District One Reaping
Promises to Keep

5 days before the reaping

Clementine Acres, 18

Knock, knock. Clementine braced herself as an old woman opened the door of the district community home. In an instant, she took in the sight. The woman's hair was grey, and she was hunched over. Several small children trailed behind her, and the stench that came wafting out of the building almost made Clementine take a step back.

Almost. But not quite. She was learning. Days on the campaign trail – ever since the quell twist had been announced – had taught her a thing or two about diplomacy, and more about math. This old woman's vote counted as much as anyone else's – more, if she told her friends or family or had helpers … which she didn't seem to have too many of, but, still. Every vote counted.

"What do you want?" the old woman asked, her voice tense. She was clearly in the middle of five different things, each more important than the last.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Clementine began, although she clearly had every intention of doing just that. "I'm here to offer my help."

"Help?" the old woman scoffed. "You, with your pretty little face and your fancy clothes, you want to help little old me?"

No, but if it gets me elected…

Clementine forced a smile. "I want to help this whole district. It's Mrs. Grady, isn't it?"

It was. She knew every name on this block. She'd memorized them, one by one, from the maps her father had given her. As one of the district's housing officials, he had access to all sorts of information. Information that others might consider trivial, but that could mean votes now that the Games were on the line.

The woman grunted a little. "That's me."

"Mrs. Grady, District One has had two Victors in the past two years."

"And? Fat lot of good it's done people like me."

Clementine nodded. "With respect, ma'am, that's exactly my point. Too little of the reward for the district makes its way to the people who deserve it most – people like you who are truly serving our district. Me? I run around all day trying to hit people with fancy sticks. You're raising the next generation of Panem. It's people like you who deserve a reward."

"Damn—er, darn right," Mrs. Grady corrected herself, shooing a few of the little ones behind her off to the side.

"And I intend to see that you get it," Clementine continued. "Mrs. Grady—"

"Amelia, please."

Score. "Amelia, I'm campaigning to be District One's tribute this year. And I promise, if I win, a generous amount of those winnings will make their way to those who need it most. Those who deserve it most."

"If you win."

"That's right."

"What's your name, child?"

"Clementine Acres. It'll be one of the first names on your ballot." That was mere luck, of course. The ballots were going to be alphabetical, putting her name near the top of the list by default. But luck was part of the Games, so it was only fair that it should play a part in who ended up in them…

Mrs. Grady nodded. "I'll remember the name. Will you come in and have a cup of tea, perhaps?"

Clementine fought to keep from cringing as she followed the old woman inside. The entire place smelled. At least her counterparts who were campaigning in the wealthier, more influential parts of the district didn't have to put up with this.

But there were so many of them. They would split the vote of the wealthy and powerful. If she'd campaigned in those parts of the district, she would get only a share of the vote. But here … she was probably the only person who had come here. But this woman's vote counted just as much as anyone else's. Just as much as her father's. Just as much as the mayor's. This time, it wasn't power or influence or prestige that would determine who entered the Games. It was numbers. Cold, hard numbers. And she had always been good with those.

3 days before the reaping

Argent Gaunt, 18

The crowd was already cheering. Argent smirked as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His opponent was tiring. Argent had already gotten a few good licks in, with only a minor cut to his lip to show for his trouble. One more swing, and his opponent would be done for.

His opponent. Argent wasn't even sure what the boy's name was, and, after the beating he'd taken today, no one else was likely to remember it, either. But they would remember him. Argent Gaunt, the only undefeated contender for this year's tribute spot.

Argent ducked beneath his opponent's next blow, then landed his fist squarely on the boy's jaw, dropping him to the pavement of the district square. Any other year, matches would be limited to the academy grounds. But this year, given the quell twist, the trainers at the academy had relaxed the rules a little. If the people of the district were going to vote for their tributes, then they had a right to see them compete.

There were some, of course, who had chosen not to participate in the matches, which were less organized than usual and carried a greater risk of someone actually getting hurt. There were Careers who had decided that it wasn't worth the risk of getting hurt this soon before the Games, and that they would have better luck campaigning door to door, begging for votes. But begging wasn't his style. And it wasn't what people would remember.

