Chapter 1

Some mornings are easy to jump out of bed, but this is not one of those mornings. I wake up and look at my little brother I share my bed with, 14 year old Aster. Both of our parents died from a big train collision. And I take care of him out here in our small cottage my father built in the mountains. I walk him to school every morning, because I still need to go to school myself. I am only 16 but I feel like I am somewhere in my 40's. The brush of my golden hair against my tan cheek brings me back to reality because Aster needs to get to school in two hours, and it takes us an hour to get to the schools.

I push myself out of bed to get his school outfit together, move to the other room in our house—the kitchen— to make our lunches. It's never much, just a slice of cooked rabbit meat of which I illegally caught with a trap outside the house. Every morning I make the lunches I always feel a shudder down my spine because I know I can never give Aster as much as he needs.

Aster has always been better than me at everything, school, public speaking, dancing, style, friends, and even romance—if you know what I mean. But that stuff has always been the last thing on my mind. I just focus on his abilities, which he will get everything I didn't. I would do anything for him. So much I have walked straight out of the classroom when I went to 1st school with him, when I saw him fall down and scrap his knee. I held him until he stopped crying. Then I had to go back to my furious teacher.

If anything were to ever happen to me I don't know what Aster would do. So I try my hardest to give him space. He does know how to spear and skin a fish, and hunt down robin eggs. But fish and robin are only around State 14's woods for spring and summer. What could he do the other 2 seasons? I can never bring myself to teach him to hunt anything else; I can't see him hurting anything. Plus we barely have enough money for winter, not enough for him to go on his lifetime. He would need to learn to trade with the butcher, baker, and tailor.

When Aster walks in sleepy eyed, I have to seem like everything is ok but, he sees right through me. He is much smarter than that.

"Good morning, Champ." I say as brightly as possible

"Morning."

"Grab some roots to chew on; you need to be fueled up for the end of year exams. OK?"

"Sure"

We walk outside the cottage and see a note left by my only real friend I have ever accepted, Adonis. We met when I first moved here from the crop farms. We were only about 4 years old; he lives less than a mile north of my house, which is the closest of all the houses on the hill, which are usually at least 3 miles apart. He has to hunt illegally as well, for his father was attacked by a rabid deer, and was eventually infested with disease, he died within the week. He wasn't treated, for our generation, although it has many advances, lost many of the old ones along the way, and also the families on the hill are considered unimportant to society.

The note tells me that he and his little sister, Maria, Asters best friend, have gone to school early to study for the test in History today. Just like Adonis, always ready for anything you throw at him.

We leave the cottage without a word, with only the birds' morning song that I have always loved. The sky has a beautiful orange coming from the sun, and is a cloudless sky. I search around the trees; the only other life forms around here are the birds and a few squirrels that hop around our feet.

When we are about to break up the hill and behind the butcher's store, Aster looks up at me, to break the bird's song, and his face is serious;

"Marigold?" That concerns me; usually he calls me Mary, or any sort of corky nicknames, only when he is serious he uses my full name. The name that suggests a beautiful yellow flower that grows by our home grows very serious by his usage of the name. All names in my home State 14 mean something, considering how you will grow up to be personality wise and beauty wise. I was named Marigold, by my golden hair, to be beautiful, tough to grow wild, and the yellow suggest happiness and laughter. That's what my father told me before he died. Aster's name, although it is a purple flower, means a star, that suggests beautiful, encouraging, and greatness. Something I am sure Aster will achieve.

"Yes, Aster, what's the matter?" His eyes are telling more seriousness than I am used to see, but seriousness turn to hopeful, and stay that way.

"I don't want to go to school." To not go to school? If you don't go to school, you get publicly whipped! You are only allowed to if you are seriously sick or injured. And they check too. They do a thorough search of you, and make sure you're not lying. But Aster? Aster is in great health, I make sure of that. And if he were to stay home he AND I would be whipped for sure. If anybody goes against The King's Word, an Enforcer uses the tracker that was inserted in your back when born, to track down your house and severely punish you.

