The last time, the Reapings were divided up into 4 chapters. This time, that's not the case. Please don't hate me.

Earlier that day, before the Reapings…

District 1

"Miss Chanpagne Bordeaux! You. Look. Beautiful!"

Chanpagne twirled in her silk green dress, reveling in her family's attention. Her mother was squealing in a fake Capitol accent and snapping pictures every five seconds while her father stood there, gazing at her proudly. Her brother, Dionysus, was nodding in agreement.

Only her sister looked unhappy. "Green is an ugly color," She huffed, obviously envious of the attention her older sister was getting.

"I make it pretty." Chanpagne smiled, batting her eyelashes. "I think someone's just jealous."

"As if!"

"Stop it, Chardonnay." Her father said sternly, "This is Channa's big day. Don't spoil it for her."

"I'm not!" Chardonnay protested, but her mother's fawning over Channa drowned her words out.

"Let's get going to the Reaping." Her father said, "We don't want to be late for your big day!"

"Of course not." Channa said, running her fingers through her long, brown hair and smiling. As they exited the house, the thought of taking one last look crossed her mind. But then she shook her head, smirking. She would be back in two or three weeks, with the winnings from the Games. She would buy her family a house twice as big. They could expand the vineyard they owned and become the richest people in District 1.

She reveled in these thoughts as they made their way to the town square. Just before they lined up for identification, her brother pulled her aside.

"Channa…" He said slowly, "Remember to volunteer as soon as they call the first name. Last year, I hesitated. I blew my one and only chance of competing."

"Don't worry, Dionysus." She said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I won't hesitate! And if I do somehow miss it, there's always next year."

"Channa!" Excited shouts filled the air as a group of giggling girls came rushing towards her. "Channa, are you going to volunteer?" "You look so pretty in that dress!" "I wish I had hair like yours…" They crowded around her eagerly, as if she had already become a celebrity of the Games.

She laughed lightly, "Of course I'm going to volunteer. And I'm going to win, too."

"If you make it into the Games, you're sure to be the star of the show…" One of the girls complimented her, "You look beautiful."

"Well, I won't argue with that." Channa smirked, tossing her head proudly, "Now, get out of my way. You're mussing up my dress and I need to focus."

Apologizing, they moved aside. Head held high, Channa strode away, her high heels clicking loudly against the pavement. As she took her spot among her fellow 17-year olds, she was aware of many eyes, both male and female, plastered on her. Lustful, envious eyes…

She shot a glance towards the many male tributes that had lined up parallel to the girls. Some saw her looking and quickly turned their faces away. Others couldn't help but stare back, entranced. She twirled a strand of chocolate-brown hair with her finger. Maybe I'll seduce everyone to death… She caught one young man's eye and licked her lips. He turned a bright shade of red.

"Hello everyone! And welcome to the Reaping for the 42nd annual Hunger Games!"

Channa turned her attention to the stage, where District 1's female escort was serving as an announcer. She was dressed in a tacky yellow dress that clashed with her bright orange hair. Channa rolled her eyes. "Seriously? Couldn't they give us an escort with a little more fashion sense?"

A few girls forced laughs around her, but everyone else was focused on the Reaping.

"Ladies first…"

Channa tensed every muscle in her body. As soon as the escort read the name, she would volunteer. She wouldn't let anyone take away the opportunity. She had promised her brother she would be in the Games this year. And her mother, who so desperately wanted connections with the Capitol…

"This year's tribute is…Chanpagne Bordeaux!"

"I VOLUNTEER!" Channa screamed at the top of her voice. Everyone turned to look at her with wide eyes. It took a moment to sink in that her name was the one that had been called. "Ohmigosh!" She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Channa, you did it!" One of her followers shrieked in excitement. Her friend moved in to give her a hug, but Channa shoved her out of the way and made a mad dash for the stage, moving as fast as her high heels would allow. Peacekeepers struggled to catch up with her and escort her the rest of the way up the stairs. The announcer approached her, smiling gently.

"Hello dear, you must be—"

"Chanpagne Bordeaux!" She said, snatching the microphone from the escort. "But my friends call me Channa. There they are! Wave to the camera, girls!"

Her friends screamed ecstatically, jumping up and down as cameras zoomed in for a good shot.

"Okay, okay, that's enough. My turn." Channa said impatiently, "Oh! Ew, get away!" The escort had tried to take the microphone from her, but she elbowed her away roughly. "Anyways, I want to thank all of you! I can't wait to represent District 1 at this year's Hunger Games!" She lifted her green dress up and swept into a perfect curtsy.

Everyone cheered, obviously pleased with the tribute that had been chosen. She spotted her family in the back. Her parents were positively beaming. Her mother had thrown her arms around her father and was kissing him. Her brother was clapping his hands with vigor, and even her little sister was smiling…

Suddenly, she felt her throat close up. "But most of all…" She choked out, tears clouding her eyes, "I want to thank my family. I would never have made it this far if it weren't for them…I promise I'll make you proud. All of you!"

The crowd burst into another round of applause, as the escort finally managed to wrestle the microphone away from her. "Wonderful…" She said breathlessly, straightening her orange wig. "Well, up next is the drawing for the male tribute…let's see what we have…"

A Peacekeeper handed Channa a handkerchief. Dabbing at her eyes, she watched as the escort went to pick out the slip of paper that would have her competitor's name written on it.

"Lee Poplar!"

A mousy, 12-year old boy flinched at the sound of his name being called. Peacekeepers began to move toward him. He barely had a chance to register what was going on, when a voice rang out over the hush that had fallen.

"I volunteer!"

A young, dark-haired boy wearing torn jeans and a leather jacket stepped out of the crowd, head held high with confidence. The Peacekeepers looked at him in surprise.

"Oh my, we have a volunteer!" The female announcer exclaimed, "Please do come up to the stage!"

The Peacekeepers changed directions, leaving behind a relieved Lee to stand beside the dark-haired boy. As they led him up to the stage, another voice rang out, this time much deeper.

"Wait!" A tall, muscular 18-year old came sprinting from the back of the crowd towards the Peacekeepers. "He can't volunteer! I've been training for this my whole life and this is my last year to compete!"

