A/N: *sighs* How many more of these districts are there? Couldn't the Capitol have settled for eight and just leave it like that? Anyway, district ten – the land where they wear cow print. Come on, you know you want to support them. But before you do anything you have to do a special favour for me and all of the other 24 authors here who have been writing for your enjoyment *cackles manically*. You have to do something for us... heh heh heh! All we ask is you type "nyanit . com /" (without the spaces) in front of the "fanfiction" bit of your URL... and then try and read the chapter like that. We will also be joining you, and in your review say if you succeeded to read the chapter in nyanit view or not. That's all we ask, nothing more, nothing less... MWAHAHAHA! So anyway, aside from evil plans, these reapings were written for you to enjoy by… the concoctive Cottoncandychoctop (try saying that five times faster! D10 female) and the bubbly packman23 (D10 male)!

Aleah Armani by Cottoncandychoctop

'An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind.'

-Buddha

I wake up, literally with a bang. Well I guess if you wanted to get all technical I woke with a 'smash' but either way, it wasn't exactly the way one hopes to be woken from a relatively peaceful slumber and it doesn't exactly start me off in a good mood. Here I am, minding my own business, sleeping as sound as anyone could aim to on the eve of a reaping and my pinhead older sister decides to, literally, start throwing things around the house. Welcome to my life.

"Talia, clean that up this instant," my mother shrieks from the hallway, her voice as annoyingly shrill as normal.

"No," comes the reply from my perfect socialite sister, "Mom, Yianna cannot have my ring to wear for the reapings! Grandmother left it to me."

"Oh shush you know full well it looks better on her than it does on you and anyway that is no reason to shatter a perfectly good bowl."

"How dare you! How dare you offer my jewellery to my baby sister without my consent!"

I roll over and attempt to cling to the drowsiness that is still enveloping me but this pathetic argument going on between Talia and my mother ceases to end, despite my father's attempt to get them both to calm down. Nope, with the two of them going on like this I have no chance of getting back to sleep. I reluctantly force myself out of bed, throwing my blankets onto the floor in a rage and storm out into the hall.

"Would you two shut up!" I yell at the two of them, barely noticing the shards of the broken bowl scattered across the floor, "It is a ring. If the two of you could get over your petty, trivial little dramas you might notice that there are people trying to sleep here."

"Mind your own business Aleah," Talia snaps at me before turning back to our mother and resuming the argument. In a quiet fury I make my way back to my room where I slam the door loud enough to wake Yianna in the room next door, who had miraculously slept through entire argument. Normally yelling isn't my thing, I'm more of a subtle, snide comments kind of girl myself but hey, give me a break, it's 6:30am, you would probably all do the same thing.

Apparently Talia and my mother had settled things out between them because they we're perfectly chummy once again by the time I sit down next to Sean at the table.

'Morning sunshine," he says with a bright smile as I reach across the table to grab a piece of bread.

I turn and glare at him but Sean, who knows I could never truly be mad at him, simply laughs at me.

"Have you herded the flock yet?" I ask despite the mouthful of bread I am currently chewing on.

"Nup. But I did hay the horses and I called the abattoir."

I am about to give my twin a hard time for slacking off when my father decides to actually open his mouth for the first time this morning.

"So Sean," he says, his smile for my brother alone, "You're all ready for the reaping."

Sean rolls his eyes at me as he bluntly replies, "Yes father."

"And you've finished all the work in the paddocks?"

"All my work, yes."

"And you made contact with the abattoir?"

"Yes dad."

"That's my boy," our father says as he leans over to clap Sean on the back, which causes Sean to blush. It is very well known in the house, well I'm the only one who admits it, that Sean is unquestionably our father's favourite. With three daughters and an extremely shrill and overbearing wife it's easy to see why he cherishes his only son so much. To him, the rest of us might as well not be here.

"Oh Yianna, you don't have to work today because I want to make sure you look you're absolute best for the reaping today," my mother adds with a delighted clap, admiring the prospect of dolling up her baby daughter.

