I look into the mirror, still wearing my Reaping outfit, a hand-me-down red dress, its faded color only a hue lighter than my hair. Though I have worn this dress for three Reapings now, ever since my first, but this was the first time it felt real to me. This was the first time it had mattered.
The woman from the Capitol that came each year had a comparatively sedate hairdo this year, a three-foot cherry red beehive that made her look like she had been shocked by an electric plate. I had been paying keen attention to every detail, the crowd, the stage, the handful of victors that District 5 was able to boast. But still, even in all the vivid detail that I saw the scene, it did not become real, become clear, until I suddenly heard the drawing of the female tribute.
"Ampere Fermi," the woman said, and for once, I did not inwardly mock the frivolous accent of the Capitol; I could only stare in concealed shock for a moment before smoothing my face once more and walking up the stage where I stood and stared straight ahead at the clock tower while the male tribute was drawn. He was a boy a few years older than me, one I had never encountered or spoken to. I did not consider him much, instead thinking of my strategy. It never hurt to plan ahead.
My goodbyes had been brief; nobody had ever cared for me much, I had no friends, little family, and only my parents came. I stated that my intention was to survive and I wished to see them again soon. They both broke down in tears and gave me one final embrace. I patted both their heads and smiled a little. I rarely do, but I felt the occasion had presented itself.
And then I was whisked away by some silly-looking Capitol officials who started grabbing my hair and gushing over it in birdlike accents as I tried to keep my face smooth. The disgust I felt at these silly attendants was a strange mix to the deep fear of what was to come.
So here I am, standing in the mirror, looking at my faded red dress and staring into my own amber eyes, not scared, not wondering, simply planning for what was to come.