"It's gorgeous, Amelia." I carefully place the flower crown on my head. It's made of black and red roses, with daisies weaved in the small, empty areas of it. She also took her time to cut the thorns off. I stroke it gently, careful not to pull off or wreck anything. "I want you to wear it to the reaping, Melissa." She whispered, holding onto my arm.

I smiled and stroked back her thick, black hair. "I will, I promise." I hugged her. I had a very large chance of being chosen to go the Hunger Games – we had signed up for loads of Tesserae using my name. We needed the Tesserae to feed our family.

There was a clutter from our kitchen. "Oh no, Yasmeen." I quickly got up, and held my flower crown as I ran inside to see my youngest sister digging around our cupboards. "Sard!" She exclaimed, looking at me with her wide, brown eyes. I'm pretty sure she was referring to my sword, the one I used during the harvest.

"Aww, my little munchkin!" I pinched her right cheek. "That isn't a toy, I use it to get the tough fruits." I made a sawing motion with my hand. I forgot to mention, I'm from District 11. The peacekeepers were kind enough to let me use a sword to get the tough fruits – the ones that were really hard to pick. I was very weak, so getting them would be a tough challenge for me.

My bigger brother, Haroon, came through the door. He was too old to participate in the games, but got us sorted for the reaping every year. He laughed and picked up Yasmeen. "You lot get ready for the reaping. Melissa, I bought you a new dress." He placed Yasmeen on the couch, and reached behind the couch to get out a gorgeous, silky, black dress with a laced, white collar. The dress reached my knees.

"It looks like something they would wear in the 2000's, Haroon." I laughed, and took the dress. "It's stunning. I love it." I flung it over my shoulder and hugged him. "I'm off to get changed and do my hair. Be back in a couple of minutes." I added and ran to my bedroom to quickly get changed. Haroon usually sorted my little sisters himself, since they either didn't know how to do their hair themselves, or didn't know how to put on a dress. They weren't old enough to get reaped, but we were allowed to bring them to see it. To see their fellow friends being called to their deaths by a simple piece of paper.

After 20 or so minutes, I emerged from my room. I left my hair down, but obviously brushed it. My hair is really long, and curly, but not as curly as Amelia's hair. I kept the flower crown on, and I must say, it went really well with my new dress. I wore some "ugg boots" too, ones that were covered in black fur, and had white, artificial fluff on the inside. Took forever to save up for them, but I wear them wherever I go. I love them.

Yasmeen ran up and hugged my waist, rubbing her cheek against the silk and making satisfied noises. Amelia gasped. "You look beautiful." She said, joining in the hug that Yasmeen started. Haroon peeked around the corner. "Look who's ready for the reaping." He looked at my dress and smiled. "Knew it would fit you. Look at my suit!" He came out and was wearing a very business-like suit. I laughed.

Yasmeen and Amelia looked really cute. Yasmeen wore a slightly fluffy, white dress, and two braids, tied with a white ribbon. She had slipper-like shoes, with rhinestones that were starting to fall off. She had insisted on wearing her favourite panda hat, too. The little panda hat had two dot-like eyes, encircled in black. One of the ears was falling apart but she didn't notice.

Amelia had my old dress – it was cream-colored and laced all over, and fell to her ankles. Her shoes were like mine, too, except they were white. Her hair was down, but she had a hairband in that looked like it was woven out of daisies. We quickly left our house and headed down the the centre, where the reaping was held every year. I adjusted my crown and prepared for a very boring speech.

After the miserable story of how Panem came to be, well, Panem, our escort, Aanisah Khan, came on stage. She had her usual, generic black dress that had no decoration at all. She also wore black high heels. "Alright, time to pick out the names." She scanned the crowd and smiled kindly. "We'll go boys first this year." She put her hand in the glass ball and felt around a bit before fishing out a piece of paper. "Our boy tribute this year is – Quasim Ali!" She called out clearly so the whole crowd could hear her. A large boy who looked around 15, stepped onto the stage. He was a bit skinny, but had visible muscles. His hair was short, but not almost-bald short.

"Alright, time for the ladies!" She announced, and once again plunged her hand into the glass ball before yanking out another name. My heart almost stopped and I felt like the world had frozen all around me.

"Melissa Chikaya!"