A/N This here, is a story about what would happen if the Dalton boys were in The Hunger Games. This originally started as me just playing around with the idea, and it slowly evolved into this. There is other reapings that is slightly more significant, they will only be mentioned instead of seen.

If you would like to follow me on Tumblr, this is it: havent you heard that im the new cancer . tumblr . com. Without spaces of course. If you haven't read Dalton by CP Coulter, I strongly urge you to do so at www . fanfiction . net / s / 6515261 / 1 / Dalton

Disclaimer: I don't own Justin, Adam, Danny, Logan, Spencer, or Merril. They all belong to the magical CP Coulter. I also don't own any of the Districts or pretty much everything else. I only own Miranda, Jade, Piper, Nyx, Ashton, Hebe, and Hunter.

It's almost silly how easily we swallow this Capitol stuff. The Games aren't entertainment, they're the Capitol showing who's boss by having twenty-three kids killed every year. Of course, I can't say anything. I have to be grateful. The Capitol's the one who's providing us with food and necessities. My family'd be dead by now if it weren't for them. Yet I can't help feeling a surge of bitterness every year when I have to worry about Laura somehow beating the odds and being reaped for the games. It's only her second year, so the odds of her being reaped is low, but I know that twelve-year-olds have been reaped before.

When I'm finally in the roped off area exclusively for twelve-to-eighteen-year-olds, I somehow end up next to Miranda Swan, an eighteen-year-old girl with long blonde hair and charming blue eyes. It's her last reaping, so it's curious how she ended up next to me.

"Hello Justin," She says and gives me her most winning smile. I just barely manage to suppress a groan.

"Hi Miranda." It takes all my strength not to grimace. Miranda's not really that bad, it's just that she was one of the many girls my parents wanted me to marry. When you realize the real side of a person, it may or may not change your opinion of them.

"I'm really hoping I get reaped, it's my last year. Don't you?" She bats her eyelashes at me. I know she expects me to say yes, after all, winning the Games are practically a rite of passage here.

"Yep. Totally." I know she's not entirely convinced, but Miranda grew up thinking that being in The Hunger Games is a blessing, so she decides she had to have been imagining it. That's how I grew up too, but I don't believe everything I'm told in school about the history of Panem.

"Ooh, it's starting!" Miranda falls silent as the mayor reads the history about Panem. It's the same story every year, so I don't see how it's that important. When he finishes that, he reads the list of tributes District 1 has had in the past seventy years. Unsurprisingly, it's a rather long list. While he drones on with the list, I look at the four chairs on the stage. One was occupied by the mayor before he stepped up, the other three being the District 1 escort, a women with bright green hair, and the mentors, Gloss and Cashmere. I never bother to remember our escort's name, but I think that maybe I'll try this year. Something tells me it'll be important.

When the mayor is finally finished, our escort bounces up and walks to two round balls.

"Ladies first!" She pipes in her Capitol accent. She reaches in the ball that holds girls' names and I notice Miranda's crossing her fingers. But it isn't Miranda Swan.

It's Laura Bancroft.

The first thing I do when I hear is turn to Miranda. Her eyes are wide in shock.

"Volunteer for Laura." My voice is a near whisper, but I say it with as much force as I can muster. At first she doesn't respond, but after a second, she turns her head and raises an eyebrow at me.

"And why should I do that?"

"Aren't you the one that's wanted to be in the Games since you could walk?" I know I don't have much time.

"True. But even if I do volunteer, what do get in return when I come back home?" She wants something in return, I know it. If she did win, she'd get money, fame. Everything.

"I…I'll marry you." If it was anyone other than Laura, I would never offer that.

Miranda smiled evilly, and for a moment I was worried that she would refuse. I realized that volunteers were being called.

"I volunteer!" Miranda called out. She steps onto the stage and I hurriedly grab Laura and steer her back to the crowd. She's four years younger than me, so she's farther back, but I make sure that's she's safe in her row before I return to mine. As I walk back, I realize everyone is staring at me. When I look up to the stage, I notice that our escort is clutching a piece of paper. Irritated, she calls out, "Again, Justin Bancroft." It takes a moment for it to sink in. Miranda's eyes are so wide she looks like an owl.

If one Bancroft can't be in the Games, then there's always the other one.

I do my best to ignore everyone else in the crowd, but I know it's impossible. Everyone's silent, but I know that each and every kid here has dreamed about being in the Games. After all, who could refuse fame and fortune? The Games are a chance of proving how strong you are. At least it is for those worthy of winning. That District 4 girl that won last year? She won just because District 4 had an unfair advantage. After all, how could anybody else know how to swim without training? And Finnick Odair from six years ago, how could the President allow a trident to be given? That was the most expensive gift ever given. It was unfair. Those two didn't deserve to win the Games. Enobaria and Brutus, our mentors, on the other hand, did. They fought and won fairly.

I'm only just barely listening to what the Mayor's talking about. It's mandatory to listen, but I've heard the story a million times.

Finally, after what seems like forever, they start to pick tributes. I stand as straight as I can as District 2's escort picks a slip of paper for the female tribute.