Yianna doesn't say anything, well she can't since she is eagerly stuffing her face with her significantly bigger portion of food. I am also never one to deny that my twelve year old sister is undoubtedly my mother's favourite, nor will I deny that after years if being fussed over and spoilt rotten she has turned into a stubborn, chubby little piece of work. Of course my mother would never agree with me on this matter, to her Yianna is a perfect little princess. Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah and pigs can fly.

"I won't have time to work today either mom," Talia insists whilst combing her long chocolate brown hair, "I still have to resew the seam of my white skirt."

"That's fine dear."

"Great, so I'll be doing both of your jobs then will I?" I question with as much hostility as I can muster up, "God forbid either of you have a hair out of place on reaping day. By all means neither one of you move a muscle, you're willing slave is here to help."

No one even acknowledges that I have said anything, not even Sean who is being smothered by my father, everyone too busy with their own menial little tasks. I'm kind of used to it by now; I learnt a long time ago that I was completely invisible in this family. I glare down at every one of them; this day just seems to be getting worse by the minute.

It takes me at least three hours to do all of the work allocated to me in the morning but in all honesty I am simply glad to be rid of my family for that period of time. Hopeless, the lot of them, except for Sean of course, mind you, even he can be painfully cheerful and bubbly at times. Unlike my pathetic sisters who require the entire morning to get dressed I simply walk into my room, slap on a short light blue hand-me-down dress that Talia grew out of and quickly check myself over in the mirror. Talia would probably die knowing that people knew we were related. Good. My long dark hair hangs in loose, knotted, uneven curls down my back and the dress is probably a tad too short. Can you blame me, I've grown almost three inches since getting this dress, now I'm about 5 foot 8ish and I've often heard people say I'm scarily thin. It's not my fault; it's hard to get a decent meal when you're the invisible fourth child. My pale skin still looks chalky and my sapphire blue eyes stare back at me, looking displaced against my white skin and dark hair. I'm still the same, the same high cheekbones, same strong jaw line, and this is how I want to stay. No point trying to turn into someone I'm not for the reapings, if I get reaped it's going to be me who's screwed, not anyone else I pretend to be.

"Talia, Yianna, Aleah," my mother wails from outside, "You're going to be late. The three of you get going I'll catch up with you."

Brilliant. I have a half an hour walk ahead of me and I have to spend it with my sisters.

The three of us walk down the dirt road path that leads from our dingy little farm into the 'town' of district ten. I say 'town' because in reality that is a grand overstatement for the crappy little set up. The town basically consists of the school, the justice building, the square and any day to day kind of shops like the bakery or the seamstress. Most of us, my family included, live out in the paddocks, complete with big open expanses of crappy land with dry, dusty soil and livestock galore. Hence, the dark, dingy town itself is covered with thick red dust most of the time from all the movement of stock and such. The abattoir and the labs are further west, you know, so nobody has to wake to the sound of cattle being slaughtered.

Once we finally reach the damn town and are about five minutes out a short, bulky looking boy emerges from beside us and quickly taps my sister on the back.

"Hey Talia," he says with a pathetic sheepish grin and an extremely obvious blush crossing his cheeks, "How are you feeling?"

My sister smiles at him radiantly and batts her eyelids at him. Insert gagging noises here, "Oh I'm fine Wendell, a little nervous but I guess that's to be expected, "she adds with a charming little laugh, which I of course mimic, "What about you?"

"I'm nervous too." It is well known within town that my perfect older sister is a self confessed socialite and that she is highly 'desired' by the local boys. Of course in my opinion she's a superficial, materialistic troll with no self dignity whatsoever but hey, call it a difference of opinions. Because of our differences, Talia and I don't exactly have the best relationship, in fact we rarely talk at all, and when we do it normally ends up with her running off in tears. I guess I just have that affect on people.

