Hans 'Ham' Cleaver, 16

The straw crunches softly as I trod around the barn, going about my morning duties. The pigs are kept inside overnight, and even now before sunrise they're awake. I have to feed and water them, check the mothers and their piglets, make sure nobody is hurt. One of the sows has been having trouble suckling. I be sure to take special care with her.

It's a bit of a waste though, since we'll slaughter them when the time comes. That's meant to be my job, but I've managed to 'accidentally' let many of them escape, away from the slaughterhouse and into the prairie. I just can't stand it, the squealing and the blood, and the awful feeling of knowing I just took away a life.

Pa would give me what for it, but it was worth it. Ma would always give me a treat afterwards. I think she's scared of him. All those nights when I heard 'em fighting, he'd be yelling and she'd be crying, glass would break, but he never touched her. Not once. Said it wasn't right for a man to hit a woman. He's got strange ideas of right and wrong. It's right to take a life, but not to hit a woman?

Once I've finished my chores, I go back to the house and get ready for the reaping. My Pa makes me borrow his only suit, even though it doesn't fit very well.

'Yer need to be more of a man, son!' He'd always say. I guess he thought a suit would help.

My mother cooks me breakfast, as always, and fusses over me in the mirror. There's not much she can do to improve my appearance, but she makes sure my tie is straight, and sends me off to the reaping with a kiss on the cheek.

I'm grateful that I live this close to the square, some poor kids have to slog across half the district. I join a few other kids traipsing to the square, shoulders hunched and heads hung. It could be any one of them. Even a twelve-year old. It ain't right, sending some poor kid off to fight. Expecting them to kill. The capitol does provide for us though, so I guess it all evens out. This is just their price. I sign in, join the mass of boys crowding the square, and wait for the reaping to begin.

Arabella Galopa, 15

The first thing to greet my eyes is the dinghy ceiling of our rented room. Every year, we are forced to make the day long journey to the reaping square, and every year we stay in the same room. I creep down the rusty ladder of the bunkbed, trying not to wake my dad. He's still asleep, catching up from the extra night shifts he insist on taking. Pacing around the room, I try to ignore my rumbling belly. We won't eat until after the reaping. That's in an hour.

I peer out the window at the dusty streets below. It's deserted, despite the thousands of people crammed into these tiny flats. The crumbling building directly across the street houses my friends, Squirrel and Luna. There's an agreement between us: when they're ready to meet, they draw back the curtain. It's their duty because their room actually has something resembling curtains. I stare at the window, fixated, expecting for the curtains to be flung back at any moment.

After a few minutes, I grow bored, and take to pacing the room. When I next glance through the dusty pane, I see their green cloth has been removed. Excited, I grab my satchel and slip out the door before racing down the stairs. The moment I open the door, I am blasted by the intense summer heat, which only invigorates me. I run across the street, slightly uneasy from its openness, and into the building opposite. At the bottom of the rickety wooden stairwell sit Luna and Squirrel, both looking tired and grubby. I greet them both with a hug, we rarely see each other.

"How's your dad?" Luna asks in a concerned tone.

"Alright. Is your mother still sick?" I ask in return. The last I heard of her, she was suffering from a mysterious illness.

"She made a full recovery!" She replies, beaming.

"That's great!" I reply.

"Come on guys." Says Squirrel, rolling her eyes. "Let's talk strategy!"

"Oo! I know. If I'm picked, I'll stuff my face, and train in knives. That way, I can last in the arena, and be able to use the most common weapon." Luna explains enthusiastically.

"What if it's like last year, where there are only bows?" I remark, hoping the conversation quickly changes topic.

"It's very unlikely, since they literally did that last year. The real strategy is to play the audience. It's a tv show. There are game-makers. You really think that the best fighter will stand a chance against the capitol's golden-boy or girl?" Squirrel points out.

"I'll play the audience too then." Luna says with a shrug.

"What would you do, Arabella?" Squirrel asks. I shift uncomfortably. Why are we discussing this?

"Kill everyone else." I say uncomfortably, before continuing, "C'mon guys, can we please not discuss this? There's no way we're actually getting picked. All this is useless." I say, a little frustrated. Squirrel and Luna exchange glances.

"Actually, yeah, it's making me kinda nervous." Luna says.

