"Now why don't we mix it up a little this year, hey?" asked Babah Childs, flashing a great big grin towards the crowds "And instead…" he continues as he pulls a small paper slip from the bowl to his left "We'll pick our Male tribute first, yes?"

About two thirds of the crowd respond enthusiastically, Oh-ing and Ah-ing. I twitch my nose in disgust as they cheer lustfully for the glory of their district.

The people quieten down, and a hush falls as Babah opens the paper. The girls around me stretch unto their toes, excited with anticipation, etching to know the name brandished on that small slip.

"Finnick Odair!"

Cheers erupt from parts of the crowd as people part to make way. I watch as Finnick, carrying himself high, strides towards the stage. He doesn't smile, he doesn't cry, just sternly stares. The crowds are ecstatic, they love him; we all know that Finnick is the favourite. Though only being 14, he was strong, trained, and very very Handsome.

I studied him as he stood on stage, whilst Babah basked in the reaction from the crowd. The boy always intrigued me, the way we walked, the confidence he had and I couldn't pretend I didn't like looking at him either. But it was his work with his Trident that fascinated me most - his aim was impeccable; he never missed. It seemed another Victor from District four was on it's way.

"Well Done Boy, Well Done!" Cries Babah, gripping his hand in a sturdy shake "Now no time to waste! We'll get on with our female Tribute!"

The girls around me are no longer eager, they're hiding now, not wanting to be chosen - and I know why. In a district where Careers are bred, everyone knows when a victor stands before you. Finnick was a shoe in too win, and everyone knew it. No girl would try her trip for Glory this year, because chances were, they would not succeed against him. So now, whoever was chosen, was almost certainly headed for death. No one was going to Volunteer this year.

The air of excitement had vanished as every girl shivered in their spots. I felt a deep sense of pity for whichever name was to be picked. I wondered if this is how everyone felt in the other districts, where they knew they stood no chance.

"And the second tribute to represent District 4 will be…." A unified breathe was taken by the females surrounding me "…. Jemima Cresta!"

No. Why that name.

Girl's around me secretly exhaled, relived that their own lives had been spared. People parted to make way, cheering started again, but no where near enthusiastic as before. I heard giggles around me as people made comment "Of course it would be her"

"What were the odds?"

"Well we know which one to back"

"At least we won't be loosing someone with any promise"

Peoples heads spun as they looked for the chosen girl, straining to find her. All feeling had left my body. I couldn't believe it.

The one girl, with every opportunity possible in all of the District, who had never succeeded in training. Of course she was the one to be chosen as tribute against the strongest possible opponent.

I didn't hear Babah, or anyone, as I made my way to the stage. I walked emotionless as I stepped up beside Finnick.

Suddenly, I was looking into those Fathomless Sea-Green eyes as I shook Finnicks hand. They encapsulated me.

"Ladies and Gentleman, I present the District 4 tributes for the 65th Annual Hunger Games, and May the Odds be ever in your Favor!" cried Babah as the ceremony drew to a close.

The Odd's were not in my favor, and everybody knew it, and as I stood there, I remember the promise I had made that long time ago. I turned to the crowd, and despite the sick feeling in my stomach, looked straight into the closest camera, curtseyed, and smiled as mischievously as I could. Something to be remembered.