"Name and future occupation?"

"Falon Dawnson. District Tribute." I want to add 'corpse' but decide against it.

The attendant looks up from the registry and stares at me from underneath his glasses. Quickly my finger is jabbed and a dot of blood goes into a machine. A few seconds later my name registers on the machine.

"Well then, good luck to you, Miss Dawnson," he says. At least now he doesn't think I'm insolent.

I nod my thanks and walk into the square. Everyone is penned in according to age oldest in the front and youngest in the back. As this would've been my last year, I would be situated at the front. But seeing as we all know I'm going in, they might want me elsewhere. It's getting close to show time, so I better go find out.

At the foot of the stage stands the Head Peacekeeper speaking urgently with a pair of his men.

"No one was at the house, sir. They've…"

The Head Peacekeeper silences him with a gesture and turns to me. "Yes?"

I swallow hard. "I didn't know if there was someplace in particular where I'm supposed to stand."

"Where do you think, stupid girl," the Head Peacekeepers says. "Over there with the rest of your age group like you do every year."

"I just wanted to make sure, sir, since I'll be the tribute this year."

Apparently there's going to be a lot of staring at me dumbfounded going on today. I'm not sure why this amuses me so much, but I make sure not to smile. Quickly they regain their composure and the Head Peacekeeper escorts me personally to a chair on the stage.

A few minutes later, a group of four Peacekeepers escorts Rotor to the stage. I can see the cameras following his progress the whole way.

So that's how they want to play it, I think. The officials wanted it to look like our families refused to hand us over or that we tried to run. That they had to bring us here and so the entire district has to watch.

I look around at the stage feeling suddenly reckless. For whatever reason, the reaping balls are out on the stage. Most likely for decoration or tradition I guess. I stand up and walk over to the one containing the girls' names and reach in and pick one.

I don't know the girl whose name I've picked, but I smile and laugh as I fold it and drop it back into the bowl. For good measure I swirl up all the slips before returning to my seat. There's no telling if that would be the particular slip drawn today, but my actions might come in handy later.

Now it's time for the show to start. The mayor stands up and straightens his suit. He reads about the history of Panem. Jay told me once that only some of it is true and the rest lies.

"This year marks the Twenty-fifth anniversary of the reuniting of Panem and is to be celebrated by the first Quarter Quell." I hear the distaste of the words on his tongue. "As decreed by President Galba, District Five has held an election to determine who will represent us in this year's Hunger Games. They sit on this stage before you. Their names, Falon Dawnson age eighteen, and Rotor North, age fourteen."

We are instructed to rise and meet each other center stage. I keep my eyes on Rotor and no one else and he does the same. Normally the tributes shake hands before being lead off the stage. Instead we clasp wrists like old comrades.

"Ready to show the world what we're made of," I ask him.

Rotor nods. "Bring it on."


Our escort, Anna Sasin, has the most ridiculous clothing. Her outfits change every year and get more and more audacious, but from what I see on the TV, it is hardly out of place at the Capitol. She walks with us over to the Justice Building where, on a normal year, the tributes would be given an hour to say goodbye.

Over the last month I've practically been a walking corpse to many of them. I've had enough of goodbyes, getting chewed out by some, and thanks for my sacrifice so I was relieved when the officials told us a few days back that we would dispense with the one hour and go straight to the train.

Never before had I seen anything so fancy up close before. Everything in this part of the train is for me and only me. I collapse on the bed and sink into it certain I won't have a problem sleeping tonight.

There's a lot of firsts today. I take my first shower with hot water and a variety of cleaners, have my hair dried in less than a minute, wear a touch of perfume, and try on every article of clothing the room has to offer. Some are tasteful, but most I wouldn't be caught dead in. The thought amuses me and I think I've lost all reason, wouldn't be the first time. Eventually I settle on gray pants and blue shirt before going to the dinning cart.

Rotor comes in a few minutes after me still dressed in his district clothes and looks at me accusingly. I roll my eyes at him, knowing he is just teasing me. We both agreed a couple weeks ago to keep the insults out of our alliance. Instead we'll play a game of our own.

All through dinner, Anna talks about what a treat we're in for. While our districts are the ones to turn us over, the Capitol will love and adore us. She fails to mention that this will only last a week before we are tossed into the arena and they'll be demanding our blood.

"Question, if we get sponsors, who will be responsible for sending in gifts?" Rotor asks.

"Oh, well, seeing as you don't have a victor from your district yet, I will be taking on the responsibility. If one of you wins than you will get that job next year."

Resisting the urge to exchange glances with Rotor is a little too much. Wouldn't that be an exciting prospect? What it must be like for the victors having to watch the games away from family and friends I just can't imagine.

After dinner we walk to the other room to watch the shortened version of the Reaping in all the districts. Anna left something in the other room and jumps up to get it.

"I just hope that she doesn't think lipstick is a life saving item in there," I say.

"Or hair accessories," Rotor laughs. "Maybe we should come up with a list for her."

"We can just tell her what we want in the arena." The Capitol Seal comes up indicating the start of the show. "Let's see what we're up against."

Rotor nods. Each of the tributes has the same anger on their face as they are presented to the audience. The camera's zoom into their faces and they stare out accusingly to everyone. When it comes to our turn, I see the cameras had followed my conversation with our Head Peacekeeper and also my little trip to the reaping bowl. Good, I think.

We are not angry, unlike the others, we are just two kids like any other year of Hunger Game tributes. A strong start. The sea of accusatory looks continues. All except the tributes from District Twelve. The girl looks scared, but the boy holds her hand comforting her. There's something about him that intrigues me and it's not just his looks.

Not a single twelve year old. In fact I think Rotor's the youngest. There might be a couple eighteen year olds, but I'm not sure. Sometimes they showed a shot of their families clustered tight together not talking or even acknowledging their neighbors and I know that there will be no unity among the districts any time soon when inside our own we are divided.

"What do you think?" Rotor asks me.

"Not sure yet," I say. "Get some sleep."