A/N: I know, I need to update my other stories, not post random one-shots. But I got this idea, and it just kept bouncing around in my head, saying, 'Write me! Write me!' So, I wrote it. I promise I will get back to work now!

Broken City, Broken Dreams

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the fifty-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

I take a deep breath to steady myself. I don't allow myself to realize what that sentence means, don't allow myself to think about the events leading up to this moment. Instead, I scan my surroundings and order myself to make a plan.

I am positioned directly in front of the mouth of the Cornucopia, which is a plus. To my left is a forest made of trees I don't recognize; tall, with reddish bark. The forest is good, but the the trees' leaves don't start until high on the trunk, and don't provide any cover. There is also barely any undergrowth. I rule it out as a place to go. Then I look at the land on my other three sides, and my stomach rolls.

I'm looking at a wasteland.

The ground is hard and cracked, filled with rocks and dust. The only vegetation is small tufts of yellow grass here and there and thistles. But the most prominent thing in the landscape is the huge ruined city to – heaps of brick and glass and concrete. There are a few buildings still upright, but they are so precarious I know I'd never go in one if I didn't have to. The rubble stretches on for as far as I can see, receding into the horizon.

The options are bad. Go into a forest with no cover, or go into a ruined city with cover but no resources. What to do? What to do?

What to do?

Back in District 3, I always had an answer, to any problem, given enough time. Here, I'm out of my element and don't have any time.

I take a few deep breaths and glance up at the countdown.

32...

31...

30...

Oh, no. This is not good. I have half a minute to figure out a plan to save my life. And the problem is, I don't even know how to approach this problem. I'm spending my time panicking and skirting around the problem.

Face the problem, Laria. Face it head on, and solve it. Start simple. Where would your family want you to go? What would Brandon say?

Thinking of Brandon helps me regain focus. He's watching me right now, rooting for me, praying that I survive the bloodbath. I smile slightly as I think of the time he realized he liked me. We'd been in my room, building a robot for a school project. I'd made a joke about Mr. Lars, one of our teachers, who always paused between every sentence like he was waiting for someone to interject.

"Before the wars, technology was advanced in some ways and deficient in others." Pause. "For instance, communication systems were efficient and reliable." Pause. "But we know that-"

"Stop that, Laria!" he said, laughing. "I'm going to mess up and sauter myself to this thing!"

We laughed together, then he turned to me and said, slowly, "You know, Lar, I really like you. You're funny, and smart, and nice, and – would you like to be my girlfriend?"

I grinned. I felt like I was dancing on air. I'd had a crush on Brandon since I'd met him three years before, when he moved across the district and started at my school. "Of course, you dummy!"

That was six months ago. Since then, I was the happiest I've ever been. There's not actually a whole lot to do back home, but we didn't need there to be. We spent most of our time together talking and laughing.

Focus, I think. Glancing at the time, I am panicked to see the counter at 17. All right. Where do you go? Forest or city? I debate, then decide, Woods. At least there will be food and water there. I'll make a shelter.

My eyes latch onto a backpack about seven feet to my upper right. Should I go after it? It only takes me a second to decide. Yes, I will, even though it's out of the way. It's like my advisor said: "Any advantage you can get, Laria, you take."

At the time, she was talking about my wish to get a higher education and become a teacher, but I can apply it here.

10...

9...

8...

If I had to change anything, I suppose I wouldn't. Until my name was drawn, I had a life that was far better than so many others in the districts.

7...

6...

5...

I can't change the fact that I was Reaped. I can't. So I'm not going to waste my time trying.

4...

3...

2...

I'm probably going to die. I'm probably going to be killed horribly and return home in a box.

1...

Crash!

But then again, maybe not.

A/N: So what did you think? If you have an opinion (and I'm sure you do!), please review.