We climb back out from the farm, clearing the fence and heading back onto the gravel road. We try our best to hurry, hoping we don't come back too late. I'm sure Abatha would never let us hear the end of it.

We arrive at the orphanage, pushing the metal gate aside and entering through one of the smaller doors leading in from the side of the building.

We reach the intersecting halls and once again I'm left with Lila. We walk down to our room and I start to feel her grip tighten as we approach the end of the hall. I try my best to remain calm and hope she doesn't hear the heavy beating of my heart.

I quickly wash my face and put on my dress. It's a plain gray one that's got tears all over it. By this point I'm beyond caring. Being from the orphanage the only dresses they can spare are those that have been donated by wealthier families-with is extremely rare. But mainly we're given those that belonged to reaped tributes, most of whom have never come back.

I let Lila braid my hair and place Jackson's rose neatly beside my ear. It feels like an eternity just sitting there in the bed with Lila by my side. Neither of us utters a word. Eventually we hear Abatha's voice signalling for me to head down. I give Lila one last hug-longer than I ever have before-and head downstairs.

I enter the hall and line up at the end of the line of girls. Most are talking silently amongst themselves. I guess I'll admit I've never really befriended any of them, albeit, I never really tried to. Usually, I just ignore them when I pass one of them in the halls. It's a mutual thing, they don't bother to notice me either. Unfortunately, I can't spend as much time with Jackson as I do when we're out, they like to keep each gender separate for some reason.

Eventually, when everyone has arrived, we're shepherded outside by Abatha with the boys following close behind. As we walk I find myself staring up. The clear morning sky has vanished, leaving behind dark gray clouds covering the sun entirely. It looks at though it might even rain. Great, now I'll be nervous and drenched, I say, biting my lip.

Finally, we arrive at the square with the large Justice Building looming in the center. I spot several of what I assume to be cameras hoisted on the roof. We're the last ones to arrive, as usual. A woman takes a sample of my blood and I head to join the group of other seventeen-year-old girls, each of whom are as tense as I am.

The place is almost entirely packed, with the youngest kids in the front and the oldest in the back. I scout out the rest of the Square until I find Jackson who's just entering. He spots me too and gives me a reassuring nod as he's herded with the other eighteen-year-old boys. I catch him mouth something, but from this distance I can't really tell what he's saying.

I turn back to face the stage. On it stand three chairs and two massive glass bowls. I find myself staring intently at the girls' ball that's filled with thousands of slits. I start to panic because I know that thirty of them contain my name, yet it's still better than the forty-six containing Jackson's. But this obviously doesn't make me feel any better, though.

Right when the clock strikes two the mayor steps up to the podium and reads the same story that's told every year, the one about the war and why the Games were introduced in the first place. Unfortunately, I'm too anxious right now to muster up a yawn.

After his speech is concluded the mayor then reads out the list of past District Nine victors. In eighty-eight years, we've had only four. Three are currently dead and the only one still alive is a young man in his twenties named Avain Leander. He's sturdily built, with short brown hair and a large scar running down his face. He can't walk very well due to his prosthetic foot, but he still manages to stand up and give a small wave to the cameras. I fondly remember his Games, he won a couple years back. That was the year we didn't need to steal. The extra food made our lives so much easier. It didn't last long however, nothing here really does.

Next, the mayor introduces a Capitol women dressed in a bright-blue outfit and large heels to the stage. I think her name is Blossom Belemieux or something ridiculous like that. I'll give her some credit, she's one of the few Capitol announcers who doesn't that obnoxious accent. But that still still doesn't justify that hideous sparkling blue hair.

I hear her shuffling her way towards the microphone, those heels rattling the ground as she approaches. Despite Blossom, everyone in the Square is so silent you could hear a pin drop. She clears her throat and I brace myself to hear the most dreaded words spoken out loud all year.

"Welcome, welcome. Well, it's finally time to find out which of two will have the honour of representing District Nine in the eighty-eighth annual Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour. As always, ladies first." She slowly makes her way towards the giant glass bowl to pull out a slip.

I find myself not able to breathe and for a second I actually think I'm choking. I see her reach into the bowl with her pale white hands and pull out a small slip of paper. I'm suddenly startled by the sound of clouds rumbling above. I even feel a few raindrops land on my skin, sending shivers down my spine, yet no one but me appears to notice.