People would remember this.

Argent sauntered over to his opponent, dealing a swift kick to the boy's stomach. "All right, all right!" the boy gasped. "I yield."

Wimp. He would never have lasted in the Games, anyway. Argent would be doing him a favor by completely destroying his chances. One kick, and then another, landed on the boy's prone body. "Help!" the boy called, but no one did. The crowd was cheering. They knew they were looking at a fighter. Someone who would have the guts to grind his opponents into a pulp, without any sympathy or remorse. They knew they were looking at a Victor.

And a Victor didn't stop until his job was done.

"All right, break it up!" A voice cut through the crowd, and Argent turned to see one of their Victors, Ruby Spinel, making her way through the crowd. "I think you've made your point."

Argent spat in the boy's face. "I was just getting to the good part."

"Back off."

Argent took a step closer. "Make me, bitch."

But instead of stepping closer or insulting him, Ruby only laughed. "I don't have to prove anything to you, Argent. I already won the Games. You? You'll be lucky if you make it in, after what you did today."

Argent scoffed. "Why? The Capitol loves a good show. You should know. The only reason you won was because of your sponsors."

"And you think you're going to get any with that attitude?" Ruby nodded to a few Peacekeepers who had been standing nearby, who quickly scooped up the boy Argent had beaten and dragged him off as the crowd began to disperse. "I bet you didn't even bother to tell the crowd your name."

Shit. "Argent Gaunt!" he called as the crowd continued to disappear. "My name is Argent Gaunt! Your next Victor!"

Their next Victor. But in order for that to happen, he needed to be elected. They needed to vote for him. They needed to choose him. What if Ruby was right? What if he'd gone too far?

No. No, this was what they had wanted to see. They had been cheering him on, after all. They had wanted him to pummel the other boy. And it had felt … good. Their approval, their applause. Was that what it would be like in the arena?

Maybe. But first he had to get there. Argent wiped the sweat from his forehead and headed back towards the training academy. He still had time. He would show them. He was made for the Games. It was all he had ever wanted. And it was all he would ever need.

Reaping Day

Jerica Camlet, 19
Victor of the 24th Hunger Games

The square was already humming with energy when they arrived. Jerica grinned at her twin sister Jasmine and their little brother Jacinth, who was decked out in his very best suit and tie just in case. Just in case enough people had voted for him. He'd been campaigning, along with what seemed like half the Careers at the academy. Sure, people would know his name. But he was only fifteen. Only two fifteen-year-olds had ever won the Games, and no Career that young had ever been chosen to volunteer. He certainly wasn't the volunteer the trainers would have selected this year.

But that didn't mean anything – not this time. This time, it was up to the district, and the thought of having three Camlet Victors in a row might be enough to persuade some of them. But probably not enough. Jacinth would probably have to wait another year or two. Or even three. He had time. And that was probably for the best.

Jerica gave him a quick hug before he headed off to join the other fifteen-year-olds. Things like that had a way of working out for the best. She had been upset when Jasmine had been chosen to volunteer two years ago, but everything had worked out in the end. She had volunteered the year after, with Jasmine as her mentor. The Capitol had lapped it up, and she had emerged victorious from the arena, making District One the first district with back-to-back Victors.

Ruby was already waiting for them onstage, smiling out at the crowd as they continued to cheer. "How's your brother?"

Jasmine shrugged. "Hopeful. I guess we'll find out soon. We voted for him, but—"

"I didn't," Ruby admitted. "No offense, but…"

Jerica nodded, taking a seat next to her sister. "None taken. Worried he'd take your place as the district's youngest Victor?"

"Things were different ten years ago. Only three or four Careers in the arena, most of us self-trained. I was sixteen, but I was one of the best-prepared. He's not."

"Preparation isn't everything," came a voice from behind them. "There's something to be said for natural talent. Adaptability. And that's something that can't be taught." Angelo slid into a seat next to Ruby. "Your brother's a sweet kid, but he doesn't have the knack."

Jerica shook her head. "I take it you didn't vote for him, either."

