I wake before dawn of the day of the reaping. Only about an hour or so before my usual time of rising. However today I wish more than anything I was able to force myself in to a deeper sleep, so I would not have time to pay attention to my ever growing anxieties. I know it's unlikely I will be picked, and even if I were to be, someone from the training center would be desperate to volunteer in my place. But I have a knot tightening inside my stomach even so. I think it's just one of those deadly days that make you feel unbearably nervous and nothing you can do seems to be able to calm yourself down, everyone feels it on this day, but we all seem to cope with our dread and anxiety in different ways. My brother, Ivan, for example, spends the morning drinking with his fishing buddies. My mother puts all her energy in to making her children look their best. Distractions. That's the key.

I, however, spend every reaping morning, at the beach. Out of all the districts, I have never once doubted that four is the most lovely, as I cannot imagine how people could live in a place without a calm picturesque beach to visit when they felt miserable. Though I suppose it's often hard to miss something you've never had the chance to experience. For me though, if I was to be moved to another district, or my savior in four were to be banished, I wouldn't not to do with myself when I was feeling a little depressed, especially on days like today. If it wasn't for my this place, I would of lost my mind a long time ago. So, after my waking, I dress in a plain top the color of sea foam, and dark denim pants. My mother would skin me alive if I had decided to wear my reaping dress, which stood proudly in the wardrobe next to the pants. The dress in a hand-me-down from my sister, Marina, whom is much to busty for the thing now. However, it fits me perfectly. It is made from cotton and a green I can only describe as the hue of springtime. On the bodice, discreet fish have been stitched, in order to represent four's industry. It enhances the size of my almost nonexistent breasts by fitting around my chest snugly, has two very thin straps to hold things in to position, and falls to my lower thigh. It is very pretty, but when Mother made me try it on a few weeks before, I remembering thinking I looked a lot younger and weaker than I actually am. Maybe that's the idea. Careful not to wake my sisters, I grab my backpack and leave things behind for a little while.

The contents of my pack includes some scraps I have been attempting to transform in to fishhooks for my Father and brother, the quilt I am sewing my sisters as a reaping present, along with the equipment required to do this, and my own reaping presents, a large piece of bakery bread from my mother and father, and a necklace formed from oyster pearls from my siblings. We always get every child in our family a present on reaping day, I guess it's a pretty feeble attempt to try and bring a little optimism to the occasion, but I've always found it kind of nice. Me, Marina and my younger sister Eden are the ones required to participate this year. Ivan finished having to endure this torture earlier this year when he turned nineteen. Marina only has a year left after today and I have two, whereas poor Eden has to live in fear of being sent to the arena for another five years prior to this day. She is almost hysterical because of the unwelcome butterflies swimming in her stomach, it is only her second reaping and we had to give in and each sign up for tessera several times this year, so of course this adds to her panic. But my family have been doing there best to reassure her. "If you get called, Annie or me will volunteer in your place anyway, so stop feeling sorry for yourself already!" Marina has been telling her for years. "Speak for yourself!" I would often mock, but of course I didn't really mean it. If Marina was reaped, I had always been certain she could make it, she's pretty and healthy and athletic, but it was obvious Eden never would. Thirteen years old and still terrified of the most silly things; the dark, animals and wading in to the sea to deep and drowning. Things that were very unlikely to possibly hurt her, not with three fiercely protective elder siblings to look out for her. So you can imagine how terrified my cowardly little sister would be feeling today of all days. In an attempt to brighten her up, I make a start on the quilt. I had saved for an expensive and rare aquamarine velvet from the market, and had already sewed thick sheets securely inside. All to do now was the final decorations, possibly the most difficult part. At first I thought I'd mirror the little fishes on my reaping dress, but I decided Marina would find this rather childish, so I came up with the idea of stitching lines of fish hooks instead. Its delicate work, even for an experienced seamstress such as myself, but I manage to go at a fast enough pace. I let my thoughts roam my brain freely as I stitch, this being the only place I feel it safe to do so. With the fresh ocean breeze tainting my cheeks rose and the powerful salty aroma entering my nostrils, I feel about as safe as I ever think is possible for a citizen of Panem. I realize whilst freeing myself, that I am not frightened for myself but for everybody else and I wonder if this makes me a kind person or simply a stupid one. The thing is, I am not afraid of death. I haven't been for a long time. I'm not depressed or anything, I am pretty content with my life, and am more than aware most of the other districts are a lot worse off than myself. It's just difficult for me to be frightful of escaping a nation so consumed by poison and hatred. The discovery confuses me. I shouldn't be so relaxed about the prospect of being sent to my death in the arena. It's not that I want to die, in fact, I very much would like the chance to stay alive and reach my full potential, it's just that I would prefer myself to be reaped over somebody who is so desperate to live. I think about this for almost another hour, the time in which it takes to finish the quilt, and come to the conclusion that I am probably just thinking in this way because I am not expecting to be in such a position. I have pushed the fear so far to the back of my mind, I have convinced myself it has disappeared, when it most likely has not. Telling myself this puts me at ease again, so I fold up the garment I have been stitching and place it in my backpack, leaving out my thread and removing the scrap.