Right as I come back to my senses I hear the name being called out, "Marisole Zinnia," and I feel like I've just been punched in the stomach.

The words echo around the square, ringing loudly in my ears. Suddenly, I realise it's my name and I stand there not in shock, but in a state of disbelief, as if there's been some kind of mistake. I'm stuck pondering at the unbearably strange reality of hearing your own name called out. You spend your whole year convincing yourself that you won't be chosen, that the odds are so low. Then you hear it and your whole perception of reality comes crashing down. And boy does it hit you because my name was called out and now I'm as dead as that deer I had seen this morning.

I swallow hard and wipe the rain off my face before I walk up. I realise only halfway to the stage that I'm not fully in control of my body. I pass through the crowd of girls and stare forwards as they make way. None of them meet my gaze.

I finally make my way to the top of the staircase and Blossom gestures me to stand to her side. I stare blankly into the crowd and now I really begin to feel scared. I can hear hushed whispers throughout the Square certainly wondering who I am and how it is I'm probably going to die. I start to feel the rain getting heavier, soaking my dress and undergarments. I know that Blossom is saying something, but my ears will no longer let me listen. I simply let my mind tune out the world around me, trying my best not to look afraid because my heart is pounding harder than it ever has before. I can't let others see me as weak-and by others, I mean the other tributes I'll have the wonderful opportunity of fighting to the death with in less than a few weeks.

Before I know it, I hear Blossom call out for the boys. I instantly scan the crowd for Jackson, hoping his face will offer me some comfort. Unfortunately, virtually every boy in District 9 has brown hair.

So, good luck with that, I tell myself.

I see her head to pull out a name. I can't help but wish it were his. Yes, I know it's selfish, but I'd do almost anything to have him beside me right now.

I think back to when we had first met. I was seven and I still hadn't met Lila yet. It was the middle of winter and most of us just stayed inside to avoid the cold. Abatha had told me to go fetch some blankets in the basement since there's no heating in the orphanage. It was one of those days that were unbearably cold, to the point where you hands couldn't stop shaking no matter how much you tried to warm them up. We all had jobs to do, whether it involved making beds, preparing meals, or scrubbing the floors. I sort of did whatever task Abatha assigned me to do, which definitely beat cleaning the washrooms.

As I made my way downstairs I lit a candle for some light and to my surprise, sitting on top of a cupboard, was a boy a little older than me, staring out of a small window barely above the ground. His head jolted as he turned towards me and I swear it almost gave me a heart attack.

"Geez, you can't sneak up on people like that!" he exclaimed.

"Oh sorry, I didn't expect anyone to be here," I said, putting the candle aside. His brown hair was uncombed and I couldn't help but stare at his eyes. They had this dark-brown shade that made him look much older than he actually was. I recognized him. I had seen him walking down the halls with his friends, but we had never spoken before.

"I didn't think anyone would come down here," he said. He stood up from the cupboard and placed his shivering hands in his pockets.

"I was just here to grab some blankets. I can come back if you want," I said, and turned to make my way out, avoiding any eye contact.

"Wait, you don't have to leave. If you need something, go ahead. I was just leaving myself." I stopped at his words and turned back to face him, giving him a small nod. I made my way past him and reached into an old drawer to pull out the blankets.

"So what are you doing down here?" I asked, hoping it didn't come off as too pesky.

He remained silent for a moment. "Huh, I-ah, I don't know." He turned back to the window. "I guess I was just...thinking."

"Thinking? I see..." To be totally honest, I wasn't really in the mood to start a conversation, especially since my feet were on the verge of frostbite. But, I could tell he needed someone to talk to.

I grabbed the blankets and hoisted them into my hands.

"I know you," he remarked as we made eye contact again. "I've seen you in the halls. I'm Jackson," he let out his hand.

"Marisole," I replied, of course the blankets made it hard to shake his hand.

"Oh, wait. Let me help you with those," he noticed I was struggling and went to grab most of the blankets from my hands. "Marisole, huh? Mind if I call you Maris or something?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay, Marisole it is then." There was this strong charisma in his voice, he was clearly much better at small-talk than I was. "So you're Abatha's little helper, right? Must be fun," he didn't even bother to hide his sarcasm.

