My name is Asher Mills.

I am 15 years old.

I live in District 7.

I am going to compete in the Hunger Games.

What if I lose?

This is the story of the reaping for the 39th annual Hunger Games.

It had started out like a regular day around the District. Everyone was all smiles.

I woke up and greeted my oldest sister, Faye. Our reaping outfits were neatly laid out across a chair in our room.

I smiled a bit. Our mother had put us in dresses that were the same color, a dull gray. To represent the blade of an axe, I supposed.

Our mother came hurrying in. "Asher! Faye! Come on, the reaping is beginning soon and you're going to be late!"

I sighed and tried to repress a small giggle. My mother always took the reaping so seriously. But really, what were the chances of either me or Faye going into the Arena? Faye was 18 now, this would be her last year at the reaping. I was 15, and I was eight of thousands of slips. I had gotten some extra grain and tesserae for the family, just in case. We certainly weren't well off, but we weren't too badly off either. Besides, it might be helpful.

Faye walked over to me, brush in tow. We were both dresses in our cotton reaping dresses, nearly ready to go. Faye combed through my long brunette hair and tied it in my signature high ponytail. I gave it a tug for good measure, and then, with tears in her eyes, my mother gave us both big hugs and whispered "Please don't get reaped today."

Faye smiled and kissed my mother's cheek. "Don't worry, mother. Even if Asher gets reaped, I'll volunteer. I wouldn't let our little darling go into the big Arena."

I grinned. Faye was here for me. We had agreed on this a while ago. She'd go into the Arena for me. She was bigger and stronger than I was. She stood a better chance.

My mother swiped at her eyes. "Well, good luck. I love you both."

"Bye, mom," I replied as Faye and I walked out the door. Hopefully, the odds would be in our favor this year.

The Reaping was just about to begin when Faye and I arrived. The Square was packed with citizens anxiously awaiting for our escort, a woman by the name of Maia Severina, to arrive and reap the tributes.

Faye grabbed my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled and looked at me. "It's okay. Your name is one out of thousands."

I smiled back. "I know."

We parted ways as I went to stand in the fifteens section and her in the eighteens.

Maia finally arrived and stood up, wobbling slightly in her high heels. I rolled my eyes. Shoes like that were pointless. And they hurt your feet, too. I preferred my running boots. I had broken them in forever. They had been my father's gift to me as a kid, before he died in a fight. His head chopped cleanly off with an axe.

An axe. My favorite weapon to practice with.

Faye and I practice with rubber ones, although every so often I do take out my father's real one and chop some trees down for firewood. I'm good with one, I won't lie. Throwing them too. I can swish it around and toss it like no one's business. I've used axes since I could toddle. And now, I'm deadly with them. They're my main weapon, although I'm also good with knives and spears too.

I'm good with "anything pointy and deadly", as my father had said before his death last year. He was the one who taught me to fight with weapons.

My attention snaps back to Maia as she stands on the tiptoes of her pointy gold shoes.

"Time for the reaping to begin!" she announces cheerily. My heart begins to pound, the way it does every reaping day.

"Boys first, I suppose. Change is always a good thing!" Maia continues happily, unaware of the panicked faces of the people.

Maia's hand goes into the bowl filled with thousands upon thousands of tiny slips containing names. Names of boys who might be picked to die. To be sent to their death.

Maia draws out a name. We hold our breath. The crowd leans forward eagerly.

Maia slowly opens the slip of paper, maximizing the tension.

She slowly brings her lips to the microphone in front of her. Her mouth opens.

Her lips begin to form a word.

"Aaric Jameson."

A gasp goes through the crowd.

How?

Not Aaric.

He's so young.

Sweet.

Innocent.

It was just his first year.

He's only 12.

Aaric begins to walk up to the stage, trying to blink tears out of his eyes.

But before he reaches the stage, a shaky voice calls out the two words that the Capitol loves to hear.

"I volunteer."

And my arch nemesis walks up to the stage.

Felix Jameson.

A burly eighteen year old who used to beat me up outside of school every day when he was fourteen and I was eleven.

I was defenseless. Simply a poor girl who didn't deserve her beating.

I used to come home with bruises on my arms, black eyes, and cuts on my cheeks. My father wondered why until finally I broke down and told him.

He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Well, we can't have that, can we?"

And from then on, I trained with him. Hand to hand combat. Axe training. Spear and knife throwing.

And the next time that Felix and his gang surrounded me to try to beat me up again, they were the ones going home sporting bruises.

I took out two of Felix's companions with two heavy kicks with my boots. I had worn them specifically for the purpose of hurting Felix and his crew.

Next was Felix's sidekick, Henry. A punch to the jaw was all he needed.

And then it was down to me and Felix.

We circled each other, drawing attention from other students, but we didn't care.

He made the first move. Came rushing at me.

I planted my boot directly on his chest and kicked.

Of course, it only made him lurch backwards. He came rushing again.

And then tackled me down.

And lay on top of me.

Kids were standing in a circle, chanting and laughing, making bets on who would win.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Felix looked right at me. Stared me in the eye.

And planted his lips right on top of mine.

I was eleven. He was fourteen. He was blonde and beautiful. I was brunette and fierce. Nothing was special about me.

So why me?

Anyways, I promptly punched him in the face and clawed at his eyes. He stumbled around in pain and then cursed at me.

I spat at him and left.

After that, he never came near me. He and his cronies glared at me in the halls and Felix made it his job to "accidentally" knock me down whenever he had the chance.

Lost deep in thought, I didn't even hear the girl tribute's name being called before I was being pushed to the stage.

"Asher Mills! Where is Asher Mills?"

I looked desperately towards Faye, who was standing still as stone, frozen with shock. 'Come on, Faye!' I thought to myself, getting frantic.

But the 'I volunteer' phrase never left Faye's mouth. It stood muffled inside of it, content to stay where it was.

I stalked up to the stage. Tears were trying to squeeze out of my eyes, but I sniffled them up and stared directly into Felix's determined eyes. He stared at me, not friendly but not glaring either.

"Well, now we have our two tributes! Felix Jameson and Asher Mills! Congratulations District 7, and we will see the rest of you when you tune in to the Hunger Games!"

We were escorted back to the Justice Building, where we sat to say our goodbyes.

Faye came in. I turned away from her, tears falling down my cheeks. I couldn't be weak. I couldn't be.

"Asher," Faye said in that gentle voice that used to lull me to sleep.

Exasperated, I turned to her. "What?" I screamed. "You promised to protect me, and you left me! You abandoned me!"

Faye began to sob. "I'm sorry Asher! I couldn't! I was scared and frozen to the spot and I couldn't move! My tongue wouldn't move!"

I shook my head. "We had a promise, Faye. And you broke it."

Faye began to cry harder. She ran up to me, putting her head on my shoulder, drenching my cotton dress in wet salty tears. "Asher, come back! If you don't, I'll die too!" She pointed to herself. "Asher, I will kill myself if you don't come home. We need you."

I put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her away. "No, Faye. Mom needs you now. You have to help Mom. If you don't I'll never forgive you."

Faye stopped crying. She sniffled and looked at me. "I'm sorry, Asher," she said before the Peacekeepers took her away.\

My Mother came in next.

She didn't cry.

Or sob.

Or break into tears, like Faye.

She looked me directly in the eyes.

"Asher. You will come home."

Like an order.

I nodded. "I'll try my best, Mom."

"No," she said firmly. "You're smarter and stronger then the rest of them. You can and will come home."

I nodded and smiled sadly.

"I love you, Asher," she said as she exited the room.

"I love you too, Mom," I whispered as the door shut.