Chapter 1: The Reaping

Sunlight drifted through the window, urging me to open my eyes and wake up. This is the time to make a choice. Either spring to life in a fit of entusiasm and tackle the day with excitement, or lazily get up, draw the curtains shut, and go back to sleep rather than face the daily challenges.

Naturally, I chose the latter. Or I would have. No matter how hard I argue and bicker, the law requires I head to the town square for the reaping. So I arose from the ocean of sheets and blankets, put on my messy button-up shirt, struggled with those tight shoes that never seem to fit even after an hour of adjustments, tidied myself up and sauntered downstairs into the kitchen, cataching the note that said "Jon, went to get milk, Love Mom".

Here in District 7, my life can get pretty solitary. My mother is a papermaker, one in high demand with the Capitol, and my father is a woodcutter. They work hard, long hours a day to keep me, my sister, and my brother happy and well-fed. Sometimes, when I walk to school, my neighbors eye me with envy and longing, wanting to live as comfortably as I do. My brother and sister are too old to be reaped, so they live with my dad, whose house is farther away from the town square. They still make it to the reapings to see if I made it, though.

Well, even though I live pretty high-class for someone in the District, that doesn't mean I'm not busy. I'm sort of an amateur herbalist; I go into our expanse of wooded land identical to almost every other citizens and pick edible and medicinal plants in order to earn some pocket money. Once in a while, when someone's kid is sick or something, they take them to me to help. Not to toot my own whistle, but I'm not bad at what I do.

I opened the crusty refridgerator by the kitchen window and took out a couple of apples from the town orchard. I munched on them half-heartedly, as they were starting to go bad, but I ate them nonetheless. "There are many kids who would love a full plate of food, Jonathan," my mother would say, "so eat it all!"

Time began to dwindle, and I checked my old watch - a family heirloom passed down from my mother's side of the family. It was my sister Rose's at first, then my brother Anthony's when she became too old for the Hunger Games, then mine when he was too. Just when I was about to leave without her, someone knocked on the old pinewood door.

"Jon?" a girl said. "You there?"

"Grace?" I asked. "Is that you? Do you know where my mom went?"

"She'll be at the reaping!" a woman shouted from the edge of the yard. "She said for you to come with us!"

"Alright!" I called back. I opened the door, seeing a girl a year younger than me. Grace was my cousin, and this was her first year eligible for the reaping. Her older brother Eamonn has two years left and her younger sister Abigail is still eight years old. My Aunt Jo Ann was calling us over from the middle of the dirt path the led to the plaza. We were already late as it is.

"You okay, Grace?" I asked as leaves fell, drifting lightly through the autumnal air. "You nervous at all?"

"A little," she admitted. "You?"

"Not so much for me," I said. "My friends are more likely anyway." That's true. Most of my friends are in the bowl about twenty times each for tesserae.

Grace swallowed. I slung an arm around her shoulders encouragingly. "Don't worry, Grace. You won't get picked. I'd volunteer for you."

"You can't volunteer for a girl!" she laughed.

"I'd disguise myself as one," I joked. "You know, pigtails, makeup, and a little skirt, too!"

We were both laughing now. "Besides," she said, "if you were in the Games, you could just bore the other tributes to death!"

I made a face. "Bore? I'm not that boring!"

"Yeah you are Mr. "dandelion-leaves-are-high-in-vitamin-B-complex-blah-blah"! Remember when Abby fell asleep when you were in the other room? Not only are you boring, but you're loud too! You'd kill everyone from miles away!"

"Nah," I chuckled. "Well... maybe."

We talked until we approached the town square. I instructed Grace on where to go after they pricked your finger, and went to the boys side after. We were a oddly concenctrated crowd of grey and white shirts. As more people filed into the square, my nervousness returned to replace the fun I just had with Grace.

"Hey," a short boy said. I was about two heads taller than him. He had a mess of hazelle-ish hair that reminded me of the tea my mother would sometimes bring home from the market. "Good luck today," he said, shaking my hand lightly. He looked weaker for some reason. It seemed to me that he hadn't eaten or slept lately.

"You too, Nick," I said, shaking his hand back. More than anything, I wanted my friends to last the day. Nick was one of my closest friends, too. For a while, I had no one to talk to in school, until we discovered we both had a taste in making fun of the teachers. A friendship was bound to blossom.

"Welcome, everyone!" a high-pitched chirp came from the stage. Our district escort, Persyus, giggled lightly. "Happy Hunger Games! It's that time of year again!"

I didn't pay attention to the same presentation of the origin of the Hunger Games and the Dark Days, and all that stuff. I just wanted it to be over with. It was finally time for the girl tribute to be chosen. Persyus wobbled in his awkwardly shaped shoes over to the bowl with the girls names in it. Grace was in there, just once.

"Ladies first!" he sang. There was something about his accent that reminded me of dolphins.

He exuberantly dug his hand to the bottom of the bowl, jamming his hand against the bottome. "Careful," I muttered, "don't chip a nail."

"Maria Edison!" he announced. Everyone quieted. I cursed under my breath. Not Maria... the arena would eat her alive. The poor girl dazedly walked up to the stage, guided by a Peacekeeper. I could hear her mother crying and her sisters screaming. All I can think to remain positive is that Grace was safe this year. No one volunteered in Maria's place when Persyus asked.

When Maria took her place next to Persyus, she seemed like she was about to keel over. Her coloring dropped to a pale white, and she was shivering.

"Now for the gentlemen!" Persyus did a little dance over to our bowl. He covered his eyes with one hand while his other plunged into the bowl, swimming through the slips of paper with our names on them. He seemed to relish our tension. After what seemed an eternity, he plucked a name from the bin. He read the name in a loud, albeit high-pitched and very irritating, voice.

"Nicolas Klause!" What? Did he..? I looked to Nick at my side. But he wasn't there.

Woo! First fanfiction!
What do you guys think? Too short? Unnatural flow? I need criticism, so leave a comment in a review! (Please?)