"Beats cleaning toilets."

"Yeah, I guess so," he smiled at me and I sort of smiled awkwardly back.

"So, why are you here?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Right, that. Like I said, I just needed some place to think. It's pretty noisy up there if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, I have." That was one of the biggest reasons I bothered to come down here in the first place. I tried to get a better hold on the blankets in my hands while I talked. He could see that they were too heavy for me so he just grabbed the rest in his arms.

"I could of held it on my own thanks," I said defensively. He simply raised an eyebrow and that shut me up. I guess they were slightly heavy. "So, what were you thinking about?" I asked again.

"I doesn't really matter. I just needed to clear my head. Can't ever be alone, can you?" Tell me about it.

"I better get going," I said.

"Well I might as well help you with these, I'm sure Abatha will be wondering where you are."

"Thanks," I replied, grabbing a few of the blankets from him that he seemed keen on carrying for me. We each took our own share and headed out together.

Ever since then he'd go out of his way to talk to me every chance he got. Initially, I tried to avoid him; I'm not much of a talker if you haven't noticed. But he was tenacious, and it sort of grew on me. He'd ask me more questions about myself, I'd eventually learn more about him. We grew close. We then got jobs working together in the farms, keeping the animals out. We started stealing...

Then I think back to the way he smiles at me whenever he sees me. The look he has in his eyes. I think back to all those years he'd go out of his way to get me a special birthday present. How he'd always make me laugh, even on a day like today. How my heart always beats faster when I see his tall figure walking up to me. Yes, I'll admit it. I guess we do have something for each other. I mean, I wouldn't go as far as to say I love him, or would I? Besides, he's practically my only friend along with Lila. Unless you count Abatha, but I don't really think those eyes ever signalled friendliness.

Regardless of how much I want to gave him here with me right now, I'd obviously rather he isn't. Odds are neither of us will make it out alive and I can't leave Lila alone to starve.

That's when my mind reverts back to reality. I had almost forgotten where I was: on a stage, my name reaped, facing certain death.

I glance back to Blossom as she makes her way to the other glass ball. I watch her reach in and grab a slit. She carefully opens it and slowly reads out the name.

"Lynne Iovis."

I let out an internal sigh of relief. I look towards the edge of the crowd of people and spot a blond-haired boy make his way past the group of eighteen-year-olds. I know him. Not personally, but when you're one of the few people in the entire district with blonde hair you don't exactly blend in with the crowd. You also can't deny the fact that he's probably wearing the most expensive clothes in the whole Square. Heck, I would too if my father was the owner of one of the biggest sugar farms here. Not all of us live in poverty. There's an elite few that have the privilege of living in nice, clean houses. I hear they've even got running water. Regardless, they're still citizens of the district, and they-like all others-still have their names placed in the Reaping. Although their chances of getting picked are slim compared to someone like me, it's not impossible. I can't help but feel slightly better. It's been a long time since a tribute's been reaped who's never been on tesserae before.

I watch him walk up and I notice that I'm not the only one who's surprised to have heard his name called out.

He makes his way up the stage and I can't help but admire his steady and emotionless face, you'd expected someone like him to have burst into tears by now. He must have already begun playing the game...

He looks to me with his green eyes, but I turn away. It's hard to look at him, knowing that I'll probably have to kill him at some point. But there'll be twenty-four of us, odds are someone else will beat me to it.

"Do we have any volunteers?" she asks redundantly. A stiff silence is her response. "What a fine pair of tributes this year. Well, shake hands you two."

I shake his hand and once again spot his green eyes staring directly at me. He smiles and this time I smile right back because two can play at this game.

Before I can try to find Jackson's face in the crowd, a Peacekeepers directs us inside. As I enter, I just have enough time to look back up at the sky. Right before the doors close I catch a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds and blinding my vision entirely.

I'm escorted into a very well decorated room. I sit down on a chair-the material of which comes far from that of my dress. I hear the wooden door shut and I'm left alone. I sit motionless, my heart still beating ferociously and forcing myself not to cry. I can't cry, not now. Not with all those cameras that'll be pinned on me the second I leave this room. I try to imagine how many other tributes must of sat in this exact spot. The same thoughts racing through their heads, the same tantalizing thought of death at their fingertips. Some have tried to escape. I think back to when a girl tried to jump off the stage and make a run for it. She didn't get past the first row of kids. Besides, the Capitol just takes it out on you in the Games. I remember the awful hungry wolves they sent in to kill her on the first night. It's safe to say that the only thing left of her was her blood...on the side of a tree. Some also try to end it, make it quick. A few succeeded at that, but it's not too hard to replace them, especially at this stage. All I know is that I'm too afraid to do either.

