I stare angrily into the mirror, tugging at my dress, trying to make it fit right.
I'm seventeen this year. I'm not sure how many times my name is in the reaping ball, and I'm not sure if I want to know.
My eleven year old brother comes up behind me. "Are you worrying about getting reaped again, Olivia?"
"Yes, Drake. I am. There are no girl careers this year, which means that whoever is reaped will most likely be the district 1 girl tribute." I answer.
Drake sighs. "I'll have a chance of getting reaped next year."
"You won't be going into the games even if that happens," I remind him. "There are plenty of boy careers."
...
"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor and all that blah." our escort literally says that.
I roll my eyes.
"Anyway, let's get on with this and see who our tributes are."
She snatches a paper from the reaping ball and reads the name loud and clear.
"Olivia Linter!"
My heart pounds very fast. I slowly walk up to the stage and shake her hand.
"Now, let's see who-"
"I volunteer!" one of the careers shouts. He calmly walks to the stage.
I'm not sure what his name is, and I really don't care. All I know is that he is seventeen like me.
It finally hits me. I'm going into the games. I'll probably never return home.