Channa was instantly reminded of the misfortune that had befallen her brother last year. She watched the exchange with interest.

"Oh…I'm so sorry…" The announcer said uncertainly, "But he volunteered first. If he relinquishes it to you, then…" She trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"You're only 15. You can enter the games another year. Let me do it." The tall boy growled, glaring down at the tribute before him, "Besides, you know very well that I called dibs on it at the academy."

The 18-year old was more than a head taller than the dark-haired boy, but that didn't intimidate him at all. He looked up into the face of his challenger and sneered, "Oh, I didn't realize that you had called dibs on it. Well, excuse me for trampling all over your sacred dibs, but I'm going to be District 1's male tribute this year. Not you. Maybe if you'd been quicker to actually volunteer instead of being so concerned with your precious—"

At this, the older boy drew back his fist and punched the dark-haired boy right in the mouth. The dark-haired boy stumbled backwards, clutching his jaw with both hands, eyes wide with shock.

The Peacekeepers were on the older boy immediately, dragging him away as he protested loudly. Nobody attacked a tribute. Nobody. They had to be kept in perfect condition for the upcoming games.

The dark-haired boy turned away, making his way to the stage by himself. Channa was surprised to see that he was smiling triumphantly, despite the fact that the corner of his lip was bleeding.

"What's your name?" The escort asked, holding the microphone in his direction.

"Hip Hoprock." He announced, reaching up to wipe away at the blood.

Seriously? Channa thought, trying to hold back a derisive laugh.

"Wonderful! Shake hands, you two."

Hip reached his hand forward, a confident smile lighting up his handsome features. Channa stared at his hand, now stained with his blood, and felt a moment of revulsion.

Then she realized that soon, she would be in the arena. Her perfect, clean hands were going to be painted red by the time this was over. Maybe she would even have to kill her fellow tribute, this boy with the bloodstained hands who now stood in front of her, smiling at her…

But as long as she won, it didn't matter. She would stain her hands with the blood of every single child in that arena before she would lose.

She reached forward and shook his hand.

District 2

THUNK!

The spear was right on target. If the dummy had been alive, it would be dead now. Sienna, feeling pleased, turned to face her dad, who was overseeing her training. She had hit every single dummy in fatal spots that surely would have killed her fellow tributes instantly.

"That was perfect, Si." Her father told her, eyes shining with pride, "You'll be the next victor for sure…just like your old man."

She allowed herself a small smile. Her father had won the Hunger Games many years ago and had been training her in the ways of the spear since she could hold one. He was the only person she cared about in her life. She didn't have any friends, no mother, and no siblings…well, not anymore.

"So are you excited for your first Reaping?" Her father asked, as he removed the spearheads from the dummies and tossed them into a bundle.

"No." Sienna said, frowning, "There's no way I'll get called, and even if I do, some older girl will probably try to steal it from me."

"But I know you won't let them." Her father said confidently, moving towards her to kneel in front of her, "You won't let anyone steal the glory from you, eh, little Snow White?" The affectionate nickname, referring to her pale skin and short, black hair, did not soften Sienna's resolve.

"I won't." She said, gritting her teeth. Her brothers had tried to steal the glory from her once. They thought she was weak. If only they were still alive, so that she could prove them wrong…

"I know you won't." Her father held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Now let's get going."


This was the year.

This was the year Bridon Jakkels would win the Hunger Games in a blaze of glory, bringing honor to his district and making his father proud. His brother had died a few years before in the Games, but he felt neither remorse nor desire to avenge him. It was merely a learning experience. A year that made the Jakkels name known, that would prepare Panem for what was coming…

Excitement pulsed in every fiber of his being as he speared a dummy through the heart, imagining it to be a fellow tribute. His brother's ally had betrayed him at the end of the Games. But Bridon knew he would trust no one. He would kill without hesitation.

"Bridon…it's time." His mother and father were standing in the doorway to the training center. Their eyes shone proudly as they gazed upon their son.

"I'm ready." Bridon said, and left with them to attend the Reaping.

As he waited in line to check in, he flexed his fingers, imagining them around someone's throat. He couldn't wait to get into the arena. He wished he could skip all of the idiotic festivities that came with the Hunger Games, and get right to the actual thing itself.

After signing in, he stood at the back of the crowd, impatient, as the overexcited female announcer twittered on and on about the tradition of the Games. Finally, she drew names.

"This year's female tribute is…" She paused for dramatic effect, "Sienna Roan!"

A few cried out, "I volunteer!" but the short 12-year old was already headed for the stage. The frantic girls who had volunteered tried to tear themselves away from the crowd and run for the stage, but Sienna beat them to it. The Peacekeepers formed a line and pushed them back into place, despite their pitiful protests.

"Well, hello there, darling!" The escort chirped, "Are you sure you'd like to volunteer at such a young age?"

"Yes, I'm sure." The little girl said, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"All right then, that means you're District 2's tribute for this year! Yaaay!" She clapped her hands. Sienna looked as if she could have ripped the escort's throat out right there on stage. "Next up, our lovely male tribute!"

Bridon prepared himself, ready to volunteer. His name was in there plenty of times, but if he didn't get chosen, he was ready to attack someone for the chance to get into the Games. It was his last year, after all.

However, luck was on his side that day.

"Bridon Jakkels!" The escort practically sang.

"Yes!" He hissed under his breath.

He pushed his way through the other 18-year old boys, who were all grabbing at him and saying, "Let me do it!" but he shoved them aside. He refused to let anyone take this away from him. As he came up to the stage, the escort announced their names one more time, and the audience burst into a thundering applause.

Bridon showed no emotion on the outside, but inside, he couldn't have been happier. Sienna glared at the crowd angrily, as if challenging them to take this away from her because of her size or age. But it was official; these were the tributes that would be representing District 2 in the Hunger Games.

"Wonderful, wonderful! Sienna, Bridon, shake hands with your fellow tribute!"

Bridon looked at the pale, little girl in front of him. She had to be more than a foot shorter than him. You've got to be kidding me. I could snap this runt's neck with one hand. He thought, reaching forward to shake.