I place my hands onto my dress, since that's the only real place to put them without feeling uncomfortable. I expect dampness, yet I'm met with a dry surface.

Huh, I guess the rain was only my imagination. I must be going mad. Well, who wouldn't be in my current situation?

I run my hands through my hair, trying to undo the braids that Lila had made for me this morning. My hands stumble upon the flower planted in my hair. The rose! I had completely forgotten that I had left it in there. I gently pull it out and hold in by the stem, carefully avoiding the thorns. I take a moment to smell it, but I'm immediately reminded of the fox I had seen this morning. The thick, red blood; the same color as the rose. I quickly toss it onto the table beside me without looking. I wonder if that was also part of my imagination?

My thoughts dissipate at the sound of footsteps coming from outside the room. The sound of the door makes me jump. To my relief, I find Jackson and Lila emerge. Lila runs towards me and I hug her as hard as I can. She buries her face deep in my chest.

"Lila, I'm sorry, okay. I'm so sorry," I don't really know what else to say. Her worst nightmare had come to pass.

"Just promise me you'll try, okay. Promise." Just the sound of her voice makes me want to burst into tears, but I clench my jaw.

"I will, I promise," I whisper. Although I know my odds of ever returning are virtually non-existent. I can see Lila's about to cry and I know that if she starts then I will too. "Don't start crying, please." But it's too late, tears are already streaming down her face and she can't speak, neither of us can.

Jackson crouches down and puts his arms around her. He then turns to me with a seriousness I've never seen before.

"Listen to me. You do stand a chance, I know it. Remember the training they gave us, it wasn't much, but it was something. It's more than most." He's partially right. Like I said, they let us use weapons on the farms to keep the animals out. And yes, I did get to use a bow, but only a few times. On top of that, the bows were poorly crafted; most couldn't shoot more than a few yards. I mean, yes, I could hit a target, as long as it isn't too far away. "Just get to a bow or a knife and go from there." I think back to a few years ago when the Cornucopia didn't have any weapons at all. The tributes were forced to strangle each other to death with their own bare hands.

Jackson then grabs ahold of my hand, squeezing it tightly in his own. "I'm not just saying this to make you feel better, you do stand a chance, I know it-"

"Jackson, it's not that easy. Some of them have been training for years." Now I'm thinking of the Career Tributes. The ones from the wealthier district like 1, 2 and 4. The ones who have been training their whole lives for this, and they're no pushovers because the past five victors have all been Careers.

"So have you. I know it's not much, but it is something. Some of them will have to bet on you," he says.

His words still don't offer me any comfort. Sponsorships are rare for tributes outside of the Career pack, and I know my uncombed hair won't be winning me any points for good looks.

I find myself shaking my head in disbelief. "Jackson, just look after her alright." I look to Lila who's standing silently in the corner, trying to wipe the tears off of her face.

"Don't, okay! Don't say that. Hey, look at me." We're both transfixed into each other's eyes. "There's only gonna be one victor and it's gonna be you." He leans in to hug me and for a solitary moment I feel safe in his arms. He then whispers into my ear. "Marisole, I love you." He kisses me and I really can't help but shed a tear. It's my first kiss, and of course it had to be on the worst day of my like.

Just then a guard comes in to take them away. The last thing I hear are Lila's faint screams calling out for my name and the door closing once again, leaving me alone once again and more miserable than I've been all day-which must of reached some kind of record by now. That safety I felt in Jackson's arms is gone and I find myself biting my nails until they're all chewed off.

Eventually, someone else opens the door, and for the first time in my life I'm relieved to see Abatha walk in. She's pretty much the only other person I'd want to see right now. Yes, she can be hard on me sometimes, even downright unfair, but I've always known that she's cared about me. Jackson would always say I was crazy for actually liking her, but she's always been looking out for me and making sure I don't get into too much trouble. Well, that's certainly been botched, I can't get into any more trouble than I'm in right now.

