I wait in silence with the rest of District 2 to find out which of us will either be vaulted to glory or dead in a box after the next few weeks. I catch myself playing with the hem of my mother's dress, pulling out the loose stitches my mom used to hem it in for my usage. My name's not entered that many times this year- I couldn't take out more tesserae than two, for myself and my mother, since we're the only ones in our family -Four times because I'm fifteen, and then twice for tesserae, but I still cling to the hope of winning. I've completed the Career school in my district, and I've mastered almost every weapon in existence. Should be useful, even if I'm not ever chosen, for if I become a peacekeeper in some outlying district.

Our Capitol escort, Magnus Redpath, has arrived. His fingernails are a foot long, curled, and painted in red-and-blue stripes. I'm in the second row, close enough to smell his pungent rosemary cologne as he steps up to the microphone. He smiles, which makes his lime-green lipstick and tattooed brows look even more freakish. Do we look odd to him as he does to us? We must appear so plain and drab in his eyes, considering he comes from a place where if something doesn't light up or sparkle or make you want to squint because the color is so bright, it's considered dreary and dull.

"Happy Hunger Games," Magnus announces. The speakers give a squeal of indignant audio feedback, as if he's somehow offended them by wishing us good luck. District 2 really needs a better sound system, I think. He winces. "And may the odds"- He braces himself, as if preparing himself to endure the speakers' wrath again, but the audio feedback is gone, some technician having reined it in. "be ever in your favor. We'll start with the girls." He shuffles over to the reaping ball (Are those men's high heels? Ridiculous.) and selects a name. He clears his throat.

"Eunia Naysmith!"

Fear. Paralyzing fear, penetrating down to the core of my bones. And then thrill. Because I've been chosen. Chosen to represent District 2 in the 44th Hunger Games.

I walk to the stage, my face a mask of calm smugness. I can't afford to be dismissed as weak when the Capitol televises replays.

"What's your name again?" Magnus asks. I have to suppress an eye roll. He's holding my name in his hand on a slip of paper. What a bumbling idiot. "Eunia," I say into the microphone. "Let's have a round of applause for Eunia Naysmith!" The district erupts in cheers. I grab Magnus's hand and hold it up in the air in celebration. Ew. His fingernails are weird and coarse because they're so long. I drop it, and he proceeds to the other reaping ball.

"Atlas Ronin," Magnus reads. Good. He was second-to-best in my Career School –second only to me- and I hate him for being adept despite being a moron (Though he doesn't know it), so he'll make a good ally until his stupidity gets him killed off, and I'll have no huge cause to mourn when he inevitably does.

We shake hands. He looks like he's still in shock. Emotion's still working its way through that tortoise-slow brain before it finally shows on his face. Pure fear. The mayor stands to read the Treaty of Treason. I'm shocked he still has to read it, seeing as he's read it 30-some times for the games, and it's not that complicated. The districts fought the Capitol, the Capitol was annoyed, we have the games. Yada yada yada.

A squad of peacekeepers leads us into the justice building. The doors shut behind us, confining the light to outside, where it belongs.