Hi! It's leaf again. I just wanted to apologize to midnight-lemons13 for forgeting to put her name as a author! Enjoy District 1!

Regan Shaldie, 18, D1F, Morning of Reapings

As I stretch up from my comfortable bed, circled in pale pink blankets, the sun leaks through my opened curtains. Today is going to be a great day, I think to myself. Sunny skies and not a cloud in sight, I continue as my gaze turns toward the glass separating me and the outside morning coolness. I hop onto the mint carpet, the plush, soft feel underneath my feet. I stumble through my room until I make it to the door.

I bound down the 7 step staircase and into the never-clean kitchen. I partially trip over my fat dog, "Sorry Trix," I say quietly. I quickly grab a carton of eggs from the small fridge a few feet away, leaning over Trix. I bring it over to the counter, along with a glass bowl. As I crack the eggs into the bowl and start whisking them, my mom comes down our stairs, looking like she just woke up. "Hey sweetie, let me take those for you. You need to save your energy for your big day!"

"Thank you Mom," I respond, giving her the bowl. Yes, this is a big day. Today is the day I make history. I was chosen by the Academy to volunteer this year. Everyone knows this and they seem so sure that I can win, even my school teachers. Not only am I going to win, but I'm also striving to bring to life a better name for District One, especially after last year's catastrophe.

I start daydreaming, thinking of the moment that I will be crowned victor. The day that will happen in a couple of weeks. Suddenly I am jolted out of my fantasizing by the clump of my sister sitting down next to me on the table.

"Why so jittery? You have no reason to be worried, really." My 20-year-old sister, Ryley laughs.

"I'm not worried," I answer sourly. Ryley ignores me, gets a glass of milk herself, and goes back upstairs to her room. Meanwhile, my mom finishes scrambling eggs and gives me a plate. I eagerly eat up, wondering how hungry I'll be in about a week.

Seemingly reading my mind she says, "So, are you planning on rationing in the arena? Or will you just eat at your own pace because you're career?"

"I figure I'll just eat whatever I want if we get the cornucopia, which we probably will," I answer.

"Sounds good. You should probably get your dress on, and maybe take a bath." My mom calmly said to me.

"Okay, mom," I answer and walk up the stairs with pep in my step. The reaping officially starts at 9:30 am, leaving two hours to get ready. I feel clean enough and I took a shower last night so I strut over to my bed, and see my reaping dress, which was previously ironed the night before. It's made of orange chiffon fabric, and down to my knees. It has a short crinoline that makes the skirt poof out. The sleeves are thin on the shoulder and go down my back. With a satisfied sigh, I spent a few minutes putting on the dress.

My hair was in a few golden blonde knots. I walk back through the hall and into my bathroom. I grab my purple brush and run it through my silky hair. After that, I do my makeup. Brown neutral tones on my eyes, pale pink on my lips. I look in the mirror with satisfaction. I am perfect. When the other tributes look at me, they will cower in fear. I will have no hesitation killing any of them, especially my stupid ex, Robert. With a jolt, I remember that Robert won't be volunteering. He had come down with a serious illness and there wasn't any time to choose another volunteer. I just hope that whoever is reaped will be someone from the Academy who didn't get chosen. I don't want my district to look like a fool again.

"Regan! Almost done? We have to get going soon." My mom yells up at me. I winced at it. I know I'm going to win, but sometimes it felt weird that she was willing to just give me away.

"Yep, coming mom!" I took one more adoring look in the mirror again and left the bathroom with a slight smile. My mom stood downstairs, dressed in a very businesslike navy blue dress. Her curly blonde locks sitting peacefully on her shoulders. Trix looks like he senses something wrong, but there is no way he could know anything about the Hunger Games, though I guess you never know.

My mom and I take a step out the door and just take in the morning air. It's a pleasantly calm day in all ways. I hear a distant, meek cry come from somewhere on my left. I see a small girl, about 12 years old hugging her mom tightly. What's she crying for? She has nothing to worry about. I think to myself, slightly on edge.

My mom's arm tugs me forward and we start walking down the street. Luckily, Town Square is only about half a mile away, so the walk isn't far.

Most of the time, only people at the Academy and relatives know who will volunteer,

so one of the things I'm most excited about is seeing everyone's face when I volunteer. Something I always wanted to do was inspire little kids. I feel like the kids will be inspired when they see me stand up and volunteer for someone who would otherwise lose their life, yes they definitely will.

After about ten minutes of walking, we reach the large crowd. I can clearly see Cashmere and Gloss conversing, probably hoping on who would volunteer. I wonder if they know there won't be a male volunteer.

Once again my mom tugs my arm, but this time she does it to my other arm. I look up at her, smiling. She hugs me close. "You got this Regan. Keep your chin up, intimidating, right?" I nod hurriedly. After one final embrace, she lets me go and dramatically walks away from all the kids.

A line formed in front of a table, and I immediately know this is where I get my finger stabbed, then I can go to my spot. I shove myself in front of a tiny brunette twelve-year-old, anxious to start.

After just a couple of minutes, my turn is up. Without needing to be told so, I put out my hand to the peacekeeper, who takes it aggressively and stabs me with more force than needed. "Ouch." I mutter saltily and glare at the peacekeeper.

