Chapter 1

I felt my hands slipping on the rope. My fingers started to burn as the rough strands slid through and I tried desperately to fight off gravity.

It was too late.

The ground rushed up and I fell in an undignified heap on the floor. Third time today. I sighed deeply. I could hear the laughter from the other career trainees and the bark of the trainer telling them to focus and continue their exercises.

"Allure!" The trainer barked my name, coming up and shoving her snarling face into mine. I was forced to look into her burning eyes. I couldn't help but flinch away, trying to look anywhere that I wouldn't see her condemnation quite so clearly.

"Look at me!" She yelled, almost spitting as she yanked my face back to hers with a strong, roughened hand on my chin. "You have disgraced your family here today, you will not leave until you have reached the top of this rope. " She looked to the others. "The rest of you, you are dismissed."

There was a bustle of noise as everything threw their weapons back down, picked up bags and left. All I could do was sit on the floor and look up at the rope hopelessly.

It's not that I was awful at the career training; I actually wasn't too bad, but as soon as I knew that someone was watching me, cold sweat broke out on my face, I started to tremble, and every muscle turned to jelly. Jelly isn't good for muscles when one is trying to climb a rope. And so I fell, and everyone saw, and it was embarrassing.

Normally I wouldn't get into so much trouble, but everyone was a bit on edge in the lead up to the pre-reap, especially my class of seventeen to eighteen year olds.

The pre reap is the hidden part of the games in my district. To the rest of Panem, we have volunteers who stand forward proudly on reap day, and fight to the death in the Hunger Games. But behind the scenes of District One, when the cameras aren't even there yet, there is the pre-reap.

As far as I know there is a pre-reap in at least District Two and Four, I don't know about the others. From the tears in some of the lesser districts when names are selected, I would have to assume not. A pre-reap determines who gets first right to volunteer as tribute, to fight for their chance at fame and fortune, to make their family proud. In my class of thirty, I knew at least four of the girls were really desperately hoping for that elusive meeting where the trainers from the school would come and tell them that they had been chosen for the pre-reap.

If anyone asked me, my money would be on Velour, she was by far the strongest of the ones in my class, and she was pretty, which is important in tributes.

I looked back up at the rope, sighing deeply, my father was not going to be happy with me coming home late. I glanced over my shoulder. No one was there anymore; it was just an empty training room. Excellent, maybe now I could actually make some progress.

I jumped high and held on tightly. I shimmied up, one hand over the other, using my legs to push up. It really wasn't so hard when no one was looking.

I reached the roof and hung from one of the beams for a moment, just enjoying my small victory, it was nice having just been laughed at.

"Good job, you can go home now." Said a voice from behind a row of chairs. The trainer had been watching the whole time. Jelly muscles set in and I felt myself falling.

It was too high; I was going to hurt myself. I grabbed for the rope and finally managed to slow myself down enough to hit the ground only a little harder than I had meant to. I walked awkwardly as my ankles struggled to recover. The trainer snorted and left the room, leaving me with a burning face.

I hobbled for a few minutes and then set off at a quick walk, hoping that my parents wouldn't notice that I was late.

I turned onto my street just as the sun was setting and saw the familiar sign "Desiree Perfumery" hanging from my home which also functioned as my father's workshop and store. I felt all of the tension melt out of me as I walked through the door and into the small kitchen and its warm welcoming light.

My mother was placing dinner on the table, perfect timing, I thought. She nodded at me sternly. It wasn't that she was angry; my mother just wasn't the sort of person who would smile. A nod was good enough for me and I washed my hands and face quickly before sitting at the table. I smelled the mouth-watering aroma of cooked stew and could barely hold my hands in my lap as I waited for my father to come up from the workshop. Finally my father arrived and sat next to me with a warm smile.

"Smell this." He said as he pulled up his sleeve and presented his wrist to me. I leant forward and breathed in deeply. It was a kind of exotic smell, something spicy about it; there was definitely Amber oil and a tiny hint of Jasmine and something that almost smelt like cinnamon.

I looked at him questioningly. "It's a new one." He whispered. "Top secret." He winked and turned back to my mother.

My father was training me up to take over the perfume business. There was not a chance that I was ever going to be brilliant enough to be a career, much to my mother's annoyance, so he decided that my place was to take over the family business. As soon as I came out of school in six months, I was going to be full time in the workshop and, honestly, I couldn't wait. I loved the smells and the magic of it all.

My mother indicated that we should eat and I grabbed a roll from the pile and tore into it as my father ladled the stew. It wasn't that we were starving, nothing like the lesser districts; District One knew how to handle its finances, but a whole day of school and then career training made you hungry. I savoured the slightly sweet fluffy white bread. It was freshly made and pure heaven.

My family ate in contented silence until the stew was completely finished. My father sat back with a deep sigh as my mother picked up our dishes. I pushed my chair out, sitting back like my father, so full that my stomach stuck out over my pants, but I didn't care.

Then, unexpectedly, there was a loud knock on the door.

My mother frowned deeply.

"Go and get that for me, will you Allure?" She asked.

I hauled myself to my feet and walked over to the door. Who would be calling at this time of night? It was probably just one of my father's customers.

I unchained the door and opened it.

There, staring at me were two officers from the training school. My breath caught in my throat. Why were they here?

"Allure Desiree?" The taller man asked and I nodded silently. "May we come in, we have some things to discuss." He said in a way that I knew meant he wasn't really asking. I nodded slowly and they walked past me into the dining room.

I closed the door behind then, barely daring to breath.

"What's going on here?" I heard my father demand from the other room and I hurried in before he did anything stupid. The two men sat at the table, making themselves comfortable. One picked up a roll from the basket and bit into it.

"Great bread." He said and my mother nodded her thanks at the compliment. "Allure, I'm sure that you know why we are here." They said and I shook my head.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't." I said, looking from one to the other, questioningly.

The taller man grinned and leaned forward eagerly.

"Well, Allure, we are here to congratulate you. You have been chosen as our female pre-reap tribute." He said, still grinning eerily.

I looked from one to the other, sure that this was a joke. My mother looked shocked but pleased whilst my father looked drawn and afraid. I didn't know which was more terrifying.

I laughed nervously. "Thanks, but no thank you. I have no interest in being a career." I said firmly. The two strangers grinned more.

"It is not a choice, Allure, you are the chosen pre-reap tribute, you will volunteer come reap." They said without batting an eyelid.

I laughed nervously again. Could they do that?

"Why me?" I asked, starting to feel real panic now. "What about Velour or Pearl or…" I struggled against the bile rising in my throat.

"We have determined that you are the best candidate."

I couldn't breathe.

"And if I refuse?" I asked with barely a squeak.

The grins faded from the faces of the two men.

"Your family will be imprisoned and you will be killed." The tall man said. I didn't doubt for a moment that he was telling the truth.

I looked from my mother to my father and back to the men. How could this be happening? I had been awful in training. I had never even expressed an interest in volunteering as a tribute. Surely there was someone else who could do this for me.

But staring at the hard faces of the men who bid us goodbye and walked out of our once warm and friendly house, I knew that my chance of escape was gone. I would have to volunteer as tribute for District One. I could only wonder who the boy tribute would be.