Hunger Games is Suzanne Collins'. Vampire Academy belongs to Richelle Mead.

Ch.2 RPOV

"Rose!" My father calls from the other room. "I'm going out. You know what to do."

"Lay off her for a second, Abe," my mother tells him. "And I doubt she'll go out today, what with the Reaping."

I get off my warm, comfy bed and poke my head out the door. "I have to be there at the Capitol ceremony tonight, you know the rules for the Quarter Quell."

My father grimaces as he tightens his tie. "Be careful, Rose," he says, pulling on a scarf.

"Of course," I assure him. "I'll be at the ceremony at seven, to see the district tributes come in, then I'll have to be with the other seventeen-year-olds waiting for the Reaping. So I'll be with where everyone expects me to be. You can just ask around."

My mother rolls her eyes at my father. "I told you so."

"Janine, sometimes you irk me to death."

They walk off, bickering on the way.

"I love them," I mutter to myself, "but sometimes I wish they didn't fuss so much."

I retreat back to my room. Of course my father has to call me up at seven to tell me he's going out. The Reaping takes place at two in the Districts, and they'll put on a replay for us at four when all of Reapings had finished in the Districts.

I might as well visit Sydney, I had nothing to do.

DPOV

The room they took me to in the Justice Building was grand, to say the least. There's a sofa that's against the wall. A few magazines sit on the coffee table, and I am to wait here until the train to the Capitol arrived.

I sit down on the sofa, and I can't help noticing the cover of the first magazine. IdolFashion, with a barely decently dressed girl on the front. The title reads, Rose Hathaway, seventeen.

I flip to the next page, intrigued by the exotic girl on the cover, who had been staring at me from the cover with eyes full of mystery.

Suddenly, the door is knocked. I'd been told it might happen, when family members visit their children or siblings.

The door is then flung open to reveal my sisters and mother. Vika instantly throws her arms around me. Karo has tears on her face. Sonya, however, is laughing like a madwoman.

"What?" Vika asks from my chest.

"Dimka... is ... reading ... IdolFashion," Sonya manages to choke out, before she's sent another fit of laughter.

Karo pauses from her crying to peer at the magazine I was currently holding. Vika pulls back from hugging me to study my face. My mother frowns at me.

"I saw it on the table and I wanted to understand why you read it. Also, I had nothing better to do," I babble out quickly. It was true that they liked IdolFashion, oohing and aahing over the pages every time I brought one home from trading with the mayor's daughter. I worked hard to get them that simple luxury, and while sometimes I had to skip dinner while I made them eat, it was worth the smile of pure joy on Vika's and Karo's faces as they flipped through the pages.

Now, Sonya takes the magazine from my hand and looks carefully at the cover. "It's Rose Hathaway!"

Both Karo and Vika squeal like little girls. They crowd around Sonya like a shark drawn to blood.

"Sit down, all of you." I tell them, "I have to tell you something."

"Vika. You'll stay home unless it's to go to school. Sonya. If there's anything Vika needs, you'll be the one getting it. Karo, remember the lessons I gave you on gathering food in the woods? Use the old book of plants we have - at the back, there's pages of what plants are edible. You'll find my arrows and bows in hollow logs, and Tasha will help."

"Does she have to?" Sonya whined.

"Yes," I said, so sharply that Sonya recoiled.

I turned to my mother. "When there's leftovers, preserve them for the next few days. No matter what you see on the screens, keep on going. Ignore what happens. You can't give up."

"Dimka," Vika whimpers. "Will you come home?" Alive, she leaves unspoken.

"I can't make guarantees," I tell her. "But I'll try."

My last words made my mother cry. I stare into their faces, wishing I could stay here with them.

We all knew that I would be pitted against bigger, better trained opponents from the other districts. Especially since this was the Fiftieth Hunger Games, making the second Quarter Quell in history. When two tributes from the Capital would compete too. The last time the Quarter Quell happened, the boy from the Capitol had won with a girl from One. It serves as a slap to the other Districts' faces, like, see how the Capitol is better than you?

They flew towards me, hugging me tight.

After all, they might never see me again. It is a goodbye for all of us.

I will try my best, but in the end, I might fail.

My next guest's Tasha. She sits opposite me, studying my face. And then she says, "Take care, Dimitri. And if you can, return Christian back home to me, alive, and safe. Dimitri... He's everything to me. I lost my brother and his wife. Christian and Brett are all I have left."

"I promised," I tell her sincerely. "I can't make guarantees, though, Tasha, you know that. But Tasha, please, take care of my sisters, my mother. You and Brett can move in if you want. Karo knows how to hunt, and Sonya can get the best trade out of anyone. Even so, they can't survive on their own, Tasha. I need your help taking care of them."

She's silent for a moment. "A trade," she says at last. "I take care of them the best I can if you make sure Christian lives, or try your best to do so."

"Deal," I tell her. "Even if I die."

She nods.

