Chapter 1

The Reaping

District 9

I wake up cold. Of course it's cold. It's always cold in District 9, the District of Oil. We're the most northern district, in a place once known as the Yukon, but now it's "District 9."

I guess I should feel grateful. District 9 most definitely is NOT the richest district, but It's not the poorest, either. There's 10, 11, and 12, and to them our lives are glorious.

But if you ask me, there shouldn't be any Districts at all. And there DEFINITLY shouldn't be any hunger games. 24 juveniles fighting to the death is such an awful thing to think of I never watch it.

My brother, Roger, soon wakes up. Usually he'd have waked up much earlier – people over 18 like him wake up to work in the oil fields as early as 4:30 – but today's the reaping, when people are picked to participate in The Hunger Games, so people get the day off.

"Lily brought you this," he says, holding a beautiful silk purple gown for the reaping. Lily was our friend who moved to District 8, the Fabric District. Usually, Districts know very little about other districts, but Lily used to live in District 9, and we call her on our broken down telephone, which wouldn't work if she lived in another district, but Districts 8 and 9 are about 50 to 100 miles apart, so telephones can stretch that distance.

I put on the gown, nervously. I don't know what will happen if I get picked for the reaping. Roger's too old to step in for me and I doubt any one else would – It's basically a death sentence in any District higher than 4 – and I would not survive the hunger games. It's brutal. I can't stand watching it, much less doing it. Also, I don't know what Roger would do. Ever since my parents got hypothermia and died, he and I are all we have.

I mean, yeah, I've got some friends. But I don't depend on them to live. I depend on Roger's earnings, and Roger depends on my little garden.

Speaking of which, I go to the garden I tend. It's only a 10 by 12 foot garden, but me and my brother depend on it for fruits and veggies, and any excess I trade for Grains, Dairies, and Meats. It's a pretty good system. We may be hungry and skinny, but we're not always starving.

After I tend the garden, I put on my dress and curl my hair with a plastic comb.

"Ready for the reaping?" asks Roger.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I mutter. It's not like I hate the reaping. I have my name entered 5 times, because I have 2 tesserae and I'm 14, which seems like a lot until you think of the people who are jobless and don't have gardens who have their names entered 72 times, and then you realize that there are about a gazillion names entered, which seems to relax you.

We get out the house, past our neighborhood, and into town center. Roger drops me off at the entrance for people who have their names entered and goes to where everyone who's not in between 12 and 18 stands. He waves goodbye, and I wave back, knowing that there's a chance it might be the last wave I'd get from him in a long time…

OoOoOoO

I stand where all the 14 year olds stand, where our District-Person from the capitol says the story I find rather horrifying, where out of the ruins of North America a nation called Panem started …blah, blah, blah… the districts rebelled, and lost, and 13 was obliterated…blah, blah, blah…then, to keep the districts in order they create the Hunger games, where 2 tributes from each of 12 districts "get" to kill each other.

"But the most important thing is to have fun!" says the lady. Yeah, oh it's SOO important to have fun when you're fighting to the death.

Then she reads the list of victors. We have 8 total, but only 5 are still alive. "Samantha Kojak, Reggie Kar, Theodore Seier, Penny Wastubat, and, the lucky trainer of whoever gets picked, Oliver Twiste!"

Everyone in District 9 knows the story of Oliver Twiste. He went crazy after one of his allies joined the careers, and started hurting himself – stabbing himself with sticks, purposefully tripping off a cliff, stuff like that, etc. No one bothered about him because everyone figured he'd just end up killing himself, but he won after the last two contestants killed each other. He was the only victor known to not have killed a single person during his time in the Hunger Games.

Oliver Twiste starts to walk onto the stage. He could be quite handsome, if it weren't for the fact that he has exactly 13 scars on his face and an eye patch. He cut his tongue off, too, so he can't exactly speak, either.

"So…how's life been for you, Sir Twiste?" asks the District-Lady. I never really noticed it before, but her skin's tinted green and she wears an overload of yellow eyeliner. Her hear seems unnaturally brown, and she has fangs. But that's actually pretty natural for a capitol person. The celebrities and stuff, they appear on TV and they seem so un-human it's freaky.

Mr. Twiste holds a sign that says "Not good."

The District-Lady looks shocked, and it's obvious she rehearsed it, because she tells him, "No, Mr. Twiste! You were supposed to hold this sign, remember!"

She points to a sign that says, "Amazing! That's what happens to all who win the games! You should volunteer for whoever gets picked, even if you don't know them, because the risk of death is worth the life of fame and fortune I live now!"

The Hunger Games is the Capitol's main source of entertainment, so I guess they weren't getting enough volunteers. But Capitol people are really stupid, or they think we're really stupid, because it's obvious that Oliver's life is not worth the risk of death.

Then she points to a jar of names. Looking at it makes me shudder. Five of those names are mine, I think.

"Hmm…we should do the boys first, I think!" says the District-Lady. She points to a humongous blue jar with the symbol for male on it, and puts her hand in and reaches out. "Carlos…no last name." Somewhere across town square, a women starts crying and a very, very thin 18 year old Hispanic boy steps up. I recognized him as one of the boys that were so into poverty that I gave them plants from my garden free of charge.

"So Carlos," says the District-Lady, "how's everything doing for you?"

Carlos looks scared of her. I don't blame him. She's freaky from afar, but close up she must look really freaky.

"Oh, come on. I don't bite," she says. Then she shows him that her fangs are fake. One of the stupid trends in the Capitol.

I know he's thinking, I just got enrolled in a fight to the death, for Pete's Sake! How do you THINK everything is doing for me? I'm sure that's what I'd be doing. But he says, "I'm…excited," in a quiet voice that does not convince me he's excited. But what else are you to say?

"Great. I think you'll do fine!" says the lady.

But by the expression on everyone's faces, it's obvious no one thinks he will.

Which must not be very reassuring.

"Now does anyone want to take his place?" asks the lady.

Not a word. You could hear a pin drop.

"Okay, now for the ladies!" She gestures towards a jar the same (huge) size as the boys one, only this one has a girl's sign on it.

This is when the tension really rises. It's horrible. And I know if I get picked, no one will take my place.

Her hand reaches in…

It takes a scrip of paper…

She opens the paper and reads out loud. "Gemma Nare."

The District Lady is Effie Trinket but for District 9

i don't own THG

:D