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Fun Fact of the Chapter: At 12 years old, this tribute ties for the youngest (the other is the D7 girl), while her district partner is the oldest, as the only 18-year-old. There are no 13-year-olds, three 14-year-olds, seven 15-year-olds, seven 16-year-olds, and four 17-year-olds. All in all, a slightly messed-up bell curve, but not as messed-up as some I've seen.

…..

Neetamarie Telva, District Six

On the morning of my first reaping, I wake up early—not that I'd had much sleep the night before—and walk outside into our garden. By "garden", I mean a laughably tiny plot of land on which I've planted a few scattered flower seeds and water sometimes when we have it. Despite the lack of proper conditions, the flowers tend to grow pretty well, having adapted to the desolate environment of District Six, and in the early morning sunlight, they look beautiful.

This morning, a butterfly has wandered its way through the streets and is now delicately perched on top of one of the dandelions. It's a small, fragile creature, not particularly showy but exquisite nonetheless, with fluttery white wings tipped with silver. I bend down and watch it for a minute, reveling in its beauty. Although it could technically be counted as wasting time, it's better than dwelling on what's going to happen today.

Today, my name goes in a big glass bowl along with all the other girls in Six—several times, since I've taken some tesserae for my family—and one slip will be picked out of that bowl, to be sent to the Capitol and to the Hunger Games. That name might be mine. I might go into the Games. Which means I might die.

Because, like my pretty little butterfly perched on the flower, I won't last long. I'm too fragile, I'm too tiny, I look like I'm eight years old and I have no training with weapons and, even though I know a thing or two about plants, which might supply food, I know nothing about surviving in the wilderness. There's no wilderness in Six, just power plants.

"Mary, Mary, Mary!" Devine comes running up to me on her little six-year-old legs, grinning innocently. "Whatcha doin', Mary?"

I ruffle her short, strawberry-blond tuft of hair and try to put on a smile. "Hey, Devine. I'm just watching the butterfly."

"Oooh!" She stares at the butterfly for a moment and reaches forward to try and touch it. I pull her hand back gently. "Devine, you can't touch it. It's very delicate."

"Aw." She pouts. I ruffle her hair again and try and send her back inside. I just want to be alone right now, because my nerves are already frayed as it is. Devine goes into the house, but then comes right back out again with an insistent, "Mary, Mary! Whatcha dooooin'? Why won't you play with me, Mary?"

I sigh. "Dev, it's a very special day and I'm nervous. I might get picked to go the Capitol, and I'm scared. It'd really be nice if you left me alone right now. All right?"

Devine just stares at me, wide-eyed and uncomprehending, and I know I'm in for a stressful day. "But Mary, I wanna play!"

"All right." I sigh again. "What do you want to play?"

"Hide and go seek!" she says triumphantly. "You hide, I seek. And when I find you, I hide and you seek."

"Okay, Dev." She closes her eyes and begins counting. Loudly. I sprint across the garden, careful not to step on any flowers or butterflies, and find a hiding spot behind our kitchen counter. It's the same spot I always go to, and neither Dev nor anybody else has found me yet. Although Yesh and Quinette don't even try anymore.

"Ready or not, here I come!" she shrieks.

I let out my breath, which I hadn't realized I had been holding. If I went to the Games, I would probably try and just hide, eating dandelions or something and trying not to be found. Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't. I might get sponsors—the younger, less well-off children usually get pitied more.

"Mary!" my mother calls, and I scamper out, much to Devine's surprise. Mom stares at me disapprovingly for a moment, and then clucks her tongue and says, "Your breakfast is ready. You should probably get changed for the reaping soon, we'll be heading out in about an hour."

"'Kay, Mom."

Yesh and Quinette come down the stairs. Quin just looks annoyed, but when he sees me Yesh softens up, pats my head, and says, "Don't worry about a thing, Mary. There are thousands of slips in that bowl, and both Quin and I went through all the years without being picked. You'll be fine." I nod, and he pulls out two bowls or cereal for himself and Quin.

I miss the days when he used to pay attention to me, but now—except for when I'm particularly scared or needy, like today—he only talks to Quin, who hates everybody except Yesh. I get that they're married and all, but that's no excuse for shutting out the rest of your family.

I change into a faded pink dress—a hand-me-down from my mother when she was twelve, which is why it's a bit too big for me—and wash my face and hair. We head off, and I can't help but notice that I'm shaking all over.

I sign in to the twelve-year-old section and immediately pick out my friend, Margaret Abble. She's hard not to miss, seeing as she's the only one in the group that wheels instead of walks. We don't say much to each other, mostly caught up in our own thoughts, but right before the mayor begins his speech, she whispers to me, "Good luck, Mary. If you get picked, remember that you're strong. You saved me from under the voltage machine, remember? You saved my life."

Yes, but the Hunger Games aren't about saving lives, they're about taking them. And that's something I can't do. But nevertheless, I feel a little bit better. Margaret's good at things like that. And maybe, in a few years, if I get a little stronger... maybe I'll actually be prepared for this.

The mayor begins his speech about the Capitol and about District Six and its victors. We've had more than other districts, except for the Careers, ever since the Second Rebellion. After the initial punishments, the tide turned for District Six and we had a string of victors, all who won by intelligence and the ability to hide...

Our escort, Taffeta Allends, walks to the stage and shrieks, "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor! Ladies first!"

I hold my breath, and Margaret squeezes my hand gently. It's fine, it's going to be okay, I'm going to be fine, Yesh survived it, Quin survived it, I'm going to...

"Neetamarie Telva is our lucky lady! Come on up, Neetamarie!"

W-w-w-w-what? N-n-no! T-t-this wasn't s-supposed to happen...

My mouth drops open in shock, my face pales, and I manage to squeak out, "Eep."

Ready or not, here I come!