She takes a seat beside me on chair to my right, knowing that our time is scarce. I see her reach into a small bag and pull out a golden necklace with a circular locket. I can't help but admire its beauty. It must be worth a fortune.

"I want you to have this," she says, tying the chain around my neck. I'm mesmerized by its gleam. I've never seen anything this expensive before. My enthrall turns into confusion, where did she get this?

She opens the locket to reveal a picture of a young girl, I'd say around my age. It's hard to clearly make out the picture, but it's hard not to make out her beautiful brown eyes. Not like mine, but they have the same shape. I do recognize the brown hair, it's practically identical to my own. I already know who it is before Abatha has a chance to say it herself.

"That's my mother, isn't it?" I say.

Abatha nods and glances down at the picture. "She was eighteen in this photo."

I've never seen a photo of one of my parents before. I was told they were farmers, and like all farmers in this district, they barely had enough money to feed themselves, let alone pay for something like a photograph.

I'm stuck staring at her. There's an odd familiarity that I can't seem to shake off as though I've met this person before, but I know it's impossible. It must be my mind playing tricks on me again.

My confusion doesn't wither, however. I'm still wondering how she acquired this locket. Did my mother give it to her? Why did she give it to her? Had Abatha known my mother? She never mentioned it, but now I know that she must have. There's no other explanation.

Abatha closes the locket and adjusts it on my neck. "She'd want you to have this-" she can't speak for a moment and I can tell this is as hard for her as it is for me. "I-I was waiting to give you it until you were a little older, but… no point in waiting anymore, right?" I know she's trying her hardest to keep it together. "You can be just like your mother sometimes, you know that," she lets out a little laugh and I do too because it's the only way either of us can cope. She then brushes the hair out of my eyes and gazes into the locket.

I want to ask her a million questions, but my thoughts are all jumbled together. I want to know more about my mother, but I can only manage to let out a few words. "Oh, Abatha. Thank you."

She gently pinches my cheek the way she used to do when I was younger and we hug to savour this last moment together, allowing another eternity to pass until she's escorted out by another guard. Now I'm stuck thinking about my parents and Abatha's connection to them. About why had she waited to so long to tell me about them. These though simmer down though, I still haven't forgotten where I am.

I begin to fiddle around with the locket around my neck. I'm afraid of being on my own now. I feel more terrified than I've ever felt before. It's the kind of fear that makes your stomach drop like a bag of rocks and has you constantly reminding yourself to breathe, and on top of that I'm dealing with so many conflicting emotions right now that I want to scream and cry all at the same time.

I urge myself to wipe these emotions off my face, despite how hard it seems. In a few minutes I'll be escorted into a car that'll take us to the train station, then off we go to the Capitol to be prepped and groomed for the Games. I know that on my way there they'll be even more cameras than before. All of Panem will be watching and I need to look strong. I need people to think I'll be a good bet, one that doesn't cry or hesitate at the sight of death. That can't be too hard. I mean that's practically been my whole life.

We leave the building and enter a car with blacked-out windows that takes us directly to the station. It's a short ride, District 9 isn't very big.

I notice Lynne beside me carrying the same expressionless face as I am. I wonder how he'll survive in the arena. He's never gone hungry before. He's never worked on the farms. He's never been given the chance to train or kill. Odds are he probably won't last very long (not that our tributes last long anyways), but something tells me he's hiding whatever strategy he's got. Besides, am I really in any position to be judging who will live or die?its not district 9 is known for having its tributes make it very far in the Games.

Neither of us bother talking to each other on the ride there. Instead, we each just stare silently out of our windows while we each take in the last we'll probably ever see of our district.

Once we arrive and exit the car, we're immediately swarmed by tons of reporters and cameras, each trying to get a good look at our faces. I keep my head down and follow Blossom inside the train. The door automatically closes, which fascinates me since electricity is a luxury most aren't afforded to. Like I said, it's mostly spared for Peacekeepers or for the Harvest. The only other time it's on is during the Games, so we can all watch in the comfort of our own homes. But apart from that you'd be lucky to see a street lamp flicker on at night.

The train starts moving the moment we enter and we head off towards the Capitol at full speed, leaving District 9 as nothing more than a blur in its wake.