"Oh see Talia," I butt in with mock sincerity, "I told you his name was Wendell. And you thought it was Keenan," I chide, taking immense pleasure in the shock on her face, "but of course then I reminded you that Keenan was that boy I caught you making out within the stalls last week. And as soon as you described Wendell here as that short, pudgy boy with the terrible breath I remembered his name for you. " Of course Talia had never met anyone called Keenan and she had never even mentioned Wendell to me before, let alone insulted him, but anything to piss Talia off and scare away Wendell.

Wendell looks over at me and immediately I see that fear in his eyes that I am so used to. Unlike my siblings, who all have faultless reputations, I am known around town as a cold, malicious, harsh young girl with little compassion, a love of sarcastic insults and an extremely sharp tongue. Of course this leads to people becoming incredibly scared of me, which in all honestly just makes things so much easier. Wendell looks back at Talia with an extremely embarrassed look on his face before he scurries away like the coward he is. I turn back around and laugh at Talia's fury and before she can even mouth a word of protest I walk away, making sure to enjoy every single step.

When the three of us reach the square Yianna starts whimpering next to me and I groan and try to shut her up. This is her first year eligible to be reaped and she is completely unprepared to deal with it.

"Oh quit whining," I snap at her, "It's not like you'll get reaped anyway."

Yianna's name was in that big glass bowl on the stage once and once only, unlike mine which was in there countless times. My mother had refused to let Yianna sign up for tesserae, in fact she was so opposed to idea that she went and signed me up for extra tesserae on Yianna's behalf, despite the fact that I was already on five lots, one for myself, my mother, my father, Sean (because I wouldn't let him sign up) and Talia (because she refused to sign up so once again I was forced to take her load).

It is almost time for the official ceremony to begin and as soon as I am herded into the sixteen year old area I am met with scared glances and people slowly shying away from me, to which I respond with a calm and confident grin as I ignore what the mayor is talking about. On the stage with him are two other people, the first I know is Heath Greyling, District Ten's only current victor. He won about fifteen years ago and it well known around the district that he won on sheer dumb luck, which of course means I have absolutely no respect for him, despite never actually meeting him. Lucky is exactly the quality you look for in a mentor. The other is a young woman, quite obviously from the capitol, with short spiked black hair, dressed all in black and at least a dozen piercings on her face alone. She stands behind the mayor beaming out at everyone around her and I immediately dislike her.

Eventually the mayor finishes his droll speech about the history of Panem and the freaky capitol chick walks up the microphone, teetering a little in her seven inch heels.

"Hello District Ten," she says with excess enthusiasm, "My name is Esserenda and it is my privilege to be choosing one lucky young man and woman to receive the honour of competing in the 24th Hunger Games." She begins a round of applause that dies quickly and I let out a laugh at how pitiable she is, ignoring the looks I get for it, "So let's get started shall we."

The crowd goes silent around me as all the girls hold their breaths. Esserenda makes a dramatic production of searching around the glass bowl before pulling out one small slip of paper.

"Aleah Armani."

Esserenda's high pitched voice seems to echo throughout the crowd, a single name hovering in the air. My name. The whispers and murmurs of the kids around me turn into a dissonant cacophony as they all look around, waiting for the doomed child to show herself. But I can't. Despite all the protest my brain is giving my body, telling me to move, to start walking, to do something, my muscles are failing me. I have been prepared for the possibility of this happening since I was twelve years old, I have planned exactly how I would react, what my next step would be, but now that it is actually happening I have turned into a statue.

The crowd starts to part in front of me, a few of my former classmates looking at me with pitying glances, others couldn't quite hide their pleasure at hearing my name being called. I imagine that deep down that's how most of the citizens of district ten feel, glad that it was only the harsh, strange, rude Armani girl who got called, it's not like anyone cares about her. I quickly hold my head up high and start towards the stage.

"No," I hear Sean call from beside me and before I know it he has forced himself in between me and the oncoming peacekeepers, holding onto my wrist in an iron tight grip, "Don't you dare touch her."

That idiot. The last thing I need is for him to be all noble and get himself killed just as I am about to go fight in the Hunger Games. I step around him and quickly pull my wrist out from his grasp.