She took it and squeezed it with surprising strength. Her eyes were chips of blue ice; as if she had guessed what he were thinking. He squeezed her hand back, practically crushing it in his iron grip, but she didn't flinch.

The two stayed like that for a moment, locked in each other's grip, glaring at each other. Hostility radiated off of them in waves. Then they let go, both inwardly excited that they would finally fulfill their dreams of being in the Hunger Games…

District 3

"Mom, Dad, hurry up! We're behind on schedule!"

"Jack, calm down. The Reaping isn't going to start without us." Jack's mother soothed, walking arm-in-arm with his father.

Jack fidgeted uncomfortably, his beady blue eyes darting around nervously. His short, reddish-brown hair was groomed back neatly and he wore a red polo shirt that his mother had picked out for him. If she hadn't taken so long trying to make him looking presentable, they would be running on time…

Unfortunately for Jack, his parents were used to his OCD ways and never honored his desire to always keep to a schedule. It was partially their fault he was like this—they had entered him into the family business of clock making when he was just a little boy. And it had made him obsessed with time, counting, and schedules. But he never even seemed to realize how anal he was.

Finally, they made it to the town square and he hurriedly joined a group of 16-year old boys, breathing a sigh of relief once he realized that he was not late after all.


"Everyone gather round, it's time for the Reaping!" The escort up on the stage called.

"Gizmoe…" Gadgette whimpered, clinging to her brother, "I don't want to go…don't leave me…"

"It's okay, Gadgette." Gizmoe comforted his twin sister, brushing the jet-black hair that had come out of her braid back behind her ear, "It'll be just like last year. We'll only be apart for a little while, then I'll come get you."

She nodded tearfully. "Okay." She agreed. They parted ways, each for their assigned section. Gadgette stood on the outskirts of the 13-year old girls, and Gizmoe stood directly across from her. They were only a few yards apart, but Gadgette still felt terrified and alone.

While the escort gave the usual introduction, Gadgette kept her eyes glued to Gizmoe. He did the same. Theirs was a deep bond, and nothing could break it. Not even what was coming next.

"And this year's female tribute from District 3 will be…Gadgette Langlee."

"No!" Gadgette screamed, before she could stop herself. Everyone turned and looked at her with wide eyes.

She gave a strangled sob and started crying on the spot. She buried her face into her hands and wailed pitifully. Arms surrounded her and she was aware of Gizmoe, breathing into her ear, saying that he was here for her, that he would protect her, but then came the Peacekeepers. They pried him off of her, and dragged her forcefully up to the stage as she screamed incoherently.

Once she was up there, a Peacekeeper held her in place. She didn't try to escape, and just stood there, shaking and sniffling, tears pouring down her face. Gizmoe watched helplessly, his eyes red as he resisted the urge to join his sister in crying.

"Our male tribute for this year is…Jack Newman." The escort spoke loudly, as if to drown out Gadgette's bawling.

Through her tears, she managed to make out a lanky boy with reddish hair coming down the aisle towards the stage. His eyes were wide with panic. Both tributes in a daze, they shook hands. Then they were led into the Justice Building where they would bid their families farewell.

District 4

"Oh my gosh, there he is!" "Isn't he just gorgeous?" "Shh! He's looking this way!"

Frederick glanced behind him at the group of girls that had gathered. They were whispering about him, of course. They were always whispering about him. Apparently, he was the perfect specimen of a man. There was just something about his bronze colored hair, tanned skin, and sea green eyes—especially the sea green eyes—that the ladies just couldn't resist. They even fawned over the jaw-shaped scar he had received from a shark two years ago. Said it made him look hot and dangerous. Frederick couldn't understand their reasoning sometimes…

But he wasn't interested. They were all the same to him. He often compared them with the seagulls that would flock to him as he hauled in his daily catch of fish. Crazed birds, never ceasing their squawking…

He sighed.

"Frederick! You look good in that black suit."

He turned to see his friend Chelsea Fischer approaching. She had a wide grin on her face and was looking quite pretty in a simple blue blouse. Chelsea was, perhaps, his best friend, but there was nothing between them. They got along splendidly, but he knew she wasn't "the one."

"Thanks." Frederick said, smiling softly, "You look good too." He heard the sound of girls swooning somewhere behind him. Then they burst into another round of raucous whispering, no doubt badmouthing Chelsea for one reason or another.

"Oh, thanks!" Chelsea said, smoothing her skirt. "Yeah, I couldn't decide whether to wear blue or yellow, but I figured yellow is too bright and I don't want to be this big yellow spotlight amidst a bunch of duller colors, so I…"

Frederick zoned out, as he often did when Chelsea was talking. She could carry on entire conversations with just herself, so he let her. When they called everyone to sign in and gather before the stage, she shut up, said a quick goodbye, and ran off to join some of her other friends.

Frederick joined his fellow 16-year olds and waited patiently as they drew the first name…


"Bassin Zense."

Bassin heard her name, but she wasn't worried. She came from a career district. If she didn't want to do it, someone would volunteer for her. That's just how it worked. She waited patiently for someone to shout, "I volunteer!" and take her place.

But…no one did.

"Bassin Zense?" The escort called again.

Girls around her were parting the crowd, pointing to her. The Peacekeepers approached her and began to guide her towards the stage. Dread filled her stomach as she walked beside them. No one was volunteering…there was only silence.

At the bottom of the stage, she halted. The Peacekeepers grabbed her arms and hauled her the rest of the way up. "No, wait! Please, this is a mistake! I'm not prepared…!" She begged the Peacekeepers hoarsely, but their faces were hard. They didn't care at all.

This isn't fair…! She wanted to wail. She looked out into the crowd of nameless faces. Why won't any of you volunteer? She screamed inwardly. Surely one of you has trained for this…surely one of you wants this…!

It took all of her strength not to burst into tears and start screaming. This seemed so impossible. Her life had been so perfect up until now…even with two parents, two sisters, and a brother, her family never went hungry. Nothing had ever gone wrong until this day.

She should have figured it all had to come crashing down at some point.

