Aries POV

The crack of dawn waits for no one.

The sun has barely risen and I've already been out of bed for over an hour now. I spent some time running around the house, doing cardio and working out in my room. A healthy soldier is a strong solder – that is what my father has taught me. Today is just like any other day: finish my routine and get back to my responsibilities. Nothing should change just because the Capitol is in town. A soldier doesn't change their habit based on situation, they adapt and follow the rules. My father has taught me plenty.

My father is still sound asleep but this day isn't about him, it's about me. Every year it is like clockwork. The Reaping Day comes, families travel to the meeting place and watch as two children are reaped into the Games. Some are sad, some cheer and others volunteer for the honour of competing. I've known plenty of tributes to enter the arena to compete for the title of Hunger Games Victor. Not all have come back but they have truly made it far into the Games. That's what the Career Training Program does – it teaches you to be strong and adapt to the Games. I've learned the skills, I've studied the Games and I've followed the teachings of my instructors, Peacekeepers and father. This is my time.

Being 18 years old means that I only have one shot left. My name has been included plenty of times into the bowl and I've tried to volunteer for two years now. Some have chosen to keep their spots while other stronger, more dedicated boys were selected from the volunteer pool. I am 18 years old and one of the strongest boys in the district; everyone knows that I want this chance now, the title and prize will be mine.

I step through the door and find my father in full uniform. As the Capitol has arrived to town, he will be working today to ensure the peace and conduct at the Reapings. He gives me nod and hands me a plate of food.

"Are you ready for today?"

"Yes sir."

"You know what you must do?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Make me proud."

"Yes sir."

My relationship with my father isn't complicated. We keep things simple, structured and balanced. He adopted me at the age of four when my mother died at childbirth. I don't know anything about her, the man who is supposed to by father or anything about what my life could have been. All I know is the life that I was raised to become.

I will become a Peacekeeper one day.

I will serve the Capitol.

I will win the Hunger Games.

My father leaves early to help with getting the meeting place ready for the day. I spend the rest of the morning getting ready for the day, combing my hair and changing into clean clothes. If I am to be potentially reaped, I need to look my best for the day. I eat another piece of bread and stare out the window at a few of the families preparing to leave their homes. Sometimes I like to do this: just stare at other families. I think a little about how their lives must be, how their families interact with each other and grow up. It's a different dynamic than what I'm used to; something warm and uncomplicated. That's not what I've experienced when I was growing up. My father is a reserved type of man and I've gotten used to it.

The clock beeps loudly and I hit the switch. The time has come for me to head over to the space. I lock the door behind me and join the others walking toward the area where the reapings will take place. I noticed a couple of children holding onto their parent's hands as they walk, looking absolutely petrified. They should be honoured to be selected as a tribute for the Games if that were to happen, but I understand why they're scared. It's a big responsibility that not everyone can handle. If things were to go wrong, they could be killed in the arena. Not everyone has my years of training or determination. Their easier life sometimes sounds appealing. Not having to worry about training or death or fighting but to just live. I wonder if I could handle that type of life.

I step into the line and the attendant marks my name off the list. Cameras move overhead and the screens flash the faces of children waiting in front of the stage. A few of the faces I recognize, some are children from the local schools, adults who run the shops, Peacekeepers who train in the facilities and the majority are strangers whom I don't know. Since I am 18 years old, I move to join the other 18 year olds waiting in the space for the Reapings to begin. Many nod their heads at me while the rest are keeping their heads down. I won't be the only person volunteering for the Games or hoping their name is reaped, that's a given. The bigger question is which children will be reaped first?

Kingston Post and Stephen Pattison step out of line and join to stand beside me. Both are my closest friends from the Career Training Program. I think that's one of the biggest perceptions of District 2. Nobody believes that we actually can get along with others and have friends. It's over training and fighting tactics but they're still my friends either way. Kingston nudges me on the shoulder while Stephen nods at me, shoving a smaller 18 year old boy out of the way. Stephen towers over anyone, including me – he's well over 6'6" in height. He smiles and laughs as he stares to the stage.

"You excited man? It's the big day."

"A little worried but excited."

"Don't worry about it Aries," Kingston says as he joins the conversation. "One of us three is bound to get chosen for this."

"We're the three strongest here, no one is going to take this away from us."

"It's a done deal."

