I walk to the solar power plant where my uncle works as a security officer about half an hour from here. It's built in the best spot in the district to collect the most sunlight, so many plants thrive there. I have a little pond near it where I get a good bit of my family's food. 5 is the richest non-Career district, but that doesn't mean we eat well. The mayor of District 6, transportation, has a rivalry with the mayor of 5, so we don't get our food delivered. We have to send ten men every month on the food train going to 9, 10, and 11. Often we make meals of emergency rations, because every man that isn't drunk is working and every man that isn't working is drunk. Topp's father and a couple other men are the only ones who can be consistently counted on to get the food.

We've eaten a little better than the rest of our borough ever since I learned to hunt. Not hunting like Katniss Everdeen, but killing squirrels and such with sharp rocks or drowning them. I'm fast, quiet, and have swift hands, so squirrels are fairly to catch. Rabbits are faster and therefore harder, but I usually catch them. My pond is a great place to catch animals as they drink. Most of the plants are edible, so we have salad often.

Two of the four-year-olds from the other side of the borough are playing, weaving daisy chains from dandelions. District 5 has two boroughs, each about the size of District 12, called Romulus and Remus, after the men who founded an ancient city called Rome. Legend has it that Romulus actually killed Remus, but no one cares about that.

Most of my friends and I live on the edge of Romulus, although Marchen Kiedar's bedroom is in Remus. For some reason, the Kiedars' home is on the border between the two boroughs. I think their house is very old – there's certainly evidence – and the border was moved after it was built.

Two hours, a bucket of dandelions, and six dead squirrels later, it's about time for breakfast. At least, for reaping day. Otherwise we would have had breakfast long before now. I head home to find everyone awake. Luckily, Six made a truce for reaping day and sent some bread and apples. They're good. We make a breakfast of a loaf of bread, apple slices, and squirrel meat. Mother decides to save the dandelions and the four remaining squirrels for lunch. We'll have the rest of the bread and apples for dinner.

Father doesn't eat anything. He's drunk. Not very, luckily, or Quinn and I would have to go to the reaping in winter clothes to hide the bruises. That happened two years ago. Mother didn't come at all, she was in so much pain. She was horrified to learn that Amber had been reaped, and even more so when she found out that Katniss was calling her Foxface. But that's a different story.

We step around Father, who is now passed out on the stairs, to get dressed. My brothers, the gentlemen, dress in the small bathroom to give me privacy. I'm going to need a new dress next year – it barely fits. In fact, I've made plans to go to market tomorrow when Gary knocks on the door.

"Vaper, we've been waiting for fifteen minutes. This isn't the Capitol; are you done yet?" he asks.

I open the door and try to look sorry, even though I'm not. My brothers are nice, but I appreciate the alone time when I can get it. "It's only one o'clock. We have a minute to spare," I tell Gary.

He grins. "Mother said to come get you for lunch."

I'm at the stairs before he's finished. "Well, are you coming?" It's a good thing Father is off the stairs, because soon we're pushing and shoving our way down. Mother would scold, us roughhousing in our reaping clothes, so it's lucky that she doesn't pass. We have a game in our family – Gary always serves, so the first one to sit down gets served first. Mother and Father are excluded, of course, though we always make sure to serve them right after the winner. Mother insisted.

After lunch, Quinn and I sit on the edge of my bed waiting for Mother to call us downstairs. We're silent for a few moments, then Quinn says, "Who do you think they'll pick?"

I elbow him gently. "I don't like betting."

"Not for betting," Quinn says. "Just asking."

"It's random, Quinn," I say.

"What if it's not? They might rig it. Think about the victor's children that are always going in."

"It's probably not rigged," I tell him dismissively.

"You don't know that, Violet," he says.

"No one knows that."

Quinn gets up angrily. "Well, I do," he says and leaves the room. He can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes. And thick-skulled, too.

We sign in as usual at the reaping. For once, Quinn seems fine while I'm the one fretting. I stand there for a few seconds at the sign-in station while the Peacekeeper is repeating, "Young woman, I need your hand." The girl behind me has to poke me a couple times before I notice.

Peacekeepers herd us into a roped-off octagon, where I find Quinn and grip his hand like there's no tomorrow. Now that I think about it, there might not be a next week, at least not for me. But I won't get anywhere thinking like that. Topp makes eye contact with me and smiles. I try to smile back, but I'm not sure it works.

The mayor of District Five sits next to our two victors. All three are chatting about their dresses or something like that. I smile to myself – this year's tributes are going to have a time of it, with two female victors. We used to have five – Porter Millicent Tripp, Chimins Migartion, Barch Collins, and a male and a female that no one can remember for some reason, which is funny, because they were our Quarter Quell tributes. Porter died in the Capitol after being accused of helping the rebels. So we only have Chimins and Barch now. Both are female. What fun.

After a few minutes of waiting, Fantasia Gemstone bobs onto the stage, in a feathery dress that reaches her ankles and wreaths her face in blue fluff – but it's the wrong face, not Fantasia's. Everyone is confused until the mayor steps up to the podium.

"Welcome to the 76th Hunger Games!" she says. You'd think she comes from the Capitol, with all the excitement she brings to the reapings. She's crazy, I say.

"I know you're confused about this change of escorts. Fantasia Gemstone has been promoted to District One for her marvelous work!" She pauses, like she expects us to clap. She looks slightly disgruntled when we don't. "Our new escort has recently been promoted from..."

It feels like the entire crowd is holding their breath. Apparently, no one remembers this new escort, although she looks familiar. No doubt she was the escort for Three or some little place like that.

The mayor continues. "...District 12! Please welcome Effie Trinket!" She claps loudly, encouraging us to as well. A few men in a corner do, but everyone else is too astonished to do anything.

"Well!" Effie says. "It's wonderful to be seeing some fresh faces. I am so excited..." She goes on like that for a little while. I tune her out.

I start listening again around the time she trills, "It's time to pick our female tribute!" I grip Quinn's hand even harder and hold my breath as Effie walks to the big glass ball. Even from here I can hear her shoes. Click-click, click-click, click-click across the Justice Building terrace. She whips out a little paper and my heart stops for a moment as she's reading the name, then starts again when she's finished, faster and wilder than it's ever been before.

"Vaper Creed," Effie says.

Everyone looks around, then makes a path for me. I let go of Quinn's hand, as much as I don't want to. As much as I want to stay here and force them to have Peacekeepers dragging me up there kicking and screaming. As much as I'd like to do that, I walk up to the stage and shake hands with Effie Trinket.

And begin counting down to my death.

Crud, that was long. Sorry.