Today was the day I feared. The day when The Reaping took place. I was seventeen, and I had my name in forty times. My aunt's idea of course. She loved the idea of me winning, putting us in a victors house with riches and pampering.

She walked into my room, holding up something red, and a white box. Of course she was making me wear a dress.

"Now, I have your heels, your makeup, your dress, and your hair stylist is coming in 10 minutes." My aunt said. I nodded, grabbing the box; she magically fit everything but the dress in. She walked out of the room, leaving me to change and look presentable.

I slipped the dress over my head, and realized that it was really only a blouse. I opened the box and found a pair of leggings and tennis shoes. The makeup was simple, neutral colors and a bright pink lip gloss. I heard a knock on my door around 5 minutes later, and the hairstylist came in and did my hair.

She pulled it back into a high ponytail leading out two sections of hair that she curled later on. I looked at myself in the mirror, not my style. Sure I looked good with my tan features brought out by the contouring, and my fire red hair pulled back, but I was different. I liked getting dirty and working with gross things like fish guts, but I couldn't ever get my way.

At only 5 my aunt started training me to be a Career. I killed my first rabbit with a knife. But there was another thing that I was trained in. Fishing. Oh how I loved the feel of a fish trying to pull on the rod. I always caught at least 10 on my fishing trips. Of course I never got to eat them though.

My aunt said that even though we were the fishing district, we didn't eat our supplies, because they were going to be sent to the Capitol. When I turned 13 she cut off the fishing trips altogether, although I still snuck out to practice.

Suddenly my aunt bounded up the stairs.

"Come on you lazy bum. Let's get a move on! It's about to start, we'll be late." She said frantically, grabbing my arm and pulling me out the front door. The streets were starting to empty and we started to sprint, we were always late to The Reaping. I got in line with the 17 year olds and waited my turn.

When I got to the small table set up, a peacekeeper grabbed my wrist and stuck a pin into my fore finger. I winced in pain as it was brought down to the paper, imprinting my fingerprint in blood under my name.

Solidad Harkansaw.

My friends called me Soli, mostly because they were too lazy to say my full name. I didn't mind though, it was fun to have nicknames. A peacekeeper escorted me to the 17 year old's section of the large field. A huge screen was welded above a stage, which had two pedistools rising out of it.

Two speakers were on each side of the screen, and two people sat in the center of the stage. One, was definitely from the capitol, with bright green hair, and a blue tutu on, she looked like she was about to go to a dance. A leotard under the tutu that was neon orange covered up her pale skin, and sparkly flats covered her small feet. Behind her was a girl, in her 20s, with a loose shirt and tight jeans, she looked like a mentor. Once everyone was accounted for, the huge screen sprung to life. President Snow was sitting in his room, holding a glass of water.

"Hello, district residents, as most of you know, 2 tributes will be picked for this hunger games. One male, one female from each district. They will undergo training from their mentors, and eventually be sent to The Hunger Games.

"This year, we will start documenting the choosing of the tributes, and we will go in order from district 1 to 12. Welcome to the 62nd Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." The screen went blank for a second, and then came back on.

It was district 1s turn to be documented. Their capitol representative stepped up to a microphone on their stage. He said "Let's choose the boys first." And stuck his hand into the jar. He pulled out a single strip of paper and went up to the microphone.

"Jeffery Maclson." The name rang through their speakers and people clapped and cheered. Jeffery walked up to the stage high fiveing people while smiling giddly.

"If I win... When I win, you all are gonna worship me!" Jeffery shouted into the mic. Clearly he was a Career. The representative walked over to the ladies bowl and pulled out a piece of paper on the very top. He cleared his throat.

"Venice Andrews." He said, giving the girl a warm smile as she flipped her curly light brown long hair.

"You gonna win honey?" Asked the mentor just loud enough for the camera to hear.

"What? What was that? Should it even be a question?" She looked slightly annoye d that someone would be so stupid, but still smirked. Also a Career I speculated.

District 2 was next, I zoned out while it was happening, being shaken out of my stupor from the cries of a 12 year old boy in that district.

District 3 was next, the boy was only 13, and he walked up silently, not any thing special. The brightly colored representative called out the girl's name.

"Ryanne Clark." She walked up with evenly spaced steps. When she faced the crowd, her face was emotionless.

"It's kill or be killed." She said in a lifeless, monotone voice. She stepped back and finally the screen switched to us. I couldn't tell where the camera was, but it had to be somewhere.

Butterflys were banging around in my stomach, I almost wanted to throw up. My head spun as our representative introduced herself, unlike the others.

"I am Glamific Willstopper, and I think the girls should go first!" She said cheerfully. She walked over to the glass jar of names and dug her hand halfway in, grasping on to a small white piece of paper. She opened it up and took a breath in to say the female tribute's name.

"Solidad Harkansaw." I looked around, confused. Oh no. This was the worst day of my life. I pushed past kids to walk up to the stage. I stepped onto the stage and looked out at the crowd.

"Umm.. you won't stop me, no matter the amount of training, you will loose." Stupid, what kind of speech was that. An amazing one apparently because the crowd roared and clapped. Glamific called out the male tributes name.

"Uriah Neeroped." He ran up to the stage, bubbling with excitment.

"All you other tributes better be shaking in your socks, because if you give me a knife, blood will flow." He said, staring at what I now recognized as the camera. The thundering cries of the crowd was overpowering, and the peacekeepers had to dig their heels into the dirt to stop the fangirls.

I looked over at Glamific and she gave us an encouraging grin. Our mentor just stared at the apple she was eating, bored at life. They cycled through every other tribute, some of them crying, some jumping with glee.

Finally the cameras stopped rolling and Glamific led us to a car around the back of the screen. The mentor followed us, making sure no fangirl came running after us. It was at this moment my whole life turned upside down. I stepped through a threshold that would lead to nothing but death and struggle. It was going to be a heck of a ride.