Chapter 1

Ch. 1

My laugh echoes in the empty forest as I swing from one tree branch to another, risking a glance behind me to see my pursuer. Reaching the end of another line of trees, I use my momentum to propel my body up and around the tree branch, doing a complete circle before I finally let go. As I soar through the air, I contort my body into a flip before I reach the ground and land on my feet, arms out for balance. I straighten my body, only to be knocked down onto the grass by a heavy force.

"Luke," I let out a laugh, my voice muffled by the ground, "What in Panem was that for?" In an attempted to push his body off of me, I wiggle my body and push my hands against his chest-to no avail. His muscular body leans heavily on mine, making it harder to breathe.

"You're getting my clothes dirty." I whine, letting my body go still. His chest vibrates against mine in a rumbling laughter, and although I can't see his face, I can imagine the blissful look on his face as he smiles.

"Since when have you ever been worried about how your clothes look? Or your hair, for that matter?" Luke props himself up on his elbows, an impish grin plastered on his face. My smile matches his as I gaze up at him, looking into his light blue eyes that I was always jealous of. The eyes of my best friend used to be so clear, almost always containing a glint that let you know he was up to something. Now, his entire face is guarded, as if he won't allow himself to forget.

Forget the 98th Hunger Games, or forget the new problems he has to face with the Capital. You would think that after being crowned victor, the problems would end. Instead, Luke has to face an entire new set of issues. The Capital won't leave him alone, always catching him off guard and whisking him away to that god awful city.

I knew better then to bring up the subject of his victory-it would only bring back unwanted memories of the arena, for Luke and for myself. While Luke was in the arena, I was stuck in District 7…watching as my best friend fought for his life against 24 others. During the finale, Luke watched as the psychotic girl from District 1 picked off the remaining members of his alliance, leaving them to face off as the final two. In the end he managed to knock her off the side of the cliff, but not before she delivered a nasty cut down his arm, leaving a permanent scar that even the Capital couldn't fix.

Once he returned, he was never the same. For the first few weeks he refused to see anyone, and it wasn't until after his victory tour that we were able to rekindle our friendship. Even then, it was different. His whole demeanor had changed from the fun-loving boy I used to know, to a careful, guarded man.

My eyes fixated on the long, jagged scar that ran down his forearm. Avoiding his eyes, I traced my forefinger lightly down it. Luke inhaled sharply, his body going rigid and quickly rolling off of mine. I sat up and avoided his stare to save myself from future embarrassment. We were both on edge today, and my mood instantly dampened once I realized why.

"The reaping is today," I stated glumly, my eyes downcast. "I still have two years left, Luke. You know how many times my name is in the bowl, with the tesserae and all. I know you offered to help pay, but I just couldn't let you do that. But Luke, what if-" The words caught in my throat and my hands shook slightly as I thought of the possibilities. District 7 wasn't exactly the largest district, and I knew the odds were not in my favor.

Luke remained silent, his body stretched out next to mine as we looked up at the blue sky. The sun beat down on us, almost as if it was teasing us. Such a nice day, but such a horrible event was taking place. How ironic.

"We should go, Jules. We can't be late for the reaping." Luke voiced my own thoughts, standing up and offering me a hand.

I sighed as I ran my hand through my knotty ponytail, knowing that I would have a hard time making myself look nice. I punched his arm lightly, and took off through the woods, racing him back toward the town.

I have always been 'one of the guys' for as long as I can remember. So, given that, you can imagine how horrible it was for me to be standing in front of the mirror in a light pink dress with a matching ribbon in my hair.

"Juliet, you look so nice!" My thirteen-year-old sister shrieked as she finished tying the ribbon into a perfect bow at the end of my braid. Kit turned me around, and I came face to face with her big, innocent blue eyes. Obviously, she was not the slightest bit worried for the reaping. Unlike Kit, my name was in there countless times. Being seventeen, my chance was already high, and I had taken on as much tesserae as I could so she wouldn't have to.

"Is this really necessary?" I grumbled, giving Kit a pleading look. At least I had managed to dissuade Kit from leaving my hair down in curls. I fingered the intricate braid that ran down my shoulder, slightly in awe at Kit's skill. Although it doesn't mean I was happy with it.

