Chapter One - The Reading of The Card

Soaking in the last drop of the evening sunshine, I turn to face Aleks who sits stroking my hair, as I rest my head in his lap. His eyes slide down to meet my own as a gentle smile spreads across his face, melting my insides so I have no choice but to grin back.

'Beautiful, isn't it?' he sighs, nodding at the glorious sunset that lines the horizon, where the silhouette of District Seven meets the sky.

'Perfect,' I whisper in return, for there is simply no other word in existence that could possibly describe this moment, 'Absolutely perfect,'

'You know something else that's perfect?' Aleks questions playfully, as his arms encompass me, 'You,'

Corny as hell, but it makes my heart glow. My eyelids flutter shut and I let his lips touch mine, relishing their softness as we kiss.

If only there was a way to freeze time, then we could stay lost in each other, in Heaven, forever; like no one else exists, like nothing else matters. Just Aleks, myself and the stars. My hand finds its way through his brunette curls, messing them up, but it's fine. There's no one around to notice.

No one around; the words resonate inside my head. The silence. It's odd, uncharacteristic for the thick woodland of my home District. There is always someone in amongst the dense pine trees, from adults working tirelessly to provide for their young families to elderly folk enjoying the crisp air, but tonight there's just us: two teenagers trying to escape reality. And our attempt had been successful until I remember where everyone is, where we should be right now.

The mandatory programming.

I pull away from Aleks' warm embrace as soon as the thought hits me.

'Elle?' he mumbles, his hazel eyes scanning my face.

'Aleks, I've just remembered, we've got to go! The programming! We can't stay, or –' but my muddled sentence trails off as I'm silenced by another kiss, my train of thought halted for a brief second.

'Live a little,' he winks before scooping me up off the grass, and holding me in his arms. Suddenly I'm flying as Aleks whirls me around, laughing and spinning me faster when I squeal with delight.

The world takes a long time to come into focus as I'm placed back on the ground, probably not helped by the sun's absence, but even so, the joy on Aleks' face is unmistakeable and I'm pretty sure the look on my face is very much the same.

He grabs my hand, squeezing it in his and swinging it back and forth. This, along with our moonlit stroll home, makes me realise just how precious my time with Aleks is. Only he can create the sense of freedom that keeps me going every day, the one feeling that I crave. With him, fleeing from life's pain is finally possible; as if my family's suffering is nothing but a bad dream. Just a nightmare.

But with the reaping little more than twelve hours away, either one of us could be whisked away to the Capitol; to become another icon to fill their spotlight, to satisfy their simple minds until 'the next big thing' arrives, to fight to the death in the dreaded Arena. What's more, this year is different, it's the hundredth annual Hunger Games: the fourth Quarter Quell. A twist in the plot, a slimmer chance of survival. The Capitol can't get enough of it.

Avoiding the peacekeepers as we dart through the Victor's Village, Aleks catches my glance and pulls a comical face. I struggle to suppress giggles, pulling an equally embarrassing face before entering The Roots; the poorest, most neglected area of District Seven, the place I call my home. I leap over a decrepit wall into my garden, forgetting that my hand is interlocked with Aleks', and consequently dragging him right into the wall.

Apologising and helping to steady him, I lead him slowly to my doorstep and plant a kiss upon his forehead, standing on tiptoes and wobbling slightly. Replying with a hug, Aleks turns away and walks down the garden path, pausing at the wall to wave and call 'See you tomorrow!' a little too loudly for someone who is trying not be caught be peacekeepers.

At that, the door swings open, revealing my younger sister Isla; the panic is scarcely visible on her face, but I can read her like a book. She ushers me inside before shutting the door without a sound, I find my mother and little brother huddled around the vibrant image of Caesar Flickerman that decorates our TV screen.

Ash sees me enter and beckons me towards the seat next to him. Mother doesn't stir, and instead remains transfixed upon the lively Hunger Games veteran with a vacant expression occupying her pale complexion. Caesar sparkles in his typical midnight blue velvet suit as words pour from his pastel pink lips, which perfectly match the stubby ponytail that adorns the back of his head.

'Now, the hundredth annual Hunger Games is just around the corner, which means it's time for our fourth Quarter Quell!' he announces, clearly thrilled, 'And to reveal the special twist for these Games, please welcome on to the stage the wonderful President Kennard!'

