If you recognise it, it's not mine.
They stare up at me from the crowd. Five pairs of tawny brown eyes. Five cocoa coloured faces ringed by a burst of dark curls. My little sisters.
Lily, barely nine years old, has silent tears pouring down her face. This morning, when I divided my small chunk of bread into five parts and handed them to my sisters, she slipped hers back onto my plate. She will have to take over as the feeder, the scrounger now. Then the twins, Poppy and Pansy. So alike even I can't tell them apart sometimes. They aren't crying, but their hands are locked tightly together. Even at seven, they know what this means. The little ones don't know what's happening, but five year old Rose is clinging to mother's hand, and even the baby, Daisy, nearly four, is trying to squirm out of father's arms. My parents look worse than the time Lily broke her leg, the time Pansy nearly got arrested for taking an apple. And they have good reason. I am only twelve years old, but my name was in that glass bowl nine times. Eight of them remain undisturbed, but one was picked out.
I have been reaped for the Hunger Games.
My only chance lies in the bouncy, cheery lady's next sentence.
"Are there any volunteers?"
And there is nothing, no sound except the wind whistling through the broken buildings around me. I see my parent's faces collapse. And then a boy called Thresh walks to the stage. If I wasn't so scared, I'd laugh. I am tiny, like the rest of my family. I am the smallest person who works in the orchards. That's how I can climb to the thinnest branches and swing from tree to tree. But Thresh, he could never get anywhere near them. He must be over six feet, and his arms are muscled. Talk about opposites. This is the sort of person who usually wins. He probably works in the fields, with a scythe. I'm not too bad with a slingshot, but I don't think a lot of people get killed by a pebble bouncing off their head. The only thing I'm really good at is climbing the trees. I am the first to see the quitting flag, so I pass the message on through the mockingjays nesting in the trees. I sing a short, four note song and the birds pick it up, bouncing it around the trees, sending us home with a strange, beautiful harmony. I wonder who will do it now.
When my family came to say goodbye, Poppy and Pansy sit on either side of me, heads on my shoulders. Lily sits at my feet with Daisy on her lap, and Rose climbs right onto my knee, the way she always does. Mother and father stand in front of me, then everyone starts talking at once. I explain to Lily which plants are good to eat, which places are never noticed by the Peacekeepers. Mother hugs me and tells me she loves me, and Father reminds me on how to make a slingshot. Daisy bounces up and down like a small dark bird, chirping her goodbyes over and over again. The twins hold out something.
"Please make this your token" Poppy says.
"I did the weaving and Poppy carved it." Pansy adds. I unwrap a parcel made of leaves and find a necklace with a small wooden charm hung on a strap woven out of grass. Then I recognise the charm. It's the small, spiked petals of the flower I was named for, Rue. I hug them both, tell them that it's wonderful. They whisper that it's a good luck charm. I really need one just now. As my family begin to leave, Rose runs back and throws her arms round me.
"Please come back soon, Rue. I don't want you to go. Please come back soon."
" I'll come home soon. I promise, Rosie, OK?"
As she skips away, I uncross my fingers. I wish I didn't have to lie.