I'm the first to wake, and I get up quietly from my bed. I put on the training uniform, and leave my house for the Training Center. District 4 is as quiet as it'll ever be, the ever-present cawing of gulls and the sound of waves crashing against the shore in the background. The salty sea air assaults my nose as I slip into the Training Center. It's empty of people, but all the weapons and dummies and targets and obstacle courses are all still there. I pick up one of the throwing knives, a light, perfectly balanced, and wicked sharp weapon. It was the weapon I learned to use in my first training session when I was twelve, and while I can handle most other weapons reasonably well, I prefer throwing knives.
Standing in the center of the Training Center, I set my sights on a dummy about fifty yards away. Taking perfect aim, I send the knife flying with a flick of my wrist, and it spins at the dummy, a deadly horizontal arc of steel. Satisfyingly, my knife hits its mark and slices the dummy's head clear off, effortlessly. I grin. This is my second favourite spot in the world, after the ocean. Here, in the Training Center, with my knives and my anger and dummies to take it out on. It's a bit like therapy for me, these weapons. But it's a good thing they're dummies, or there's no way I would be able to sleep at night. After a few more rounds with the knives, I switch over to the trident, which is my next favourite weapon. When I've finished practicing every weapon available-spears, swords, slingshots, axes, even my own fists (and hand-to-hand combat is not my strong suit, at all), only then do I finally look over at the archery targets.
Innately, I groan. I am not a fan of archery. But my trainer, Calypso, wants me to get a feel for every weapon possible, so that if I end up going to the Games, I'll have a chance of winning using whatever I can get my hands on. If she were anyone else, I would ignore her instructions, but she's Calypso. She's one of the few people I respect. But she wants me to volunteer at the reaping this year, because it's almost the last chance I have to go to the Games. Yeah, right. There is no way I am going to die in place of someone else, unless that person is my little sister, Marina. I'm not one of those crazy-confident tributes who hope to be reaped and then dash forward to volunteer when they aren't. Plus, I'm not sure I could kill. Here in the Center, they're dummies, but that's the point. They're dummies. They don't breathe, don't have families. Don't have little sisters who wait for them to come home. Whether I could take a flesh-and-blood life remains to be seen. But I can assure you, if I am reaped, District 4 will have a victor. It might not be me, in fact, it doesn't have to be me, but I will ensure that either my district partner or I win.
So, for Calypso, I head over to the bows and I pick one out, a sturdy silver bow. I string it and I sling the matching quiver full of deadly arrows over my shoulder. I shoot for a while, not liking the way I have to depend on the bow to get my weapons to the target. Without a doubt, I prefer knives and spears and tridents, where I don't have to fuss around with bowstrings and nocking arrows, where I can just send death hurtling towards my target. It's simpler that way.
After a round of shots where every arrow hits the bulls-eye, I pack up, unstringing the bow and putting all the weapons away and I return home, where my family-or what's left of it-is sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. My parents are dressed in their nicest clothes, and even my little sister Marina has braided her normally messy red hair neatly. She has the same hair that I do…and the hair that Carter has. Or did. I guess that since he's dead I should start talking about him in the past-tense.
"Syrena, you can't go to the reaping like that!" says my mother, appalled. I look down. I suppose I can't, not in my training sweats. "Go change," says Mother. So I go to the bedroom I share with Marina and dig through the closet for something to wear. I find an old blue sundress that's nice enough, I suppose. I put on the dress and a pair of flat sandals and twist my red hair up. I'm not hungry at all, but I manage to choke down a bit of bread and cheese before we head to the reaping at the town square. Mother and Daddy stand together in the back section, and Mari and I are herded into a closed-off area for those eligible for the reaping pool. She stands with a clump of other thirteen year olds, and I take a spot beside some other sixteen year olds. I nod politely to the boy beside me and take a deep breath. Soon the lady from the Capitol will be onstage saying that she hopes the odds will be in our favor, and I find myself thinking about my odds. The odds aren't against me today, but they aren't exactly in my favor either. My name is in the reaping eleven times. Not too bad-if I didn't live in District 4, where most people aren't so poor that they need to enter their names extra times for tesserae-the just barely enough supply of grain and oil for one person in one year. One extra entry equals one tessera, and I have had tesserae for four people for two years. I would have a lot more entries though, if my older brother, Carter, hadn't insisted on taking all the tesserae for us. That turned out well. With an almost record-breaking number of sixty-three entries, Carter's name was drawn when he was eighteen.
