District 7

Jake Vineyard:

I wake to the sound of timber mills, as does everyone in my district. It's reaping day which means I'll have another chance, yet again to get out of this horrid place. My father, dead from falling to drink and my mother sick and distant, I want nothing more than to leave. I've never been out of the district, as it is illegal, and it's very unfortunate the only legal way I can leave is to be drawn from one of the reaping bowls.

I stand and stare at the clock for a whole minute before the numbers register. Seven minutes until I'll be arrested for not already be standing in the frigid square. Great.

I scramble like a mad person, like my mother, into more decent clothing. I knock on my mother's bedroom door.

"Mom!" I yell. "It's Reaping Day!" I stick a piece of bread in my mouth and run out the door, in full dress clothes, towards the center of the village.

I pass Rhianna Eleck's house, another girl in my district and can't help but worry she'll be drawn. Rhianna and I aren't friends. I've said hello to her exactly four times in my life. And that's more than I've interacted with anyone else in my life.

I come to the center and I see I'm right on time. I get a very nasty look from a Peacekeeper but avoid eye contact. I find the rope that holds the teenagers my age, and slip in right next to Rhianna.

"Hey." That's the fifth time.

"Hello." says. She gives me a smile before looking right back to the stage. The mayor's speaking. He's giving a boring speech before handing the microphone over to our districts flamboyant representative from the Capitol.

He gives another just as unimportant speech before yelling.

"Ladies first!" he says. He sports his chirpy Capitol accent. I look at Rhianna, she shares my terror. He fumbles in the bowl before yanking a silver slip of paper out.

Silence.

"And the girl tribute from District 7 is..." he says. He reminds me of a television host from hundreds of years ago. My heart stops. The crowd leans in.

"Rhianna Eleck."

No.

She gasps.

The audience gasps.

She releases a choked sound.

So do I.

If I didn't have reason to leave before, I do now.

She very carefully, because she knows the whole country is watching her, walks past me and towards the stage. But right before, subtly but surely, she grabs my dangling and dead hand and gives it a squeeze.

"Great! And now, for the boys!" yells Hunter Gagliano. He fumbles in the boys' bowl.

No.

The world seems to stop. Everything slows. I walk-lunge- towards the stairs. I can't hear anything, my vision blurs around the edges. I think someone tries to volunteer. I punch whoever it is in the face before finally reaching the first step to the stage. All my thoughts intertwine. I skip two stairs and land on the stage. I can only form one thought.

Every single living person in this horrid country is watching me.

Hunter tries to find words. I get to see him up close and in his full Capitol getup. I hate him.

"Uh.." he begins. "What is your name young man?" he asks. I look at Rhianna. She gives me a confused look and mouths the words "what are you doing?"

What is my name.

"Jake Vineyard." I say, still looking at Rhianna.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen it looks like we have a volunteer." He turns back to me. I look at the recovering boy on the ground.

"You two, shake hands." He says in a monotone voice.

We shake hands and the grip sends ice down my spine.

I look from our grip up to the last sight I will ever see of my district.

Rhianna Eleck

To my great surprise, the sound of wood processing machines isn't what pulls me out of unconsciousness. It's the sound of my younger sister crying her eyes out. I wake, but don't open my eyes. Oh god.

It's Reaping Day. That's why she's crying. My eyes shoot open and immediately I regret my action. The blinding light that pours in from the window stabs my eyes and I even flinch. I slowly adjust to the light and I see the tops of the giant trees that surround our district.

I'm not ready, not yet. What if I get picked? What if my sister gets picked? No, she can't get picked, it's her first year. I signed up for more grain and oil, in return for my name in more times. I know I'm going to be picked.

I trace the silver linings of the clouds in the sky with my finger against the glass. I let out a long sigh and get out of bed. My room's small. It makes me claustrophobic most nights. But now, probably more than ever I can't wait to leave it.

I walk across the hallway and into Melanie's room. She's curled on her cold hardwood floor, balling her eyes out. Crouching next to her, I put my arm around her.

"Mel, it's your first year. They won't pick you." I say. She stops crying for a moment.

"How do you know, Rhianna? How do you know?"

She says. I cut her off.

"You won't be picked." I say. I promise. I'm not just saying these words to comfort her; I can feel in my bones that she won't be picked. I feel it in my bones that I will be picked.

"Okay." She finally says.

"Hey, where's mom?" I ask.

"She went to buy me a new dress." She says. "And dad's at work." Even today, even Reaping day dad is working in the mills.

I stand and go into the bathroom. I take off my cloths and step into the shower. Turning a nob I'm blasted by a jet of cold water. I adjust the water until it's so hot it burns.

I just stand there. I can't bear the thoughts of myself being Reaped, so I focus on the water that burns my skin and sends pain throughout my body. My nerve endings curl around themselves, and I like it.

