I glance at my limp hair and odd-fitting dress with disguist in the mirror, wondering how the hell I came from my mother who stands behind me; tall, confident, glowing...

"Mira?"

I snap out of my trance, turning to face my mother and managing a smile as best I could. "I'm fine. And ready. Let's go."

My mother nods, her golden waves resting delicatley against her back, and guides me out of the room. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I quickly glance back at the mirror, frowning at my reflection; but not because of my awkward appearance-because Reaping Day always reminds me of our bleak future.

...

"Hey, just think; only one more year of this shit and we're free." I roll my eyes over at Tressa halfheartedly. She's always bashing the Capitol, even around the Peacekeepers. And maybe that's why we're best friends; the perfect mix of opposite. Or maybe simply because we had no choice. We grew up together as neighbors and classmates. Our mothers always planned play dates for us, whether we wanted to or not, but looking back now, I'm glad they did.

"Oh come one, don't be so uptight. But hey, who knows? Maybe one of us will be the next Johanna Mason," she teases, posing defiantly and flipping her dark hair to one side, looking like she's about ready to kill me.

"Woah... easy there," I mock, distancing myself from her with my palms up. To my surprise, and my luck, I end up crashing into Majoris and his usual crew of jocks whose only goal was to become the captain of the football team at school. Flushing red with embarrassment, I back away from them, all staring and laughing at my expense. "God, Mira," Tressa whispers as she pulls me away with her, stepping deeper into the crowd. "You're literally handing them reasons to make fun of us more than they already do."

Suddenly, we come to an abrupt stop as the music begins playing, marking the official beginning of the ceramony, sending an unbearable dread through my body. My eyes glaze over as I watch the mayor take stage, drabbling on and on about our history as a nation and everything I've heard a million times in my 17 years.

I zone out completely; through the entire speech, the song, and the video. That is, until, I hear my name.

At first I turn to Tressa at my side, as if she were the one who said it. But instead I'm caught by the fear in her eyes. And I know my fate.

"Mira Reese?"

I whip my head toward the stage where the Capitol woman stands, a gawky smile plastered on her made up face.

The girl from school standing next to me takes my arms gently and pushes me into the direction of the stage. I don't disobey. I can barely feel myself walking, or stepping up the stairs, or moving onto center stage; only the sound of my blood pumping in my ears.

"Wonderful," the woman coos, patting my back and guiding me to a spot on the stage as she walks to the glass bowl full of boys' names. Clearing her throat, she tightens her posture and beams to the crowd. "Ramsey Galloway!"

He takes a few moments to appear, but soon I watch as one of Majoris' friends slowly inches toward the stage, looking back at the guys every few seconds as though they can save him. I've never seen him so vulnerable in my life.

"Perfect!" the lady sing-songs as Ramsey walks onto the stage. She grabs us, quite forcefully, her smile never wavering, and presents us side by side in the middle of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, your District 7 tributes!"

The crowd cheers, although I don't know why, and we are guided into seperate rooms of the Justice Building where I'm told to wait. I flinch at the loud sound of the door slamming shut, leaving me alone to my thoughts in this bright white room. I'd rather be in prison. Or already dead.

The reality of the situation only hits me now, making my mind spin like crazy. Random memories of my mother pushing me on the swingset in the backyard, Tressa and I fooling around with dress-up clothes as young children, the sound of my father coming home after a long day of work. So innocent and sheltered from this hell.

"Mira!" My mother bursts through the door, along with my father, looking more somber than ever. The happiness in their eyes has completely vanished, as if I'm looking at a couple of strangers. "Oh my," she whipers, shaking her head feverishly and wrapping me in her arms. "I'm so sorry," she cries.

I fight for words to say, but I find none. My mouth hangs open and I watch my dad rubbing his shattered face, and I can't help but feel guilt for all of this. It's as though I broke their hearts with no say in the matter. I wish I could tell them it's okay. That I'll be home soon.

But that dream shatters as the peacekeepers pull me away from my mother and drag me down a dark hall.