Hi guys! Welcome back to my story! In this chapter, you'll get to know the characters being reaped a bit better. Enjoy! :)

(Sorry about the Edward POV, I had to put him in this story but writing from his perspective is really hard!)

I do not own the characters or the world this story is set in.

CLAIRE POV

"Claire Danvers." Called the escort, Lindsay Danvers. I smiled. I walked up to the stage and took my place as tribute, still smiling.

"Shane Collins" was the next name. I continued smiling. I smiled out at the people who would be watching us die in merely weeks. I smiled at my escort. I smiled at Shane. I smiled at the sun. I smiled and smiled and smiled because if I didn't smile then the world would come crashing down around me.

Honestly, what was the word smile anyway? It sounded like snail. I didn't like snails. I wondered if Shane liked snails. Or smiles.

Hey, do you know what 'smile' is in French? Me neither.

Smiling was distracting. It took a lot of effort. At least this one did. I was glad for the distraction. It distracted me from the fact that tributes from 11 and 12 were always the first to die in the arena.

And I smiled at Shane when he came up to talk to me later. Shane might have smiled. He might not have. I turned away before I could see.

SHANE POV

This is total bull. I've just got a girlfriend, I'm just starting to be useful to District 11 with my job and suddenly I'm trying to kill my girlfriend and using my new strength to rip apart people's skin!

What am I supposed to say to Claire? I assume this means we're breaking up. Don't get me wrong, I've been through some tough breakups, but it's always been because they were boring or clingy, not because some God decided to take a crap on us and force us to kill each other. For some reason, I don't think the basic, "It's not you, it's me," template will work this time.

I catch a glimpse of her face through the crowd of Peacekeepers on the way to the Justice Building. Claire just looks shell-shocked. I guess she never saw this coming, either. No one ever expects it to be them who gets carted away to die. And 99% of people get what they expect. Looks like I'm in the 1%. Lucky Me.

No one comes to see me. I sit alone for an hour, aside from the Peacekeepers standing on guard to make sure I don't escape. That wouldn't be very entertaining for the Capitol citizens. Other people in all Districts are celebrating with the best they can get. And 23 other kids, including Claire, are watching their parents sob their eyes out as they plan what to do with the final weeks of their life. I plan, too, but not how to live, how to survive. I have about 10 years of labour in the fields so I will be stronger than most of the other kids. I just need to watch out for the careers. They're there every year. Kids, generally from Districts 1, 2 and 4, who actually volunteer for this piece of crap show of power from the capitol.

I am 17. I had 2 more years before I was safe. 2. Then I could've lived peacefully. Being in District 11, I would never have lived very long, but it would definitely have been past 17. I daydream of what would happen if I won. Fame and money. I would be safe from the games forever. A forever of living with the guilt of killing kids, not exactly what I would have preferred.

Still, it's better to live with guilt than to not live at all.

EDWARD POV

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you Edward."

"I love you, Bella."

We were in the clearing in the forest after a long day's work of watching blood pour out of the livestock. We did this every day after work, though I never grew bored of watching Bella. The light in her eyes was all I needed to get through all the hardship of living in District 10.

"I love you, Edward." Bella smiled. She seemed to sparkle in the morning light. "But we need to get to the Reaping."

We whispered our love to each other all the way to the Reaping. We were both 17, so we were in the same section as Benedictus Admiraal called out the names. I was in the middle of telling Bella I loved her when Benedictus called out "Edward Cullen" in his dreary voice.

I couldn't leave Bella on her own like this. But I had no choice.

"I love you," I whispered as I began to walk forward.

"I love you, too," said Bella, with tears in her eyes.

I was openly crying but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was being separated from the love of my life, which hurt more than any thought of being killed could. I had been called crazy, people had told us "You won't last long enough to have a proper love story, you're 10s. Give up." An insane-looking girl had even said something about a Jacob. But I had brushed these people aside. No one could separate Bella and I, I'd thought. Apparently I had been wrong. Nothing could make this situation worse. Except…

"Bella Swan."

Except for that. And in that moment I knew I would give up everything for her. I would ensure that Bella would make it through this. Even if it meant I would not.

HERMIONE POV

"There has only ever been two recordings of twelve-year-old tributes winning the games, but over 87% of all recorded Hunger games have twelve-year-olds in them." It was the first Reaping in which Harry, Ron and I were possible players. I had spent the last year reading up all I could to be prepared for them. Everything I learned only made the games seem more impossible. Harry and Ron both looked nervous and I was sure the same anxiety was showing on my face. I took a deep breath and led the boys to the Town Square where we joined all the other nervous kids whose names were in the Reaping bowl for the first time.

"Hermione, how many people between the ages 12-18 are in District 9?" Harry asked.

"5 364" I replied immediately.

"So we each have a 1/5 364 chance of being picked. That's nothing! We'll be fine." Harry said.

Classic Harry, trying to make people feel better.

"Well, actually, since there are two contestants being picked, we each have twice that, so 1/2682." I responded.

"Thanks Hermione. Real helpful." Ron muttered.

"That's still miniscule!" Harry insisted.

"Welcome to the Reaping of the 34th Annual Hunger Games." Suddenly, the escort of our District's voice boomed out across the Town Square. Everyone fell silent. The field was buzzing with nervous anticipation.

He didn't keep them waiting long, though I wish he had. I wish we could have stopped right there while a bit of our hope was still intact. Hope that we could go home and celebrate that fact that someone else was being murdered for entertainment this year. Because nothing could shatter our dreams quite as efficiently as the two names that were called out.

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