Disclaimer: The world of Panem belongs entirely to Suzanne Collins. I am merely a visiting tribute here.


Theirs was the biggest fishing community in the district. They were located right on the ocean, where fishing shacks fought for space on the sandy beach. On any given day, no less than thirty fishing boats were seen on the harbor, most of them rustic and unpainted because nobody could be bothered – they weren't trying to win any beauty contests, they were working.

But there were a few families who were rich enough to afford nice boats. The Wells family was one of them. They lived in the old lighthouse, which Mrs. Wells and her daughter operated. Mr. Wells went out on his boat every other day. He had better equipment than most fishermen, and so managed to catch more sea goods than anybody.

Of course, the Wells were generous. Every week, they invited one of the lesser families to eat with them, rotating all the time so that everyone in the community could benefit from their food. They also took on apprentices, which aided everyone. They couldn't pay them much, that was true, but it was said that having an apprenticeship with Mr. or Mrs. Wells was better than anything a young person could ask for.

But people were jealous, as is the norm in every community. The Wells were hardworking and generous people, but not everybody saw this. All they saw was a family who had been lucky enough to have the lighthouse and that they didn't struggle every day.

Sirena, their sixteen-year-old daughter, was also a problem. She was a pretty and vivacious thing who could outswim the boys in the community more often than not. She had long straight dark hair, sea blue eyes, pouty lips, and creamy skin. She'd learned how to fish at the age of four, when she had caught her first fish, an eel, with her father's help.

"Why should she always be the best at everything?" cried Jarvis Grouper, who served on the unofficial village council. "My son is just as good as she is, and her father has refused to take him on as an apprentice!"

"He's already got two apprentices, though," said Victor Roe, the mayor of District Four. "You can't expect him to take on more of them right now."

"Vic, you're too soft on that guy. He doesn't make quota!"

"Of course he makes quota. He brings in fish, same as you, and the fact that his wife and daughter operate the lighthouse allows you all to go fishing in a storm, or have you forgotten the time that the light saved your life?"

Jarvis said nothing for a while, merely throwing his hat down on the table. "I'm telling you, if you don't do something about it, I will."

"And what exactly are you going to do? I don't want to have to call the Peacekeepers on you, man, so don't make me."

"You wouldn't."

"I would. You don't like your situation, and I'm sorry about that, but everyone's doing the best they can. The Wells can't give any more away right now, and you know that."

"But they haven't made their kid take out and tesserae, have they?"

The mayor sighed and looked around at the other members of the 'council': Jeremiah Shoal, whose three sons were taking out tesserae to help their father, Ronald Hooker, who was raising two children by himself, Roy Bass, who was a little wealthier than others, but had made friends with the right people, Irene Coley, who made and sold nets, and Carrick Irvine, who had a huge family living on the outskirts of the community.

"That doesn't make them bad people, you know. My children don't take out tesserae either. Are you suggesting I force them to do this?"

"No, of course not."

The mayor knew what was bothering his friend. The Capitol was on the verge of announcing something about the upcoming 25th Hunger Games, which had everyone on edge.

"I know you're not friends with Wells, but you can't blame him for your misfortune," he said finally. "Now, if it's an apprenticeship you want for your son, I can find him a good spot in the Justice Building, and you won't need to worry about him. But don't any of you go telling anybody that I've done this favor, or everyone will clamor for the same thing."

Jarvis looked at Mayor Roe and picked up his hat, "Much obliged, friend," he said quietly.

"Why don't you all go spend time with your families before tonight's announcement? I have a feeling you're all going to need it."

Everyone nodded and got up, shaking hands and leaving. Mayor Roe watched them from his window, not exactly knowing what to think. They were a good bunch of people, for the most part. But the tension of the upcoming Hunger Games was weighing on them.

Down by the shore, a girl was just coming out of the water, with a bag in her hand. It was still a little chilly to go into the ocean, but she'd worn a wetsuit, and hadn't been particularly cold.

Sirena shook water out of her hair as she pulled off her snorkeling mask, which she'd worn to go into the water.

Her bag was wriggling. Looking down, she smiled. She'd caught over two dozen shrimp since she'd gone out, and them would make a good meal for her and her parents, if she were allowed to keep them.

Her father was just returning from work, hauling great nets full of fish with the two boys he'd taken on as apprentices, Jed and Buddy.

"Hi, Dad!" she called to him.

"Honey, what… have you been swimming? Do you want to catch your death of a cold?"

"It's not that bad out there. Besides, I used Mom's old wetsuit, see? I was fine." She held up her bag as her father found a towel to put around her. "Here."

"Thank you, princess," he said, kissing the top of her head and looking in the bag. He whistled, "Well, look at you! There are better ways of catching shrimp, but, this isn't bad at all!" He laughed in his baritone voice and put an arm around her. "We can sell 'em or eat 'em, what do you say?"

"Eat!" Sirena grinned. "Would you guys like to have dinner with us tonight?" she asked Jed and Buddy.

"That'd be great, yeah. Is that okay, Mr. Wells?" said Buddy.

"Sure! Why don't you and Jed go tell your families and come back here in an hour? And take a bath so that you don't offend the missus when you come in."

Jed and Buddy laughed, "Look who's talking, boss, look who's talking!"

Sirena grinned as her father put an arm around her and brought her back to the lighthouse.

It was a tall and imposing structure, its dark stone worn smooth by the constant roaring waves that periodically crashed upon it. It had stood there for many generations before the Dark Days of Panem, having replaced the ancient lighthouse that had crumbled once during a storm.

Sirena loved the lighthouse. She loved the power of its light that brought sailors home after a long voyage at sea, and the salty smell of the air around it. She was at home in the wind and the spray of the waves, as much as she was in the water.