"Why? You know what happens if we skip school, right? You have learned about it in school, haven't you?"

"Yes, I know what happens Mary, but there is this guy there, and he has it out for me and a few of my friends." Great. One of the days I worried about was him getting a taste of real people, and what they are capable of. But this is a time where I must bring out the mother side of me.

"Aster, this is what happens sometimes. People are mean to others, just to get their own angers out. The universe does take them down, I promise."

"As lame as it sounds, I won't be strong enough to take them. I don't know how to deal with these things. Is there any way you can help?"

"I'm afraid I can only give advice. But I don't have much as you know, I don't deal with people at my school, it's not really my part of expertise. I hate to leave you all alone, but I am sure you can handle this yourself. I think you are strong enough."

Aster stays quiet until we reach the street that separates my school from his.

"Ok. Thanks, for your help. I think I can handle this on my own. I love you, Marigold. You're the best sister I could ask for. And I don't think I tell you that as often as I should."

"I love you too, Aster. Remember, you're a smart, handsome, funny kid and I know that you're strong enough to handle this on your own." He reaches out and gives me a squeeze. "Now get to school, don't want you to be late again." He reaches out to give me another hug, but I know he's just stalling from getting to school. So I turn his head around to face the school "School. Go there." He sighs unhappily then runs off in that direction.

Then I start walking to my school, my dreaded prison cell. Of walls that only keep me from seeing my brother, where I am unable to protect him from vicious human beings. I think of Aster all the time, there is no time for a group of friends, just one, not even a boyfriend is something I want in my future. But who would want me as one? I don't want to marry, have children. Aster is my child, right now. I wouldn't want them to have no freedom, unlike the past generations where it was all freedom. Instead of President Snow, they had a kind president, one that let you live wherever you liked, keep a family, and offered charities. But ever since the 75th Hunger Games and our rebellion failed, we have been kept on close watch. The girl that started it all has been kept on an even closer watch, Katniss Everdeen. In a way I would love to meet her, the person that led our rebellion. But after that everything changed. Peacekeepers, changed to Enforcers, 12 Districts changed into 14 States. But one thing, has not changed, The Hunger Games, those horrid games stay intact, and more horrible than ever. The Reaping is in two days, Aster will be entered in 3 times, since I will not let him enter in any more than required, and I am entered in 29 times. Aster and Adonis tell me how crazy I am for entering tesserae so many times, but if I want Aster alive, I will do whatever it takes.

When I get to school it's very loud, I just calmly walk to my locker without a word or glance to anyone else. I grab my books and leave for my classroom door and wait for it to open, so I can sit down and maybe get my mind off of our cruel government, which ruins my life. As I wait I sit out in the hall, back against the cold dark gray walls, and legs stretched out on the tiled white floor. I start playing with my school clothes. A black stretched out V-neck and cuffed capris jeans. After, I start playing with my side pony tail that runs from my neck to my chest. The ends begin to curl from all the twisting, and force my hands down.

Then is when I notice the paper sticking out of the back of my notebook. I pull the paper out to reveal an envelope. The envelope has 'Marigold 3'written carefully. I would do anything but trust the note but curiosity wins, and my fingers are already scrambling to open the envelope.

All I find is a drawing of myself— a beautiful drawing—with my hair in my usual side pony. My face is full and clear, I am sitting on the edge of the woods and the city. But instead of wearing my usual beat up clothes I am wearing a beautiful gold strapless gown, with sparkles and the ends are windswept. And my amber eyes stare into the distance of the woods. I am not the monster or rigid girl that I see in the reflection of the river that I fish in, but a beautiful flower.

