I am so excited to finally be posting the first chapter of this. For the past month it's been my baby and gone through several evolutions. Any reviews or criticisms you guys can give me will be greatly appreciated and I'll reply to them as soon as I possibly can.

Thank you all in advance for reading (and hopefully reviewing- I've got my fingers crossed) this.

The Hunger Games are, of course, the property of Miss Suzanne Collins. :)


The sun says it's nearing noon. I need to leave that way I can be ready on time, but I can't force myself to move away from my spot on the beach. I can't make myself walk away from the feel of the wind in my hair, of the sun beating down on me, or the waves gently lapping at my feet.

I let my body fall back against the sand and look up at the blue, cloudless sky. It's a beautiful day. A beautiful day that's about to be marred with the naming of twenty-three children who will be brutally slaughtered by their comrades. It's a sick concept and I quickly push the thought away, knowing it's best not to dwell. I've made it five years now without my name being called. I can survive this one as well. I have to.

My eyes close and I listen to the low rumble of the ocean and the distant cawing of the gulls. I could stay here on this beach forever.

Just as I'm about to doze off, there's the sound of feet clomping through the sand and giggles as two people race towards my silent haven.

"Nicaea! Nicaea!" the voices squeal before crashing into my body.

I open my eyes to see my younger, twin sisters, Lara and Lilaea. Their brown hair is secured in little braids on either side of their heads and they're dressed in cute blue and yellow sundresses. They grin up at me, front teeth missing, and I smile back at them. They have four more years before they have to worry about today. For now it's just a day of dressing nice and then a small celebration when we're all safely back home.

I hug them both tight and kiss the tops of their heads.

"Mom says you need to come home now," Lara says.

Lilaea nods. "She has a new dress for you. It's so pretty, Nic!"

Their grins get wider and I nod. It's time to go in now. It's time to get this day over with.

We stand up and brush the sand off ourselves before walking back into town together.

Where we live seems relatively small, but it's cozy and comforting. The buildings are crammed together, only a few stories tall, and are all painted in varying pastel colors. The windows in all the shops are dark today, but on any other day they would be full of displays featuring food, clothes, books, or the latest fishing gear. It's not just the shops that are deserted, I note, as we walk through town. Everyone's at home, tucked away with their families, holding each other tight, and hoping their name isn't called at the Reaping.

I want to shake my head at the thought. The Reaping is awful, even if your name isn't drawn, because most of the time it's a death sentence.

I grab my sisters' hands and pick up pace slightly. All these thoughts of Reapings and empty towns are making me anxious. I'm coming back. I'll be walking these streets tomorrow, singing and laughing with my sisters.

Our house is yellow stucco with only two stories, despite the fact that we could probably use a third. It has a bright red door and large windows that are open to let in as much sunlight and ocean breeze as possible.

Lara rushes forward to push the front door open and I see everyone else gathered in our small living room.

My parents are holding hands and the look of pain in their eyes makes me hurt. My name hasn't even been drawn and they're already fretting over the idea of me in the Games. It makes my heart ache, especially when I see how pale my mother is and how hard she struggles to walk up the stairs to get me ready.

She's been ill for years. When she was pregnant with my brother Keenan three years ago, we were absolutely certain that we were going to lose her. She pulled through it though and was doing pretty well until a couple months ago when she began having a bad relapse. It's been awful watching her slowly fade and even worse seeing my father dying on the inside while my mother dies on the outside.

She's trying so hard to put on a show though, to keep up tradition by helping me get ready. I know my older sister, Castalia, offered to help me. I also know Mother turned her down before she could get the whole sentence out.

So I follow her upstairs to the room I share with my sisters.

The twins weren't kidding, I think as I look at the dress lying on my and Cassie's bed. It's a lighter green color with little straps and when I pull it on I notice that it's fitted around my chest and waist before flowing down to my knees. This dress couldn't have been cheap.

My mother and I lock eyes and I see tears springing up in hers. In this moment, I know why she'd want to spend money on this dress. She's worried it might be the last time she'll see me in a nicer one.

I rush forward and hug her, the mere thought of losing my mother being too much to bear.

She pulls me back after a minute. "We still need to do your hair, Nicci. Playing out on the beach all day's got it in quite a tangle," she says while attempting to run her fingers through it. "Grab the comb please."

