My hands vibrate pleasantly as I hit the ball with the bat. It's a home run for sure. As fast as I can, I run the bases, paying attention to nothing but my feet and the shale.
We play baseball every afternoon in the summer; the school believes that we need at least half an hour of physical activity a day. I don't mind; I'm good at running and I'm strong for a girl, so hitting is easy. When we play girls vs. boys, I win, no competition.
I'm the oldest in my class. I got held back a year, so while I'm fifteen, everyone else is only fourteen. Unfortunately, that means I more mature than most in my class, which is irritating at times. When everyone is goofing off, I usually don't find what they're doing very funny.

Gracefully, I slide in at home, and my team cheers. I see many of the boys shaking their heads. They don't like to be beaten by a girl. "Great job, Olivia!" calls my best friend, Casey, and I beam at her. Everyone pats me on the back.

Our instructor claps lightly. "Nice going! That was great! Unfortunately, we're out of time today. The bell rings in five minutes." He blows his whistle, and the boys, who were fielding, jog in. "Olivia," he whispers to me, "Can you bring the bats in? I'll get someone else to carry in the bases."

"Alright!" I say merrily, and I pick up the bat bag, heading for the storage shed. My school is right on the edge of the town, so when I look around, I can see fields on one side of me, and houses on the other. There's nothing more beautiful than the prairie in the sunlight. I don't notice that I'm standing still, just staring out into the distance, until one of my classmate's hits me with the bases on accident. I hurry along beside him, and my heart skips a beat. Of course, it had to be Nathan Roberts.
Nathan is the most attractive boy I've ever seen. He has spiky brown hair and bright blue eyes. His face is so handsome, it can make you melt. I'm usually very outspoken and confident, but when he's around, I turn into a clumsy blubbering fool.
To prove my point, when I see it's him, I trip over my own feet, and the bats land one of my toes. I swear, and he turns to look at me.

"You okay?" he asks politely.

"Y-yeah I'm fine." I stutter awkwardly. "Fit as a fiddle. Groovy as a guitar!"
Groovy as a guitar? I sigh. He probably thinks I'm insane. He raises his eyebrow, and walks away.

"Smooth." Casey tells me, and she helps me with the bats. My heart is still racing, but I'm grateful that Casey is with me. I usually can keep my cool when she's around.
She may only be thirteen, but she looks older than I am. Her straight brown hair and bangs frame her face just right. She's not as athletic as I am, but she's great at talking to people and making them feel welcome.

I grit my teeth regretfully and reply, "I don't know what happened. One second I'm racing around the bases; next, I'm tripping over my own feet." Casey giggles and hands me back the bats, as her arms are getting tired. She waves, and heads into the school.
Nathan is gone by the time I get to the shed. The shelf where the bats go is empty, so I shove them on. After I'm done that, I retrieve my hidden backpack from behind one of the wrestling mats.
I'm not one of the more popular people in District 9. A couple years ago, I got on the bad side of a couple older kids, and they hold a grudge a long time. Every day after school, I run home one or two kilometers, since they wait for me and chase me, so they can get their hands on me. I have an incredible endurance.
The bell rings. I sprint out of the shed, and up the spindly gravel road. As I guessed, Ross and his gang are waiting for me.

"What's your problem?" Ross taunts as I zip past him and his friends. "Scared of us, punk?"

"In your Neanderthal dreams!" I shout back. It's not fun running unless someone's chasing you. Ross and the others run after me, but they can't catch up now. They missed their chance.

When I was twelve, Jane Winters was my best friend. She was shallow, but she was actually really nice when you got to know her. I deluded myself into thinking I changed her. Boy, was I wrong.
One day, at the end of the year, Jane's brother was Reaped for the Hunger Games. She started hanging out with May Copper and Jack Callis, two of the most popular, yet most stupid, people in our district. She got a new boyfriend (Ross) and Jane ignored me completely. I was hurt. I called her out on it, but Ross told me off for hurting her feelings. I have a hot temper, so naturally, I got into an argument with him. Everything went downhill when I slapped him.
I'd never been more bruised in my life. Ross, Jack and his brother, Brian, beat me up until the Peacekeepers found us. They received punishment for attacking me, and they had to send me a written apology, but they blamed me for getting them in trouble. I know they can't wait to get their meaty fists on me again.
After about three minutes, Ross and his buddies get exhausted, and they stop running after me. Sure, I could walk home now, but that takes all the fun out of it. I'm the fastest runner in my school, and I can only keep that up by staying in practice.
I live with my Aunt Delila and my eight-year-old cousin, Jasper. My parents both died when I was little, but Delila never talks about it, so I don't know why. I know her husband abandoned her after she had Jasper. The two of them are the only family I've got left, so Delila raised me. She runs a little clothes shop in the market. We have more money than most in District 9, so I think I'm really lucky. I try to help Delila out as much as I can. I can't sew like she can, but I can work the till as well as anybody. She says I do too much, but I don't care. Delila has been a better mother than my real mom was for the last fourteen years.
I'm almost to the door, when I trip, and I hear a rip as I right myself. Unfortunately, I'd torn a hole in my track shoes. I go through more running shoes than most people do, and I know it annoys the heck out of Delila.
When I walk in, I notice my aunt is not home. I assume she's gone to the shop to work. Delila's store is across the street, so she's not far. Jasper is sitting at the kitchen table, eating cheese shaped like stars. It looks expired, but tomorrow is Reaping Day, so I know we'll finish off the old, disgusting food tonight. Last year, Jasper got sick because of what we ate the day before the Reaping. I honestly think it was just his nerves; when he gets too anxious, he throws up.
I tousle his light brown hair and steal some of his cheese. I have to force it down, but I know we'll have more appetizing things to eat tomorrow, when Jasper and I are safe for another year.