"No. Sponsors might keep him alive for a while, but the pack would turn on him like a bunch of hungry wolves once he outlived his usefulness. In a couple years, he might squeak by on his family name and good looks, but that won't be enough this year. Probably won't even be enough to get him voted in."

Jerica leaned back in her chair. "I guess we'll find out."

"I guess we will," Angelo agreed as District One's escort, Leticia Clemens, joined them onstage, her mechanical eye patch glistening in the sunlight. Her story – which Jerica wasn't entirely sure she believed – was that she'd lost an eye in a rebel attack during the war, and that she'd had it replaced with a camera that continued to record even while she was sleeping. It seemed a bit outlandish, but compared to some of the other things that happened in the Capitol…

"Helloooooo, District One!" Leticia crooned as the crowd continued to roar. Leticia held up her hands for quiet, but it still took a few minutes for the noise to die down enough for her to continue. "Welcome to the very first reaping for the very first Quarter Quell!"

More applause. "You know what I love about this district?" Leticia continued. "You've taken something that was intended as a punishment, and you've turned it into an opportunity. The Games might have begun as a consequence for the rebellion, but you've transformed them into so much more, and you have four magnificent Victors to show for it. Now … it's time to find out who might be your fifth! Mayor Carnelian?"

Jasper Carnelian was beaming as he handed Leticia a pair of envelopes. Envelopes that held the results of the election. District One had won two Games in a row. In one of those envelopes could be the name of a tribute who would win them a third.

Leticia quickly opened the first envelope and removed a single slip of paper. "And the female tribute that you have chosen is … Clementine Acres!"

Immediately, a whoop of excitement rose from the eighteen-year-old section, and a flurry of movement drew everyone's attention to a girl in a light yellow sundress receiving a hug from one friend and a pat on the back from another. She was tall and lean, with long, blonde hair, light skin, and bright blue eyes that were shining with excitement as she disentangled herself from her friends and made her way to the stage, trading high-fives with a few of the other teens and grinning from ear to ear.

Jerica nodded, giving a silent thumbs-up as Clementine flashed a smile in her direction. Leticia motioned her closer. "Congratulations, Clementine! Is there anything you'd like to say to the district."

Clementine nodded. "Thank you. Thank you for choosing me as this year's tribute. I promise that I'll make you all proud, and when I come back, I plan to repay your trust in full."

Jerica smiled as the crowd continued to cheer. Clementine wasn't the trainee she'd voted for, but she was certainly capable. Only a year behind Jerica and her sister at the academy, their paths had crossed often enough, and she certainly wouldn't want to find herself facing Clementine in a fight. She just hoped that Jacinth wouldn't have to…

Jerica turned her attention back to Leticia, who was already opening the second envelope. "And the male tribute you have selected is … Argent Gaunt!"

There were no cheers this time – not from the teens, at least. But the crowd broke into applause as a boy in a blood red suit stepped out from the edge of the edge of the eighteen-year-old section. He was tall and muscular, with pale skin, curly blonde hair, and icy blue eyes. There was a satisfied smile on his face as he strode up the stairs two by two, taking his place beside Clementine.

"Congratulations, Argent!" Leticia beamed. "Any words for the district?"

Argent crossed his arms. "I'm just glad they made the right choice."

Leticia clapped him on the back, undeterred. "A man of few words, then. District One, your tributes! Clementine Acres and Argent Gaunt!"

The crowd roared as the pair of them shook hands. As the crowd began to disperse, Jerica caught a glimpse of Jacinth, shaking his head. In a few years, little brother. Maybe. Or maybe Angelo was right. Maybe he simply didn't have what it took.

But that was a problem for another time. Right now, they had another matter to sort out. Usually, mentors would be determined beforehand, along with the volunteer selection, but that hadn't been an option this year. "Flip for first pick?" Clementine offered, removing a coin from the pocket of her dress.

Argent scoffed. "Don't need to. Take your pick."

Clementine shrugged, then turned to Jerica. "May I have the honor of being your first tribute?"

Angelo smiled a little. "The cameras are off, Clementine."