As I grab the comb, she hobbles over to the bed where she shakily takes a seat. I sit down in front of her and she begins brushing my hair. It's calming and so therapeutic that my mind shuts down until she pats my shoulders to let me know that she's done.

"Go take a look in the mirror. You look beautiful, Nicaea."

I glance over at the tall mirror leaned up against the far wall. My mother's statement isn't too far off. If I didn't look so sickly right now, I could be beautiful. But the stunning green dress and elegantly braided hair don't do much to hide the paleness of my skin or the fear and sadness harbored in my brown eyes.

I force a smile though and turn back to my mother. "Thank you, Mom," I say softly as I lean down to kiss her cheek. "For everything."

She nods and makes a shooing motion with her hands. "You're due in the square soon. You'd better scuttle off."

I grin before taking off down the stairs. She's right. It won't do to be late and, even though I'm a good hour early, I might still be pushing it to get signed in on time.

Lara, Lilaea, and Castalia all hurry out the door with me and, as we make our way down the cobblestone road, we gravitate closer together until we're holding hands with our shoulders gently bumping into each other. No one wants to walk into the square alone today and there's a feeling of safety in numbers.

Even though the twins don't really understand the fear that clenches my gut as we walk closer, Castalia does and she grips my hand tightly in hers. She's nineteen now, last year was the final year she had to place her name into the Reaping. We had a big party to celebrate. Our entire family crowded into our small house and our parents opened the bottle of wine they bought when she was born. One of their children had made it through safe and sound. Only four more to go.

Despite all that, I'm sure she's feeling the same fear as me right now. We exchange a look and I know for sure. Her blue eyes are filled with worry and I can see tears streaming in her eyes. No matter how hard any of us try to act strong, it's easy to see through the cracks.

"We told you your dress was pretty, didn't we, Nic?" Lara says from her place on the other side of Lilaea, breaking my concentration.

I nod. "You did, little fish. And you were right." We smile at each other, the corners of her eyes crinkling like our mother's. "But you two look absolutely adorable in your dresses."

They burst into giggles and I smile down at them. We're about a block away from the square now and my hands are starting to sweat. No one comments on it though, they just walk a little closer to me.

I look at the three of them, so thankful to have them. Despite the fighting and bickering any other day of the year, we always pull together for Reaping Day. We always put on a strong front and come out a little stronger because of it.

We enter the square and separate. The three of them go off to stand near where the other 17-year-old girls have already accumulated. They'll be close at hand and it'll almost be as if we're all together. I walk off towards the front of the Justice Building to get checked in.

I wait in line, get my finger pricked, and walk off to stand in my age group and anxiously await our District's escort, Ophelia Lovelace.

Our Justice Building looks only slightly different than normal. As one of the better-off Districts we can afford to keep it in better condition. Districts like 11 or 12 have decaying buildings that don't seem to get a whole lot of use; their steps are cracked, the windows dusty, the paint is peeling or gone in many places. It just doesn't look pleasant.

The one here in 4 gets pretty frequent use though. A lot of marriage ceremonies take place here as well as meetings about things going on in the District, school trips, the occasional visit from an important Capitol person, and, of course, the Reapings for the Hunger Games.

All around me, the other girls are fidgeting. We're all anxious and none of us are willing to talk. There's nothing to talk about. The area circling us quickly fills with our parents and siblings. The square feels much smaller now, but it's not comforting. It's restricting.

Right when I feel I might snap in two from the nerves, Ophelia walks out. She's decked out in a bright blue dress with a green wig and matching make-up and heels. She's dressed so over-the-top that it's hard to look at her without wanting to laugh. It's as if the Capitol's trying to provide us with comic relief before condemning two of us.

Too bad it doesn't work.

Ophelia saunters over to stand in front of the microphone positioned between the two bowls holding all the names, one for the boys and one for the girls. She talks about how fabulous it is to be here in District 4, we then watch a short film on the history of the Games before she finally announces it's time.

"Ladies first!" she trills before sticking her hand in the dish. She lazily rolls her hand around before selecting one. When she gets back in front of the microphone she flashes us a bright, toothy smile before opening the slip.

The next words to come out of her mouth change my life forever.

"Nicaea Cosgrove!"