I in no way own the hunger games, how ever any original characters, yes, yes I do.

A story of a girl and the boy she loves.

I remember the day I met him, we were both new. It was our first day in third year school and we were both friendless, or well I was. He fit in right away. After a couple of days he was one of the most popular boys in class. I still remained friendless, me being only seven around all these eight and nine year old kids, well lets just say I wasn't the attention grabber he was. I guess I was too shy. I was ignored by everyone, except him. He made me feel good, he was my friend. I remember a boy was making fun of me and soon after that pushed me down to the ground. He saw it and quickly ran to me, hugged me, and said it'd be alright. He chased the bully down, pushed him, and made sure he didn't mess with me again, and he didn't. I remember feeling a lot that day and one of those feelings I couldn't help but notice, love. He made me love him.

Every day after that I found myself walking home with him, I remember one day he was rushing to me after class, asking if I had anything to do, when I said no, he'd grab my hand and rush me off to the woods. We weren't supposed to be in them, they were dangerous, and if caught we could be publicly punished. But I felt safe with him and surely would take a beating to be with him, my only friend. I remember wishing that he felt the same way.

As time flew by so did he. It was the summer of our sixth year, the year I lost him. Before that, we were inseparable I'd always be with him and him with me, he was my best friend, if only I could say the same for him. It was the first day of the month, the day we planned to go to the woods, the day we always went to the woods. I remember waiting for him at the gate for hours only for him to never show. It was another month till I saw him next, I was waiting at the gate again, and I thought he'd never show but when he finally did it was with a group of friends. I don't remember being happy to see them, but him, yes. He had that effect on me. It happened so quickly he pushed me to the ground, I began to cry as soon as I realized what was happening, that, that day I'd lose him. He was in tears as he said, "Skye, I'm not your friend, I never was." I remember one of his friends coming from behind him, stopping when he was in front of me, he kicked me hard. I was silent, in pain, but silent. When he saw the look on my face, he looked disgusted; he knew what he was doing, even if he didn't want to. It was him doing it, and that's what hurt the most. He made it public; they made him humiliate me, just so they'd accept him.

I remember blacking out; when I awoke I was in my bed. My parents were asking me what had happened, I refused to tell them. Even if he wasn't my friend, I still loved him, and still wanted to protect them, for if they knew who, they'd surely find a way to punish him. They'd press charges and he may have in fact spent time in a teen enforcement camp, the place where they sent the juvenile delinquents who broke the law, and needed training. I don't think I could have ever put him through that, so I didn't. When they finally realized I'd never tell, they stopped asking.

I never was the same after that.

School grew dull, and before I knew it my seventh, eighth, and ninth years were over. Only a couple more years till I could leave what I now looked at as a hell hole.

It was the summer after tenth when it happened; I was 14, and him 16. It was the day of the reaping. I had never been called, and compared to anyone from my district; district nine, the chances of being called were slim to none. My name was only supposed to be in the bowl three times, but was in it five. I had to sign up for Tessera that year. My family was starving the extra grain would do us good and it did.

The reaping would start at two pm; anyone who didn't show would be punished. Unless you were sick, that was okay. Even then they'd send peacekeepers to check up on you, to see if you really were sick. To see if you were lying. And if you were, I think you'd wish to be reaped for the punishment was far worse than any game could give.

I walked alone to the reaping, told my parents I'd meet them there. After everyone has been checked in and was in their proper places, they'd start.

Edward Flowers walked on stage, he seemed extra bubbly this year. I couldn't help but laughing at his attire. What was it with the Capitol freaks? With their odd clothes and weird high-pitched voices; I don't think I could ever live in a place where contact with these kinds of people would be every day.

After the Mayor read and explained the Treaty of Treason - a treaty that was formed after the thirteen districts were defeated, this treaty provided new laws and peace and established the Hunger Games as punishment for the uprising. - Edward came to take his place. With a smile, he happily shouted "happy hunger games!" As he always did before the reading of the names.

I stared in suspense as he drew the first name, read it, and then spoke it, "Skyelar Lynn."

It took me a while to register what had really happened, that I had just been reaped into a game. That I had just been chosen to die. I walked slowly on to the stage. I remember hearing my mothers' screams and my fathers' sobs. They knew what was happening; they knew they'd lose their daughter. After a long while, I was on stage, and being greeted by Edward, after finally taking knowledge to the fact that I'd give him no answers, he changed his focus, he'd now choose the boy.

After another long wait, he once again picked the name, read it, and finally spoke. "Dean Spark."

I showed no emotion for the boy as he silently walked to the stage, tripping on his own shoelaces as he made his way up the stage steps. He was in tears, but not for long.

"Any volunteers?" Edward says into the microphone.

A second hasn't even passed and there it is a hand that has shot up into the air. It's owner's identity, hidden.

"Well well, that was fast. If you would please make your way up." Edward says.

The boy walks slowly to stage, his face sending a jolt down my spine. I don't know what I want to do. Beg for him to go back, to take his recent action away, or to hug him. But I can't, not because I don't want to, but because I can't forgive him. Even now, even with knowing that his death and my death are just around the corner, I can't. I can't forgive the boy I love.

It is Edward's voice that breaks my thought, "And young man, what is your name?"

He stands quiet for a second and then says coldly, "Aaron Clark." He then makes his way to the pedestal that sits beside the very one I am standing on. He stares at me coldly, I can't read his face. What happened to my best friend? I think. I look back at him, confused. I make sure to give him no emotion. He doesn't deserve it, what he put me through... I will never forget.

When asked to shake his hand, I refuse. Bad move, but I can't touch him. I can't.

Edward coughs and ends the show, "Alrighty then! Happy Hunger Games!" He says as he turns to escort me and Aaron off stage, but before doing so, as if set off by instinct quickly runs back and recites what he had forgotten, the ever so popular phrase, "May the odds be ever in your favor!" happy with himself he walks me and Aaron off stage and into a car. We soon will be at the justice building and soon will have to say our final goodbyes.

My goodbyes are quick and to the point, my mother and father are the only to visit. I hug them and then they go. I don't think I hate them, but I do dislike them, they have given up, and I can't forgive them for that. My parents, my own parents don't believe in me. So why should I?

After the hour given to us to say goodbye is up, we are escorted to a train. I ignore the crowd that has formed for I know they aren't there for me. They're here for him. They all love this boy, they all believe in this boy, the volunteer from nine. They want him alive. They want him to be victor. And for me? Oh sure, I'll come back, but not the way they want him to, I'll come back in a box.

I've been on a train for an hour now; I've been avoiding him the whole time. And truth be told, it's the hardest thing I've ever done. For so long I lived for him, I loved him. But for what? To be pushed on the ground, to be let go of, to be forgotten? No. He'll remember me; he'll remember me as the girl who died. His counter tribute in the 66th Hunger Games.

Sad thing is, when I look into his eyes I still see the boy who saved me from that bully years ago and took my heart.

I eat in silence and later sleep with the nightmares of what is to come.