This is my first fanfic, so please have mercy (although criticism/comments/reviews are greatly appreciated). Thanks for reading!


Chapter 1

I wake to a blue, clear sky. Blinking against the light, I sit up and stretch. It's been a long time since I slept this late, but I will still have time to get prepare for the stressful day ahead.

I am reluctant to leave my warm bed, but finally drag myself out from under the covers. While the water runs for a bath, I look through my dresses saved for special occasions. I have it narrowed my choices down to three when I hear footsteps behind me.

"I think the yellow one." My mother kisses me on the top of the head, and smiles. "Yellow is a happy color. Now, go take your bath. It's ready."

I pad down the hallway, and after unbuttoning my nightgown, I slowly slide into the water. I'm not nervous, but I don't feel...normal. The reaping is always a sad day, even though I have never seen any of my friends chosen. With my father as a respected Peacekeeper and socializing with only the highest class people, I know that the chances of me or any of the people close to my family entering the Games are slim.

I carefully massage the soap into my long, dark hair that is my favorite aspect of myself. I have always been called pretty, but I am small and not filled out like a woman. It's hard not to be jealous of all the girls who strut around, making all the boys turn their way when everyone thinks you are three years younger than you actually are. Still, I love my hair, and my unusually light skin for District 12 that is a family trait. I have large, round eyes, but even though I am fifteen, everything else about me is small and thin, like my lips, shoulders, and waist.

After the water becomes cold, I know its time to get out of the bath and towel off. I reluctantly remove myself from the water and return to my room to find Marge waiting for me there. Her dark, wrinkled face is unusually solemn. She helps me slip into the yellow frock, and begins buttoning the back up. Next, she does my hair up into a fancy knot, the same style she has always done for the reaping. Once she has finished, she turns me around to face her, and I see a tear in her eye.
"You're so beautiful," she whispers. "Be strong, my sparrow."

She embraces me tightly as I wonder what she was talking about. Marge's words are always a little mysterious at face value, so I figure I will discover their meaning later.

"Hannaleigh," my mother calls up the stairs. Marge strokes my cheek, not saying a word, which is unusual for her. Ever since I had been born, Marge has been my nurse and nanny. She is the one person I trust completely in this world, even more than Mother and Father. I tell her everything. She always gives me cryptic advice that never fails to be exactly right, so her lack of some old saying is a little worrying.

"I'll see you when I get home," I say with a forced smile, for her silence and sad expression are bothering me. I go to the door, and take one last look at Marge who now has a tear slowly gliding down her cheek, and go downstairs to meet my parents.

As I walk to the town square, I see my best friend, Lillian, walking with her parents and her two little sisters. She smiles nervously, for her sister Tabitha has just turned twelve in April. I kiss my mother and father on the cheek, and join Lillian to find our way to the the growing section of girls. Lillian and I stand towards the back of our age group, holding hands tightly. I can see her craning her neck to find Tabitha through the whole half hour wait, and opening speech by the mayor. I never listen to the boring rants about Panem, and how the Games represent its strength, and blah blah blah. Finally, the escort appears, dressed in a ridiculous fashion, as always. Bright pink hair, with a contrasting light green suit. Effie Trinket never fails to be so ridiculous, as everyone from the Capitol does.

Vaguely, I wonder who will be chosen this year. I see Katniss Everdeen dressed in blue a little ways in front of me, and, though I am ashamed, hope it will be her. She's strong, fast, can hunt, and is in general, a fighter. District 12 could finally have a victor if she is chosen. Her name is certainly in there enough times.

I quickly shake my head to rid me of the terrible thoughts. I know I shouldn't wish the Games upon anyone, even if they stand a chance. I turn my attention back to the stage to see a drunk Haymitch Abernathy hug the repulsed Effie. After a quick recovery, she make a short speech, ending with her trademark, "and may the odds be ever in your favor."

