Chapter 1

((Hey ppl! This is my first FanFic so plz R&R! Thx!))

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games... I don't really know how to write a disclaimer, but I don't own anything that has to do with the real Hunger Games characters, plot, or books that Suzanne Collins wrote (Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay). However, I technically do own Clementine because I made her up. Don't expect me to write any more disclaimers in the rest of this story.

The leaking of water wakes me up. It's a foggy day, perfect for the dreary Hunger Games. A perfect day for one girl and one boy to get chosen for their deaths. Today is reaping day. Whoopie. I want to lie in bed for another five minutes, but I must go hunt. Grapefruit and Mandrin must be fed.

Dad is already in the forest. I think of Mother, but instantly erase her picture from my head. It's been two years. I must get over it. I put on my hunting clothes and head out the door. I climb under the weak spot in the supposedly electric fence. Of course, District 12 isn't good enough to receive power for the fence. Technically, I should be dead right now, just like Mother, but we've been secretive enough.

My knife, bow, and arrows are behind my secret tree. In the distance, I see Dad and Mr. Paos ((A/N Paos= Soap…)) talking and setting traps. I'll look for rabbits. I see a buck walking around. My heart starts beating fast. I've never seen a buck before. Grabbing my bow and arrows, I shoot. It is startled, and starts running, hurt by the arrow. I shoot another, and it goes down. I walk over to it and stare sadly into it's face. I wish it didn't have to die, like the two District 12 tributes. I look away, and stab my knife into it's heart. Hearing shallow breathing, I turn back, rubbing it's beautiful skin. In a breath of defeat, it dies, letting me run to Dad.

"Dad! I have a buck! We will feast tonight!" I yell, watching the two men running to me.

"Nice, Clementine!" Mr. Paos says, patting me on the head. "Wait until tonight to bring it in." I nod, though I knew that a long time ago. If we bring it in during daylight hours, people bid on parts and we can't sell it to the butcher for as much money. We head back home, climbing again through the weak spot in the fence. I'm always scared of getting caught by the wires, but it's the closest one to home, though not the safest.

Mandrin and Grapefruit are up, already in their reaping outfits. Mandrin is boiling the berries she and I picked yesterday. Dad gives her two squirrels he caught and heads to his "room," a tiny area of the shack, closed off by a wooden screen. I also head to my corner of the room. It's slightly smaller, but only because Dad is bigger than me. Mandi and Grape have the only other room the in shack. I grab my reaping skirt, a washed-out blue skirt with a big mud stain on the front. It's not pleasant to see or wear, but it's the best we could afford. I throw on my only clean shirt, and make sure Mandi and Grape is okay.

Mandi is wearing my first reaping dress, a red frock with little bows around it. My father said that it was from the time when his great-great grandmother was alive, but I don't believe him. I think we went hungry for five days to pay off for that dress.

When Dad comes out, we snack on the berries and squirrels. None of us can eat much, because it's the first time any kid in the family has their name in the reaping bowl. That would be me, Clementine Orange. When you turn 12, your name gets put into the reaping bowl once. Twice when you're 13, and so on until you turn 18, and you're safe for life. I am frightened out of my wits, but I know others that have their name in the bowl 20 times now. Others, like the rich merchant kids, don't need to take tesserae, the ration food we get in exchange for putting our names in one more time. They only have the mandatory slips in the bowl. I'm so jealous. When I grow up, my kids will not have to sign up for tesserae. I don't know how, but it's going to be like that. My name is in there five times now, the mandatory one, and four others for each person in our family. Next year, I'll have a total of 11 slips of paper in the bowl. It's 2:30.

At 3:30, we all head to the Town Square. Many people are already there, though the reaping doesn't actually start until four. The Town Square is big, but it can't fit everyone, and the kids like to watch up-close and personal. I don't really know why, because the reapings are so sad, but they do. I try to avoid it as much as possible.

"Clementine!" I turn around and see Mr. Paos.

"Oh. Hi, Mr. Paos. Is Bubbly already in there?" I ask. Bubbly, or Bubbles, is my best friend. Mr. Paos doesn't like Bubbly to be called Bubbles because he wants us to "respect the name she was given." Bubbles doesn't mind, but Mr. Paos does.

"Yeah. You can talk to her if you want, though the officials want you all to be in your places at four, okay?" He pushes me into the boxed-off area. All the kids from age 11 to 18 stand in there. Eleven at the front, and 18 in the back. Bubbly, who is 16, has already survived five reapings. Lucky her.

"Clementine!" She waves to me and I run over to her. Hugging, she whispers to me, "I promise to go up for you if you are picked." We made a deal with each other last week, and I'm intending on keeping it.

We talk and talk about school, food, hunting, and all sorts of stuff, trying to erase the reapings from our minds. Finally, it's four and I head to my area. Theresa Derr, Mr. Wons((A/N Wons=Snow.. Prez Snow..)), and Haymitch Abernathy walk on the stage. Okay, Haymitch waves on to the stage because he is drunk. He's the mentor for the tributes. I think he's the reason most of us lose. He gets too drunk to send us things from the sponsors, if we get any. Mr. Wons, the mayor, starts a stupid speech about the Dark Times and how the rebels fought and lost against the shining Capitol. Shining, yeah right. I just try to concentrate on our escort, Theresa Derr's hair. This year it's a barf-like green. Last year it was purple, which was waaayyyyy better.

Finally, the speech is over and Theresa skips, yeah skips to the podium.

"Oookay everyone! Time for the drawing! Ladies first, and may the odds EVER be in your favor!" She sounds like she's dying and the thought of being chosen is the only thing that keeps me from laughing. At the same time, she's giggling hysterically, which is really scary. She puts her hand in the bowl and I wish for Bubbly's safety. Praying to God, I watch Theresa slowly opening the slip of paper, hoping it looks like dramatic effect. She gets stuck on one part and slowly tries to find the crease. She slowly opens the last fold. Slowly, slowly, and slowly, she reads out the name. I'm about to faint, but her voice saves me on time.

"Annnnnddddd…. The lucky tribute issssssssss……." She holds out the "s" so long, I think she's part snake. "Clementine Orange!!!!!!!" Everyone gasps as the blood drains from my face, eyes, mouth, arms, legs, and about all the other body parts I have. I don't notice what's going on until my mind processes Theresa's words. I, me, Clementine Orange is going to the Hunger Games. Clementine Orange is going to fight. Clementine Orange might die in this battle. I finally understand what Theresa had said and then, I faint.