Please pardon the fact that I haven't posted for a while. I have been vacationing and was not able to type. Thank you for understanding.

I hope you enjoy District 3's Reaping.

Wemberly~15~ District 3

"I've been up since 5."

Colton turns away from the District 1 Reaping and flashes me a smile. The crescent of teeth shines under the dim light of my living room. My heart gives a small flutter.

"Well, it was worth it. You look great."

He's just your friend. Always has been. You don't want to ruin that.

Oh, why do hormones start acting up at the weirdest times? I discreetly wipe my sweaty palms on my vivid orange dress and punch Colton in the bicep (which was sooooo muscular, oh my GOD!), "Liar!"

Suddenly, the TV goes black. Colton averts his attention to the screen, "Looks like its night in District 1."

I groan, "Not again."

I flip the television off its pedestal. Working as fast as I can, I grab a screwdriver and try to fix it.

Red wire… and connect this to that… this goes here… Viola!

The screen lights up again. I grin.

I live in District 3, the tech-y, nerdy, smart District. I love inventing and creating new things.

After placing the TV back in its previous position, we watch as the tall, lanky 17 year-old male walks up to the stage. We still have approximately one hour till our Reaping. Colton clears his throat, stopping the awkward silence, "Although you look quite beautiful, your outfit is a bit too cheery. Shouldn't you be wearing funeral clothes or something?"

I glance down at my brightly colored dress. There were small yellow flower around the orange neckline and a bright, sparkly, purple flower clip in my dark brown hair, which I had inherited from my grandma. She won the 25th Hunger Games. I were it every Reaping Day to honor her. Oh, the Capitol and their STUPID Games! I hate it. Every year, the Capitol sends 2 kids- one boy and one girl from every District- to fight to the death in an arena, which is set in an unknown location, until there is one winner. So, yeah, Colton's technically correct. I should be wearing funeral clothes. The Reaping is the closest you can get to a funeral without it actually being one.

Colton gives a low whistle, "Check her out."

A red-haired girl is boarding the stage in District 2. She has an intense glare. When her District counterpart is standing next to her, they shake hand. Her intensity turns into unease.

"Wait… if their shaking hands then-!"

Colton glances at his watch, "We're gonna be late for the Reaping!"

We leap off the couch and race out of the door.

Arriving in the nick of time, Colton and I slip into the pen of 15s just as the mayor clears her throat and begins her long speech about the Rebellion. I quickly get bored, so I elbow Colton and make a few gestures with my hands. First a rock, then a paper, then scissors. He rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at his mouth. That draws my attention to his lips. His luscious, full, pink lips that I would love to kiss. I wet my own with the tip of my tongue and pull my eyes away. We begin our game of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors', which neither of us has played since we were, like, six.

Believe it or not, we get so absorbed in this sad excuse for a game that we don't stop until we hear a loud cry of "HAPPY HUNGER GAMES!" This startles us so much that we jump and I grip Colton's strong arm. When I realize what I'm doing, I can feel my face turn bright red and I stop hurriedly.

Valindee Foomb, the District 3 escort, is so ecstatic and hyper, it should be illegal. This is our third year having her as an escort. I hate her. I abhor everything about the Capitol. How could someone be so happy on a day like this?

Ms. Foomb holds the microphone so close to her mouth. Whenever she exhales, you can hear it.

"So," She declares much too loudly, "Let's start with the ladies, shall we?"

The mic screeches with feedback as she runs over to the girls' bubble. Her five inch heels allowed her just enough height to reach the slips of paper. Someone had to pick her up last year. Talk about vertically challenged.

I hold my breath as she unfolds the paper and gives a troubled grin, "One moment, please." Colton's hand is on my shoulder. We both know what's coming as Valindee asks the mayor how you pronounce the name on the paper. The mayor takes the microphone, "Wemberly Nettlestien."

Colton tights his grip, not wanting to let go, but I'm forced to shake his warm grasp off. I feel numb as I walk towards the stage. Valindee regenerates her toothy smile, "Any volunteers?" It's dead silent. She pats me on the back. I stiffen, not wanting her Capitol germs.

"Now for the young men."

Valindee struts over to the boys' jar and grabs a name, "Juge Quincee!"

A boy from the 12s walks to the stage. He's missing an arm and tears streak his face. While he's on his way, Ms. Foomb asks for volunteers.

"Me! I volunteer!"

Suddenly, I see him: black hair, tan skin, and familiar green eyes. Colton runs onto the stage. I stare at him as Valindee asks him his name.

"Colton Mikro."

We shake hands.

"Why are you doing this?" I whisper grimly.

"I wanted to protect you", he softly answers.

I feel like slapping him over his cute head, "We might have to kill each other."

His eyes widen, "Oh… yeah… didn't think of that."

Yes, he may be cute, but Colton Mikro isn't the best about thinking ahead. This is not one of my better chapters, but if you disagree… REVIEW! And if you agree, please review! I wish you a happy New Year. Once again, I'm sorry I haven't posted for a while.

Cherry