A/n: Hey! If you're here it means you clicked a button because you want to read Skye! Cool! WARNING: This is the Exposition. That means it is very boring! So, If you stick with it, I promise It will be much more exciting... *Cough Chapter 3 Cough* Thanks and don't forget to review!

Chapter 1

Today is Reaping Day. And so, by this time next month, 23 children will be dead. The Hunger Games: Mainly invented for punishment at the districts rebelling. But I think they have proved their point millions of times over. That they are stronger than us. And they will always, always, win.

I sit in the tree trying to cut the last pieces of fruit from the slimmest branches. Just because I am 15 doesn't mean I'm not small. I am very, very, small.

I hear the clashing of the bells and know that I must return home.

Home. Home isn't Home. It never has been. It never will be. My parents left me when I was young. Never bothered with their child.

I lower myself out of the tree, and sprint off to the abandoned shack, in which I live in. I am pretty fast so I am in the door in no time.

Before I left for the orchards this morning, I poured stream water into a trough. I now lower myself into it and shiver in the icy, cold, water. Quickly, I clamber out and dry myself with an old rag removing the remnants of dirt caked on me. Then, I walk to the thin blanket covering the pile of barley straw and see what I have laid out for myself. It is a pretty thing, mint green with small flowers. If today wasn't today, I would smile at it, but instead I put it on with a frown.

Today, I am volunteering as tribute. One way or another, I am going to the Hunger Games.

I file in the poverty-stricken town square, caught in the current of 12 - 18 year olds wondering if it will be them. I see Mace, a bulky woman, with frizzy black hair so unlike my own blonde locks. Usually her warm chocolate eyes show compassion, but today they are dark with fear. She has a 12 year old. Myra's first year in the reaping. I want to tell her that her daughter will be ok. It's not going to be her. But instead, I give her my finger which she pricks with a silver needle. I walk into my age section just as the annual, boring film begins.

Then, after it is over, she, a fake looking woman with pink hair and orange tinted skin, leans over the bowl of candidates for female tributes. With a fake smile and flourish of her hand, she reaches into the bowl and pulls out a strip of paper. I can feel the anxiety of parents and the fear in the children around me as their hearts begin to pound against their chests, all wondering if they will be the capitol's pawn.

"Skylar Grey!" she calls in a high pitched voice. Me. Well, aren't the odds in my favor. I guess I won't be volunteering after all. I walk towards the stage steeling my face against all emotion. I am probably on every screen in the whole of Panem at this moment. Standing on the stage, I wait impatiently for my district partner to be called.

I feel nauseated. No. It can't be. Not him. Not my best friend. Not Nat. Then Spark volunteers. I can relax. At least for now. Until the games begin.

They shove us toward the Justice Building. No one comes for me, and I'm fine with it. I have always been a loner. Then, Nat bursts into the room.

His face is red, and tears are rolling off his cheeks at a rapid pace.

"Nat! You little cry baby!" I say pulling him into a hug. Nat has been my best friend since I can remember.

"23 of you die Skye! Only 1 lives," He blubbers into my shoulder.

"I know…" I wonder why he is telling me this. I already know. Plus, I really need him to be strong right now. He sniffles. Nat always was the weak one. Not in a bad way. He's just sensitive. Unlike me.

"I'll try Nat." I answer the unspoken question running through both our minds.. Then a peace keeper tears him away from me and I know I won't see him for a very long time. If ever.

A few minutes later I am shoved towards a train and escorted, most likely, to my death.

As the train pulls out, I catch what may be my last glimpse of 11.

Wheat fields and apple trees.

I wonder if I will ever see it again.