Now, I at least could rest in peace knowing that Tasha would provide for them. Even if I die.

RPOV

The words 'District Twelve' flash on the TV screen.

It's four, and I am at Sydney's house. She's my schedule organizer, the girl who's stayed with me all these years since my career started. She's also one of the most bookish people I know.

One by one, the names of the District Twelve tributes are called. They do a small shot of their faces, their reactions when they were chosen.

They will replay an even shorter version later when the tributes arrive, to let them see themselves and what the commenters think of them.

I don't really dread the Reaping for the Capitol children. Everyone has at least one entry, and since none of us have to take tesserae, the people with the most slips of paper are the eighteen-year-olds.

The worst the Capitol can do are the bookish people. The ones who spend their days in libraries, their noses buried in ancient tomes.

I have no worries about being picked, not after I'd seen this year's tributes.

The best they had were the big, beefy boys and vicious, cunning girls from the Career districts.

I actually feel pity for the tributes of the other districts. Thin and starved, plucked from a life of miserable days to a bloodbath of gory deaths and fear.

Suddenly the TV screen cuts to the news.

"What happened?" Sydney asks next to me.

I'm about to ask her the same thing when the reporter says, "Change of plans, everyone! The Reaping and parade are moved up an hour! This means we have one more hours before we can see this year's tributes in the flesh? Are you excited?"

I can't hear what the reporter says next, since Sydney's suddenly on her feet, muttering a few curses under her breath. "Rose, you've got to run. Originally you were scheduled to get to backstage at five, but since they rescheduled the whole thing, you will have to get there, now."

Comprehension sinks in, and then I flee her house, grabbing her car keys along the way. Thank goodness I'd once asked Sydney to drive me there. I'm sure that I will be able to recognize the roads and with the help of the GPS, I won't get lost.

I didn't get lost, but I barely made it there with thirty minutes to spare. As luck would have it, half the others hadn't arrived yet, but I suppose they have an excuse for it. Some of us live far away from the mainstream politics of the Capitol, so I suppose they were planning to come out half an hour before the original meeting time. Which meant that they will be late for the ceremony.

Not that I give two shits about that.

DPOV

When they tell me that the train to the Capitol arrived early, I'm quite surprised. Everything goes the way the Capitol wants it to go, so I suspect that they were behind this move.

I'm escorted to the train station, where I see the other tributes from Twelve.

Vasilisa Dragomir, the girl whom I normally trade strawberries for magazines with, has been crying, I note. She's been well-fed her entire life, and has no exposure to heavy work. She might be one of those who cowers and hides while the other tributes bash themselves to death.

Meredith is unreadable - her face a fortress to any emotion.

Christian seems to be crying also, but he has a brave face. I can tell that Twelve would be interesting this year - maybe interesting enough to warrant some sponsors.

On the train, Capitol staff are anxious to get our jackets, quizzing us over and over again if we would like anything. When we all decline except for Vasilisa, who asks for a book, Effie Trinket says, "Afternoon tea is at four, and I expect you to be presentable. You'll be meeting with your mentors."

Vasilisa squeaks and flees to her room, Christian looking after her curiously. I pull him along with me towards the boy's wing, and while we're walking down the corridor, I tell him, "Tasha asked me to protect you, and protect you I shall." He starts to protest. "But, I'm not going to follow you around like a bodyguard. I'm just going to make sure you're not killed."

"Dimitri, I don't need protection. I can protect myself."

"However, it's better to have someone at your back when you're in the arena."

That last part comes from someone behind us.

A middle-aged woman stands there, arms crossed over her chest. She scowls. "My name's Galina and I'm going to be one of your mentors. And don't worry, little fire," she looks at Christian, "it'll be better if you can get as many loyal people as you can - especially if they're from your District. However, you can make truces with the other tributes, but you'll have to make sure to flee at night."

Both of us are standing there, gaping at Galina. "And you, you're a giant." She gives me a once-over. "You have muscle, and I can tell from the callouses on your hand and scars on your arms that you know how to use a knife and have been scratched by animals. Hunting in the woods, sweetheart?"

Instead of being scandalized and angry, she looks... sympathetic.

Suddenly she glances at her watch. "Damnit, I forgot that I had a talk with Effie scheduled. I'll see you later." She walks off to another car of the train, and Christian and I share equal looks of befuddlement.

I decide to wear my Reaping outfit to afternoon tea, seeing as it's not dirty.

The others were there, waiting for me without actually waiting for me. Rolls of bread were placed perfectly on platters, and jars of orange juice and a brown liquid.

"It's drinkable chocolate." Vasilisa says, her eyes on her book.

I sit down, and pour myself a cup of the brown drink - chocolate?

I take a sip, and almost choke from the flavor. Sweetness explodes on my tongue. Meredith is dipping a roll into her chocolate, and she smiles across the table, pointing to her chocolate-covered roll. It's good, she mouthed.