At that moment, I hear a familiar delighted squeal from behind. Ava-Marie. "Annnnnnnnie! Do you like my dress, mummy made me a new one specialy!" She gives me a flamboyant twirl and a hopeful grin.

"It's beautiful Ava-Marie, are you sure you want to be in it so early though, don't want to ruin it now do we?"

"I'm not going to ruin it! Mummy told me it was okay as long as I'm careful."

"Then you better be. The reaping's not for another few hours yet!"

"Are you scared, Annie?"

"What of?" Like I didn't know.

"Being sent to the arena of course! I am soooooooo scared my name will be called by that funny lady this year, I had a very horrible dream about it last night."

"You won't be picked Ava-Marie, I promise. Everybody adores you too much."

"Yeah. What are you doing Annie?"

"Making fish hooks.

" "Can I try?"

"I'm afraid not, most of the scraps are very sharp. Why don't you take a paddle?"

"No! I will ruin my dress!" She says indicating with her pudgy hand at her ankle length outfit. Made of lilac cotton it looks soft and gentle against her large frame. " Keep talking to me then instead." I offer, patting the warm sand beside my rear. "Okay!" She accepts happily, removing her sandals and digging her toes in to the sand. We've been close for years, Ava and I. Our mothers were good friends whilst they were pregnant with us both, and so were our fathers before hers died a few months after she was born. A boating accident, apparently. I feel for her mother, a tired looking middle aged woman named Anya, but I try not pity her as I know she despises that. You see, Ava isn't like the rest of the kids in four. She has a mental disability of some sort, and Anya had never had the money to collect any more information than this. Even though she is sixteen as am I, she behaves more like a slowly developing six year old. I adore her though, as do most people, she is seen as a sort of pet around town, even though I am aware how awful this might sound. You can always rely on her to be grinning or chuckling or in a haze of excitement about something or other, no matter what the circumstance. Which is why the nightmare she recalled took me by such surprise, if the reaping could have such an impact on someone as slow as poor Ava, surely the whole thing is the exact opposite to morality. Suddenly hit by the vision of my reliable sunny friend being scared to death is to much for me to cope with, I give in to my attempts of restraint and pull my companion in to a tight hug. Ava-Marie gets very overwhelmed about any sort of physical affection towards her, so caught up in the excitement of the moment, she whispers in to my ear "I love you, my Annie. You are my bestest friend. I love you soooooo much!" She will not let go, and I do not press her to. Not because I feel sympathetic towards her, quite the opposite in fact, but because I knew how happy it was making her. I wished I was Ava Marie for about the trillionth time in my life, having the ability to feel true happiness from an act as typical as an embrace.