I wash my hair and then scrub the dirt and sweat off of my skin. The hot water is gone, sucked down the drain. I turn the now cold water off and step out. Wrapped in a towel, I walk back to my room. I dry my hair and put on the only decent thing I own, a pink dress.

I stare at myself in the mirror. I'm not pretty, at least I don't think I am. I try different things with my hair but in the end I just take the ribbons out and leave my hair how it is. I have no energy to do anything with it today, no motivation.

I look at the clock.

12:30

I need to leave. I hear my mother come in.

"Melanie! Hurry up!" I yell. I look around my room. Is this the last time I will ever stand here?

I step out the front door with Melanie tugging at my dress beside me. I can feel how nervous she is. She shakes, and she's short of breath. She reminds me of myself when I turned twelve. Our mother wishes us goodbye, and says she'll meet us in the square. We kiss her farewell and walk along the street towards the square.

The smell of trees and machinery fill the air in District 7. I just turned thirteen, and so I just began training. There aren't many options when it comes to what profession you can choose in this district, and even with choices they all revolve around the thing we supply, the item the district was formed to create. Lumber.

My father works with the Collectors. He goes out with the group and cuts down the trees, before they're brought back in. So naturally, this is the job I'm being trained for. My mother was terrified when she found me in the back yard, swinging around an axe.

Our town is simple, and sweet, and easy to navigate. But today the air is heavy, and sadness and worry fill the air. We reach the town square.

I can't handle this.

I have to.

I lead Mel to the group of terrified twelve year olds. My group is right next to hers I assure her, and I tell her I'll meet her right after.

"Okay." She says. She slips into her group and so do I. I look at the square. Terrified teens and worried adults are all looking around, the same way I am. I bet I look just as terrified. A giant crimson sign hangs on the Justice Building, and written in gold curvy letters the sign says The 63rd Hunger Games.

63rd Hunger Games.

63.

I do the math in my head. Math has never been hard for me, and I need something to take my mind off the present.

In just 63 years, by the hands of this sick game, The Capitol has killed 1,536 children. The Capitol has murdered 1,536 children. I think I'm going to throw up.

The mayor comes on to the stage.

"Welcome! Ladies and gentlemen of District 7 of this great country. We are joined today to-" his words start to blur into nothing. I just find Melanie in the crowd and keep my eyes locked on her. I want to run to her and throw my arms around her.

Behind me, I feel a movement. I turn around to see Jake Vineyard coming into the same roped off area I'm in. I smile at him as he takes a place right next to me before looking back up at the stage. I avoid eye contact with him. Jake has only greeted me four times in my life. I bet he'd think I was crazy if I told him I knew how many times he's said hello to me.

"Hey." He says. That makes five.

"Hello." I manage.

Hunter Gagliano takes the stage. He looks as terrible as usual. He gives another speech that blurs into nothing and then it hits me. This is it.

"Ladies first!" he booms into the microphone.

Once, while I was practicing with an axe, I threw it into the air on accident. For a split second before I knew whether or not it would drop on my head or not, my heart stopped.

This is what I feel now. I'm not even worried about my name. I'm worried about Melanie's. He pulls out a slip and starts to read it.

I pray that it's not hers.

And It's not.

It's Rhianna Eleck.

District 3:

Kathryn Jones:

After my name was called, after Cameron's name was called, my world slowed. We were ushered into the Justice Building doors behind us and led up a flight of stairs. I can't believe it. It's only my second year. I didn't even take any tesserae. How could this happen?

I hate the Capitol.

Cameron and I are led separate ways, into two different rooms. I wonder who will visit me. I take a seat on a large leather couch. I pinch myself on my arm, I must be dreaming.

The door swings open and my family runs in. My mother first, followed my dad and my brother and my sister. My mother screams and cries at the same time. My dad just hugs me and doesn't say anything. My sister is crying as well and my brother tries to comfort her.

My mother tries to say something to me, but I can't make out of what it is. I think its something along the lines of "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." I squeeze them all until I'm crying. We sit huddled on that couch crying when the Peacekeeper comes in.

"Okay." he says. "Times up." I want to stand up. I want to stand up and punch him in the face. I want to flee the room and run away from the stupid district. But I can't, so I don't. I sit on the couch while my family is ripped off of me, and pushed out the door.

I don't say anything.

I don't move.

I can't. I watch my mothers face contort in misery and anger as the door closes.

They put in me in another room with Cameron, and they tell us we'll board the train next. They ask us if we have our tokens. That's right, my token. I never took a token. Neither did Cameron I suppose, because he doesn't say anything.

I look at Cameron but he doesn't look towards me. I can even see a tear in the corner of his eye that I know he will never shed. He won't let me see him cry. He won't let anyone see him cry.

I suppose I need to do the same thing. I can't let them see me cry, see me weak. Because if there's one thing I'm positive about in this whole sick game, it's I will kill, I will triumph, and I will win, no matter what it takes.

