"Aleah!" Phoebe, my twin sister called. "It's time to go! If you don't hurry up, we'll be late for the reaping!"

Sigh. The reaping. My least favorite time of the year. Not only was this a Quarter Quell, but in my opinion, the worst of all Quarter Quells in history. It was the 275th Huger Games, or, in other words, the 7th Quarter Quell. And the twist was, this year, there was going to be a lot more tributes. Because, here is the twist: Anyone who 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, or 20, qualified. A boy and a girl from each even age. From each district. 144 children competing. The Capital was ecstatic, thou, so the Games were on.

And I was qualified, being 16.

I slipped into my dress, a strapless knee-length passed down from my older sister, Tamsing. It was a silvery blue color that matched my eyes. Since it's a little big on me, Mother had tied a sash-like belt around my waist, so it wouldn't fall off. Phoebe was wearing a similar outfit, only hers was a greenish color that matched her eyes. We weren't identical, but we were about the same height, and since Tamsing had so many clothes, we mostly wore her hand-me-downs.

My hair was tied up in its usual way, two long black ponytails that trail down my back.

I walked out of the house, meeting my family outside. They were ready, so we left. It is about a three minute walk from our house to the main square of District 8. The reaping went fast this year, probably because there was so many people to choose. Or would the right word be reap? I'm not really sure, but I listened to all the names that are called. I have a photo graphic memory, and I've memorized all the tributes for as long as I can remember.

The ten year olds who were called, Rose McRealen and Luke Hulio, looked terrified. The 12 year olds, Judith Richard and Ross Scott, were a little more held together, but not by much. The fourteen year olds- Beth Stuart and Jason Hannah- tried to look dignified, and it sorta worked, but not really.

My nerves have been working up, and now were at the 16 year olds. And then it happens. Haylee Retta, The escort for District Eight, sings out in that high pitched Capital voice of hers, Caroline Yrill.

My best friend, since as long as I can remember.I see her stepping forward, and I almost collapse.

"I volunteer!" I scream, almost a shriek. Emma, Phoebe's friend, grabs my arm to hold me up.

I can hear my Mother in the crowd, shrieking like a madwoman.

"My baby! My baby!" I can hear the people around her struggling to hold her back as she reaches for me.

Haylee Retta claps and says "Oh, what a twist! Now dear, come right up!"

Phoebe grabs my arm and says" Aleah no! Don't go, Aleah, don't!" She's sobbing now, and I turn and hug her.

"I'll see you in a minute," I say, and untangle myself from her grasp. Emma gives me a sad smile, and holds Phoebe back.

I take a breath, and walk up to the stage. The crowd parts as I walk through, just like they always did for the tributes. When I got on the stage, the 10, 12,and 14 year-olds were looking at me like I was crazy. Haylee Retta asks my name, and I manage to choke out "Aleah Marcus."

Haylee Retta claps and says, "Onto the next tribute!"

She skips to the giant glass ball holding the boys names. She pulls out a slip and says, "James Lester."

I recognize him; he's in my class at school, my brain supplies. He's the one who always comes to Daddy's store on Fridays, remember?

And I do remember, but it's better to be unattached, especially since were about to go into the games of death.

So Haylee goes on, asking for volunteers, but no one does. The last four names are called, the 18 year olds, Ella Dert, Mark Lirk, and the 20 year olds, Fern Maple and Gordan Teryu.

Were rushed into the Justice Building, and I'm visited by Caroline, her parents, my family, and Emma.

Caroline hugs me and her parents thank me by giving me some strawberries, a delicate here in District 8. Phoebe, Tamsing and Mother sob, and Daddy just hugs us all. Mother gives me her necklace, a family heirloom that's been passed down for as long as anyone can remember. Its made of fine silver and copper, braided together, a small silver clover on the end.

Emma comes and talks to me, reassuring me that she'll make sure that Phoebe doesn't forget to do all the things she needs to, because where as I have a photo graphic memory, she has a terrible one. Then the Peacekeepers come to take me away, and I'm lined up with James, who doesn't look like he's been crying, where as the 14,12,and 10 year olds do. That 18-year old, Ella, has most defenetly been crying, and is trying not to trip on her way to the train.

Ok, well I hope you like it! I don't know when the next chapter will be up, and if you can spare the minute, I would appreciate a review (yes, flames are welcome )