The reaping begins with the mayor of District 4 reading the history of Panem. When he finally finishes his monologue on the Dark Days, he introduces victors of past Hunger Games from District 4. First comes Mags, hunched over with age-easily the oldest person in the district. Next is Finnick Odair, with his golden hair and sea-green eyes, and you can hear a collective sigh as the unmarried portion of the female population of District 4 swoons. Gripping Finnick's hand tightly is Annie Cresta, poor girl. She's beautiful, but her too-bright green eyes betray the truth-she went mad during her Hunger Games just two years ago, when her district partner was beheaded. It's hard not to resent Annie, as Carter had been her partner. He had been the one who was sacrificed in order to bring Annie home. But it's not Annie's fault, not at all. It's the Capitol's, the Capitol and President Coriolanus Snow and the Gamemakers' fault.
I swallow hard as Victory Vermilion, the Capitol escort, is introduced. She is entirely green-like her last name. Her hair, eyelids, lips, cheeks, clothing are all painted a frightening shade of green. With a giant beaming smile, she wishes us a "Happy Hunger Games!" and I fight to keep from gagging. "May the odds be ever in your favor!" she grins. Right on cue. "Let's begin."
Ever so slowly, Victory dips her green-painted fingernails into the glass ball filled with slips of paper with names written in careful pen. She slowly riffles through the paper slips, prolonging the suspense with a ghastly grin. The square goes excruciatingly silent, and I'm praying, praying desperately that it's not Marina, not Mari or me. But everyone else is hoping the same thing for themselves also. At last Victory snatches up a slip, rips off the seal dramatically. Her green lips are opening, in slow-motion it seems, please not Marina or Syrena Brooke, please no…she clears her throat. "Adele Vince!"
Dead silence. Then, slowly, a tiny girl, pale and shaking, begins to make her way to the stage from the twelve year olds' section. Everyone knows she won't last two days. Twelve year olds never make it long in the arena, even though District 4 is a "Career district", where we train ahead of time for the Games. However, we don't start our training until we are actually twelve, unlike the kids in 1 and 2, who start training when they start school. Addy's only been training a few months and she won't stand a chance trying to keep up with the Career pack.
"No!" screams the boy beside me, Cade, I think his name is. Addy's older brother. "Addy, no!" His face is twisted in agony, and he rushes at the stage to try and get to his sister, but two Peacekeepers in their white uniforms and helmets step out in front of him and stop him. "Let me through!" he yells, struggling against the Peacekeepers, to no avail.
This scene reminds me of Carter's reaping, when I was fourteen and he was eighteen. We were all so happy that he hadn't been reaped for six years. We weren't expecting at all for him to be snatched away on his final year eligible. When Victory Vermilion called out Carter's name, I had screamed and struggled just like Cade, wanting desperately to volunteer for him. But I couldn't, because only an eligible boy could take his place. Just like only an eligible girl can take Addy's.
An eligible girl. Cade may not be able to save Addy's life…but I can. I don't know Cade that well but I do know what he's going through. So I do what I wish someone would've done for Carter at his reaping. I push out of the masses of people. "I volunteer," I say, and no one but myself and the few people around me who give me shocked stares hears. "I volunteer!" I repeat, louder, and this time, everyone hears.
There's a roaring wave in my ears as the Peacekeepers let Cade through and he dashes to Addy and holds her tight and she sobs and he cries and they just cling to each other and all I can think is-I'm insane. Here I am, voluntarily going into the hellhole where one of the only two people I know I love lost his life. I am certifiably, absolutely insane. Victory, though, looks positively delighted, with a gigantic beam on her face. It makes me sick. "Come, come, darling. What's your name?" she asks excitedly.
"Syrena Brooke," I answer sullenly, without a smile. It's all right though, because Victory's million-wattage smiles more than make up for all of Panem. As she gets ready to draw the boy tribute's name, I catch myself hoping for Carter's safety, before I remember that he's gone now. Gone and safe from the reaping. Beheaded. Unworried. Dead. Gone.