"Sean," I spit through my closed teeth, 'Let. Me. Go."

He turns back around and looks into my eyes, and I give him a small reassuring nod. He looks at me doubtfully before bowing his head and backing away so the peacekeepers can come escort me up to the stage.

As the rest of the district looks at me with sympathy and condolences I hold my head up high, looking down on any who pity me with an icy glare, daring them to think that I am a weakling. Anyone who meets my gaze shrinks back like they always do and the feeling of fear only adds to my feeling of confidence. The escort smiles at me and I silence her with a look that could kill.

She teeters over to the boys bowl and replicates her actions from before and once again pulls out a name.

"Boston Williams."

I fix my face in an already unsatisfied look, even though the tribute hasn't made himself known. I am determined to hate him regardless of who he is and what he acts like. Eventually I see movement coming from the seventeen year old section and a big, bulky, tanned guy starts making his way up to the stage. As he gets closer I can see that he has a stupid, blank look on his face but his dark blue eyes show how freaked out he really is and like an idiot he can't seem to stop shaking. God, there has to be something wrong with him, he looks bloody deranged. Just. My. Luck.

The big ape stumbles his way up to the stage and we are instantly congratulated before we are forced to shake hands. I glower at him as he looks at me and he immediately averts his gaze. We shake hands and his huge clammy hands absolutely crushes mine. Stupid giant buffoon. Before I know it I am being rushed into the justice building to say my goodbyes.

"Don't any of you dare come in here," I spit at my family as they all attempt to squeeze through the door, "It's not like I would even be in this mess if it wasn't for the four of you. Don't start acting like you actually give a crap about me now. Leave me and Sean alone and just leave and be glad you're finally rid of me."

My mother looks hurt but in all honesty I couldn't give a damn. They should feel guilty; it was the four of them that made me sign up for all that extra tesserae. Hopefully when I die they'll all realise that they were the ones who killed me. Or even better when I win and come back I'll never have to see them again and I can finally turn the tables and be the one pretending none of them exist. The peacekeepers quickly escort them back out the door and with a satisfying thud they are all out of my lives for good. Sean looks at me like he's disappointed in me but truthfully he is the only person I want to say goodbye to.

"You have to be smart," he reminds me, "Don't just fall into lapse with all the other kids. Don't rely on any physical strength you have, because, well, you don't have any. But you've got twice the brains of anybody else, so bloody well use them."

"Thanks for that brainiac," I say coldly, whilst rolling my eyes, "I couldn't have figured that much out for myself."

"And be nice. Make people like you, then they'll want to sponsor you."

I snort, "Yeah right, like that will happen."

He ignores me, "But don't let yourself become too much of a threat."

"No sir," I add mockingly, smiling at him.

"And listen to whatever your mentors or stylists say to you."

"Yes sir."

He pulls me into a quick hug, "And don't you dare die on me. We're like two halves of a whole; I won't be able to function properly if you're not here."

I laugh, "We're fraternal twins you dimwit. We're not two halves of a whole; we're just two wholes who go the misfortune of sharing a womb. Unless you're finally willing to confirm my suspicions and admit you're a girl?"

He hit me on the arm playfully and I am just about to lash into another round of insults when the peacekeepers brake through the door. They ignore Sean's protests and begin to pull him out of the room whilst he struggles in their grasps.

"Don't worry Sean," I say in an even voice, "I'll be back before you even knew I was gone."

And with that the peacekeepers shove him out the door before slamming it in my face.

The trip from the justice building to the train seems to pass in a blur of speeding cars and flashing cameras and before I know it I'm stuck all alone in a train compartment with what's his face, something beginning with a B. Boron...Bossy...Boston that was it. Heath and Esserenda are nowhere to be seen and I quickly try to make an escape.

"You're Aleah right?" Boston asks with a stupid look on his face. Screw what Sean said, truth is, I don't do nice.

