Chapter One: The First Reaping

I don't remember how I felt when I woke up that morning. Anxious? Scared? Perfectly fine? None of it mattered though. All I knew, when I woke up that spring morning, was that I would be alright. I wasn't in danger. There were hundreds of other kids, kids whose names were entered over fifty times thanks to the tesserae. And there were always volunteers, or almost always. District Four was one of the "Career Districts", somebody who had been training for this would get in there. Not me. Not Finnick Odair. I was only fourteen, meaning my name would only be entered three times. I hadn't signed up for the tesserae, I hadn't needed to. My family was doing fine; we were fishermen, getting a plethora of good catches every day. I wasn't going to be called. I would be fine. I would survive another year of the reaping, another year of the Hunger Games.

I sat in bed, staring at the ceiling, reassuring myself everything would be fine, when I heard my mom call my name. "Finnick! Breakfast!" Her voice sounded strained – she was nervous. She always was on reaping day. I remember the day I turned twelve, she burst out crying during my birthday celebration. She ran out of the room, and my father followed, trying his hardest to comfort her. All I heard her say was "I knew we shouldn't have had kids!" Back then, I had thought she was mad at me or hated me for some reason. I thought she didn't want me. I locked myself in my room for a week. Now, I knew. I knew she didn't want the ever-present threat of a brutal death hanging over her child's head. I guess that's why she only had one. Bearing the pain for me was enough.

Finally, I pulled off the thin covers and got up. My room was a complete mess. My old fishing gear, the stuff I had stopped using years ago, lined the white-carpeted floor. I made my way through the disaster area and headed downstairs in my light blue sleeping shirt and pants. When I made my way into the kitchen, I silently watched my mom's back, fussing over the dishes. She couldn't handle this; I don't know how she was supposed to go through the next five years of reapings, until my name got taken out for good when I turned nineteen. I could never understand how the Capitol could do this to millions of people across Panem. It not only affected the kids, tributes or not, but also their parents – all because of some stupid rebellion that had happened over six decades ago. Well, I thought to myself, let the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games begin.

My mother turned around, two plates in her hands, and let out a yelp when she saw me. "You scared me!" she berated, as she ushered me into one of the chairs. "Here, eat." She stuck one of the plates in front of my face, and I saw it was filled with bread, a flounder fillet and a couple of eggs. I dug in, not realizing how starving I was. "Your father wants to go fishing before the reaping. Be ready in twenty minutes." She put her plate down on the table as if she was going to eat, but just stood there, staring at it. After a minute, she walked away into her room, shutting the door behind her.

I swallowed the last bite, and grabbed a quick drink of water as soon as my father came into the room. He looked at me, giving me a sad smile. He tried his hardest not to let the reaping days get to him, but they did. I saw it in his face, in his eyes. The same sea green eyes I had looked down on me, a mixture of pity and mercy. "You ready?" he asked. I nodded, walking outside to the shed with him. The grass was getting long, but cutting it would have to wait until the day was over, until the celebrations were up. The shed was falling apart, the door only half on its hinges when we pulled it open. We grabbed three of our biggest nets, a couple of fishing rods and my trident. As soon as I pulled it out, I stared at it. It had become so useful to me in the past few years. I pulled out bigger, more expensive fish with it than I ever could have done with the nets or the rods. I inspected it, as I always did when handling it. There a slight scratch right in the middle, from when I first used it and slipped, dropping it on the deck of the boat. Other than that, it was impeccable. I don't know how I could survive without my trident.

We made our way out to the sea, getting a fairly good catch for the day. After a couple of hours, we started heading back to get ready for the reaping. The entire way home, dad was silent. He would occasionally cough to get ready to say something, and then change his mind. I just kept looking at him, and when we got home I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Everything is going to be alright. I wanted to tell him that, but I couldn't get the words out. What if everything wasn't going to be alright? He quickly pulled away from me, embarrassed. Affection wasn't his forte. I had gotten from my mother.

As soon as we got home, she made a big fuss, dressing me in a new pair of black pants and a white button down. I had to look good for the start of the massacre. It was all just a sick joke. I got changed, and came out into the entry, waiting for my parents to follow. Mom grabbed me, hugging me tight. She whispered in my ear, "good luck, Finn." I nodded, swallowing hard. I would be fine.

We arrived at the reaping ceremony. The crowd was thick as I made my way to the boy's section, saying hello to a couple of guys from school. Dillion, one of my closest friends, gave me a nerve-wracking look, and I felt his pain. He was fourteen, my age, meaning he had his three required entries. Being from a poorer family though, he had entered his name one extra time each year to sign up for the tesserae, meaning he was entered six times, and I couldn't help but think that the odds were not in his favor as the ceremony began. The mayor called us all to settle down. I wasn't paying attention much; I was more focused on looking through the crowd. I started listening long enough to hear them announce the girl tribute. Someone named Kendall. She looked a bit older than me, probably sixteen. Then, they started searching through the bowl of names to pick out the boy tribute. I held my breath and looked over at Dillion, who had turned completely pale. I waited for what felt like an eternity to them to call who it was. I was fine. I couldn't have been me.

I heard the words "Finnick Odair." My whole world seemed to freeze.