Gat Wings (District 7, Male Tribute)

I wish I could be out in the woods right now.

Instead I'm stuck in the town square for the most dreaded event all year: the reaping of the tributes for this year's Hunger Games. Being in the middle of the forest, with the sky and hot sun hidden from view, cloaked in the leaves' shade, hacking away at trees: that is my life and that is what I feel most comfortable doing.

I see my two sisters clinging to each other in their matching white dresses as District Seven's escort, Myles Rudy, steps up to the microphone.

"Is everyone ready for a good show?" He says loudly.

Everything is quiet. Because you do not say that to the people you are sending to die, to watch one of their district members die; on screen, no less, for the whole Capitol to enjoy. So yes, I'm sure the Capitol is ready for a good show.

Someone from the back of the crowd shouts crudely to the escort, who adjusts his glasses nervously then glances back at our mayor, Aren't you going to do something about that?

But Mayor Lessley has always been a good man and he hates the Hunger Games just as much as the rest of us.

Lessley shakes his head and the escort continues with the ceremony.

I feel confident that I won't get picked to enter into the Games. I put in no tesserae because my family gets along alright, both my mother and father working, not to mention me in the woods everyday doing my fair share of manual labor and getting paid for it too. I am seventeen and, obviously, not once has my name been called for the reaping. But my sisters, who are both twelve, I fear for. They were so afraid this morning, waking up crying while our mother tried to comfort them.

Lessley plucks the name of the girl tribute and reads it. "Asa Hart."

A girl with long brown hair and long legs walks up to the stage and shakes the escort's hand, her face blank, showing no emotion. Immediately I know what her tactic in the Games will be. She will show no fear, no anger, no sadness. She will be the one to hide and then jump out and kill viciously when the numbers of tributes are low and no one expects it.

While I've been speculating about this tribute, the escort has announced the name of the male tribute. I don't hear it at first, because my brain doesn't want to. But everyone's head is turned and now they are staring at me. Because my name has been called as the male tribute my district is sending to the Capitol to represent in the Hunger Games.

Bitter Reynolds (District 8, Female Tribute)

All I can think as I get checked in and do my blood test is, This is the second to last time I will ever have my name be put into the reaping. The last time I will have this constant, panicky feeling I've dreaded every single year.

But the truth is, no one would really care if I was picked to compete in the Hunger Games. My mother and father died when I was very young and to avoid being put into the children's home, my best friend's family took me in. But that wasn't much better than what I imagined the children's home to be like: Lizzy's father was an abusive, alcoholic maniac, never even trying to take care of his family, and it was unusual for him to actually go to work; Lizzy's mother was small, meek woman and tried to help her kids, but she couldn't work with one eye blind.

Lizzy is a year older than me, so we stand apart, her with the other eighteen year-olds and a worried look in her eye. She was always much calmer than me; when I'm in danger I tend to shut down and sink into the fetal position, not able to do much of anything.

The whole reaping is a blur of the Capitol escort's obnoxiously pink hair and annoying accent, the mayor's stiff voice, and the silence from the crowd of District Eight, until the escort says into the piercingly loud microphone, "Now we'll see who your tributes are this year. And the female tribute is Bitter Reynolds."

My vision started to blacken and I felt myself sinking down into a crouching position.

"I volunteer as tribute!" Lizzy.

I stand up suddenly. "No, you don't! You're not volunteering for me. You have a mother!"

And I run to the stage before she can say anything else.