Clementine relaxed a little. "All right, then. I think it would play well in the Capitol. Jasmine mentors you, you mentor me, we continue the trend of winning…"

Jerica chuckled. "Sold. You've got yourself a mentor."

Jasmine nodded. "Argent? Would you like me or Ruby—"

"I'll take Angelo."

Angelo raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Problem?"

"Not at all. It's just that I'm not a Career."

"You're the most experienced mentor."

Angelo nodded. It was hard to argue with that. "All right, then. I'll see you on the train." As Argent and Clementine were led away to the Justice Building, he turned to Ruby. "If you wouldn't mind looking in on Uncle Andreas now and then while I'm gone…"

Ruby nodded. "Consider it done."

"I'm sure he didn't mean any disrespect to you or Jasmine."

"I'm sure he did. But that's not important. He's all yours." She shrugged. "Maybe he'll actually listen to you."

Argent Gaunt, 18

At least he hadn't bothered listening to Ruby. Argent smiled to himself as he leaned back in his chair, waiting. He wasn't expecting anyone. Not the parents who had abandoned him to the budding training academy so many years ago. Certainly none of the trainers or the hopeful Careers-in-training he'd defeated to win this spot. Ruby had wanted him to stop. To find a better way to win votes than beating his rivals to a pulp in the square.

Idiot. They were all idiots. His plan had worked perfectly, and now here he was. A tribute in the first Quarter Quell. Soon, he would be District One's next Victor. And then…

And then. He hadn't really thought much about what would come next. Training for the Games had been his life for so many years. After they were finished, what was left? Training other Careers, maybe, like Ruby – except better. Ruby, Jasmine, Jerica – they had all won at least in part because of their good looks, their charm, their appeal to the sponsors. They had played the Capitol's game, and they had played it well.

But he could play it even better. He didn't need to fawn and fuss over the Capitol in order to win. He could give them what they really wanted to see: blood. Blood and gore like they had never witnessed before. As long as he gave them that, they wouldn't care about the rest. Not that he was lacking in "the rest." But he didn't need to appeal to them in order to win.

Angelo understood that, at least. He hadn't won because of his good looks. He hadn't won because of sponsors, which hadn't appeared until a few Games later. He had won because he was a predator. A hunter. And he would certainly be a better mentor than any of the other three.

And if he wasn't … well, it wasn't as if he was really losing anything. Wasn't as if anyone could give him advice that would outweigh his years of training for the Games. He'd spent years studying – studying not only weapons, but with survival skills and tactics, as well. He was as prepared as he could be. As prepared as anyone could be. And that would have to be enough.

Clementine Acres, 18

"Looks like all the campaigning paid off," Odette remarked as she and Amber, two of Clementine's fellow trainees, joined her in the small Justice Building room. "Remember, the lemonade was my idea."

Clementine grinned. During the voting, she and her friends had stood outside the Justice Building, offering cool drinks to those who were waiting in line to vote. Maybe it wasn't much. Or maybe it had tipped the balance. Voters wanted a tribute who could fight, yes. But they also wanted a Victor who was proud to support the district. Someone who actually cared about the citizens they were representing in the Games.

That had been enough to earn her a spot. Now it was up to her to prove that they'd made the right choice. That she could be just as capable in the arena as she had been campaigning. Getting into the Games was one thing. Winning them would be another matter entirely.

But that was what she'd signed up for. What she'd wanted since … well, not as long as some. She'd started training mostly because her friends had been interested. She hadn't really expected to like it, to be that good at it.

But she was. Year after year, more of her friends had dropped out of training. Decided that it wasn't for them, that they weren't ready to risk their lives for a chance at victory. And she respected that. There was no guarantee of winning, after all. Only four of District One's tributes had ever come back alive.

Did she really have it in her to be the fifth?

Clementine smiled as she soaked it all in – her friends' praise, her parents' hugs, her trainers' last-minute advice. There wasn't a choice now. She was a tribute in the Hunger Games. She had to do this – not for them, but for her. There was only one way to find out if she really had it in her to win. And that was worth any risk.