"Jade Lawerence!" Pipes the escort, Ashton Liv. A girl with black hair, pale skin, and green eyes so bright they contrasted very much with her skin.

After what seems like forever, they pick a boy slip.

"Adam Clavell!" I beam as I walk onto the stage. Finally, I could prove just how strong I am. When I sit down I realize that Jade's staring at me. Studying. Like she's trying to decide just how to kill me.

Fine. Two can play at this game. She's about thirteen, at least three years younger than me. I have at least a foot on her, and I'm much bigger. Yet somehow I know she won't be easily taken out. She seems like to type to use strategy. To plan and to think before attacking. And you bet that her plans won't fail.

Of course, this is District 2 so I know that she'll know how to kill people with a knife ten different ways, at least.

When I catch her eye, she gives me a look that quite plainly confirms what I've been thinking. Jade Lawerence may look small and weak, but she's really a girl that you should never count out.

And I know she's having very similar thoughts about me.

"So, Danny, are you looking forward to this year's reapings?" I look up to notice a red-haired girl with green eyes smiling at me.

"Hi Alexa." I smile back at her. Alexandria Newman is a girl that you can usually find reading one of her books on the beach. I've known her since we were ten.

"Hello, Danny. As I said before, are you looking forward to this year's Hunger Games?" She raises an eyebrow at me.

Besides me worrying about being reaped? I think, but I know I'm being ridiculous. After all, last year's winner, Annie Cresta, is from District 4. "You could say that." Finally, we're at the roped off area exclusive for possible tributes. We end up next to each other, just like every year.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she mutters quietly, so only I can hear.

"Let the Seventy-first Hunger Games begin." I finish just as quietly. We both laugh quietly.

We're both silent as the mayor reads about the history of Panem. Just as he nears the end, Alexa grabs my hand and I feel a strange twinge of joy. I know why she's anxious, girl tributes are always chosen first. I watch as Hebe Knight, District 4's escort, picks up a slip of paper.

"Piper Byrd!" A young girl with blonde hair and sea-blue eyes bounced past me and onto the stage. I've seen her around, but I don't really know her. She beams as she sits down in her chair. I know I'm supposed to want to be chosen, yet I can't help but have a feeling of dread incase me as Hebe Knight picks a slip of paper that has the name of the boy tribute for this year's Games for District 4.

"Daniel Abbot!" Alexa's eyes widen and her grip on my hand tightens as the news sinks in for me.

I am going to be in the 71st Hunger Games.

My eyes widen when I hear the name.

"Nyx Everret."

Nyx Everret!

No, I think. I know this name, even if I've never spoken a word to her. Nyx Everret is a girl, about two years old than me, with fiery red hair and brown eyes. She's one of the few people here that doesn't think I'm a monster, including my own father. It's little things that she does that tells me that much. Like she'll sit next to me at lunch, or she smiles approvingly when she sees me. I've heard people whisper about her, they think that she likes me. But who could ever like me that way?

She walks up to the stage emotionless. Almost bored. But I know that she's nervous, because she's biting on her nails. She does that at every reaping.

And now District 6's escort, Hunter Skye, is picking a slip of paper. I don't bother to wonder who it is, there's not really anyone I care about here.

"John Logan Wright!" I grit my teeth at my full name. Is it really that hard to exclude John? Logan Wright just rolls off the tongue better. As I walk to the stage, I realize Michelle's face is pale and her mouth is open slightly. Her eyes are wide with fear. At least there's someone who cares about me going into the Games.

Effie Trinket reaches her hand in the ball. I clutched Sydney's hand as she chose the piece of paper. Not Sydney, Not Sydney, I think as Effie picks a piece of paper. Not that Sydney isn't tough enough, but there's such a small chance that she'll survive the arena with the Careers that it's best that she's not in the Arena at all. And the thought of losing her is unbearable. Effie Trinket opens the paper and reads out the name.

"Merril Portman."

No. Not her. I think as a beautiful girl with tanned skin and brown hair walks, trembling to the stage. I know her. Merril is one of the most amazing girls here, even more than Katniss Everdeen, who's probably the best hunter in all of District 12. Yet I can't help but feel a surge of pride as she sits down in her chair. Merril is still biologically male. Somehow, I don't how, she tricked them into putting her down as female. And if she, against all odds, wins the Games…would she be able to get the necessary surgery? After all, people in the Capitol look ridiculous. It'd be nothing for her.

All too soon, Effie Trinket is picking a boy name. "Spencer Willis!"

You know that feeling when you've been sitting for a really long time and your butt starts feeling numb?

That's kind of how I feel now, except all over my body. It took a shove from Sydney for me to walk up on the stage. I listen as Effie calls for volunteers.

Silence.

"Well, then let's give a big round of applause to our newest tributes!" Effie starts clapping enthusiastically. The crowd slowly does as well, but you can tell it's half-hearted and forced. Because they know Merril, and they kind of know me. I mean, really I'm only known because I'm one of those scarce merchant people with brown hair and eyes. Because my dad married a women from the Seam. Merril on the other hand, is truly liked by most of the District. Her parents kicked her out of their house a few years ago, before her aunt and uncle found her. Doing something like that doesn't make you very popular here.