"Look I'm going to make this really easy for you," I say in a patronising tone, "I've known you all of five minutes and I can tell I'm not going to like you, and I can promise you, you won't like me. So stay out of my way, and I won't have to kill you," and with that I turn away and don't even give Boston a second glance to hear whatever dim witted response he can come up with.

Boston Williams by packman23

"The evil like power, power over people, and they want to see you in fear. They want you to know you're going to die. So they'll talk. They'll gloat. They'll watch you squirm. They'll put off the moment of murder like another man will put off a good cigar. So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word"

- Samuel Vimes, Men At Arms.

Have you ever noticed how, no matter how hard you try to be good and nice and all of that, it never works out? How, no matter how much you deserve something good, just for once in your life, all the world seems to want to do is hold you down and kick you in the face?

Like now for instance. Down in the Capitol, kids just like me are just waking up, slipping off comfy sheets and saying good morning to their parents. I've been up since one in the morning and even when I was asleep I was sleeping on hay, not mattresses in a comfortable bed! Heck, I don't even have a dad! What did I do to deserve being born in a District? What did they do to be allowed to be born Capitolites? I guess I'll never know.

I wince as another ache forces its way through my legs and I quickly cease my pondering, turning my mind back to the matter at hand. Walking. We live on a farm on the very outskirts of the District, so it's miles until we reach the Mayor's office, where the Reapings are always held. The whole farm's been walking since three. There are quite a lot of us, forty five I'd guess and, as we walk, we block the entire dirt track, kicking up great clouds of dust all around us. I look around, trying to spot anyone who might be interesting. I haven't talked to anyone in hours and, even though that's not that big a problem for me, it still bugs me. Mr Roan, the head of the farm, is walking near the front, arm in arm with his wife, chatting, far too loudly I might add, about the joys of rearing and selling cattle. I heave a sigh, I might've known, all Roan ever talks about is work, and since this is the one day in year I can get away from my job breaking cattle, I'd rather not be talking about that. The rest of the workers are either too terrified by the thought of their kids being Reaped to talk, or just aren't my kind of people, being too talkative or jovial for my liking. Which just leaves my family. There's mom, dressed in a gaudy purple dress that's rather too skimpy for my liking and wearing far too much makeup. She looks nervous, constantly ringing her hands and riffling through old bank notes every few minutes. To be honest I don't blame her that much for feeling like she does, she always has trouble in the centre of the District. Guys heckle her and the like. They always stop the moment they cast eyes on me though. No one wants to insult a woman when she's got a kid twice your size, doesn't matter how much of a sleazebag you are. This year, if anyone tries to make a pass at my mom I'll tear off their mouth. My mom's got enough on her plate as it is without some jerks ruining her day. She's got six kids for God's sake, two of whom are old enough to get Reaped, me and my little sister, Vienna (My mom has a thing for History and named us all after old cities). It's Vienna's second Reapings and she's still not used to it. She keeps trying to make me think she's okay, but she's obviously not, drifting near the back of our little precession and kicking the dust. I've tried talking to her about it, but she won't admit she's scared, so I guess there's nothing I can do. The rest of my siblings aren't old enough to get Reaped, but some of them aren't far off. First there's Washington, who's about ten. Despite being related, that kid looks absolutely nothing like me or Vienna. We're both tall, tanned and dark haired, but Washington's blond and tiny. In fact I think the only way that that bubbly kid who's running around near the front of the procession is in any way related to me is the fact we have the same eyes. Then there are London, or Lon, and Sam, who are about five and three respectively. Neither of them are awake yet, I'm carrying Lon on my back and mom's carrying Sam. It's backbreaking work carrying a kid, especially when you've been doing it for several hours. Even worse, Lon is really starting to fidget, which hurts like hell. At times I really just want to swing the kid off and tell him to walk by himself, but then he'd whine and I don't think I could take that. Finally, walking right next to me, we have Dallas, who's about half my age and less than a quarter my height. He's a sweet kid, with curly ginger hair and hazel eyes. He knows not to talk in serious situations, which is good, since I'm not normally a talker, but gets boring eventually. I really just need someone to say something to me. Back when I was little I would talk to dad and he'd tell me about the Capitol and the history of the Games, before I understood what they were, and then we'd be herded into the square and spend the morning laughing at the Escort's silly clothes and the evening playing, so that dad would have an excuse not to watch the TV. That all changed five years back, when mom was pregnant with Lon. There was this stampede thing, loads of guys got trampled, one of them was my dad. It was bad, and I remember Vienna crying about it for days on end, asking where dad had gone and stuff. I wasn't allowed to cry. No one told me I couldn't, I just sort of decided. I couldn't cry. I had to work. After all, mom couldn't keep a family with just her job in town, so I had to get a promotion to keep us all in bread and meat. I tossed and turned every night, trying to deal with the death, the stress of work, my sister's tears. In the end I just bottled it all up, took all those emotions and shoved them down into my guts. Kept every bad thought, every negative feeling I got and sucked it up. I became my father. I looked after the others, laughed when they wanted me to, listened when they were upset. It was nice for a while, but it was hollow. Everything just got too much, and I couldn't really laugh any more. It made me feel sick. So I stopped laughing, just like I stopped crying, and now, I think I just don't feel anything anymore.