It's just a bad dream… She thought to herself, crossing her arms and digging her nails into her skin, a bad dream… This way of thinking immediately comforted her. Yes, it was only a nightmare, and she would have to wake up at some point. This couldn't go on forever.

"And now for the male tribute…Shad—"

"I volunteer." A calm, confident voice interrupted before the announcer could even finish declaring the chosen tribute.

Frederick could see Chelsea staring at him in disbelief. He hadn't told her he was going to volunteer. He hadn't told anyone.

He had been training in secret for a long time. Honing his skills with a trident, working out, going on long jogs to improve his endurance…now, he felt he was ready to compete. He would show Panem that he was strong, that District 4 was the best of them all.

He made his way up to the stage, where the little 15-year old girl called Bassin was trembling. He shook her hand, and she looked into his eyes fearfully. He felt a flash of pity, but he quickly pushed it aside. He could not afford to feel sorry for anyone.

In just a few weeks, this girl would be dead. And he would be crowned victor of the 42nd Hunger Games.

District 5

Another day, another Reaping…

Cole always felt sad on this day. It never got any easier—seeing a familiar face from school, perhaps a friend or an acquaintance, being taken away to die. The Hunger Games were pure evil, killing children for entertainment. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

But today, he felt even more depressed than usual. This was the first Reaping that his father would not attend. He would not be there to encase him in his strong arms after seeing the tributes being taken away. He would not be there to comfort him, or suggest that they go out and do something fun to forget the horrors of the day.

Cole still lay awake at night, wondering what could have caused the power plant meltdown that took his father away. Sometimes, he cried. He would scream into his pillow, crying out, "Give him back! Give him back!" But in the morning, he always put on a brave face for the sake of his mother and his little brother. He had to take care of them now; he was the new man of the house and he performed this duty as best as he could.

Even at the Reaping, he would kneel down, on the same level as his brother, and promise, "I'll be right back." This was always a sort of comfort to them. After that, Cole would take his place among the 16-year olds, watch the victims be taken from their families, and then return to his own.

This year, he hoped, would be no different. It was painful to see people he knew taken away. But there was always that sense of relief that it wasn't him. And he hoped it would never be him, because he had to take care of his family now.

"Cassia Teir."

The first name called was that of a 12-year old girl. She was right at the base of the stage and turned white as a sheet upon hearing it. Peacekeepers corralled her onto the stage. It was easy to tell who her family was—they were in the back, crying. Three little boys were wailing without abandon.

Sorrow welled up from within Cole. If only the Capitol could feel the remorse that he felt upon seeing these broken families.

"Up next, the boy tributes…"

Here we go.

Cole folded his hands and prayed silently that it would not be him. He lifted his head to the sky and stared at the clouds, imagining his father looking down on him, protecting him…

"Cole Louis Miller."

The shock of it hit him like a wrecking ball. He stood there for a moment, stunned. A few guys around him, acquaintances from school, reached over to give him reassuring pats. This broke him out of his stupor, and he slowly walked towards the stage.

Now who will take care of them? He wondered, refusing to look back and see the tear-stricken faces of his family, for that would no doubt cause him to break down on the spot.

District 6

Just a little bit more…almost there…

"Chat!"

The rabbit, which had been so close to triggering the falling rocks that would end its life, turned and bolted away into the underbrush.

"Darn it, Trail!" Chat growled, standing up and rounding on her little brother, "That was our dinner for tonight!"

"Sorry Sis," Trail apologized, eyes wide, "but you know you shouldn't be hunting on Reaping day! Besides, Auntie says you need to get ready."

"Fine." Chat agreed, grabbing her little brother's hand and leading him in the direction of home. He was only 10 years old, and wouldn't have to worry about the Reaping for another two years. But this was her third Reaping, and since she had put in for tesserae her first year, so her name was in there quite a few times. She was feeling nervous, but tried not to show it, for Trail's benefit.

"There you are." Their aunt greeted, looking relieved. "You haven't been out hunting, I hope?"

"No." Chat lied.

"Not hunting…setting traps." Trail said truthfully. Chat shot him a glare, but it went unnoticed.

"Chat! You know you're not supposed to do that on Reaping day! If the Peacekeepers knew…" Auntie chastised, all the while pulling out a simple white dress and forcing it into her hands, "Oh well, you need to get ready. I want to get this over with."

Me too. Chat agreed silently, staring at the dress in her hands and dreading what was to come.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of town, Mitchell Anthony was tuning out the world in his parents' garage, working on a busted-up car while listening to a crackling radio. The car had been abandoned near their district, no doubt by some Capitol snob. Mitch and his friends had pushed the car all the way back to his house, where he had hid it in their garage.

Once I get this thing running…oh man… He grinned at imagined joyrides and road trips. It would have to be kept in secret, of course. The Capitol wouldn't approve. But maybe he could convince them to let him keep it. He could open up a business, drive people in his district to places they wanted to go…

He imagined his two little sisters, bellies full, faces bright. They wouldn't have to skip meals anymore. His business would feed the whole family.

"Mitch!" A loud voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He reached over and turned off the radio. His mother was standing there, looking quite annoyed.

"I've been standing here yelling your name for a whole minute." She told him, crossing her arms, "Don't you realize what day it is?"

Mitch just stared at her. Then it hit him. The Reaping! "Oops." He muttered.

"Come on. You're not wearing stained overalls to a televised event." She grabbed his arm and led him out of the garage.


Chat stood among her fellow 14-year olds, looking around nervously. She couldn't seem to find where her family had gone. Even if she stood on tiptoe, she couldn't see past the older kids that stood behind her, separating her from where they kept the family members.

She reached up, brushing at her short platinum blonde hair with her hands, trying not to think about it. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the Reaping began.

The escort, a balding man, droned on about tradition while no one listened. When it was time to choose the names, a nervous silence fell over the crowd. Chat felt like throwing up, but her stomach was empty. It would be over soon…then she could go back to her brother and live with her aunt for another year…

"Chat Darner."

