Chapter 1
I wake up early, today is the reaping day. I go outdoors, judging by the light it is about three in the morning. "At least there is no work today," I think. No work, the only upside. Like it isn't terrible enough to know you might never see your children ever again after today at least they give us the day off, although that does not make it a fun day. Once I have washed all the clothes, I go inside. Keniah is awake. I was hoping she would sleep in. I start making breakfast. We live in district six which isn't as badly off as some districts, but we don't have that much. Keniah is 14; this means her name will be entered three times. I never let her take tesserae; she is all I have left. Keniah joins me making breakfast, and then we sit down and eat. Neither of us speaks for a long time, and then Keniah says she is taking a walk around the district. Reaping days always feel empty, you don't have work and you don't want to think about what might happen.
Now that Keniah is home from her walk, we change into our reaping clothes. Keniah has a lilac dress that she has also worn for the past two years. I have a pale blue dress.
The walk to the town square is uneventful. When we get there Keniah is sent with the other 14 year olds, I stand on the sidelines to watch. Quickly the reaping begins. The capital escort Gaudia appears. Our mayor reads the history of Panem and the list of our victors. Gaudia goes up and wishes us a happy hunger games, then she says "Ladies first," draws a slip of paper and reads loudly and strongly, "Keniah Jaeison." "No," I think desperately, "Not my daughter anyone but her." Keniah is already walking up to the stage. I only know one thing; these will be the worst games of my life.
I walk into the fancy room, the rest of the reaping went by quickly, the boy was called and he went forward to the stage. He shook hands with Keniah and they were taken away. Now, in a room of the justice building, I get to say goodbye to Keniah. She is sitting calmly, but you can tell she is terrified, she doesn't think she will win. "Keniah," I say, "You can win, and you will win." She doesn't answer. "You are going to come home," I tell her. She still looks doubting. I take her hand, "I will be helping you the whole time," I say. A peacekeeper enters, "Goodbye," I say, "I will see you soon." Then the door closes and I begin crying.
At home I do nothing, by now Keniah will be on the train. It won't be a long ride for her, district six is near the capital. I go to bed without eating and dream a night full of nightmares about Keniah dying.