I rise out of bed, looking out at the cobbled streets of District 3, excited to go to school with my sister Clarissa, and meet up with our friends. I get dressed in a simple green shirt and long jeans that go down to my feet. They are my father's, since we only have some much cloth and money to buy and make clothes. I walk out of my room, inspecting the old paint work my dad worked on so long ago, lines of paint peeling off from the wall, and wander into the still dimmed hallway. I knock on my sister's door before entering, the picture of our house that she drew when she was 7 still hanging on by a single nail. I wish that picture would fall off already, to stop reminding me of when we were younger and didn't know about the world we live in now.

I open the door as quietly as I can and glance to her bed. She's still sleeping, her body rolled to one side, her untidy covers spreading onto the floor. I am about to wake her when I realize why she is still sleeping so soundly. Today is the Reaping. Everyone is resting or waiting until 2pm rolls around, when we have to make our way to the town hall, to see who will be this year's tributes. I exited as quietly as I arrived, and shut the door behind me, the picture still haunting me as I turn the knob and lock the door, hoping to give my sister some privacy. The Reaping explains why I am the only one up, and how my parents haven't already rushed us to school. I turn back into my own room, lock the door and stare up at my ceiling until the sun rises.

I swing myself out of bed again as I see the shimmer of sunlight cast shadows through my room. I have to get chores done before anyone else wakes up, just to make sure we are all prepared for the day. I pull on my boots, tall and made of leather, and my small sack of coins, and step outside into the street. The sky is cloudy, probably from last night's drizzle, and I can see its remains since the bucket outside our house is almost filled to its brim. I drag it back inside and leave it near the front door. Its's our only water supply besides the streams of the woods that lead into the district, and the heavy downpours that happen periodically. I rush outside once again, before heading down to the market to buy a small amount of food for our breakfast. I reach the market, nicknamed The Gear, for it was where they say most of the old machines were made. It is also where small businesses and traders go to, only to leave after not selling enough, the amount of space and products rotating like a cycle. Like a gear. The name might not sound pleasant, but on the lone street where it has fortunately become prosperous, there's an old man nicknamed Sparky. He is probably the kindest man in District 3, and is always helpful when our family is in need.

I hurry over to his small stand, his body turning to look at its next customer.

"What are you doing up so early? You should be sleeping." says Sparky.

I laugh slightly. "I was about to ask you the same question." Sparky only gives me a smile, probably since I am the only person who cares about him besides his family. People just don't know him like I do.

I see that he has many different things, ranging from breads, to meat, to pints of berries of all different colors. "I got to ask again. How do you get all of this stuff?"

He gives me a hard look, as a pair of Peacekeepers tread past us, their white helmets shining against the morning sun. They are just around the corner when I realize how he got all this. His son went hunting again. His son is luckily above the Reaping age line at 21, allowing him to be with his family and help with the business. I have begged to Sparky for his son to teach me how to properly hunt, but Sparky always declines.

"You can't do what my son does. Alright? If he starts teaching you how, I might just have some competition on the horizon." he always jokes, even though I know that he's serious. Hunting in District 3 is dangerous cause of all the wild animals that reside outside the barbed wire fencing that lines the district. Anywhere past that fencing is off limits, and if the Peacekeepers catch you, they'll arrest you or worse. I once heard of a man who managed to sneak out at night and head over to the fence, hoping to cut the wire with just a set of tweezers. He barely was able to cut any of it before Peacekeepers came and shoot him right in the head. Just like that. Back then, the fencing wasn't electrified, but now it is, which just causing more hazards for going outside the fence.

I turn back to the task at hand. I look around at Sparky's delicacies before trying to purchase two loafs of bread along with a pint of red berries. I try to hand over my money, but Sparky rejects it.

"On me!" he exclaims, "I know you kids have a tough time today anyways, because of the Reaping and all."

I nod in thanks and understanding as I stroll back to my house, the aroma of soft bread trailing behind me as I go.