No.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She felt like crying, but she was aware of many cameras, now aimed in her direction. And Trail, he was watching her too. So, head held high, fists clenched at her sides, she walked stiffly up to the stage. Many faces stared at her, pitying her, yet thankful that they had not been called…

That was when she caught sight of her family. Her aunt, with one arm wrapped around Trail, the other wiping at her tearstained face, and Trail, just staring at her, looking dumbfounded…

Chat bit her lip until it hurt, refusing to break down here, in front of everyone.

"Mitchell Anthony."

She was surprised when they called the next name, too wrapped up in her own misery. Yet, no one came forward.

"Mitchell Anthony? Is he here?"

Peacekeepers were nodding. Everyone had been accounted for.

"Oh!" A voice said exclaimed. Chat saw a tall, brown-haired boy perk up as if he had just realized his name had been called. He was standing among the 17-year olds. "S-Sorry…"

He approached the stage, eyes wide and unseeing. High-pitched wails arose from the back of the crowd as two little girls started crying on the spot. Chat felt a tug of sympathy for them. She was sure she would feel the same way, in their position…

The announcer introduced the two tributes to their district and told them to shake hands.

Chat narrowed her eyes, studying Mitch. He stared back, blue eyes confused, as if he still couldn't believe this was happening. He didn't seem too bright.

He'll be dead as soon as the countdown ends… Chat thought bitterly, releasing his hand, but I won't. I promise, Trail. I'll come back for you.

District 7

She always came here on the day of the Reaping…to the small tree house her father had built for her when she was just a little girl. It held so many memories, memories of better days when she was young and possessed no worries whatsoever. She would climb the tree, slip through the tiny door (a task that was simple since she was incredibly thin) and huddle in the corner of her hideout, soaking in those memories.

Sometimes she wished she could stay there forever. Maybe no one would find her, and she would be safe from the Hunger Games forevermore. But she knew her parents would be devastated, and she had two little sisters to take care of, Taryn and Aliyah…

So she would abandon the tree house and head home to put on her usual black dress for the Reaping. Then she would help her sisters prepare; being 13 and 14 years of age, they wore her hand-me-downs. But they didn't complain.

"Don't be afraid…" Calista told her sisters, as they walked to the Reaping hand-in-hand, "Everything's going to be fine…"

"But our names have been put in there so many times for tesserae…" Taryn said, voice trembling, "Especially yours, Calista."

"I know." Calista admitted, "But if either of your names is called, I'll volunteer for you."

Her sisters looked at her, eyes shining with tears. As they came to the town square, the three girls parted ways to join their respective age groups, Calista praying silently for everything to be all right…


"Stay. Stay, Hope." Tasi said firmly, holding his hand in front of the Golden Retriever.

The dog watched him with bright eyes as he walked away, to join his fellow 16-year olds in front of the stage. Every year, her master would gather here with others. He always seemed so nervous, and would leave her sitting in a group of strangers while he stood with his own kind. Then, after 15 minutes of this, the crowd would dissolve and Tasi would come back to her. The two would leave the town and go for a romp in the woods, staying there until sunset.

This had been going on for the past four years. It had become part of a routine.

Tasi signed in and took his spot, ready for yet another Reaping. He glanced back. Hope was sitting obediently among the families in their separate section. Good dog. He thought to himself.

"Welcome to District 7's 42nd Reaping for the Hunger Games…" A new announcer read, a bit nervously, from a slip of paper. "We'll start with drawing the tribute from the girls…"

The escort reached into a giant bowl filled with slips of paper and pulled one out. She was about to read the chosen tribute's name when a voice shouted out,

"I volunteer!"

Everyone turned and looked at a girl with long, dark hair that was extremely curly. She was standing there, shaking, her bright green eyes wide and alert.

"Calista, no!" A younger girl whispered, looking horrified.

"Oh…w-well, come on up…" The announcer said uncertainly, then mumbled, "I guess we don't need this…" and let the slip of paper drop back into the bowl. Peacekeepers led the girl up to the stage, where they asked for her name.

"Calista Sirrom." She said in a wavering voice.

Why would she volunteer without even waiting to hear the name of who was reaped? Tasi wondered. She was obviously frightened, and she definitely wasn't a Career…they were from Districts 1, 2, and 4.

"Well, it's certainly interesting to have a volunteer…" The escort announced, "Let's pick the boy tribute now…"

She reached into the bowl and pulled out another piece of paper. She went to read it, then paused, as if expecting someone to interrupt her. When no one did, she read the name loud and clear:

"Tasi Merkava."

Tasi felt as if he insides were instantly frozen. He couldn't even move. Everything felt so unreal, as if he had suddenly entered into a dream. Sometimes he had nightmares that he had been reaped for the Games; maybe this was one of them.

But then, two Peacekeepers were on him. "Come on," one growled, giving him a rough shove. Thoughts raced through his mind. He wanted to run away. Or maybe he could fight them off. But instead, he found himself walking peacefully in their wake, towards the stage.

A low bark snapped him out of his reverie. He turned to see Hope, on her feet, standing about a dozen yards behind him. Her ears were pricked forward and her whole body was quivering. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Her Master wasn't supposed to be taken away; they were supposed to leave together and go play in the woods.

Tasi shook his head at her and mouthed, "Stay." If she came rushing at him, the Peacekeepers might think she was dangerous and shoot.

At her master's command, Hope slowly sank back down onto her haunches. Then she watched helplessly as the strange men took her master away from her.

District 8

Ash sat outside her house, picking half-heartedly at a stale loaf of bread. She didn't feel hungry…she never felt hungry on Reaping day. She sighed, trying to smooth the wrinkled blouse that was two sizes too big for her. It had belonged to her mother. When she died giving birth to her little brother, Ash had gotten to keep all of her clothes. But no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't grow into them. There just wasn't enough food on the table.

"Hi Ash." Ash looked up to see her neighbor—a little five-year old boy who was extremely thin. She could see right past the tattered shirt he wore and count every one of his ribs. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She said, brushing her red hair out of her face and trying to smile, "How are you? You look hungry…here." She stood up, holding the bread out to the little boy. His eyes brightened and he took it from her.

"Thank you." He said softly, nibbling at its stale surface with his tiny teeth. Then he turned away and headed back to his house.