"Hey, Boston?" I look down and spot Washington staring up at me through sparkling blue eyes. It's odd for him to talk to me. He normally picks Vienna because she's good with jokes. I smile slightly and reach down, my stomach spinning and screaming as all those unwanted feeling bubble up inside me, threatening to blow me into shards for about the seventh time this morning. I gulp as voices knot themselves around my head, telling me to cry or scream at the sky or feel pity or something, anything, that actually resembles emotion. I can't though, it's just too hard.

"Yes Washington?" I murmur, my voice monotone.

"Do you think Vienna's OK?" The boy asks. I shrug. I don't want to get into this, I've already tried with Vienna. She's not letting me in and I'm unable to tell why she feels so horrible. Is it guilt? Bad memories? The fear of being Reaped? I'd guess it's the latter but I really don't know how to deal with that sort of thing, even if I am right. "You gonna ask her?"

"She's tired." I mutter, "or nervous."

"'Bout being Reaped?" This time it's Dallas who's talking, and I have to say that's a surprise. Like I said before, he's really not that talkative, so hearing him say anything, especially on Reaping day, is kind of unexpected.

"Probably." I tell the two kids, and they nod sympathetically, but I can tell they don't get it. Why should they? They've never known anyone who got Reaped, a fact I'm glad of. Then again, I don't know what it's like to feel the pain of Reaping day either. For me Reaping is just another day, albeit one where every kid in all the Districts feel horrible. "She really doesn't have that much to worry about. She's only got, what?"

"Twenty slips?" Washington guesses.

"More like thirteen." Dallas reminds him, "Boston's the one with the most tesserae." I nod weakly. It's not as bad as it sounds, I guess, after all loads of kids in District Ten have lots of tesserae. I just have a couple more than average for a working guy, that's all.

I don't really say much more on the matter, but the kids keep yammering, and Lon joins in when he wakes up. By the time we draw near the square I'm surrounded by a gaggle of voices, all of them nervously guessing the chances of Vienna being Reaped, which I have to say I don't like. The moment we arrive inside the town I swing Lon off my shoulders, push him over to mom and silently wave her off as she kisses me and drags Lon, Sam and Washington away.

"Good luck." I mutter to Vienna. She smiles weakly and finds her place in the thirteen's section. She's worried. I hope she'll be OK. I find my spot with ease, shoving my way through the crowd and shuffling as close to the middle as I can. I settle down for a minute, waiting as the other teenagers fill in around me, their faces haunted by fear, either for themselves or their families. I'm glad my face doesn't show any of that, only my eyes give any allusion of the worry I'm sick of, so I make sure to keep them as hidden by hair as possible. Unfortunately, this makes seeing difficult, so I don't notice the child who shouldn't be in the crowd until it's too late.

