhood years and never have to worry about being reaped again.

"Don't worry, Ava. You're almost out too. After this year, only one more to go."

"Yes, but my name is in more times than I dare count! I don't have a good feeling about this," I say as I go into the space separated for girls seventeen years old. She comes next to me on the other side of the rope and squeezes my hand.

I don't pay any attention to the speech about Panem's past, or to Eda, the woman from the Capitol who will escort our tributes to the Hunger Games once again, and suddenly it's time for the reaping. "Ladies first!" she says with a bright smile.

"Don't you worry," Brooke says again and squeezes my hand. I'm grateful that she's there, even though I know she's standing with me because of all our friends, I have the most chances of getting picked. I hear Eda saying something, but I don't want to hear the name of the girl who will leave us, and – as is customary for District 11 – never return, so I look at Brooke very hardly, noticing every part of her familiar face once again. That way, I don't miss the sudden horror that crosses it, and the immediate tremble of her lips.

So it's one of our friends, I think to myself, my heart heavy.

But then Brooke releases my hand, and the girl on my other side nudges me forward.

"Ava Pregot?" I hear Eda call out again.

And then I understand.

It's me.

I move up the stairs to the platform in front of the justice building with lead flowing through my legs instead of blood. I can barely breathe. Don't cry, I tell myself. Not in front of your friends. Not in front of your family. Then I think of one more thing. Don't cry in front of all of Panem who are watching. Don't cry in front of the people you will need to ally yourself with to win. Because win I must.

"And now, to the boys!" Eda announces, giving me a smile. She moves around her hand. "Harel Zabs!" she calls out, and I hear Brooke give a small cry. I look at her, seeing that her face is already wet. She has the luxury to cry over my reaping. But now she's positively ready to faint. I wonder whose name Eda called out. I wasn't listening.

Then I see the boy coming up the steps. I recognize him. It's Harel. It's Harel, Brooke's thirteen-year-old brother. Eda tells us to shake hands and I do so in a daze, looking at Brooke the whole time. Our other friends have escaped from their roped-off areas and are all holding on to her. She's keeling, ready to faint. I feel worse for her than I do for myself.

They take us into the Justice Building, where we have some time to say goodbye to our loved ones. My parents are the first ones through the door, but I don't want to see them. It makes me too sad. But I know I won't have another chance to see them, so I let myself cry a bit as I'm buried in my dad's shirt. I wipe the tears away quickly. I know I can't win, but I don't want to completely spoil my chances before I even leave District Eleven.

They are asked to leave, and Brooke comes in next. Our other friends want to follow, but she asks them to wait. I stand up from where I was sitting on the couch, hugging my father. "Please Ava," she says. "I wish I could go instead of you. I really wish I could! But we both got the worse end for ourselves it seems. Please Ava, you have to… I don't know, but you…" her words break up in sobs.

"Brooke, what do you want me to do? To ally myself with him, well alright, but what then?" my voice is shaking, not from weakness but from pain for my friend.

"Save him. Somehow, save him," she continues sobbing.

I'm losing patience. I know that it's heartless, but I know I have to think like a victor if I want to manage to survive. "There's nothing I can do. I can try and keep him alive for as long as possible, but that will probably result in both of us dead that much earlier."

"I'm begging you!"

"To do what?" I finally snap.

"To keep him alive, until the very end."

"Even if I keep him alive, until the very end, what then? There can only be one victor."

"And you really think you can win?" she looks at me, her eyes hard.

"No way. But it's useless to try and tell me things like that, to ask something like that of me!" I throw my hands up in exasperation.

"Can't you try?"

"Please, it's no use," I suddenly break down. I'm trying to keep calm, think like a victor, believe that I can win and let nothing stand in my way, but this is my best friend, who's losing her brother and me with one stroke. I know she has no choice but to ask this of me, but she should also have known better.

Now she's hugging me, comforting me. My tears, seldom spilled, always move her. "It's okay. Forgive me, but I had to ask. I understand. Just… try to make it easy for him. His death I mean. Don't let him starve or anything like that."

I know what this promise I'm about to give means. I know all it's implications and everything that I'll suffer from it. "I promise."

With that, Brooke hugs me once more, then she pushes back my shoulders with her hands. "Come," she says. "Stand tall. You're a pretty girl, and you're not stupid. Think like a victor. Don't let anything stand in your way. Don't forget, you have a mission. Two missions, to be exact. Make us proud."

She lifts my chin and I keep it up. She wipes my tears and I cry no more. She gives me a stern look and I return it. I am a tribute. I will be a victor.

So, thanks for reading and so on, I love reviews, especially if you have ideas about how all this could continue!

Kisses! Jo