"Well, what are we gonna do? The reaping's in forty-five minutes." Squirrel asks

"I vote we walk around. Do some exploring." Luna says.

"I second that vote." Squirrel says, before asking, "Arabella, you coming?"

"Yeah, let's go!" I reply, happy to be out in the heat. We march out the door and down the street, giggling and talking all the way. Before we've made it one block, I realise I need to use the toilet. We wander to the nearest public block, where the wait outside for me. When I'm done, I find them quite a distance away. Understandable, the latrines give of an unholy stench.

"Hey little girl." A creepy older man says as he peels himself off the wall, slick with sweat. There's an air of danger about him I can't quite place. His bloodshot eyes lock onto me as he licks his lips. "Want some free candy?" He continues, proffering a handful of sweets glued together from the heat, made dirty by his filthy hands. I love sweets, but something about this is fishy.

"No." I say, and turn to join my friends

"You sure?" He says as his wiry hand wraps around my wrist, holding me tight. How dare he? Anger flares in me, and instinct kick in. I turn and slam my fist into his jaw, forcing him to release me. Just to be sure, and because I still don't feel safe, I once again punch him in the face, this time causing blood to pour from his nose. He stumbles backwards, and I shove him to the ground. He tries to get up, so I kick him as hard as I can in the stomach. His frail body curls around the point of impact. He starts to groan in pain, so I stomp on his head to shut him up. It works, and I walk away, angry he tried to take advantage of me, and not the least bit guilty.

"What happened back there?" Squirrel asked.

"Why'd you beat up that poor old guy?" Luna asks.

"That 'poor old guy' just tried to assault me!" I say defensively.

"Serves him right!" Squirrel says defiantly. I hear a gasp from Luna.

"There's blood on your fists!" She squeals. I examine my knuckles and see a considerable amount of blood splashed across them, already beginning to dry. I go to wash it off at the water pump, but Squirrel stops me.

"Keep it on for if you're picked. It will make you look intimidating." She explains. I think it's stupid, because there's no chance I'll be chosen, but I leave it there anyway. Just to keep her happy. The anger already passing, we continue roaming the streets, stopping only for water. Twenty minutes before the reaping, we head back to meet with our families. Dad is initially concerned about the blood on my fist, but seems happy when I explain it to him.

"That's my girl." He says, ruffling my reddish hair. We join the stragglers, dad still yawning, and head for the central square. As we pass the latrines, I see a dense mass of people huddled around something. I cover my bloody hand and move along. Just another kid going to the reaping. I sign in and hug my dad goodbye.

"For now." I ensure him. I join Squirrel, even though she's sixteen. Nobody can be bothered to keep the kids in their specific age groups. Luna, however, is thirteen, so she's quite some distance away. Right on time, the ceremony begins.

Julia Topaz, Head game-maker

District ten is sweltering, you can almost feel the heat emanating from the screen. Decrepit wooden buildings line the square, little more than shacks, and a sandy dust settles on everything. The vast space is just enough to hold the district's children, so no family members are allowed into the main square. A few stragglers join at the last minute, but there are no dangerously late arrivals.

Soon enough, the mandatory presentation begins. Not only are the speeches boring, but the senile mayor talks very slowly, seemingly slowing time itself. Finally, he concludes, and the escort is allowed to select the tributes. Naturally the girl is first.

She emerges from what is supposed to be the sixteen-section, though the escort clearly announced 'fifteen'. In some districts, the ages have to be written next to the names because the peacekeepers can't keep them in order during the proceedings. She's attractive enough, and fairly muscular. Her hair is mid-length and reddish-ginger, and her eyes a dark brown. She confidently marches to the stage, and I can see there's blood on her right hand, now clenched beside her in a trembling fist.

The boy chosen is stocky, on the tall side, and a bit chubby. He has wispy curly hair with brown eyes to match, and it's obvious he's been well looked after. When he's chosen, he looks shocked, but quickly hides it beneath an easy-going laugh. He takes the stage in a light fashion, grinning all the way. He almost falters, and the close-ups reveal tears pricking his eyes. The pair shake hands, concluding the reaping.

The anthem and Capitol seal flashes onscreen before immediately cutting to the next district. Confused, I check the timetable and see it's behind schedule. I grin, amused that the rambling old man shifted the entire reaping schedule.