Finally, she struts over to pick the name from the huge glass bowl of girls. The crowd holds its breath as she daintily selects a name, and returns to the microphone. She unfolds the paper, and says in her ridiculous accent, "Hannaleigh Rothing."

The first thing I feel is Lillian's hand tightening around mine. "No," she whispers quietly. No what? It takes a second to realize that people are pushing me into the thin alleyway through the crowd, but Lillian won't let go. Why are they pushing me? What's going on? The female tribute has just been chosen.

Then it dawns on me. I am the female tribute. I am going to fight for my life. Not Katniss Everdeen. Me, Hannahleigh Rothing, the rich Peacekeeper's daughter who has only been entered three times. Not a grimy girl from the Seam with who knows how many slips in there.

I can't force my legs to work, can't force air in and out of my lungs. I'm stuck, glued to the ground, in danger of collapsing. I only become unfrozen when someone pushes me roughly from behind. I stumble forward until I find the small part in the crowd up to the stairs. I am only barely able to lift my legs high enough to avoid tripping on the concrete terraces. My face is slack and emotionless, for I still can't quite comprehend what's going on. Finally, I turn and stand on the stage, seeing the crowd but not understanding, hearing the voices, but not registering words, or recognizing that a male tribute has been chosen. I barely even blink when Haymitch pitches head long into the crowd. Finally, I focus on Lillian in the crowd. I try not to cry but the tears slip out after I see her sobbing into the shoulder of another girl.

I look away, and my eyes fall on the boy I just noticed was on the stage with me. I recognize him as Breckan Dirr, an eighteen-year-old Seam kid who is strong from having to work in the mines. His face is ashen, but determined. Maybe he'll win, I think vaguely. I don't even realize I've been walking or even moved until I am sitting on a couch in the Justice Building. The tears are falling freely now, and my breath is coming in heaves. Startlingly, I can't remember most of what happened after I got on the stage. I know I must have shaken hands with Breckan, but I don't remember. There must have been some sort of speech from the mayor and Effie, but I can't recall any words they said.

I am starting to come to my senses when the door bangs open and my mother rushes into the room. One look at her tear streaked face, and I immediately wrap my arms around her neck as fresh tears swell on my cheeks.

"Oh honey, oh my baby," she keeps whispering. My father stands by awkwardly, not sure what to do. He has never been the loving type, but I thought he would at least hug me in the last minutes before I go off to die.

There. I said it. I am going to die. It is a fact. I am too small, too weak, and not smart enough to win. My shoulders shake as my mother strokes my hair. Finally, the Peacekeepers tell us our time is up. My father embraces me briefly as my mother tells me how much she loves me, and then they are gone. Just like that. I will never see them again.

A few minutes later, Marge comes into the room. She doesn't hug me, though I desperately want her to wrap her arms around me and never let go.

"You listen to me," she says, with no emotion but determination in her voice. "You will not give up. You are not the biggest or the strongest, but you are smart. Use that, my sparrow. Hide. Form alliances with the right people. But never, ever, ever, give up. You can do this. Alright?"

I nod, my vision blurry from the constant stream of tears.

"Alright," she says, her voice soft, "now, come here." She envelopes me in her warm arms, and presses my face against her chest. We say nothing for the remainder of her time allotted, until she is headed for the door.

"I love you, little sparrow, " she whispers.

"I love you, too," I reply. And then she too is gone. In her place is a faint ache in my chest, the feeling that someone is holding onto me too tight.

I stay in the room for a little while by myself, trying to calm down. Lillian comes in, and gives me a long hug. Too soon, she too has to say her goodbyes. Before she the Peacekeepers pull her out of the room, she gives me my favorite necklace, the one Marge gave me as a baby. It is a tiny little gold thing with a sparrow with wings spread on the end. I don't know if the necklace gave her the idea for my pet name, or if she got the necklace after she started calling me her sparrow, but both have always been a part of my life.

"Marge asked me to give it to you," she says, "for your token."

We say a tearful goodbye, and she, too, is gone. And I am alone.