Patches O'Neil's POV:

"Patches, I got some food!"

I turn around. It's Nylon, of course. She's always the one who teases me about my...diet.

"Patches, you hungry?" Nylon asks. She holds out a strip of meat. "From Ten. From Ten! Real meat, Patches! You hungry?"

"No, thanks," I say. "I'm sure you'd be willing to actually give it to me had I asked for it."

"Oh I'd be willing!" Nylon grins. "Why don't you want it? Oh, wait...that's right, I forgot, you're a veggie!"

"Vegetarian," I correct. "Yeah, like you didn't remember."

"Well, it's a shame," Nylon says, stuffing the meat into her mouth. "It's great."

"Quite a shame when you get meat juice all over your dress," I say.

"Hmm?" Nylon looks down at her reaping dress. "Won't happen, Patchy."

"Good for you," I say. "Well, I'm heading over to the reaping now. You can be late and go to prison, I don't care."

"No, your daddy'll get me out," Nylon says.

My dad, the mayor, doesn't pay attention to those things, she knows that. "In your dreams he will," I say.

"Whatever," Nylon says, and we head over to the square together.


Luda Kein's POV:

My twin, Pessa, and I go to our section in the square. It's reaping day, our fourth. We're fifteen. A happy year. Sort of. Not really.

"I hope you're reaped," Pessa tells me.

"In hope you're reaped, and you cry like a baby," I respond.

"No, that's your job," Pessa tells me. "You're the baby. I'm ten minutes older than you."

"I hope you cry, and the peacekeepers have to drag you to the stage," I shoot back at her.

"Well, I hope you sob your way through the Games."

"And I hope you're killed in the most painful way."

"And I hope that..."

We do this all the time. It's usually not reaping themed, but we spend hours each day wishing horrible fates upon each other. Pessa and I have a huge rivalry. Maybe that's why we're so close. Probably. We're not known for having big tempers most of the time, but around each other, we're violent, competitive, and snappy.

Pessa and I continue with this through the mayor's speech, just quieter, of course. When it's time to chose the names, however, we both shut up entirely and remind oursleves not to shake. No weakness must be shown when we're in front of each other.

The escort lady approaches the bowl on shuddering tilts. She draws out a name.

"Luda Kein!"

No, really? My name? Wow, such luck. Pessa gets everything she wants, clearly. I shoot her a hard glance, letting her know that I still hate her and wish her to die in the most painful way I can imagine. She gives me a pleased look and a thumb's up. Yeah, that's Pessa. I'm sure I would've done the same thing had our positions been switched, though.

I groan and make my way to the stage. I'm helped up, and I shake off the peacekeepers' hands. The escort lady reaches for the next name.

"Patches O'Neil!" she shouts.

O'Neil? Like, Mayor O'Neil? I recognize the boy who comes up from the seventeen-year-olds' section. I see him often with the mayor. He's the mayor's son. The mayor is white and looks astonished.

I shake Patches's hand, then look back at Pessa. She grins cheekily at me.

I hope you die.