Author's note: I started this out of the blue today. It's a short chapter; most of them in this story will be. I hope you all enjoy, and please review!

Today's the day.

I'm wearing my favorite blue necklace, the one my mother has let me borrow every year on this special day. The dress I wear is also a deep blue, matching my necklace. My necklace matches my eyes, which also match my mother's. So many people say I am just like her, yet I am so much more than that. My dress is an expensive one, made up of only the finest materials; it's embellished with the tiniest of crystals, ones that the human eye cannot even detect. They catch the light and make my skin twinkle in a way that only the stars in the sky above me can even compare to. No one at this gathering looks as beautiful as I do, and that's a good thing, seeing as it's my time to shine.

It's me that they'll call.

It's been decided long before this date came - the year I turned eleven, it was agreed upon that this year would be my year. I have been training for this day for years now, since it was even okay for me to be a part of these games. I was seven years old when I threw my first knife, and since then I have known that I was bred to kill. I was born for this, in quite a literal sense.

I am Clove Amitri, fourteen years old, and raised in District 2. How lucky I am to be from this district of mine, where we are make weapons and spend more time than you could imagine learning how to use them properly. This is all I have ever known, and all I will always know. I was born to win or die; I know I will win.

My parents were never in the Games themselves, but they are proud of me for wanting this so badly. It is my dream to feel the blood of another on my skin, my hands, my blade. Some people may think I am sick, twisted. But it is what I want and it is what I shall get.

The heels of new shoes click along the smoothly paved ground on the way to our city hall, a large building made of marble on the main square. It's beautiful, decorated and cleaned (more so than usual) for this important date. Every year it seems to sparkle more in the bright sunshine, as if it were made up of the same crystals as my dress. The building is like the sun when compared to my dark blue, sparkling piece of fabric I am draped in, making me look just like the night sky.

I spend a long time just waiting around in a line after they've checked me in. My finger isn't even sore from where they have taken the blood - in fact, I don't feel anything at all when they stab me with their needle and take the smooth red liquid from underneath my skin. It is nothing compared to the injuries I have suffered before and those that I would be suffering soon; hearing the girls in front of me wince makes me laugh. They wouldn't stand a chance in the arena. Idiots.

I tune out mostly everything our escort says. She is a tall, blonde and bubbly woman from the Capitol with an odd accent; her smile and laugh are the two fakest things I have ever seen in my entire life. She makes me nauseous.

There is a long amount of talking where our mayor comes and speaks to us about the history of Panem. I have been hearing this same dialogue for years, before I was even old enough to be selected at a Reaping. At this point, I glance over to the boys' section of the area - because, you see, we're separated by gender - and meet the glance of a boy with messy blonde hair and blue eyes. I've seen him before, and he is much older than I am, being seventeen years of age now. His name is Cato.

There are only a few words in the English language that will make me pay attention at these things, and that's "Well, let's get started, shall we? Ladies first, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

At that, my full attention is on the outgoing woman standing on the stage right before my eyes. Her hands are perfectly manicured in a shade of gold to match the rest of her outfit, and her lips are painted a green color - if you ask me, it's a bit ridiculous what she wears. She reaches in to the clear glass bowl filled with strips of paper containing our names, and I know what happens next. I have never been more anxious in my life for something to happen, for this doomsday event-

"Tania Kingsworth!"

The girl, Tania, is a meek-looking younger girl who's got this flaming red hair and green eyes. She's only 12. It's her first year, and she's hardly got any training; I decide to put her out of her nervous misery and speak up.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" A smirk slides across my face as Tania's own smirk falls into a look of detesting anger. She's not happy with me, but I can't think of anything but how rich I will be as soon as I win. People will bow to kiss my feet and I will be honored across the entire country of Panem.

I walk up onto the stage, speak my name and give an adoring smile to the surprisingly cheerful crowd. Here in District 2, it is not a punishment to be chosen; it is considered an honor.

Again, I find myself not paying attention until she calls the name of the male tribute. It is a familiar name to me, one I have heard many times before. It is the name of the boy I made eye contact just moments ago and the one I admire so deeply - he is the only boy that has ever proven himself worthy of my adoration, if you could even consider it that.

We shake hands and then walk into the City Hall, satisfied smirks on both of our faces. This year's Games will prove to be difficult, but I know I can succeed.

If it comes down to it, I do not doubt myself of killing this older blonde beside me.

May the odds be ever in my favor.