[2] - August

The Vassault household is in a state of mayhem. The day we've all been waiting for is finally, finally here. Mother's been doing her hair and makeup since three o'clock in the morning, and Father's run through the order of the proceedings so many times that it's practically burned into my brain. Even Antoinette, typically free from our parents' mania, has been buzzing around the house all morning.

"Straighten August's tie, dear," my mother calls to my father as she passes by. "Antoinette, change your shoes this instant! Remember, all blue for you and all white for your brother."

My father clasps my shoulders, examining my tie intently as Antoinette shouts something at my mother down the hall. After nudging the tie in the right direction, he refocuses back on my face.

"Perfect," he sighs. "Just as I imagined it. You look just like I did all those years ago."

Today is even more important for my father than it is for me. Twenty-five years ago today, my father was supposed to volunteer to enter the 76th Hunger Games. As the most skilled student in District One's academy, it was his spot to take. That is, until the rebellion put a damper on his plans. By the time the Games were reinstated after the war, he was too old to participate.

That brings us to today. My father started training me for this moment when I was four years old. Without an official academy present in District One, my father took it upon himself to train me personally. I've never felt more ready for anything in my life; I've spent it solely preparing for this, after all.

"Perfect," my mother exhales, entering the reception hall of our home. "You're going to be perfect, dear. Just marvelous."

Mother turns as Antoinette bounds in, her shoes successfully changed to a blue pair. "Tuck your hair behind your ears, dear. Remember, all eyes will be on us today for our big day."

I try not to let my annoyance show. Of course it's their big day. It's my father's big day, not mine. I'm just here to live out my father's dreams, not my own.

My mother glances over at me and catches my gaze before quickly looking away as if burned. "August's big day," she corrects herself, but I already know she doesn't mean it.

A loud knock on the door cuts through the chaos in the reception hall like a knife; all four of us immediately go silent. My mother quickly gives each of us a look-over before rushing to the door.

"Oh, darling, you look beautiful!" my mother breathes. Standing behind the door is Princess Belmont, District One's other tribute this year. She's dressed in a huge gown covered in glittery gemstones; the shining jewels sparkle at every angle, making it almost impossible to look away. Behind her stands her parents, both dressed in their finest clothes. Just like my parents, they've been waiting for this day for a long time.

"Marcella!" My mother calls to Mrs. Belmont, and the two women exchange formalities before heading down the white cobblestone road to the District square. The two fathers nod at one another before wordlessly following their wives, with Antoinette in tow.

"Wow, August, I can't believe this is it!" Princess gushes as I wordlessly take her elbow and guide her down our front steps. "It's been a long time coming. I know your parents must be so proud of you."

"Yeah," I murmur absentmindedly, trying not to trip on Princess' massive dress. "Right. Come on, we don't want to be late."

It's a slow walk to the District square. Princess' heels are ridiculously high, and they keep catching on the cobblestone streets as we walk. I'm sure Princess didn't think about that when she put her shoes on - she's so used to being chauffeured everywhere she goes. She's barely walked anywhere on her own before.

"Are you nervous?" Princess asks, lifting her dress up a bit and giggling as she awkwardly tries to keep up with me.

"Of course not," I scoff. "I've been working too long to get here to be nervous. The others should be nervous."

"I wonder who District Two will send," Princess sighs. "Father tried as hard as he could to find out from his business partners over there, but he couldn't get any information out of anyone."

"Whoever it is, they'll be no match for us," I say, even though I don't really believe that. "I mean, nobody would want to kill a girl like you."

Princess' eyes light up at my rare compliment, and she lets out another fake giggle. "Aw, thank you," she says. "I think."

We round the corner to the District square, and the volume of the crowd dims at the sight of us. I can see all the children craning their necks to get a look at us: both of their tributes, standing together before the Reaping. It's been known for a few years that Princess and I would be entering the Games this year; without an official academy, there isn't much competition, especially considering how long I've been preparing. Princess definitely hasn't been preparing as hard, but nobody would dare cross her father. Princess gets what Princess wants, and this time Princess wants to win the Hunger Games.

The entire crowd watches as Princess and I separate, her moving to join the girls as I join the boys. We're so close to the front that we're practically on the stage. It'll be easy for us to take our rightful places on either side of Minetta Vanderbilt the moment she opens her mouth.

Speaking of Vanderbilt, she finally makes an appearance as the clocktower strikes twelve, taking a seat at the far end of the stage. To her right, District One's three Victors watch over the crowd solemnly. Velvet Hughes, the oldest of the three, was a Victor from before the war; Priscilla Annis, who sits next to him, won the year I was born. I've idolized the two of them since I was born; standing alongside them as a Victor is half of the reason why I'm volunteering today.

Next to Priscilla, our third Victor is staring down at his hands and ignoring the crowd ahead of him. I can tell that most of the boys around me are looking at him, and I don't blame them. Decimus Ilyrian was District One's first Victor in seventeen years, and his victory in the 100th Games last year put District One back on the Hunger Games map. It's no wonder that the crowd is so excited - all eyes will be on District One this year, and if all goes according to plan, we'll have back-to-back Victors.

As the last chimes of the bell subside, Mayor Romanov takes the stage. His speech is the usual one he always gives - after spending so many years envisioning myself on the stage next to him, I have it memorized.

As Romanov returns to his seat, I hear a smattering of applause behind me. Romanov's not the most popular mayor we've ever had, but there's nothing any of us can do about that. Rumor has it that he's been caught stealing money from some of the commonfolk in the District, but I don't think it's as scandalous as people make it out to be. If the commoners are gullible enough to be scammed, that's their fault.

Minetta Vanderbilt takes the mayor's place at the microphone. "Welcome, welcome," she calls, her smooth voice echoing through the square, "to the Reaping of the 101st Annual Hunger Games."

The crowd cheers around me, and the boys behind me clap me on the back in excitement. Finally, at long last, my moment to shine has arrived. In a matter of minutes, all of Panem will know my name, and it'll be a long, long time before they forget it.