Mr. Wells gently pulled on one of her locks, "Every time you come home, you get that same look on your face."

"What look?"

"The one that says that you're happy to be home."

"Well, I am."

"Why don't you go give that shrimp to your mother so that she can make us something delicious with it, and go take a bath as well."

She nodded, bouncing up the stairs until she reached the round kitchen on the second floor. It was by far the biggest room in the house, and had been painted white, with a red trim for color. A long wooden table, also painted red, stood in the center of the room, with six red wooden chairs around it. Her mother was working at the stove, chopping up some potatoes for dinner.

She turned around when she heard Sirena coming in, smiling, "Did you have a good time in the water, sweetheart?"

"I always do!" she replied, going over to her and kissing her, "Here, I caught dinner."

"Oh, honey, thank you. That's a lot of shrimp!"

"Jed and Buddy are having dinner with us."

"I should have known! All right, I'll make us some shrimp and potato stew. It'll be delicious! Now, go wash up. I have a tub of hot water ready for you in the bathroom."

It took Sirena only ten minutes to take her bath, and she made sure to refill the tub with hot water for her father so that he could wash as well. Once she was clean, she went to her room, putting on her home clothes, dark red overalls with a clean black shirt.

Whatever people thought about her family, they weren't really rich. She didn't have to take out any tesserae, but that didn't mean that they could afford to buy the fanciest clothes in town. The overalls she had on were a little short for her because she had sprouted half an inch recently. And several areas had been so frayed that she had used some old red washcloths to patch them up from the inside.

But overall, she knew she was lucky. Some people in the district had to scrimp and save just to put food on the table once a day.

Jed and Buddy arrived just as she was setting the table. Both of them hugged her as though they hadn't seen her in a month, making her laugh.

"So, what do you think young President Snow has to announce about the Hunger Games tonight?" asked Buddy, helping her father bring a bottle of fresh water to the table.

It was only President Snow's second year in office. He was twenty-six years old, and more than once, Sirena had heard people wondering how he had come into power so quickly. But it was already obvious that he adored the Hunger Games.

Sirena shuddered.

"Who knows?" said her mother. "But it's the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Games, so it's probably going to be something big."

"I don't doubt it," whispered Jed. One of the boys living on his street had died in the Hunger Games just the previous year. It had shaken everybody up. "Whatever the Gamemakers have in store for everyone this time around, I hope it's not as bad as it was last year."

Nobody said anything for a while, doubtlessly going over the nightmare that had been the previous Hunger Games.

The arena had been dark, with very little natural light. The Careers had had flashlights, but that had attracted all sorts of creatures of unspeakable origin, all giant fangs and milky white eyes that had devoured them.

"I think that the Gamemakers have learned now that they need to make the Games more interesting. At least for the Capitol."

"It would just be best if they abolished the Games altogether," said Mrs. Wells, putting down the shrimp and potato stew and beginning to ladle it onto everyone's plates.

"They won't do that, ma'am. People enjoy them too much now."

"I never thought I would live in a world where people enjoyed watching children murder each other for entertainment."

They were just beginning to eat when the television in the kitchen flared to life for the program. President Snow, young, and ruggedly good-looking, stood in front of the cameras in an impeccable blue suit and tie. His blond hair gleamed in the light. In his hand, he held an envelope marked with the number 25.

"Welcome, citizens of Panem," he said, his voice reverberating throughout every household in the country. "Welcome to the announcement for the Twenty-Fifth annual Hunger Games!"

The sound of cheering came through the television's speakers, most likely coming from the people who were watching President Snow in the flesh.

"This is a very special year. A year where we celebrate the first Quarter Quell, which will be celebrated every twenty-five years, with very special arenas, and, most importantly, with new ways of choosing the tributes!"

There were more cheers. Sirena looked at her mother, who had gone very still.

President Snow opened he envelope slowly, making a show of it. Finally, he took out the sheet of heavy yellowed paper from within, and began to read.

"As a reminder that the rebels of the Dark Days chose to sacrifice their children for the rebellion, this year, the twenty-four tributes will be chosen by their own district, rather than being reaped. The same age restrictions will apply. The tributes will have to be between twelve and eighteen years old."

"What?"

"Oh my God… they can't do this, can they?"

Sirena looked at her stew, suddenly not hungry anymore. The districts were going to choose their own tributes to send to the Hunger Games. They would choose who to send to their deaths.

President Snow was still speaking, "Each district is to select a group of people who will be responsible for choosing their tributes. Once a consensus has been reached, the name will be provided to the Peacekeepers on the day of the reaping, after which it will be revealed by the district representative. The Peacekeepers will enforce strict discipline during the two months before the reaping, make no mistake about it. As for the choice of the Selectors, as we shall call them, that will all be up to the mayor of each district." He looked at the camera, and Sirena felt as though he were dissecting her, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor."

Happy Hunger Games…

"Who do you think they're going to pick?"

"The strongest people would make sense," said Jed. "Nobody who's under eighteen will be chosen, you'll see."

"This will all depend on who the Selectors are. If it's the council, I don't know what they'll decide." Mr. Wells sounded sick. He knew only too well that many people on the council didn't like him because of his position.

All around District Four, people were in a state of panic, wondering who the Selectors would be. Mayor Roe was already talking to his wife about who they should be, and about potential tributes. He hated to have to do anything like this, it made him sick. But at least he knew that his children would be safe that year. As they were only thirteen, they would never be chosen. But who could it be? He didn't know, and had no idea how to choose a tribute to go to his or her death, for only one of them would come back, if they were lucky.