"Sorry we took so long, Ash." A new voice said suddenly. Here came her father, all dressed up for the Reaping, followed by her two brothers, Pinn and Miles. Miles was bouncing along happily, his red hair a complete mess. Pinn, meanwhile, was looking grim. This was his final year of being eligible for the Reaping and he obviously wanted to get it over with.

"It's okay. Let's get going."

They didn't live far from where the stage had been set up. It took no time at all for them to get there and register. Even then, they had time to spare. Ash stood among her age group, which was 15, and idly wondered which two faces would disappear from this district forever.

Finally, the Reaping began.

The escort prattled on about the Dark Days, the Capitol, everything. It was the same thing every year. Until they drew the names…

"As usual, we start with drawing the female tribute…"

Ash held her breath. Please don't be me. Please don't be me.

"Ash Frustlock."

Her insides fell. She just remained where she was and squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from coming. The Peacekeepers guided her up to the stage. Once there, she refused to look out into the crowd for fear of seeing her family's reactions. She bowed her head and kept her eyes glued to the floor as they called the male tribute's name.

"Abbadon Sirus."

For a moment, she wished that it had been her brother they had called. It would have been so comforting to have him here, with her. But she quickly scolded herself for harboring that thought. No one else in her family should have to go through what was coming.

Ash looked up to see her fellow tribute, and what she saw coming down the aisle nearly scared the life out of her. The other tribute was a tall, muscular 18-year old boy with a dark black mohawk and hazel eyes that gleamed dangerously. A jagged scar ran down the left side of his face from the bottom of his eyelid to the end of his chin. He didn't even seem upset about being chosen for slaughter…he was smirking as if he had already won.

They might as well have him kill me now… Ash thought grimly, as he gripped her hand firmly and shook it, …well, at least if I die, I'll get to see my mother again…

District 9

Cara stared at the girl in the mirror before her. She had dirty blonde hair and midnight blue eyes that were bright and alert. She was looking quite pretty in a forest green dress, with her hair down, enveloping her face in a soft curtain. The girl in the mirror appeared calm on the outside, but Cara knew she was writhing with fear on the inside. She gave herself an optimistic smile, and the girl in the mirror's identical smile comforted her.

She proceeded to slip a locket over her head, the final touch to her outfit. The locket held a picture of her family within. It showed both of her parents, her older brother Carson, and the two young twins, Candis and Carlyle. And herself, of course. With her family close to her heart, she was ready to take on another Reaping.

She patted the locket, securing it into place. Then she went to join her family and head down to the town square. She was the only one who was of age this year. She was thankful that her brother had made it through unscathed, but she wouldn't be able to breathe a sigh of relief until she had made it to the age of 19, along with the twins. Still, she tried to look on the bright side of things. Their family was well off. They didn't have to submit extra names for tesserae. There was a good chance that the Antwip family would never have to bid farewell to one of their own.

As they walked to the Reaping, Carson murmured encouragement to her. "Everything's going to be fine…your name is only in there five times after all."

"I know. Everything's going to be okay." Cara smiled at the twins, who were looking doubtful, but her attitude reassured them that everything would indeed be fine.

Cara parted from her family as they took their places in the back, farthest from the stage. She proceeded to search the crowd for a familiar shock of red hair that belonged to her best friend, Mary. She found her already among their fellow 16-year olds.

"There you are!" Cara said, taking her place next to Mary, "You're so short, I don't even know how I managed to find you!"

Mary narrowed her eyes playfully. She was six inches shorter than Cara, and her friend never let her forget it. "Aw darn it! And here I was thinking I had finally gotten away from you…"

The two laughed. Then suddenly, someone covered Cara's eyes. She jumped in surprise. "Hey! Not funny, Nate!"

Nate let go with a chuckle. She glared at him and gave him a soft punch on the arm. He didn't even seem to notice—he may have been extremely skinny, but underneath those baggy clothes hid the muscles of an athlete. "Couldn't help myself. You looked so unsuspecting." Nate said, eyes shining mischievously.

Cara groaned, "Shouldn't you be in the guy section? You're gonna get us in trouble!"

"Fine, fine. Good luck, you two." As quickly as he had come, he was gone.

"Aw, you guys make such a cute couple!" Mary cooed, holding her face in her hands and batting her eyelashes.

"We're not a couple." Cara mumbled, trying to keep from blushing, "He's like a second big brother to me!"

"That's what they all say."

"Would you two shut up? The Reaping is starting!" A 17-year old behind them hissed. They ignored her, but turned their attention to the stage. The escort was already picking the girl tribute for this year's games. They listened intently, holding their breath…

"This year's tribute is…Carasadni Antwip."

Cara's heart skipped a beat. She turned to look at Mary, who was staring at her in horror. How was this even possible? Only a minute ago, they had been happy, joking around as they always did and…now…

Well, there was nothing she could do. She gave a nod to Mary, then turned and made her way out of the crowd. She walked steadily to the stage, a Peacekeeper on either side of her. As she got up on stage, she forced a weak smile.

Just like the girl in the mirror, she appeared calm and confident. But she knew that she was nothing like the girl in the mirror, because, inside, she was terrified of what was to come.


Drake watched the female tribute take to the stage and smile at the crowd. How on earth can she just stand up there and smile? He thought to himself, She must be crazy.

He looked across the aisle towards the girls' section, searching for his girlfriend, Pin. He caught her eye easily; she had been searching for him too. The relief on her face was evident. She was deathly afraid of being chosen for the Games, and had avoided it for another year. He gave her a reassuring smile, and she smiled back.

"Drake Cell."

Drake watched as the smile immediately vanished from her face and was replaced by a look of pure terror. His friends looked in his direction, the same parade of emotions playing across their faces—shock, then sadness mixed with pity.

Tearing his gaze away from his girlfriend, he forced himself to walk out of the crowd and towards the stage, where the announcer told the two tributes to shake hands.

Cara gazed at this boy who was roughly her age. He had messy, dark brown hair, and grey-blue eyes that shone with sadness. She knew she could never kill him in cold blood. Forcing another smile, she extended her right hand towards him.

