A/N: HERE IS THE NEXT UPDATE! I do not own the Hunger Games.

Ashley feliciano: I'm sorry I did not reply to you sooner - your review isn't showing up anywhere - but I would like to discuss what you messaged me about. So if you read this, please PM me on your fanfic account!

After I was done with my stimulation, I was sent back to my home to await the mandatory announcement for District 12. I was shaken. I could feel a shiver rattling my spine, and sweat formed in beads on my forehead. My mind begged at the chance to erase the last hour of my life, but the picture of Clara in my head was fresh, painful, and new.

I couldn't think about it—I wouldn't think about it.

Concentrating on the frazzle of panicked, terrified people instead, I climbed onto my porch and went through the door. My father was sitting at the table in the dining room, his hands clasped together, and a worried expression evident on his features. The moment he saw me, his arms wrapped around me. "Thank freedom you're alive," he whispered into my hair.

I hugged him back; needing the comfort. I spoke nothing of what I'd witnessed.

"The viewing is in an hour," said my Dad, running a hand through his blonde hair, "After you were taken with the first crowd of people, a small uproar began. People were not happy about this year's Quarter Quell."

"And with good reason!"

The voice wasn't Dad's. Both of us turned towards the door, and took in the presence of Thomas, Riley, and DeLuca. Each had expressions of unease, tired eyes, and pale skin—we spoke nothing of it. Riley, the one who spoke, lowered himself into a chair around the table.

While we were impatiently waiting for the announcement, Dad cooked up the meat we meant to feast on that night. The room was silent—the weight of the possibilities was heavy on our shoulders. This Reaping Day would be one of the longest in history.

"Five minutes," Thomas said in-between bites of his fox leg, "Let's get this over with so we can go back to normal life."

DeLuca turned away from him. Her eyes were hard and hidden, but her expression was one of strength. Her reply to Thomas was lost on her unmoving lips.

I excused myself from the table, shrugged on my leather jacket, and walked out the front door. Dad, DeLuca, Thomas, and Riley followed closely behind me, and we walked back to the plaza in silence. My mind was screaming at me—a headache pounding in my scull—and my chest swelled uncertainly. Everybody was crowded together, no need for order without the standard way of picking tributes, and waited for Hilly Trench to appear.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Hilly Trench, with a swing in her hips, walked onto the stage. Her lips were perched in a smug smile, and she hit the microphone with her chin when she went to speak. "Welcome back, citizens of District 12! In my hands are the names of two lucky people chosen to participate in the 100th Hunger Games!"

I squeezed my Dad's hand, kept my expression blank, and sucked in a small gasp of air.

"The female tribute of District 12—" She hesitated. "Adelaide Lovise!"

Panic seized my stomach, but I didn't let that show. All cameras and eyes were focused on me, and the rest of Panem would witness my Reaping too. The people who held my life in their hands would be watching, calculating, waiting…

I showed no flaws. Giving off a blank, indifferent expression, I walked through the parted crowds towards the stage, letting go of my father's hand. I didn't look back to see his expression.

"No!" A voice rang out from nearby. "No! I volunteer! Let me through! I volunteer!"

I gulped—and already knowing without looking who it was—forced my features to remain neutral. Riley stepped out of the crowd, and fumbled towards the stage. Two Peacekeepers held him back,.

"Ahem," Hilly awkwardly cleared her throat. "You are a male, and males may not volunteer in place of females. Also, volunteering is void in this Hunger Games due to the specific choosing of each tribute.

"I'll be all right," I told Riley, giving him a false, reassuring smile.

Hanging back—a look of defeat hugging his face—he was silenced and pushed back into his respectful place. Hilly clapped a hand on my shoulder when I raised to the stage, and I noticed two pairs of eyes boring into me.

Peeta, with a look of disbelief on his features, didn't move his probing eyes off of me, and neither did the other mentor—Haymitch Abernathy. Both expressions resembled the other, but I was not sure what provoked them.

"Congratulations—Adelaide, is it?—on being chosen to participate in the greatest Hunger Games yet!" Nobody clapped. Nobody ever did.

My eyes scanned the crowd—my chest in summersaults—and I watched DeLuca with tears streaming down her face, my father with a look of shock and pain, and the twins with anger and worry in their eyes. I didn't cry. I couldn't.

"Well, then! Next for our male tribute…" Her eyes glanced down at the piece of paper in her fingers, and her lips puckered together in anticipation, "…Hunter Mellark!"

A/N: Reviews, yeah? : D