Summary: The first Quarter Quell decided that the districts would vote for their own tributes. Emilie Wood finds herself being District 7's tribute. She didn't expect who the other tribute would be. Now she must survive the Hunger Games at it's worst. Before a fire, the kindling has to be arranged.

Authors Note: I previously had this story titled "The First Quarter Quell." Writing in first person made more sense to write in. Hope you enjoy. Please review!


I

I've never taken the Hunger Games or the Reaping seriously. It's usually some other unfortunate kid. My name is Emilie Wood. District 7 isn't horrible, I don't have to worry about taking tesserae, and the only thing I really dislike is how stale the bread has to be for me to eat it. My family runs the bakery, and at sixteen I haven't worried about the Reaping. I just wish we had more butter for the bread.

Everyone at my school just seems to be some android that functions on Capital propaganda. Of course, I'd never say that out loud as it's generally frowned upon. I try to avoid talking about politics since at six when I told my mom I thought President Kline was the great she looked at me horrified, but if I tell anyone I hate the set up of the government, I might as well be burned at stake. During history we have to watch a video. I'm not against it.

A live showing of the Presidents speech plays. He's tall with salt and pepper hair and his face seems too stretched out. A small boy in a white stands by the president holding a small box. The president grabs a gold envelope with 25 written on it. He opens it, reading from the card.

"The Quarter Quell, it marks the twenty fifth Hunger Games and is also to remind the citizens of Panem of the losses during the war," the President says. "To remind them of how they instigated the war, each district will choose their tributes instead of the Reaping."

I hear the class gasp around me. We finish watching the broadcast before the lights turn back on. I hear we have to nominate a two people for the final voting. A slip of white paper goes around. Boy and Girl are typed on it. I take out a pen and think. Everyone else is scribbling furiously around me. I put down some random guy for the male tribute. I really want to put down the mayors daughter for the female tribute. I don't like her. At all. Terra Cliff is the most annoying, obnoxious girl I've ever met who clearly doesn't take a hint when someone doesn't like her. Instead, I put down my name. It's more of a joke really, I'm pretty much a nobody so no one will vote for me. I turn in my slip.

At lunch I sit with Bianca Strong and Margaret Brown. They're really the only two people I consider to be friends. I've known Bianca since fourth grade and Margaret since ninth.

"So who did you nominate?" I ask pulling out a stale cookie from my lunch bag.

"Danny Howe and Jobe Stevens," Bianca responds.

"I nominated Adam Verga and Pike Lynch," Margaret admits.

"I'm guessing you nominated Terra," Bianca says.

"I didn't. I think I voted for someone else," I snap.

"It really doesn't matter. It's up to the adults after the tallying is done," Margaret points out.

"True," I agree.

It goes back to being quiet and then the bell rings. The day goes by faster. My homework requires writing about how genetic engineering can be improved. I delay this as much as possible by frosting up the remaining cupcakes. My younger sister, Fey, comes home and begs my mom to let her play with one of her friends down the street. The three of us look alike, the usual District 7 brown hair and a small build.

"We had to nominate tributes today," I say as my mom begins on a cake.

"Who'd you nominate?" She asks.

"Some random kids. I mean if they would've already given us nominees it wouldn't have taken as long."

I wonder if she'll notice that I voted for myself. Who am I kidding? No one's going to vote for me. Dad's probably working at the lumber yard right now— it's more of a part time job for him.

I try to finish the rest of the school year with decent marks. The one year I'm actually good. Mom and dad kiss our foreheads before they go to the elementary school for voting. It's then that I worry for Fey's safety. Being twelve she should go under the radar. But after this year, hopefully she never gets Reaped. I doubt her name even got into the top five for voting. I pass her a chocolate chip cookie before I finish putting the new batch away.

It's growing later at night. I make Fey pasta before I grab the loaf of baguette bread. I cut a slice and try to find butter. Why do we never have butter when I want bread! I pull pieces off rolling them in my hand. Slightly softer than usual. Perhaps I should've burnt the last so the bread wouldn't taste weird. Least it's not moldy.

I go to bed early that night. Two days and it'll be known who goes into the Games.