Chapter 1
"Finnick wake up!" shouts my mom from the other side of our small house in District 4.
I roll over in my bed and run my hands through my soft blonde hair. I rub my eyes and quickly rush down stairs.
My mind was still in sleeping mode and I didn't realize why I had to wake up so early today then I realized, today was reaping day. I hate this day. Poor kids get to be picking in "honor" of repersenting our District in The Hunger Games. I belive this one is the 65th. Actully, I'm sure of it because it has been 20 years since my dad died in the 45th. I shut my eyes tightly and re-open them. I don't want to think about that right now.
I quickly eat the little bit of cooked fish that is left over from dinner last evening and hurry upstairs. I don't want to be late knowing that if I am, it could mean certain death. I think to myself: 14 year olds never survive. Not even the good ones and not even 14 year old careers live half of the time. I button up my shirt and slide on some nice dress pants. I smirk looking at myself. My friends say even that if I got reaped, I would be to good looking to kill. I run my hand over my hair, not caring to shower as when I get back, I plan to go on a nice long walk on the beach and take a dip in the ocean. Maybe even catching a fish or two. I rush down to my mother and slide on some flip-flops. My mother looks at me with a dreadful look and I kick off my curent "terrible" foot wear and lace up my father's old dress shoes. I use a facial expression that asks if the shoes are okay.
"Those are beautiful" my mom manages to spit out without choking "You look j-just like your father" she starts to burst into tears.
I walk over to her and hug her, "Mom? I will not get reaped today, I promise you and if I do, I will win" I look up at mother with determination all over my face.
"Y-you promise?" She sputters out.
"I promise." I give a peck on the forehead and grab a quick drink of water.
"Mother? We have to leave now. We don't want to be late, do we?" I hint at her and she laughs.
"Okay, lets go then. You have everything?" She asks.
"Well Mother, we don't have much." I wink at her.
She smiles and heads out the door looking both ways, trying to remember which way to go. I laugh and start walking the correct direction and she follows. We walk together chatting about the weather like an old married couple. Me and my mom, I swear are like best friends, we are just amazingly close. I feel safe around her even though, I am one supporting the family. I see the justice buliding and at the correct time and hug my mother goodbye and watch her make her way to the roped of area for adults. I move my way to the roped off area for 14 years olds and stand next to a boy I barley know. Since I am on the edge I sneek a peak at the scared 12 year olds. They all look petrifyed. I think to myself: They are not the ones who have there name in 12 extra times to support my Mother and me. I glance at the boy next to me and he nods, I nod back.
The speach begins and I start to fidget. I know this speach word for word, so this year I look at her new outfit. She is in a pink polka-dot skirt with a yellow shirt and blue wig. I scilently gag in discust and listen to her say her normal "May the odds be ever in your favor" and heads to the girls bowl, she picks out a little 13 year old by the name of Scarlet Smith and quickly shuffles over the the boys bowl. Her hand overs for a bit then picks out a paper. She flings it free of the tape and my breath gets caught in my throat.
The name was Finnick Odair.