Stephen and Kingston slap hands and high-five at the thought. I'm eager to find out the results too but I won't get too confident until I'm selected to be chosen. Stephen is the tallest of the three and Kingston is the best with swords. There are also many other boys who would want to volunteer as well; we're not the only ones who will raise our hands to join the Hunger Games. It's going to be a battle even before the Games begin.

Cameras move overhead as a few adults step onto the stage. The political figures take their seats while a stern woman in a dark green suit walks toward the microphone. Our last District Escort, Regulus Trick, is supposed to be here to reap the names for District 2. From the looks of it, we have a new District Escort this year.

"Hello District 2, my name is Vellox Mastromai and I'll be your new District Escort for this year's Quarter Quell. Before we get the festivities underway, let's watch a special video from the Capitol."

Vellox motions to the large screen and the annual video starts playing. Everyone in District 2 stands to watch the video; it's an honour to see footage from the Capitol about why we need to take part in the Hunger Games. My father has saved a copy of the film and has shown it a few times to the children at the training facility. He has told me before that we always need to remember why we're taking part in the Games. Only one district wins the title each year and to forget our past is to repeat the failures for the future. District 2 has mastered this mentally; that's why we have the most Victors out of any district throughout the Hunger Games' run.

The video ends and many of the adults begin clapping. I don't clap; I never do. The impact of the video has lost its effect after all these years. Vellox smiles at the crowd and gently claps her hands. This is her first term of being the District Escort, she must be beaming inside.

"Well wasn't that a marvelous video?! I guess that means it's now time to reveal which lucky boy and girl will be selected to represent District 2 in the Hunger Games. Let's start with the girls."

She walks over to one of the large bowls. The glass jar is filled with plenty of little pieces of paper with the names of every eligible District 2 girl. I wonder who it will be this year. All of the girls are standing toward the stage, watching as Vellox moves her hand around the pieces of papers to select one tiny note. She returns to the microphone and reads the name out loud...

"Ingrid Vargas."

I have no idea who she is. Vargas...Vargas...the last name does sound familiar. I know a Roderick Vargas. She could be related to him?

A little girl with dark black hair and a serious expression on her face walks out from the crowd of girls. I can't quite catch a glimpse of her face until she reaches the middle of the stage and joins Vellox. Ingrid looks like a confident person. She seems weak – shorter and less physically strong than the other District 2 tributes before her – but there's a look on her face that might have hope for her yet. Vellox chats with her on stage and proceeds to move on to the next phase of the Reapings. That's interesting – no District 2 girl has decided to volunteer for the Games. Last year we had plenty of options but no one has raised their hand up. I guess they wouldn't mind if Ingrid were to enter and potentially win...or die. Most likely die.

Vellox steps toward the second jar and retrieves a name from the bowl. This is the moment we've been waiting to happen. Kingston and Stephen breathe in loudly and look to me in anticipation. Something big is going to happen; now I have to fight for my last shot to enter the Games. Vellox opens the slip of paper and says...

"Travtin Ruin."

That's a name I do know. I look toward the little kids and I see Travtin standing with the other 13 year old boys. Travtin turned 13 about a month ago and he only has some training in the facility. He's far too young to compete in the Games; he's far too young for a shot at winning. If he accepts his spot, he will surely be killed in the arena. The little District 2 boy turns to the rest of us from his spot in the crowd and shakes his head, giving us all a sign that the spot is now up-for-grabs.

Many hands stick out into the sky, mine included. Kingston pushes forward over a smaller 17 year old boy to have his head be seen while Stephen is trying to look taller than the rest. Since Travtin was the boy reaped into the Games, he gets to choose which volunteer tribute will take his place. I raise my hand high and stare at his intently. He raises his hand and points directly to me. Stephen and Kingston aren't sure who Travtin has indicated.

"Is it me?"

"No, he's definitely pointing at me."

"Shut up, it's me."

"Will you both quiet down, he's pointing at me."

Travtin says my name loudly for everyone to hear, causing all the volunteer hands to move back down. I've been selected to compete in the Hunger Games. I step away from my friends and begin walking down the path toward the stage. Ingrid is standing next to Vellox and she's looking at me curiously. She's most likely taking this entire experience in, sizing up her new ally and opponent. We'll be somewhat partners in the arena but this is an individual game. Only one of us will win the Hunger Games and I won't feel bad having to kill the quiet girl if it comes down to it. District 2 will have another Victor this year.

I can guarantee it.