Prologue

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we can all agree that this war was an awful occurrence. We can probably also agree that something has to be done about it, to prevent any further wars. Now we know that we can't do something too harsh, or too mild, either, so does anyone have any suggestions?"

"Hang the opposing side's officials," shouts one man.

"No, this will only provoke more fighting."

"How about taking away their resources? This will not only be a punishment, but it will make them weaker, too, preventing another war," calls a woman.

"I've thought of that in the past, but no, I think it's too lenient; they'll still find some way to thrive."

"How about this," says a man, "we redo what was done hundreds of years ago. We've all read the history books; we all know about the Hunger Games. Let's start them again. They worked in the past, only to be brought down by a rebellion. If we start them again, we'll just prevent any possibility of one, and even if there is a rebellion, we use our new, modern weapons, and put a stop to it. Also, we can create a strategy to stop the war if it were to happen."

"Very interesting. I hadn't considered that. I really like the idea, and I think it could be very effective. I think we have enough options, so now, we will all vote. Everyone, write down the option of your choosing on a slip of paper, and hand it to me. You may not abstain from the vote."

There is a shuffling around the room as people take out pieces of paper, write down their answers, and turn them in. The head of the meeting reads the papers quickly, and notices that the majority of the 15 people in the room are in favor of starting the Hunger Games again. "So it is decided," he says, "we will be having more Hunger Games."

"Let the 76th Hunger Games begin," the man who came up with the idea shouts, which is followed by a round of cheers.

Chapter 1

There is a loud CRACK as the axe my older sister, Karri throws lodges itself about six inches into a thick wooden board. "Now you try, Eben," she says, as she hands the heavy axe to me. Axes have never been my strong suit, but my sister wants me to be ready in case I'm ever picked for the Hunger Games.

No one thought they would come back, but when the war ended eight years ago, District 4, the now leading district of the nation of Panem, decided they would bring them back as a punishment for our nation. The moment the games were announced, my sister went out shopping, and bought axes, knives, and archery equipment so she could train for the games. She was only 15 then, but she decided that she would take the place of the girl tribute who was chosen, to spare her life.

And she did just that. When our neighbor, 13 year old Laya was chosen in the Reaping, she volunteered. I was only six then, so those were the scariest two weeks of my life, not knowing whether my sister would still be alive when I woke up in the morning. But because of her prior training, which no other tribute seemed to have done, she won easily. Ever since then, she's been trying to get me to train just in case I'm ever chosen in the Reaping. But honestly, the only time I train is the day before the Reaping.

"OK," I say, and she hands the axe to me. I throw it at the block of wood. Instead of sticking into the target, it lands in the grass about six feet to the left of it.

"Piece of advice," she says, "if you get picked, don't pick up an axe at the Cornucopia." I've become used to her insults on my axe throwing skills, which I completely agree with, by the way. The only things I'm decent at are throwing knives and close combat with daggers.

"You know, If you trained more, you might hit a target with more than just a knife."

"Whatever," I reply, "it only will matter if I get picked. And since my name is only entered three times out of thousands, I think I have some pretty good odds. Don't worry, I'll be fine." I don't expect her to agree with this. But for some reason, she doesn't object, and I don't know why. Maybe she's just tired, or maybe she wants to just get the reaping over with, and resume trying to train me next year. Besides, we have to start getting dressed for the Reaping. This year, she will be mentoring, so she has to get ready for the various interviews she'll surely have. As I walk back into our fancy home in Victor's Village, I notice my mother has laid out clothes for me already; a nice suit and deep blue tie. No one else will be wearing clothes this nice; as part of our punishment, the government raised the taxes on all things greatly, so no one can really afford anything so nice anymore. But ever since my sister won the games, we've been filthy rich.

I go up to my room to change into my nice Reaping clothes. On the way upstairs, I see my father standing by the door, talking with my mother. Their conversations stop abruptly when they notice I'm here. Their faces are pale. "What's wrong?" I ask them, but all they can say is, "ask Karri." So I do. But when I find out what she has to say, I wish I hadn't asked. She says my name was entered extra times, because the head gamemaker, Ellorus Vaughn Helsey, has decided that the audience would really enjoy seeing the sibling of a former victor get picked. I tell her I don't think it matters because I mean, how many extra times could he have entered my name?

"Well, I don't want to get you anxious right before the Reaping," she says, with obvious pain in her voice. This just makes me more nervous.

"Just tell me, Karri, I'll be anxious anyway."

"Fine," she says, and then tells me my new least-favorite number.

200.