Chapter One

Storm

I try to keep my eyes closed for as long as possible, but the sun has risen, shining through my blinds and forcing me to get up. Maybe it's for the best. After all, this may be the last day I get to enjoy the sun in the freedom of my home, District Four. I get up, throw on my swimming trunks and a t shirt, and go into the kitchen to get some food. My father's sitting at the table, drinking tea and staring into space, but he looks up when I enter and nods good morning, his face sombre. My mother's not awake yet, but that's not unusual. It's still quite early. As my thoughts turn to my mother, I suddenly lose my appetite. I don't know what she'll do if I'm reaped. She suffers from periods of chronic depression, where she can't leave her bed for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Not even my father can help when she gets like that. I don't know why, but she responds to me. Not enough to overcome her depression, but enough that I can persuade her to eat, at least. She's been like that for as long as I can remember, so I don't really know what started it. I asked my father about it one time when we were out fishing, but he just stared into the distance with a hard look in his eyes and told me the Capitol had taken everything from her. I didn't ask any more questions.

"Dad, I'm going down to the harbour," I say. "I'll see you at the reaping."

He just nods and goes back to staring into his teacup. It's the same every year. My father isn't a man of many words at the best of times, but when reaping day comes around he can't bring himself to say anything at all. I know he worries about my mother too.

As I leave my home, I can't help thinking it may be the last time I do. Pessimism shrouds my thoughts today. Our little bungalow may not be much, but it's the only home I've ever known. I walk the five minutes to the harbour with my mind preoccupied, wondering if it's the last time I'll walk this pebbly road, the last time I'll jump off the pier into the cool blue ocean… I shake my head, forcing myself to snap out of it. I can't begin that line of thought. Besides, it probably won't be me. We are a fairly large district, and there are plenty of boys it could be. As I reach the low wall separating the road from the harbour, I pull off my t shirt, kick my shoes off and start to run down the pier, taking a giant leap into the air as I got to the edge. I stretch my arms above my head and pull into a graceful dive, skimming the top of the water. I love the ocean. I know it sounds cheesy and cliché, but it's the one place I really feel I belong.

"Hey, Storm! You're late this morning; I thought you weren't showing up!"

My best friend, Seb, is over by the sea wall, at the one place we know we can get out. Usually, only authorised fishing boats are allowed out of the harbour through the gate, but most of the kids around here know about the log. I don't know who, but someone had the idea ages ago to shove a curved, hollow log under the wall, through the sand. It has quite a wide diameter, so even though I've grown up to be quite well built, I can still manage to squeeze through. I swim swiftly through the harbour, over to Seb, and then dive down, without greeting him, and kick my way through the log. He follows closely behind.

"Looks like we weren't only one's to have this idea," Seb comments, looking in the direction of a girl sitting on a rock a couple of hundred metres away.

Reaping day is a national holiday, so most people spend it with their families, just in case. I couldn't bear remaining in my house alone with my parents though, not when they're in this state. So, the past couple of years, Seb and I have made it a kind of tradition to come hear and go on what could well be our last swim. Seems like this girl's family is as depressing as mine, or she has no fear of what might happen.

The sun momentarily hides behind a cloud and I can clearly see the girl's face. It's Iris Kesley, a girl in my class at school. I was wrong; she doesn't have a depressing family to escape from. She doesn't have a family. Her mother died giving birth to her and her father committed suicide soon after. She had one older sister, Dawn, but she was selected for the Hunger Games last year. She didn't make it back. Iris has lived in the Community Home since she was a baby, but I never see her with any of the other children there. Or anyone, really. She keeps to herself, same as me. Only I have my family, and Seb, and she has no one. I can't help but remember that one afternoon we spent together…

"Are you okay?" Seb asks, concerned.

I snap out of it, and smile at him. "Yeah, never better. Now let's go get some shellfish."

The morning passes far too quickly. The reaping starts at half past ten, so at quarter past we start to make our way over to the town square. I put my t shirt back on, but don't bother going home to change. My trunks will dry quickly enough anyway. We go to sign in together, but then separate as Seb heads over to the other sixteen year old boys while I go stand with the fifteen year olds. I spot Iris somewhere on my right, in the girls' section, but she doesn't look around. She's staring straight forward at the stage, a solemn, determined look in her eyes.

A minute later, District Four's very own escort, Maisy Lee, skips onto the stage, her ginger curls bouncing. Following her is the man who will mentor the tributes, a strong, young fisherman who used to work with my father.

"Hello, District Four!" Maisy screeches. "It's time for another reaping! Isn't this exciting? Now let's get started! Ladies first!"

She skips over to the reaping ball and withdrew a piece of paper. I look over at the girls, praying it wouldn't be someone I know. Especially not Iris. I've only spoken to her once, but for some unknown reason, I can't get her out of my head. It can't be her. It just can't be.

"Samantha Jones!"

I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't recognise the name. A girl steps forward though, from the seventeen year old section. She's blonde, tanned and athletic looking, and she doesn't even look scared. The best we could hope for, really.

"Any volunteers?" Maisy asks, once Samantha's reached the stage.

"Me. I volunteer."

My head snaps round, towards the speaker. It can't be… But she's already walking towards the stage; people are clapping. No! Iris…