"Luke will love you in this!" She squealed, avoiding my question. I rolled my eyes in exasperation, explaining to her once again that Luke and I were best friends and that we didn't think about each other in that way.

She sighed obviously ignoring my reasoning. "Geez Juliet, just because you act like a boy doesn't mean you can't date one." She shook her head in mock disappointment before pushing me out the door of our shared bedroom.

Grumbling and groaning, I took Kit by the hand and we made our way to the town center where the reaping was held. After going through the standard procedure, I made my way to the seventeen year old section, pausing for a moment to give Kit one last reassuring hug.

"We'll be okay." I mumbled against her hair as I held her close, more for me then for her. She pulled away with a smile and walked off with her friends. I took a deep breath before entering my section, pushing past a group of weeping girls. What was their problem? Judging by their fancy dresses and perfect makeup, I assumed they belonged to the richer part of the district. They obviously didn't have to worry about tesserae increasing their chances. I scoffed. Girls. This is why I don't get along with them.

I turned my attention to our escort who was taking the stage. Luke was seated toward the back of the stage, a stone cold expression on his face. His sharp blue eyes were focused on the escort, but I could tell he wasn't really listening. Next to him sat an older man, Hutch, obviously drunk. His head lolled to the side and he looked sloppy, as if he had just woken up. Hutch had won the 68th Hunger Games at the ages of 18, and shortly after resorted to alcohol to solve his problems. Johanna Mason had been the most recent victor besides Luke, but she was killed during the rebellion, along with the rest of the rebels that participated in the 75th Hunger Games.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I once again averted my attention to our escort, Hilda. Decked out in orange head to toe, she looked like a carrot. I grinned at the thought, but it shortly disappeared when I realized I had missed the entire introduction to the reaping.

Someone was about to get picked. I just hoped it wasn't Kit. Or me.

"How about ladies first!" Hilda giggled, reaching her fingers into the clear bowel. Her long fingernails wiggled in the glass before plucking a single white paper. My gaze settled on Luke's rigid stature. He wasn't as focused as before. His hands gripped the underside of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. His stare looked almost crazed, and I felt a pang of pity for him. It would be his first year as a mentor, and considering Hutch was incapable of doing anymore then drinking his way through the games, he was basically alone.

"Is there a Juliet Breyer in the audience?" Hilda cleared her throat, looking around as if expecting someone to hold up a sign, pointing to the next victim of the Hunger Games.

It took a moment to register before I finally processed the name that was called. I heard a sob coming from the thirteen year old section, and I vaguely recognized Kit's high pitched wail. Seemingly in a daze, I took a few hesitant steps toward the stage, only to be roughly grabbed by a peacekeeper who hurried my approach. I winced, knowing that would leave a bruise. The pain shocked me out of my dream-like state, and I thrashed, attempting to shake the peacekeeper off of me. Kit's sobs pierced through the quiet air, each one louder than the first.

I managed to catch my balance after being roughly pushed onto the stage. I desperately tried to catch Luke's gaze, but his face was turned away from me, unusually pale compared to his normal tan complexion. Swallowing deeply, I answered Hilda's question, confirming my name and age. My voice sounded detached, as if it belonged to someone else.

Hilda gave me a smile, unfazed by my inability to form more than a few coherent sentences.

"Now onto the men! Who will be the lovely man representing District 7 in the 99th Hunger Games?" I spent the next few seconds frantically searching the crowd for Kit, although I was exactly sure I wanted to see her in such a state.

"Atlas Lennox!" Our escorts voice rang through the silence, welcoming a tall, broad shouldered boy up to the stage. I recognized him from school, but I had never held a conversation with him. He would have seemed like a normal kid, except for the creepy smirk on his face, like he was enjoying the. His blond hair was almost white, and his grey eyes didn't hold the same shine that Luke's had. Instead, they held something that caused a shiver to go up my spine. His eyes held a crazy look, the same one I had seen on the District 1 girl's face as she dug her knife into Luke's arm, the moment before she fell to her death.

I reluctantly shook hands with him, feeling his cold, stiff hands against my sweating ones.

Well, this sucked.