CHAPTER 1:

I wake up in a cold sweat. The cool air blasting through the open window makes me shiver more than I already was. My vivid dreams of the games haunt my mind. I pull my thick, expensive blanket over my bare body and try to get some more sleep, which isn't going to work. I mean, I am probably going to die in a little over a week.

Yes, I do live in District 1. I am supposed to be excited about The Hunger Games, right? Of course I am, especially with my rich family. "Pride to your district" this and "volunteer" that. Frankly, I think its all a load of bologna. I personally do not want to be put into an arena and have to kill innocent children. I mean, it's crazy talk.

Suddenly, my bedroom door swings open to my ignorant mother flailing her arms at me. She flies to my dresser and flings the ugliest outfit I own onto my bed.

"UP, UP EMERALD. TODAY IS THE DAY!"

Oh, I didn't mention to you that today was the day I was to volunteer as tribute. It's not that I want to, believe me. I try to fail at training, but I can't help my skills, and my parent's money. I am 18 years old, and yes, Emerald is my hideous name that my mother and father decided to plant on me. I guess District 1 is known for its whacko names.

"Okay, okay mother. I'm getting up. What's the point of all this, though? You know I'll be dead in a few days, right?" I smirked.

"Oh, Emerald. Don't you dare talk like that! If you said that to your father he would," I cut her off in the middle of her sentence. She really hates that.

"Well you're not my father are you?"

She sighs and storms out of the room. At last, peace and quite. I slowly slip into the green poufy dress my mother laid out for me, and I nearly vomit on my hot pink sequined shoes.

Living in District 1 is not all it is made up to be. I mean, being rich is great for some people, but it doesn't really have any effect on me. I think I would enjoy living in one of the outlying districts. Maybe there people will actually leave you alone. The last few days here have been very hectic. Everything has not gone the way I planned.

First off, two days ago was the competition to choose who will volunteer as tribute. The trainers take you into this big empty room, and you show off your skills. Me? I'm best with a sword or hand-to-hand combat. I have to say; I have a pretty mean punch. So in the room I 'show them what I can do' with a sword. I cheaply stab the manikin and hit it with the hilt of my sword. BAM. I was done. I bowed, and walked out of the room. I thought I screwed up enough to not get picked.

Just my luck, we got a call from the trainers saying I was chosen to volunteer. Of course, my mother and father freaked out and congratulated me. I really do not understand how they could pick me. I showed them none of what I could really do. Who knows, maybe it was my 'destiny' as my mother told me it was. So, the last few days have been all parties and congratulations. Pathetic.

I slowly trudge my way down the steps and into the kitchen. Of course, my mother is there waiting for me. I roll my eyes and grab a piece of bread.

"Sweetheart," she whispers. "Your father is very proud of you and he does not need your attitude. We paid a.. never mind that. We know you did very well with the trainers, and we know you will be coming back soon, after the games." How can she sit there and smile at me? I really don't understand these people. So, this is where I blow up.

"WHAT IF I DON'T WANT TO COME BACK? What if I don't come home? What happens then, huh? What if I don't want to be in these games? Don't you understand the position I am in? Can you ever get your head out of the Capitols ass and think about what's best for me? I COULD DIE." I try to hold in my tears and stay strong, but of course that doesn't happen. Mother just stares at me for a second, and without even taking what I said into thought, she smiles.

"Now we have to fix that make up of yours, don't we?"

I let her fix my make up. She puts some bright green eye shadow on that makes me look like some type of alien. Sometimes I feel sorry for her, because I guess you could say I am kind of mean, but then she goes and pulls something like she did before, as in not listening to anything I have to say.

"All done," she says to me. I look in the mirror and I look like a completely different person. I'm not very much into the Capitol Couture like my mother is. Bright colors make me want to vomit. Right as she goes to get my father, the alarm sounds. It's time to go to the Reaping.

We have a personal chauffer to take us wherever we need to go. Personally, I'd rather walk, but these heels are killing my feet. We pull up on the square, and you see all the kids from ages 12 to 18 lined up with their groups. They don't know it is me. Only my parents and I do. But, you'd think that since I was the one who was dressed the most idiotic, that I was the one to volunteer.

"Welcome! Haha! Most of you know me, but I'm Beatrice and I will be conducting the reaping today!" Beatrice is the quirky lady that takes care of us after the reaping up until we go into the games. I guess I will be become rather familiar with her. The anthem of Panem begins to play, and we watch this horrible video telling all of us why we have The Hunger Games. Frankly, I think it's because President Snow wants people to know that he's boss. The video is quite funny actually.

"What a great film that is! And straight from the Capitol! Two of you will be going there soon, hm? Yes, I think you will enjoy it! Well, let's get this started. Ladies first!" she walks over to the bowl of names. It all happens so quickly. She reaches in the bowl, takes out a name, reads it, and..

"I VOLUNTEER!" I scream. They push me up on stage. Everyone claps. How pathetic they look, clapping for me. I'm on death row, and they find it exciting.

"Oh how grand! I'm going to be happy to get to know you, what is your name young lady?" Beatrice looks me in the eyes. I stand there blankly for a moment, and take in the crowd. My mother and father are behind me on the stage, and my father gives me a silent nod.

I walk to the microphone and speak clearly the words, "Emerald Stokes."

"What a lovely name darling! Now lets see who is going to join you on your journey to the Capitol! Now for the boys." She walks to the bowl on the opposite side of the stage, and unfolds the paper slowly.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE." Was screamed from the audience in a deep voice. Oh great, we have a bigheaded boy this year, again. That is the little stuck up rich boy from training.

I bet he just thinks he is the best thing on earth now that he knows he can give pride to his district. I'm sure he will do it too. He is a tall, built 17 year-old who has the honor of representing his district in the 6Oth annual Hunger Games.

"Another volunteer, of course!" I can tell she thinks he is hot stuff. "What is your name young man? You look like quite the gentleman!"

He walks cockily up to the microphone and says his name firm and strong. "Zayn. Zayn Quin." Ugh, I hate him already.

"Shake hands, children!" Beatrice says. She seems like she really must love her job. He grabs my hand lightly and gives it a sweet little shake, and of course he adds in a wink too. Disgusting. I wish people like that didn't exist. But this is District 1, so it's not very surprising. We are a career district. Personally, when I get into the games, I'm not going to be apart of the careers pack. If I make a pact with anyone it will be somebody clever and cunning, not just strong. I have plenty of strength myself.

Beatrice pushes us off the stage into the Justice Building and puts us each into a room. Outside the door is lined with the snobby little know it all peacekeepers. I walk in the room, and slam the door behind me. Of course, it's not like I'm destroying valuable property, because my father does work here. He is the governor of District 1.