The courtyard is packed to the maximum with teenagers. The youngest ones are in the back, which I've never understood but who cares, really. In the front are the oldest, 18-year-olds. That's where I belong, in the front row. Unfortunately, the front and the second, third, and fourth rows of 18-year-olds are filled so I find a cramped spot in the fifth row. My poofy orange dress doesn't do much about the extremely crampedness I'm not used to.

I take a deep breath. It's your turn, Regan. The next time I see my home again I will be the 16th District One Victor. I'm ready, ready to do whatever it takes.

Cashmere Delacroix, 48, Mentor, Reaping Ceremony

I look out to the crowd expectantly. The 18-year-old's seem to have a good bunch, especially the girls this year. Lots of little me's are standing out in front of me, some with bored faces and some with excited faces. Gloss had just gone to sit down, to get himself settled for the reaping. Only a few minutes until I'll have another victor in my midst.

"Miss Delacroix, would you like to take a seat? We'll be starting in a moment." The District 1 Escort, Orchid Spellence politely asks me. I nod without looking at her and take my seat by the back of the stage, next to my brother.

"Ahem!" Orchid tries into the microphone to silence the crowd. It works immediately and everyone is solemnly looking at the pink-haired escort. "Before we choose a lucky tribute, we have a video straight from the President." She claps her hands expectantly. I decide to zone out because I've seen this exact same video every year for the last few decades. It never changes. Besides, who really cares about President Snow anymore, he's about to die so they might as well look for a new president rather than hold on to the last strand of hope that he's immortal.

After the dumb video was over, Orchid gave a big smile to the audience. "Let's start with the ladies. Oh! And may the odds be ever in your favor." She says. Her heels hit the ground loud with every step. That woman annoys me so much.

Once she actually gets to the bowl of names, I adjust my posture and zone in. Orchid suspensefully swirls her hand around the bowl until finally grabbing a small white slip of paper. "Cryssti Loevly!" My eyes dart out into the crowd, looking more specifically at the crowd of older kids because I know one of them will volunteer. Out of my range of eyesight, I see a girl in the 14-year-old section step forward. Before she can take so much as a step forward, a girl in the 18-year-old section, with an orange dress steps out of her section.

"I volunteer!" She yells. She looks slim but muscular at the same time. Ambition and ferocity take her eyes as she walks down the aisle, like someone would when walking away from a burning building. This, I could definitely work with. She reminds me a little bit of myself. That's a good sign if I've ever seen one.

The young lady walks up the stage and her gaze catches mine. She looks fierce, yet there is a part of her that really wants to be noticed by me. Well, it did work. I think to myself. When she reaches the stage, Orchid asks what her name is. "I am Regan Shaldie, and I will be the Victor of the 94th Hunger Games!" She says proudly.

Confidence: check.

She stands beside Orchid looking into a camera evilly. Here we have it. The Victor. I think to myself excitedly. District One hasn't had a win in years, but now, I think it's safe to say we have got this. In a way, she kind of reminds me of Glimmer from the 74th mixed with Ruby from the 84th, who won. Very promising.

"And now for the boys!" Orchid says excitedly. For a moment I wonder who will volunteer for the boys. If he's anything like Regan, surely District One will have it in the bag.

Orchid flicks her wrist into the bowl and fishes out a slip. "The male tribute from District 1, Max Lake!" A kid from the 17-year-olds section starts looking around at the other 17-year-olds before slowly walking up to the stage. As he walks I can see his confidence building us and he gets that confident swagger in his step. When he is standing by Orchid, she asks, "Any volunteers?" She is met with silence. What! I look at Gloss with a stunned expression that he returns to me.

That's the first time in years that someone hasn't volunteered. I think with a concerned expression. I wonder why.

Within a few moments, the tributes were swept off the stage so they can say their goodbyes.

Max Lake, 17, D1M, After the Reapings

"Max!" My mom says, running into the room where I will probably say my last goodbyes. I slowly get up and embrace her.

"Mom, slow down, it's okay. I have my academy training. I can do this. Calm down," I reassure her, even though there is some doubt within me. I haven't been training at the Academy since I was 15. To be honest, I was more surprised than scared. I couldn't believe that there wasn't a volunteer. My train of thought was interrupted by my older sister coming over and hugging me tightly.

"Max, listen. You are better than the rest of the careers pack. Because you dropped out of the academy, you know what it is like to fail. You won't make the same mistake twice. Listen!" She shakes my arm, then sort of loses her strength and hugs me, gentler this time, and goes and stands in a corner. Then my dad comes over.

"Max. You can do this. The Lake family has never represented District 1 in the Games," I wince at that, knowing that five Lakes have gone to the Academy, but none have been chosen. Only my father has gotten close. It was actually between him and Gloss Delacroix. "This is our chance," He continues. You must make the Lake family proud. I believe in you." I nod. He hugs me too, and my whole family comes in for one last hug, when the Peacekeepers come in and take them away. I sit in the cold, empty room, just wondering, thinking, how I will ever survive this.

How did you like Regan and Max? I am hoping to get another update later this week, so stay tuned! Review, follow, and fav!

-Leaf