Who drew this? Is all I can think of? There is no signature on it, no claim on it whatsoever. I sit there until the bell rings feeling every eye on me. When I walk into the class I sit in the very back corner behind a girl whose head is shaped like a peanut. I think her name is Catherine, meaning pure. While the boy next to me stares through the window at the trees whenever I look at him, but his hair is a chestnut brown with subtle sun kissed blonde highlights that is combed to one side, he has a strong jaw, eyes are a soft and comforting blue that squints at the touch of the sun to his face with a wrinkle to his nose. He is wearing a tie and sweater vest along with jean pants with cuffs that are dirty with mud. He is admittedly attractive, but he would never talk to a girl from the hill, the lower society, so I won't bother. I have heard his friends call him Braeden, meaning Broad, very popular at school. Most people want to be his friend since the butcher is his father, where most people want their meat to be from. Since most people are too poor to even afford to get their own meat or buy some from Braeden's father. But if your Braeden's friend, the butchers only son, you will most likely get discounts on fine meat that can keep you and your family going for weeks.

And I know him, somewhat, he has never been a friend of mine, we have never talked to each other for long, but long enough to know that he has saved my life. The way he saved me I hate to revisit, he did something that I could never repay, that if he hadn't done nobody would. And I never thanked him, never told him how much it meant to me. If he didn't save me, I would've died and where would Aster be?

I continue to think about things and sit there in my seat studying others until the bell rings for rec. class. I have chosen to take Home Economics for my recreational class.

For testing week I am moved to a table between two obnoxious boys, Ryan, meaning little king, and Blaine, meaning slender. And I try my hardest to ignore them when the fling grapes onto my head. Eventually when one is thrown I grab it in midair—making me seems much scarier than I am— and crush it then throws it back at them. This makes them stop.

I get through the rest of the day without a hitch, sort of, if you call sitting in the cafeteria alone, and not being talked to by anyone else a good thing, which I do. I walk to the end of the street and wait for Aster to walk back so we can go home.

His school gets out 15 minutes after mine, and I have about 20 minutes until he comes back. I think about the drawing. Why would anyone think I am pretty? Suddenly I get doubts in my mind, it is probably not that. It's probably a vicious attack on me for not being pretty! An attack on me that I'm always beat up and gross! But, this is too far. And somebody got a good laugh out of that one. Tears fill my eyes and I know I might cry but I won't let myself. Won't give them the upper hand.

Out of the corner of my eyes I can see a figure above me. At first I am unsure about it. Through my strained eyes I see the girl. She has black wavy hair, dark blue tank top, gray eyes, and a peanut shaped head. Catherine.

"What?" I say more hostile than I intended.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were crying," She says, "And I wanted to see if you were alright."

Embarrassed I wipe my hot tears away and begin making a friendly face that I do around others.

"Thank you. I'm Fine." I say

"What's the matter?" She says as she sits next to me on the bench,

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Then a small boy approaches with the wavy black hair as Catherine's, about the age of 8. He walks up to the bench,

"Hi Cathy!"

"Hey, bud, let's get home before mom starts getting worried ok?" The boy nods as Catherine takes his hand. Then as they both walk off the boy starts going on and on about some big fight that happened today at school. I shake that situation off while I wait for the next 5 minutes while I wait for Aster to walk up, so finally, I can go home. To that little house on the mountain that isn't much, but enough for me and what I love. The smell of wilderness, fresh pine scent, wind that makes you actually feels free, and twigs that break under your feet when you walk that has always been something I love about our home. Since I even am fortunate enough to call someplace home, with a little brother that loves me. My brother, sweet Aster, the little boy with hopeful eyes and a big heart.

But when Aster does walk up, I don't see that little boy I imagined with hopeful eyes, baby teeth, perfectly well kept blonde hair and nice clothes. Instead I see that Aster's eye black and swollen, 2 baby teeth knocked out, not to mention his hair is knotted and covered in who knows what along with his outfit. My vision blurs again and my eyes are once again watering. For the one thing I promised I would never do, was let Aster get hurt. And then there I was, knowing exactly what kind of thing he was up against and I let him walk straight into it. My worst nightmare has come true.

Preview to Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Aster, I want us to run home, and you are going to get some rest and then we will talk about this ok?" I say. He nods in agreement and we run towards our home. About halfway up Aster complains about a stomach cramp so I throw him into my arms and I sprint up the hill the rest of the way.

When Aster is settled and passed out on the bed I return outside to check the traps. Like most days, there is nothing.