"Boston?" Dallas whispers to me, causing me, and the entire crowd of seventeen year olds, to jump about a foot in the air, "Are sure Vienna won't get Reaped?" I think about that for a second. Of course I'm not sure. I don't have a clue how likely it is that Vienna's name will be picked out and she'll have to tramp up to that stage over there, knowing that she'll be dead in a matter of days.

"I'm sure." I say, ruffling his hair and doing the best I can to sound anything but slightly queasy, "Now get back to mom."

"But I want to stand with you!" Dallas exclaims, and the other teens cringe. If a Peacekeeper were to hear him we'd all get whipped for disobedience. I'd rather not go through that, and I'm sure the feeling's mutual. "Mom's boring! She says we aren't allowed to speak!"

"And we're not." I hiss, my voice flat, "Now quiet."

Up on stage a gong rings, cutting off the clammering crowds and forcing them to be a bit quieter. The mayor gets up, dressed in an old white suit and says a few words, then a few more. Then a bunch. In fact he rambles on for so long that I lose interest, instead concentrating on Heath, our District's sole Victor. He seems kinda upset, despite the forced smile. His eyes are flicking about and look tired, and he keeps focusing on his wife and kids standing as close to the stage as they're allowed. He's like me, Heath. He didn't ask to be where he was, he'd much rather just live in the Capitol like all the lucky people, but he makes the best of what he has and he forces down all the emotions that people didn't like. I remember seeing reruns of his Games. Watching him slash away at his District partner, some tiny kid, with insane ferocity, crying all the while. He'd been an orphan, tried so long to quash all of those feelings and then, eventually, they came gushing out in a torrent of anger and sorrow.

"Hello District Ten!" I wince as a spiky haired Capitolites voice bludgeons its way through the crowd and shrieks into every nerve of my body. Below me Dallas covers his ears, the woman's high pitched warble seeming to cause actual pain. The unfortunate twelve year olds, who are closest to the woman, cover their ears and screw their eyes shut. I'm fairly sure a few kids even faint. They're the lucky ones, the Escort's still speaking. She introduces herself as Esserenda, and begins rambling about how great an honour being an Escort is. I groan, another airhead, what a shame, I was hoping for an intelligent Escort for a change. She claps her hands together and makes a great deal of drawing a card out of the Reaping ball. The crowd falls silent, the girls who stand across from me holding their breath, along with anyone who is even remotely related to any of them. Near my legs, Dallas shivers in anticipation, burying his head in my trouser leg, as if shutting out the sound of the Escort will somehow make it less likely that Vienna is chosen.

"Aleah Armani." Almost all the crowd sigh with relief or give the girl apologetic looks. Personally I couldn't care less as Aleah, a pale, black haired kid drags herself out of the crowd and walks up to the stage. I've heard the name somewhere before. Some chick who's always getting into fights, daddy had enough money to pay for her education, and she thinks that gives her a right to beat on kids who come down from the farms. Personally I'd never liked the sound of her and, now she's standing up on the stage, I can tell that I wouldn't like to meet her in real life. She's got anger in her eyes and that kind of superior air that tells me she's not too sorry she's going. Besides, she's not Vienna, and that means I don't care that she's going that much. I'd miss Vienna. I don't even know this girl.

Esserenda congratulates the girl, before reaching into another Reaping ball and drawing a name. By now I'm barely paying attention, far too preoccupied by relief to care what comes next. Vienna isn't going. She's not leaving us. Vienna gets to stay and work for the family and everything will be OK. Why was I even worried in the first place?

They call a name.

It's a simple name. Not too long. Not too short. Easy to pronounce. And familiar, far too familiar.

"Boston Williams!"

The woman's shriek bowls way through the audience, smashing into me with full force and shaking the knot of emotions in my stomach into tiny little pieces. My eyes widen and I begin to shiver, forcing the emotions back down, just like I've done a thousand times before, except this time it doesn't work. The shaking increases and Dallas reaches out for me, begging me to stay. To pretend my name wasn't called. No one here knows me. No one would ever know. The emotions in my stomach rear up, wracking my frame as the boy reaches out for me. I'm a good head taller than everyone else, they all know I'm here. Hiding won't work.