Me and Ava Marie sit on the beach talking about things that made her happy until it was time for me to ready myself. Hair ribbons and puppies and flowers. Hugs and picture books and snow. I don't invite her back to our house, but as usual, she accepts what seems to be a telepathic invitation and trails along behind me. My father is one of the most successful fisherman in the district, so our apartment is fairly large in comparison to our neighbors. It located above the small shop my Mother runs selling my father's fish, a variety of bait and the odd piece of essential fishing equipment. Occasionally, if Marina and I find anything rare or interesting whilst illegally hunting for crab-meat and fish on the beach, she puts that up for sale too. The shop doesn't make nearly enough money as my parents had hoped for, but it helps decrease the need for more food, therefore it decreases the likelihood of me and my sisters having to sign up for a large amount of tessera. Marina is tending to the shop when Ava Marie and I enter, wearing a powder blue blouse and an irritated scowl. "Where the hell have you been all morning? We had to close the shop because we had nobody to watch the till!" Ava Marie pads over to my sister and gives her a tight hug, in which my sister responds with a harsh swat on the poor girls head. "Where I always am. Making your gift, may I add. And don't be cruel to Ava, you witch." My sister treats us to one of her infamous eye rolls. "Whatever. Mother's helping Eden ready and I suspect they're almost finished by now so you better hurry." Hurrying up the stairs and leaving Ava Marie to play with the Eden's cat, a jittery absent minded creature named Basil, in the front room, I make my way to the bathroom opposite. As I expected, a metallic tub of dirty water is positioned in the center of the bare floorboards. Removing my clothes and under garments, I brace myself for the bitter chill that is highly likely to race up my spine as I position myself in the water. I am not disappointed. Though the water is dirt ridden and freezing, I still feel at home. I have not mentioned this yet, but in my spare time, when I am not sewing or fashioning fish hooks at the beach, I am embracing the ocean that lays before it. Water, for me, is the most lovely thing. Slick silky liquid that has the power to either to destroy you or to make you feel infinite. I have always known my passion and talent for swimming in the solution was down to more than the fact I was born in Panem's fishing district. It's in my blood, I suppose. However I cannot sit and enjoy my bath as I usually am able to. It is fast approaching half past one, which is the time everybody is to start making their way to the square, and I haven't even dressed myself yet, let alone done something with my hair. After massaging sweet smelling moisture's in to my hair and body, I remove myself from the tub as quickly as I'd entered it. Slipping in to the robe I shared with Marina, almost always slung somewhere on the floor in the bathroom, I plod along to my bedroom. Mother is there, putting the last pins in to secure Eden's complicated hair style. "Hey." I say, starting to slip on some tan underwear I had just retrieved from a draw. "You're late. You're usually always home before half past twelve."

"I know, sorry. I bumped in to Ava Marie."

"To late to apologise now. Just get a move on, will you? We have to leave in ten minutes. Is Ava here now?"

"Yes, she followed me home. I felt bad telling her to leave me alone."

"Well she cannot stay, Anya will be worried. Walk her home, will you, Eden dear?" With an anxious nod my little sister exits the room to collect Ava. I pull my green dress over my damp body and stare at myself in the wooden mirror positioned at the other side of the room. The girl staring back at me looks vulnerable and feminine, youthful but spineless. I do not know how I feel about this. "You look perfect, Annie." My mother mumbles, not meeting my eyes. It's only now I realize they are almost the exact same shade as my outfit. "Thank you, Mother. Will you do something with my hair?" She fashions my wild dark mane in to a simple ponytail behind my head, and rests her hands on my shoulders. "You've always been the prettiest, Annie. A real beauty. Don't tell the others I said that though." Then she exits the room with tears streaming down her face, as she does every year. I would feel flattered, but I know she has paid Marina and Eden the exact same compliment, of something similar, just minutes before. It's her way of apologizing, I think, for having brought us up in a place that tortures innocent children every year.

Ivan is in the front room when I enter, and from the stench coming from his direction it is obvious he is intoxicated. He has done this to himself every reaping day since his fourteenth birthday, so it's not like I am shocked. My mother used to worry about him becoming a drunkard, but he is fairly sensible throughout the rest of the year, so she decided to let him be. Ivan is the exact opposite of most of the wealthiest young men in our district, who are broad shouldered with a golden or sandy blonde complexion . With ribs showing prominently through his fisherman's smock and his hair even darker than my own, people often mistook him for being an valley child instead of one belonging to a respectable merchant family. My mother was brought up by her father in the poorest parts of the district, which have been referred to as the vallies for as long as I can remember. Therefore, Ivan and I stick out like a sore thumb compared to our fellow merchant children, inheriting mothers chestnut hair and grassy eyes. Marina, who has the appearance of both a merchant and a valley child, with her faded amber hair and eyes in a shocking shade of turquoise, is petting Basil and groaning about something trivial. My father must be meeting us there. Eden, who looks as fair and bright eyed as any merchant child I have ever saw, is not yet back from delivering Ava, so we suspect that's her idea too. Shutting up the shop and switching off the lights, we dispatch from the apartment, in to the great unknown.