Chapter 1: Cale, District 1 Reaping

"Cale Cardino!"

No, not me, I thought. They didn't actually just pick me, did they?

"Cale Cardino," the announcer's voice was getting impatient. Heads turned in my direction. Someone behind me pushed towards the small, wooden stage.

My legs felt mechanical as I walked towards the stage. I started to feel sick, like I was going to vomit. I tried to keep my head up as I walked towards the stage.

When I was finally on the stage I could see my family, watching me with worried eyes. My mom, her stomach large. She was pregnant. My dad, his forehead creased with worry for me. And my little sister, Bella. Poor girl, she was only 5 and now she was going to lose her big sister, and her best friend.

The breeze was making my nausea worse. Tears were welling up in my light hazel eyes. The wind was making my light brown curls hit me lightly in the face, not hard enough to hurt, only hard enough to make me aware that it was happening. My overgrown side bangs were hanging into my mouth, a habit that had developed as soon as they were long enough to reach my mouth. The silver barrette that was holding up the top part of my hair was slipping. My bright green sundress was a bad choice for today. I was freezing.

"Meet this year's first Hunger Games Tribute, Cale Cardino!" The announcers yelled into the microphone, grabbing my arm and pulling it into the air

I hardly heard him though. I was too busy trying to read my dad's thoughts. Yep, I have the power of telepathy. There were a lot of people here though, and it was hard to channel into only one person's thoughts with this many people around. Here, I've got it, I thought.

"I'm gonna lose my daughter. She's going to get murdered. And everyone's going to be watching her death on live TV. This is cruel. No one's death should be broadcast live on TV. But then again, she does have a big advantage on everyone else. She will be able to see everyone's plans before they have time to tell anyone else or act on their plans."

At that moment he seemed to realize that I was probably listening to him babbling on and on to himself in his head.

"I love you, sweetie. Don't forget that. You have to do this for me, for mom, and for Bells"

There was two chairs on the stage, and the announcer directed me to one of them. I sat there and waited for the male tribute to be called.

Tyson!, I thought.

I struggled to see Tyson through the crowd. I finally found him, a look of shock upon his face. "No one volunteered for her? Where are all the careers?"I understood what he was thinking. This year, the president said that anyone who is a career and volunteers will be killed by peacekeepers. All of the career training had abruptly stopped, no one wanted to get caught, or die in that instance.

The announcers hand dipped into the bowl of papers, and pulled out the name if the other lucky tribute from District 1.