District 8:

Justin Applegate:

"Justin Applegate" My own name rings in my head. Over and over. How could this be happening, be happening to me? A firm hand guides me up the stairs and into the room. I think about opening the door that they've shut behind me and running. Running down the stairs, skipping most of the steps and then out the front door of the Justice Building again. But something, some invisible things holds me to the floor, stronger than gravity.

I don't know what to do. I don't have a plan. I sink into a chair and wonder who will visit me. My sister, yes, but will our parents? They stayed home, both sick with the flue. Will someone notify them in time to say goodbye? Goodbye forever? Or will the last sight I will ever see of my parents be of my bringing them soup last night? No, I won't let it.

Something pulls me out of the chair. Perhaps anger, maybe denial. But it does, and I heave open the door. I feel I could cry if I really let myself. I rush towards the top of the stairs and just as I'm about to go down them, just as I hear a Peacekeeper whisper something into a radio, I see my sister standing at the bottom of the steps.

She's hysterical.

I fall to my knees, seeing her like this. Every sad and panicked feeling I've had heats up and bubbles over. She runs to the top of the stairs and throws her arms around me.

"Justin..." she says. "No, no, no..." over and over again. We go back into the room and both sit on a leather couch pushed against the wall.

We sit there, holding hands, not saying anything.

"Are mom and dad..." I begin to say before she cuts me off.

"No. They didn't come. A Peacekeeper left the square and headed for our house as soon as your name was called." she says. She avoids eye contact with me. She know's she'll cry if she doesn't.

"Sarah, you have to get a job at the factory again." I say.

"But-"

"I know you hated it, but I'm not going to be here anymore and they're too old to work anymore. You have to support them, you have to be their for them." I say. She sucks in a breath and now more than ever she holds back tears.

"Okay." she finally says. A Peacekeeper pushes open the door.

"Sarah, remember what I said." I say hastily. I stand and wraps her arms around me neck.

"No, this can't be happening-" she says. The peacekeeper steps in the room.

"Time is up, miss. The tributes are about to board the train.

"Justin!" she screams.

"Sarah, you have to leave." I say. She stops for a moment and looks at me in the eyes.

"You have to try, you have to try to win." she says. I can't win, I could never win. I could never intentionally kill someone, even if my life depended on it; literally. I want to tell her I can't and that she'll have to take care of the family herself, but I can't.

"Okay, I'll try."

And that was the last time I saw my sister.

District 5

Mollie Walts

Having two identical sisters, has never been easy. Especially on Reaping Day. All three of us are freaking out. What if one of us gets picked? We've never all been that fond of each other, but deep down we do love each other, and having one of us picked for the Hunger Games would tear our family apart.

We sit in the car on the way to the Reaping. My two sisters are in dresses, but not me. I've never liked dresses. Too girly. I've always been the one to play sports. My sisters did too, but they were always going off about stupid girly things.

Having dad being the mayor of District 5 is a plus, we get a car. We don't live far from the square either, so we only had to leave about 5 minutes before we're legally obliged to be at the Reaping. My sister Cady always called it "the Lottery of Death." I couldn't agree with her more.

We get to the square and we all pile out. Everyone stares, we've had to learn to ignore it. Our father kisses us before taking the stage to make the announcements before the two unlucky girls and boys get picked to die. Our mother hugs us very tight and takes a place in the back, with the other parents.

"I hope you get picked." Alexi says to Cady. They were fighting last night but even that was a terrible thing to say.

"Alexi! That's terrible!" I yell at her.

"Sorry, but she's so annoying!" she says.

"Because your sister is annoying you're going to wish her death?" I scream at her.

"Oh c'mon Mollie." she says. "We all know she'd have the most chance of winning out of the three of us.

"That's not true, I could win." I say. I've always thought about it, in a weird sick way. I think it'd be fun to try and win."

Our father starts to talk on stage and even we ignore him. It's the same speech, every year. Finally, he hands the microphone over to this years representative from the Capitol. She has a very annoying accent and her outfit is hideous. After another boring speech, the speakers boom.

"It's time to draw the tributes. Ladies, first!" she says.

I'm not even nervous. Everyone knows the mayor's children aren't in the drawings. They never are. I just can't wait for the boys to be over so we can go home. I started painting a picture last night that I really want to finish. I wonder if Alexi will let me use her pet bunny as a model-

"Cady Walts"

What?

Cady?

No.

I look at Cady. If I am certain of one thing in this life, it's that there is nothing as powerful as true terror in ones face. She makes an awkward movement in the direction of the stage.

My mother screams from the back of the lots. Everyone stares at her. Cady let's out a whimper. She wipes away a tear before taking a step towards the stage.

She has to have read it wrong. It can't be one of us! The mayors daughters are never picked! Never! It's wrong! The anger explodes and shapes into the words that come out of my mouth.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute of District 5."

The crowd goes silent.

My heart stops.

What have I done?