AN: Sorry guys, but I HAD to delete chapter 4. I just hated the way I wrote it. Ya I know I'm a perfectionist! Sorry I keep changing the story around. I should find a good beta who'll help me... any of you guys a beta?

Serena ran a hand through her perfect hair, enjoying how the platinum blond contrasted with her sea green highlights. She called over her stylist, the only servant her mother had been able to afford since her father's death. Of course, they had still had their Avoxes, who didn't need pay, since before the rebels won. It was really too bad that President Paylor had freed them all and given them artificial talking devices. She had appreciated just how useful thet were when she had had to start actually cleaning her own room! It wasn't such a big deal, she kept telling herself, after the 74th Hunger Games President Snow had confiscated all but four.

"What do you need, Miss Crane?" The stylist asked, rousing her from her reverie. "Please redo my braid down my back." He complied immediately. She liked braids the best because they were the most practical and the prettiest at the same time. Even so, she hated it when people asked if it was a Katniss braid. She would completely lose control, even if they hadn't known who she was. "KATNISS IS THE REASON MY FATHER IS DEAD!" She would scream, "HE SAID TWO VICTORS COULD SURVIVE THEN REVOKED IT FOR A GOOD SHOW, AND THEN THE STUPID GIRL PULLED OUT NIGHTLOCK! SNOW SAID IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT, SO NOW HE'S DEAD!" She would then run away crying.

Luckily, people didn't usually mock her. They knew that before he had died, Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane had taught his daughter a few tricks. Serena's weapon was knives, and her forte was poison, but she knew some tricks with other weapons, too. Ironically, the only weapon she couldn't use was a bow and arrow, Katniss's weapon. She was stealthy and was the fastest sprinter in her grade. Even though she was only thirteen, she could imagine herself a contender in the upcoming Hunger Games. She knew the reapings were rigged, she would definitely get reaped. She didn't want to get her hopes up, but she could imagine herself becoming the youngest ever victor...


Hippolyta Flickerman called over a masseuse. "Deep tissue massage, pretty please," she said in her perfected Capitol acccent. As she lay down, she caught sight of a younger girl, very thin, looking at her from where she lay. She could see her looking at her curvy, well-fed body, her lavender hair, her pale yellow skin, and most obviously, the fire tattoo arounf her left eye. The girl looked very poor, as if spending the last of her last meager supply of money on a massage. "Idiot," thought Hippolyta, rolling her eyes.

What this spoiled brat didn't realise, though, was that she had been very lucky. If her father had been anything more than a commentator for the Games, she would very probably be even worse off than this girl. Nevertheless, she felt that she had gotten the short stick. Her father was in jail and her mother couldn't find a job anywhere. She felt the same way as Serena about Avoxes, always hearing her mother complaining loudly that she had to pay servants now.

Luckily, though, her father had a rather large amount of savings. She had never known hardship, and thought she never would, suspecting that even if the reapings were rigged, there would be people whose family had done much worse things than Caesar Flickerman. She had been really annoyed when her mother signed her up for training, but then realized she could become like her hero Clove. At that point, she suddenly realised that she wanted to become a victor! Now, she put her all into training and was planning on volunteering, her fiery personality supporting her.


Camellia pulled the bowstring back, then let it go. There was a thwang, and the arrow flew straight and true towards the target. It buried itself deep into the bull's-eyes mark. She heard her brother clapping behind

her. She turned around, flipping her long purple hair out of her eyes. "Oh come on, I'm not that good, if I get jumped I'm dead!" You see, she knew that the reaping was almost certainly rigged. She wanted to be ready when she was, because if your dad was District One's Head Peacekeeper, how could you avoid getting reaped?

"But Camellia, at least this way you've got a chance at the victor's crown." "You're right," she grudgingly admitted.

Camellia enjoyed training at District One's old training academy. It was now abandoned, but she and her brother Ronan liked coming here to practice, since it still had all of its targets and weapons. She had wanted to compete in the Games her entire life, and finally, her dream had become a reality. Her weapon was the bow and arrow, having trained in them her entire life. But all in all, faced with the sudden reality of actually going into the Games, she wanted to have a nervous breakdown. Nevertheless, she rubbed the lavender vine tattoo snaking down her left arm, and braved the future.

AN: I hope you like it, especially y'all who submitted these tributes! READ AND REVIEW!