I knock Dallas out the way with a sweep of my arm, trying not to do anymore harm than I can as I stumble out of the crowd taking slow, juddering steps towards the stage.

It takes all my might to suppress my fear as I mount the stairs, Esserenda becomes a shrill buzz as my ears clog with unwanted feelings. My mind breaks and reforms a thousand times in the space of a few seconds, scrambled, confused. Noises become bubbles and drift away, popping long before they reach my ears, their sound indistinct. They've sentenced me to death. Words choke up in my mouth, my vision blurs and shimmers in front of my eyes, settling on things only long enough for me to be dimly aware of them. My hand is pressed to the pale girl's by some unknown presence and we are forced to shake. How can they have called my name! They can't have called my name! I'm needed! Aleah snarls at me. Her face is so venomous, so serpentine. It disgusts me. I can't look at it. I want to tear it off with my hands and throw it on the ground. I can't think straight. My mind's breaking.

The scene changes without me noticing. There are Peacekeepers. They half drag, half lead me to a room. There's my mother, tears streaking her makeup, telling me it's all her fault, even though it can't be. Lon and Sam, unable to understand why I have to go. Washington looks as white as a sheet. I sigh and reach out for him, but the scene shifts before I can touch him, and the next thing I know he's hugging my legs, shaking with sobs. They hurry out as fast as they can. My mind spins. Shapes become colours, colours become words, words become thoughts. I grip my head, forcing it down.

Vienna and Dallas stand in front of me. My sister's eyes are red. There are tears rolling down her face. She whimpers as she reaches out to me, passing me her hair clip and letting her hair tumble down in front of her face, mingling with her tears, sticking to her cheeks. She kneels in front of me, apologises again and again, tells me she'll look after them all, she won't let me down. She tells me I'll be OK. She tells me I'll be able to see dad again. She's confused. I don't understand her mind. I don't understand mine. Dallas is blank. He's not reacting. His eyes tell me he wants to cry, but he's not. He hands me his own gift. A lock of ginger hair. He looks tired. There's a knot in his stomach, just like me. He looks nothing like me, and yet we look so similar. I don't understand. I can't understand. I hug them both close and whisper that I'll be OK. There are tears in my eyes. I think. Its been so long since I cried. Its been so long since I've felt. It hurts.

"My head's killing me." I whisper, as the world dives out of focus. Next thing I know I'm standing in front of what I think is my District partner.

"You're Aleah, right?" I groan, trying to remember her name. She rounds on me, a snarl forming on her ugly little face.

"Look I'm going to make this really easy for you. I've known you all of five minutes and I can tell I'm not going to like you, and I can promise you, you won't like me. So stay out of my way, and I won't have to kill you."

I want to kill her. A few stray emotions still wash around my body, but they've mostly paled, cleared away back into that knot in my stomach. I can think again. I rummage through my pockets, removing a hair clip with a chunk of curly ginger hair slipped into it. I nod slowly, at least I know I wasn't hallucinating. I sigh, taking a step forwards, towards the girl who is stomping away from me. I reach out behind her, fingers twitching. Her neck is thin, delicate. Too delicate for such a viper. I growl and begin to pull my hands in. Something hits them, knocking them away from that monster even as they're about to close around her neck.

"Let it go kid." the mentor with the fake grin says, his voice more of a sigh than anything else, "Save that stuff for the Arena. Believe me you'll be better for it.

I stare at Heath and I find myself looking into the eyes of someone who understands my plight. The hardship of always having to hide how you feel, of having to keep it all bundled up in your chest, roaring to be free. He tried it. He tried it for eighteen years and then, on the first night of the Games, he cracked.

I haven't cracked yet, but I'm creaking and bending and splintering.

And I can already feel the cracks beginning to form.