A/N: A huge thank to those who have reviewed so far!

DISTRICT 3

Jenna Camyrielle

I feel sick to my stomach, as I do every year. Only this year, it was worse. Because the Capitol has declared that the districts would have to vote for their tributes. I can't imagine anything more horrible. Those poor people who would be picked.

I swallow the hard lump that's in my throat and turn around to glance back at my parents, who both give me encouraging smiles as if to say 'it won't be you'. But that's what all the parents in District 3 want to think. Two families are going to have a dark day today. I turn back to face the front. I stand in my allocated section with the other fifteen-year-olds as the District 3 escort, Ellisepeth Peruvian, drones about the usual. I've tuned out by this stage. I don't really want to listen.

"Ladies first." Ellisepeth attempts a smile. Really, I shouldn't dislike her. It's not her fault. She's just the one drawing out the name of the most unpopular girl in District 3. Her lips are moving as she reads the name out, but it's like she makes no sound.

Because the name she reads out is Jenna Camyrielle. District 3 voted for me. I walk like a zombie up towards the podium. The district probably thinks me a laughing stock, with my curly black hair and electric green highlights in it that match my eyes. In fact, I don't know what they think of me. I just know that they voted for me.

"Congratulations, Jenna." Ellisepeth is still smiling as I stand on the stage. I want to throw up. I can feel the bile rising in my throat, but I force it back. I won't show the whole of Panem that I'm weak. I can do gymnastics and karate. I can fight…but will it be good enough?

Donnicon Wayland

I turn up at the Reaping early. I mean, it's not like I have anything better to do. I fidget uncomfortably along with the rest of the twelve-to-eighteen-year-olds. Heck, I'm not from District 1, 2 or 4. I don't want to be part of the Hunger Games. It's been like this every year since I was twelve. Now I'm seventeen and it's hard to remind myself that this is only the second-last year. I don't have to put up with this constant trepidation for much longer.

The girl's called up. Jenna or something. I recognise her because of those ridiculous green highlights in her hair. That's all I really know about her. Jenna is a few years below me in school and keeps mostly to herself. Up at the podium, she's gone incredibly pale and for a moment there, I think she's about to be sick. Then she forces a smile and shakes Ellisepeth's hand.

Now it's time for the boy's name. It's almost painfully slow as Ellisepeth reaches into the other glass bowl and draws out the boy's name. I clench my hands into fists so tight that my nails dig into my palms.

"Donnicon Wayland."

I'm thinking furiously as I move towards the stage. I'm not a total loss. I can rig trips and explosives. I might not be able to fight, but maybe I won't need to. I'm clever enough to come up with alternative solutions. All I can hope is that I won't come up against some brutish Career. Or better still, I could make an alliance with the Career pack. It's happened in the past…

I look across at Jenna. She's terrified. I attempt a smile, but I'm not really a social person. I'm good at staying away from people and so is she. I don't know if she's good or not. I'll have to make a note of the best tributes and make an alliance with them. Normally, it's the Careers. They win almost all the time.

At least there's no one to care. My parents died when I was young, so I practically taught myself everything that I know. It's a common story, I know. I don't know how to fight – I can use a bow and arrow if I have to, but that's about it.

"Hi," whispers Jenna, and for a moment I can't think what to say. I'm speechless because this girl is both my comrade and my rival. If it's down to just me and her in the Games, I wonder who would win? "You nervous, too?"

I just shrug. I don't want Jenna seeing my weakness, seeing how much I'm shaking. I hope I'm not as pale as she is.

"A little, I guess."

Nervous? Huh, that's an understatement. Like Jenna, I'm terrified.

DISTRICT 4

Tea Ryan

I wring the water out of my soaking wet brown curls as I head towards the Square. Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have been swimming right before the Reaping – especially since I'm so cold now – but I always get nervous around this time of year. I'm sixteen, so I still have a few more years to go before I don't need to worry about the Reaping.

I smile at my friends as I take my place in my section, my heart thumping in my chest. We're supposed to celebrate the Hunger Games like they're a victory. In reality, I don't see it as anything more than the Capitol's cruelty. Whatever happened during the Dark Days, it's the past now. It happened years before I was born. Why can't they give it up?

There's the big speech of course, but none of the teenagers listen. We're all too busy worrying that we'll go into the Games. Sure, we're Careers like District 1 and 2…but we're nowhere near as bloodthirsty as them. Well…most of the time.

"Who do you think will be reaped this year?" I whisper to my best friend Amazon, who's standing right beside me looking just as apprehensive as I feel. She just shrugs and we remain there in silence as our escort, Alethea Snare, crosses to the podium and reaches a taloned hand into the big glass bowl that contains the name of the most voted-for District 4 girl. You could have heard a coin drop it was so quiet.

"Tea Ryan."

She pronounces my name wrong, which makes me dislike her instantly. She says it as TE-AH, instead of the way it's supposed to be pronounced which is TAY-UH. Amazon spins me around and hugs me tight, then pushes me a little towards the podium as she bites her lip.

I don't dare to look back, because stupid as it sounds, I'll probably cry. Instead I hold my head high. I will be a Career, no doubt about that. I know enough to stay alive…the only question is, for how long? I look across at Alethea, watching with wide eyes as she reaches into the bowl for the boy's name.

Falcon Martins

I'm standing with the other eighteen-year-olds when Tea's name is called out. I know why she was picked even if she doesn't. She's the sort of girl who might actually survive the Hunger Games. Suddenly, I'm paranoid that I'm going to be chosen, and I don't want that. I think of my family, who I'd have to leave behind.

My parents, Marlow and Janella. My older sister Tirza. Machaella, who had lost her friend to the Games. The twins, Hadley and Julian, quiet and withdrawn. My adoring brother Frederick. My mute sister, Dana – better known as Whisper.

Then there were others. My cousin, Tanner. He'd already lost his parents. He didn't need to lose me as well. My friends – Derek Tharn, the class clown. Connor Daytona, Mr Popularity. He certainly wouldn't be picked for the Games. His little sister Belle, who has a crush on Julian…although he doesn't know this.

Oh and the one person I could never forget – my girlfriend, Parthenope Amilis. I love her with all my heart…and if I was picked, I don't know how she would cope. But at the same time…well, I'm conflicted. Because I know what winning the Games means. There would be a future for me, a future beyond being a fisherman. I don't want that. So before I even know what I'm doing, I'm stepping forward, gasping, "I volunteer!"

Parthenope is looking at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am crazy. It's too late to turn back though. Alethea's lips curve into a smile and Tea looks somewhat pained as I make my way up to the podium. Alethea looks me over. I'm tall and healthy. She can't argue with that.

"What is your name?"

I stare at my feet. "Falcon Martins."

I look around to face the crowd. In the group of seventeen-year-olds, Parthenope's hands are clasped over her mouth, and she's crying. I know then that I've let her down.