He hesitated, staring at her hand, as if unsure of what to do. It was then that she noticed his own right hand was no more than a stump.

"Oh! I-I'm so sorry, I didn't…!" She reached up to scratch the back of her head awkwardly, and held out her left hand.

The boy took her hand with his remaining one and shook it, offering her a small smile. "Don't worry about it," He said kindly.

Then the two released one another and turned to face the crowd, each wondering if this would be the last time they ever gazed upon the people of District 9.

District 10

"Shem! Are you done yet?" Tyler said, coming out into the pasture where they kept their goats. "You're gonna get hair and slobber all over your outfit, y'know…"

Shem was currently feeding his favorite goat, Cream, an apple while the other goats crowded around, trying to grab a bite. "You know I like to come out here and see them every Reaping day…just in case I don't come back…" Shem told his brother, stroking Cream's coarse fur.

"Well, this is your last year…you've made it this far…" Tyler said, his voice quavering slightly. It was clear he was nervous. He was 14, after all, and had a couple more years to suffer through.

"Okay," Shem said, standing up and brushing hair off his clothes, "Let's go."

The two brothers joined their parents and headed down to the Reaping. The goats stood on their hind legs, peering morosely over the fence as their owners left without them.

While Shem bid his goats farewell, a girl named Olivia was doing the same with her own animals. She lived on a farm a few miles from him that specialized in horses, but also contained other livestock such as cows and sheep. She lived with her two parents and a younger sister. Theirs was a wealthy family that never went hungry.

At the moment, Olivia was wearing a purple blouse that complimented her fiery red hair. It was becoming slightly dirtied as she leaned over an old fence, stroking her favorite stallion, Silver Thunder.

"I'll be home soon, Silver." She promised, hugging the dappled gray horse around his neck. He nickered softly, as if to say, "I'll wait for you here."

Giving him one last pat on the head, she reluctantly left with her family to go to the Reaping. As they weaved among the many people that were attending, she was aware of some boys, around her age, looking at her. With her red hair, bright green eyes, and tanned skin, she stood out among the girls of her district. The fact that she was tall and a bit muscular from working on the farm also contributed to her uniqueness.

But she was just too busy for a boyfriend. At least, that's what she told herself. The truth was, she was afraid to get close to anyone, fearing that they wouldn't accept her for who she was.

So she ignored the stares from others and signed in without talking to anyone. Before they parted ways, she and her sister, Dahlia, hugged one another for good luck. Just as they always did. Then she slipped in among the 16-year olds and made small talk with the others until the Reaping began.

"It's tradition to start with the female tributes," The escort said hurriedly, as if he had somewhere else he would have liked to be, "Let's see here…this year's tribute is Olivia Rohaki."

Dahlia, a few rows in front of her, whipped around, looking panicked. The two sisters stared at one another, wide-eyed, at a loss for words. Olivia hadn't been prepared at all. She always thought there was little to no chance of her name being called. After all, she never needed tesserae. Her name was only in the bowl five times.

I shouldn't have been so stupid… Olivia thought, as Peacekeepers led her to the stage, I should have acknowledged the slim chance of my name being called… She could feel tears pooling in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had to suppress her emotions—she had to appear strong to her family.

She threw her head back, gazing challengingly at the stage before her. She climbed up the steps, and then stood there, looking coolly at the crowd. The escort, with a satisfied nod, proceeded to pull the name of the male tribute.

"Shem Dog."

A tall boy came walking unsteadily from the back of the crowd, where the 18-year olds were put. He had short, brown hair, green eyes, and was of medium build. He wasn't extremely intimidating, but Olivia quietly acknowledged that you could never judge someone too soon…

District 11

Here we are in District Eleven

Closest place there is to heaven

Up in the trees we spend the day

Singing and dancing, no work and all play

Caden couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the song he was singing. He, along with his five brothers and sisters, had made up the tune to keep them occupied as they harvested peaches in the orchard. The work was hard, involving a lot of climbing and gathering. There wasn't a day where Caden wasn't sore all over. But that didn't keep him from singing and dancing the day away as he slaved over his job.

As the sun set, the trees cast long shadows throughout the orchard, signaling the end of another tough day. Their father came to collect them and they all headed home together.

"Can we sing some more tomorrow?" Caden's littlest sister asked sleepily. Her dad was carrying her in his arms; usually, at the end of a workday, she was so tired that she could barely stand. Since she was the youngest, everyone always babied her. Even though his mother had died giving birth to her, Caden still loved her dearly.

"Tomorrow's the Reaping," Caden told her gently, "There won't be any work tomorrow."

Everyone was quiet at these words. All of their names were going to be in this year's Reaping. It was a bad year for the Amaranths.

"How many times is your name in it, Caden…?" The second oldest brother, Tylar, asked quietly.

Caden paused. With their big family, they were always putting in for tesserae. His father had forced him to put in for more tesserae in place of his younger siblings. His father obviously favorited his little sister, and didn't want to lose her, as they had lost their mother. Thus, Caden had his name in the bowl more times than anyone else in his family.

"Twenty-eight." He responded calmly.


"Do you want to, I don't know, um, maybe hang out after the Reaping is over today?" The nervous boy stammered, looking at Julia with pleading eyes.

Julia reached up and brushed her auburn hair out of her eyes, frowning. "Oh, I don't know…I might have to go work the fields…I'm pretty busy today…"

"But…!" The boy protested, looking downcast. It was common knowledge that no one worked on Reaping day. She was so obviously lying and she knew it.

Julia smiled sheepishly. The boy was pretty cute, short, with brown hair that matched his chocolate brown eyes. But he wasn't her type at all. She liked handsome, confident guys that weren't afraid to flirt. "How about I get back to you on that?" She said quickly. Not bothering to hear the boy's response, she turned away to join the 15-year olds that were beginning to gather before the stage.

"Hey Julia." A few familiar faces greeted her.

"Hey," She responded, starting up a conversation with those around her. The announcer started talking about the tradition of the Hunger Games, as she did every year, but no one bothered to listen. Julia carried on her conversation with those nearest to her, currently complaining about a certain teacher who gave them way too much homework, when a Peacekeeper snapped at her to be quiet.

Julia shut her mouth, glaring at the Peacekeeper. She hated these guards with a passion, ever since her mother had stupidly run away with one, abandoning her father and two daughters. "As I was saying…" Julia continued to the girl next to her, even more loudly, "How does she expect us to do all that homework when we have jobs working the—"

"Julia Stark."

"What-?" She looked at the announcer in surprise, thinking she was in trouble for talking so much. "…Sorry. I'll shut up." A few people snickered around her.

"Um…you've been selected as tribute." The escort said, frowning at her over a pair of large glasses.

She just stood there, staring at the escort as if she had misheard her.

"Come on, let's go!" The angry Peacekeeper snapped, coming up from behind her and shoving her in the direction of the stage.

"Hey!" Julia protested, pulling away from him, "I can walk by myself!"

She knew she should feel afraid, but she only felt anger. She stood up on stage, stewing in her rage as they called the next tribute.

"Caden Amaranth."

The one called Caden came to the stage with much less of a hassle. He was short and skinny, with black, curly hair and light brown skin. Julia withdrew from her anger and observed him as he shook her hand. He didn't look extremely strong, and he wasn't much of a looker, but he was her fellow tribute. He would have to do.

District 12

Dad…

Carson found himself standing in a dark mine shaft, his father at his side, smiling at him through a mask of coal dust. He reached forward and patted his son on the shoulder. But suddenly, as if in slow motion, rocks came crashing down around them. His dad just stood there, still smiling…

Dad, run! Carson tried to scream, but choked on dust from the rocks that were falling, separating him from his father. He fell to the ground, blinded, and unable to breathe. Someone help…! He thought frantically, trying to fill his lungs with air.

An old man just stood there, watching him suffocate. He reached out towards him. Help me! He screamed inwardly. But the old man just shook his head sadly, turned, and walked away, leaving him to die…

Carson awoke in a cold sweat, gasping. He was relieved to find his lungs being filled with clean air, rather than the dust from his dream.

It had been three years since his father had died in that mining accident, but he still had nightmares almost every week. After all, he had been down there with him when it happened. He was one of two survivors…the other being an elderly man who lived down the street from him. They hadn't spoken since the incident.

Since then, Carson had done his best to look after his mother, and his two little brothers who held him in such high regard. I'm not someone to look up to. Carson thought with a pang of regret, reaching under his bed for the bottle of liquor he kept hidden there.

He wasn't half the man his father was. He wasn't strong. He couldn't deal with his problems, and chose to constantly drown them in alcohol. He also secretly smoked pot, when he could get his hands on it. It helped him to briefly forget his sorry excuse of a life.


Time for yet another Reaping…where did the year go? Ellis thought sadly, sighing as she waited in line to sign in.

A year ago, her brother had been killed in the Games. He had always been there to look out for her, in place of her parents she had never met, but now he was gone. She missed him dearly, living a lonely life by herself in an abandoned shack at the edge of the district. No one seemed to notice, or care, and she liked it that way. She often went hungry, but had made it a whole year on her own. She was capable of surviving whatever life threw at her.

She listened quietly as they began the Reaping. As usual, it was ladies first. A frail-looking 12-year old was chosen. She started crying on the spot, shaking so bad that she looked as if she would fall over. Peacekeepers tried to get her to move. She wouldn't, and they began to haul her up to the stage, quite unceremoniously.

"Mommy!" The child cried out pathetically, reaching her arms towards the crowd, struggling to free herself from the grip of the Peacekeepers. "Mommy!"

Ellis felt as if she wanted to start crying with her. Before she knew what she was doing, she had called out, "I volunteer!" Everyone looked at her in shock. The little girl ceased her pitiful wailing and looked at her 14-year old replacement in surprise.

Why shouldn't I volunteer? Ellis thought to herself, stepping forward, I have no family, nothing left to live for…I might as well do it. The Peacekeepers released the child and had the two girls switch places. As they passed by one another, the little girl threw herself at Ellis and wrapped her skinny arms around her waist.

It was only for a brief moment, though, because the Peacekeepers had to hurry her along. Ellis took to the stage, where they asked for her name.

"Ellis Cade," She said evenly, then added silently, and I'm here to avenge my brother…


Carson watched the Reaping with interest. He had kept away from his liquor this morning so that he could be alert for the Reaping. And it was proving to be quite an interesting one—District 12 rarely ever got volunteers.

"Now for the male tributes…" The escort said, reaching into the bowl and snatching up a slip of paper, "…Bentley Rivera!"

Bentley?

…His brother had been chosen as tribute for the 42nd Hunger Games.

"No!" He cried out, shoving through the 16-year old boys that surrounded him on every side, "No, you can't take my brother…I volunteer instead!"

"W-well this is certainly exciting!" The escort stammered into the microphone, "Two volunteers from District 12! What are the odds?"

"Carson…!" Bentley protested, as Carson ran up and put his hands on his shoulders.

"Bentley, I'm not gonna let you do this. You're my little bro. It's my job to look after you." Carson said, speaking quickly.

"Come on, son. You can say goodbye to your brother later. Get up on stage." A Peacekeeper told him firmly.

Carson nodded bravely and did as he said. Bentley watched him go, face wreathed in pain and sorrow as he watched his brother throw away his own life for his sake...

"And what's your name?" The announcer asked, holding out the microphone.

"Carson Anthony Rivera." Carson replied, speaking clearly into the microphone. He looked purposefully at his two younger brothers. Their eyes were wide and scared. Carson sighed deeply, tearing his gaze away from them and going to shake hands with his opponent.

I may not be someone to look up to…but I promise I won't let you down.

Up next are the goodbyes, the train rides where the tributes get to know one another, and then we get into the festivities.

I had an alternate song for the Amaranth family to sing, but I didn't think anyone would take it seriously. Here's what it was going to be: Iiiiin District Eleven, born and raised, in the orchard's where I spend most of my days! Chillin out, relaxin, with mah homie G's, and pickin some peaches out in the trees.