A figure enters the screen accompanied by the cheers of the Capitol's devoted audience. Tall and slim, her angular shape is somewhat disturbing, obviously an unnatural state for any human being. Framed by a blunt silver fringe; her face, which was perhaps considered attractive in her youth, is now set into an icy glare. Even so the audience seem to hail her as a saint. This feeling of power appears to enliven her, as her deep scarlet lips curl into a poisonous smile. She sourly greets Panem with, 'Good evening and happy Hunger Games to you all,'

You could hear a pin drop in the Hart household, as each of us listen to the hiss of this vile woman. She reminds the nation of the reason for the Hunger Games, followed by a recap of both the plot and outcome of each of the three previous Quarter Quells; as if anyone is stupid enough to forget. Throughout her droning speech, I hold eye contact with Panem's President, only breaking it to look at each of my family members in turn. The Hunger Games is all we need to help tear this family apart once and for all.

'So... the moment we've all been waiting for,' she says, as a small boy in a white jacket steps forward holding a box. Opening the lid, President Kennard plunges her claw-like fingers into its depths, and pulls out a small white envelope clearly marked '100'. My mind begins to taunt me with all the possibilities. She clears her throat.

'On the hundredth anniversary of the Capitol's victory, as a reminder to the rebels that even the older and wiser citizens of Panem cannot outsmart the Capitol, the age range for male and female tributes will be extended; now tributes between the ages of 12 and 30 will compete to become the next Victor.' She seems somewhat disappointed with the draw, it is not deadly enough to satisfy her hunger for bloodshed.

'Thank you, President Kennard,' responds Caesar in his sing-song voice, 'This year's Games certainly promises to be an explosive one. Who's excited?' Eager screams from the crowd answer his question; their enthusiasm is sickening, 'I simply can't wait! Anyway, we'll be returning at the earlier time of half past seven tomorrow to review the day's reapings and to discuss the competition ahead. But for now, goodnight Panem and may the odds be ever in your favour!'

As the National Anthem sounds to conclude the programme, I can't help releasing a faint sigh of relief. More potential tributes, less chance of being reaped tomorrow. My body relaxes, and I feel calm again for my sake and for Isla's. It's her first reaping, and luckily the odds appear to be very much in her favour.

I look around to notice that my mother and Ash have fallen asleep, they look so small. So vulnerable.

'Should we wake them?' Isla questions, yawning slightly as she speaks.

'No, let's take Ash to bed and leave mother here. She's too weak to be lifted, if we're not careful she might snap in half!' my half-hearted attempt at a joke has clearly back fired, for both Isla and I know that it is the truth. My mother is so thin and frail, it seems as though little more than a poke would shatter her.

We hoist our brother into the air and carry him along the corridor to our bedroom, which we share between the three of us. Depositing him beneath the thin duvet of his bed, I collapse on to my own painfully springy bed as Isla sits neatly upon hers, staring into thin air.

I brush my hand against the peeling blue wallpaper then turn to my sister, 'Come on, Isla. You're going to need a lot of sleep to get through tomorrow,'

She forces a weak smile, and it makes me feel somewhat guilty; as if the reapings are my fault. 'I feel far too nervous to sleep... You were scared before you're first reaping, weren't you? You must have been!'

'I was,' I reply, remembering it vividly, like it was yesterday, 'Even after five reapings, I still panic. But I can assure you, your name will not be called. They tend to go for the more attractive kids anyway,'

We both laugh, and suddenly everything seems a little less serious. 'Hey!' Isla cries, sending a pillow hurtling towards my head, 'I guess that's why you haven't been reaped then,' she counters with a grin. I dodge it by an inch, and chuck it right back at her; trying hard to savour our happiness.

After catching the pillow, Isla adds it to the pile of all her other thread-bare pillows, and motions to me to sit next to her. I shuffle across the room and place myself upon very edge of her bed, holding her in my arms like I did when she was a toddler. Letting my chin rest on her head, which is supported by my chest, I whisper into her hair, 'It's going to be fine. I won't let the Hunger Games harm you, or me, Ash, mother or even father. Wherever he may be,'

Then I tuck my sister under her duvet and turn out the light that dwindles softly on the ceiling. My bed is stone cold but still it beckons to me, and before I know it my eyes are shutting out the room; allowing sleep to take over.