Instead, Victory gets a wicked grin on her face when she sees the male tribute's name. I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Victory announces, "And our male tribute will be-Cade Vince!" My instinct was right. This is not good.
Cade freezes from where he kneels, hugging Addy, and there is a sudden role-reversal of sorts as Cade is now the one making his way to the stage and Addy is screaming Cade's name and fighting the Peacekeepers. So, my trying to protect Addy and Cade was completely pointless, I think bitterly. The Capitol won anyway, by taking her brother from her instead. In fact, I may have made matters worse for them. Perhaps the odds weren't a factor in the drawing of Cade's name at all. After all, it wouldn't be too difficult to rig a reaping. I'm sure it's been done before, plenty of times.
As Cade mounts the stage, I feel his eyes on me as the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason. In an effort to avoid his glance, I search for my family in the crowd. I find Marina quickly, through that distinctive red hair that Carter and I share. She stares forward quietly and resolutely, and I have to admire her bravery. If it weren't for the fact that Mari hates absolutely all weapons and having to kill anything-even fish, I would say that she would do better in the Hunger Games than me-Marina, with her intimidating steel-blue eyes and dauntless, strong aura, and then her persuasive words would garner dozens of sponsors. Whereas I come off more as unlikable and awkwardly clumsy, that is until I get my throwing knives in hand. Hopefully sponsors in the Games put more stock in the training sessions than the interviews with Caesar Flickerman, because I know already there is no way I won't screw the interviews up.
I calm my innerly rambling thoughts, and turn my gaze back into the crowd. There is my mother, crying quietly in my father's arms, whose determined expression matches that of Marina's. His eyes look straight into mine, and I give him a small smile. Because I can be like that too, like my father and like Mari and like…like Carter. I too can be strong and brave and resolute. I always have been, and I am going to have to be, if I'm going to win these Games. Because if I don't win…Mari can't lose both her siblings to the Games. I won't let that happen. I am going to come home to District 4, eventually.
All of a sudden, the mayor is finished reading the Treaty, and Victory is saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you-the tributes of District 4!" Victory has us shake hands, and when we do, Cade looks me in the eye and mouths, "Thank you." I shrug. Cade getting reaped sort of undid any good my volunteering might have done for the Vinces.
I swallow hard, take one last look at my district. Because despite my determination to win, what actually happens may be a very different outcome indeed. 4's not so bad of a place, at least compared to some of the other districts, like 11 with its incredibly strict Peacekeepers or 12 with all the starvation and death. Not to mention, the ocean really is beautiful, the way the blue glints in the sun, fracturing into greens and darker, more ominous blues. And the waves, rolling across the water.
Sometimes, when I get lucky enough to have the day off from work, me and Jenner, our neighbor, go surfing. Surfing is an old sport people used to play back when Panem was part of North America. What you do is, you get (or build, like we did) something called a surfboard, which is a long plank of wood that's wide on one end and pointed on the other, and you stand on the board in the water as the waves move it around. And when you get really good, like me and Jenner are, you can do tricks on the board, like surfing through the curl of a wave, or standing on one end of the board and still keep your balance. It's difficult, an art almost that requires a lot of practice, and I can't even count all the scars I've gotten from falling off my board while surfing. But it's exhilarating, pure and simple, and one of the few things I truly enjoy doing. I realize I'm never going to get to surf again. In fact, unless the arena is an ocean (which is unlikely), I'll probably never even see a wave again.
All too soon, Cade and I are marched away by Peacekeepers to the Justice Building, where we will say our final good-byes to our family and friends. This building doesn't exactly hold good memories for me, I think, as I nervously fiddle with the trim of my skirt. This was where I last saw Carter, alive and well and looking like himself, not dressed up and playing someone he wasn't. And now, it will be the place my family last sees me.

A/N: So, sorry this chapter is so long…I couldn't find a good ending point because I didn't have it divided into chapters. I actually have no clue where this story is going, I have it written out a bit farther but I don't know what happens later so if you have any ideas I would love it if you could PM them to me, thanks (: Sorry if I'm a slow updater, or if I just stop writing this one day, because I honestly don't know what's going to happen. Reviews please! Oh and ideas if you have any, thanks (:

EDIT: I realized that when Victory drew the boy's name she said "Carter Vince" instead of Cade Vince. Oops, sorry(: