I arrived home to find the house empty and a pretty green dress with capped sleeves laid out on my bed. There was a note on the kitchen table from my sister, letting me know that they had already left for the Reaping and that she and mom would see me after. Well, so much for making up with my mom and sister. I began getting dressed, a feeling of dread, anger, and hatred building inside of me. I'm used to the anger and hatred, but dread is something that I am unaccustomed to.

I am now dressed and probably as pretty as I have ever been. I tucked the note from my sister into a pocket in my dress and walked out of the house. If I get picked today, I wont miss this house at all. I start running towards the square, afraid of being punished for missing the Reaping. Wouldn't that be a shame? Missing two people receiving a death sentence that they don't deserve.

OW! Does the Capitol person really need to be so rough when they take your blood? Oh, yay! It's official – I'm me. I have been led to the area with the other fifteen-year olds. My family is relatively well off, so I only have 5 slips of paper with my name on it in that glass bowl that has ruined hundreds of lives. My 4 required slips and one from taking tesserae the first year after my dad left. My odds are a whole lot better than most of the girls my age, but it doesn't give me much comfort. I stand there fidgeting for what feels like hours along with the rest of my home district. It was probably only 10 minutes though, before the mayor, the mentors, and the scary Capitol lady that has been District 2's chaperone for as long as I can remember – Crystal. She makes her cheesy 'Happy Hunger Games' speech – I don't get what's so happy about it – and then she walks over to the girl's bowl, always the girls first. She fishes around in the bowl for a bit, chooses a slip of paper, and then dramatically carries it to the microphone.

I cross my fingers and close my eyes.

"…And the girl tribute is…" she opens the slip, "…oh, it's blank. Well, I guess that we have to choose another name." She hobbles as fast as she can in those ridiculous shoes of hers, over to the bowl, and she grabs the first slip that she can reach.

"Clove Sevina. Come up here sweetie."

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!

I manage to keep a straight face as I walk up to the stage, but I can't prevent my legs from shaking. Crystal catches me as I trip over the final step up to the stage. Well Clove, I think to myself, great first impression for the sponsors.

As soon as I am standing, she's off to get the boy tribute chosen, but before she can put her perfectly manicured hand into the boy's bowl, a volunteer interrupts her. Of course there is a volunteer – this is a career district. I'm nearly knocked down again when I see who the volunteer is. Cato.

He walks up the steps to the stage and automatically announces his name to the district "Cato Locke."

I. Want. To. Cry.

Crystal starts to talk, "Ladies and gentlemen, District 2"s tributes for the 74th Hunger Games! Clove and Cato!"

Cato turns to shake hands with me, and I can hear him just over the applause of the crowd "I promised that I would always be there for you."

Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled my hand out of his grasp, raised it, and slapped him across the face.