Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games nor its characters. I just own Everett, and that's it.


The ray of sun shone brightly and made its way into my room and hit me on the face, my personal alarm clock. I woke abruptly; as today was the day I had been looking forward to for a few years now. Nervously, I jumped out of bed and continued with my morning routine, beginning with breakfast and ending with dressing myself in appropriate clothes.

I took a step outside with my beloved Hunger Games books and started towards my car. Just in case another family member woke up, I left a note on the kitchen counter reminding my family where I would be. On the way there, I almost got stopped by a police officer for driving too quickly. Finally, after several stops and warnings, I made it.

The book signing event.

Checking one last time that I had my books, I nervously ran my hands through all the tabs I had. Each tab within the book was a question addressed toward Mr. Erns, who I will be meeting today. Apparently, Mr. Erns is the "Hunger Games Expert," and he had spoken with the author about this book on several different accounts. A long line already started forming; I left my car with my books to join the line.

After what seemed like hours, the line began to diminish, and I was only ten people away from Mr. Erns. I gawked at him, not in a way I would check out an attractive girl, but in a sort of awe-stricken way. Peculiarly enough, Mr. Erns stared at each of the readers, as if he were looking into his or her soul. Sort of creepy, in my opinion. One hour later, I was now standing in front of the great mastermind.

Mr. Erns smiled at me, "What is your name, young man?"

E-Everett. My name is Everett, Mr. Erns. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I handed him my book, and he wrote a little note for me and stamped the author's signature right next to it.

"It's nice to meet you too, Everett. It's not that often you see a young lad like you out in places like these," Mr. Erns chuckled. "Why, why. This is a mighty lot of questions you have here. Why don't you go ahead and ask me?"

"So does Katniss love Peeta by the end? It seemed pretty superficial to me. I don't know exactly how girls' brains work, but if she loved Gale in the beginning, how can she just suddenly love Peeta? She only "loved" him because that would be "right?" Or did you just want a happy ending for all of them?" I inquired.

Mr. Erns looked stared at me, "Well, Everett," He shifted through a stack of papers, with pre written questions and answers on them; he found the answer he was looking for.

"I don't suppose I could tell you that, you'll have to find out on your own," He retorted.

I nodded, "T-thank you?"

He returned the book and did that weird soul-boring look at me; I stared back at him, unfaltering.

Mr. Erns nodded and said to himself, "Yes, yes. This is a good one."

I stammered another thank you and briskly walked away.

That was so very weird. I swear I feel different right now. The whole look he gave me was kind of creepy, what if I'm possessed right now? What if he possessed my soul? I thought as I ran to my car.

Opening the car door quickly, I entered and carefully placed the books on the passenger side.

"Hold on, I never read what he wrote me," I said to myself.

I grabbed the first book and opened it to the cover and read out loud, "My man Everett. You seem like such a fan of these books and I thank you for that. I hope to see you once again and have fun."

Something about the words "have fun" seemed a little off, compared to the other words. I read it once more, trying to grasp at what was different about those words.

I shook my head and told myself, "You're losing it man, there's nothing different about those words. You're just thinking there are. Now go home."

Obeying my own orders, I tossed the book to the passenger seat and started going home. Once there, I grabbed all three books, exited my car, and arrived home. I glanced at my clock; it was already time for lunch. Thankfully, my mother had already set out food for me, and I devoured it.

Sitting down on the couch, I started to dissect the little note the author left for me. There is nothing different about those words, I kept telling myself. You're just being an idiot, stop looking at the books and hit the gym.

I sighed and picked up the keys to my car again; this time the destination was the gym. Like any other teenage male in the world, I had become obsessed with keeping my body in optimum condition, so I visited the gym almost every day even during the week. Sometimes I even pretended as if I were training to be in the Hunger Games, a little joke to myself. Much like the regime the career tributes receive in the hunger games, I train in the gym and I also take fencing classes, so I know how to wield a sword.

After about an hour in the gym, I went back home to wash up and spent the rest of my day watching television, surfing the internet, or reading. Quickly the day was over, and it was time for me to sleep. I stripped myself of my clothes and crawled into bed, sighing as I mustered over what will happen the next day.

Morning arrived much too soon as the sun hit me in the face. I paused for a minute. The sun hit me on the other side this morning, huh. Maybe I flipped over while I was sleeping. I shrugged the thought off and climbed out of bed. My feet hit carpet when I tried to get out of bed.

That's weird too. I recall my floor being made out of wood, not carpet. Am I still dreaming?

By this time, I had my suspicions – either someone was playing a trick on me or I was going crazy.

I looked down at what I was wearing, an outfit I had never seen in my life.

"What the fu–"

I was cut off by a woman's yelling, "Peeta, get your lazy ass off of bed and get into the kitchen right now!"

Did she just call me Peeta?


What do you think? Should I continue?