Chapter One: Called Out

District Seven Reapings

Ariel Morris, 18

I wake up to birds chirping and the sun shining through my window at just the right angle to hit my face. The brightness startles me awake and the warmth from the light keeps me up. For a moment the day seems like every other morning, but I know what today is. How could I forget?

This will be the last time.

In one year this will all be over with.

I turned eighteen a few days ago, and like every year it just reminded me of the approaching Reapings. My twelfth birthday was the most miserable day of my life; because I knew what was coming. Ever since then, the constant feeling of dread on my birthday has always sort of ruined the day for me. But this one was better, because it is the last before I'm free.

But then the torment will start again as soon as Georgio turns twelve, he has seven years but I know it will go quickly.

If I get past today to see it.

My heart skips a beat with the depressing thought, I can't think of this any longer. So I force myself out of bed and run a brush through my long, dark brown hair, the red tints shine in the sunlight of the early morning. I don't spend much time with it, and when I'm done with my hair I push it behind my shoulders to keep it out of my face.

Deciding to change after breakfast, I walk barefooted to the kitchen where the rest of the family is already eating. The reapings have a sort of tradition to go along with it in my home. We eat breakfast, then get ready and met back up when its time to go and head down together to the Town Center before I leave them to meet up with my friends. Next year will be different, better I suppose.

"Hello Ariel," my mother says, walking out of the kitchen with a plate of food to put at my spot at the table. As she passes by me she gives me a kiss on the cheek. Usually we don't have such fancy breakfasts like what she has prepared for today, but everyone is a bit sentimental today.

"Morning mother," I say sitting down in the chair. My mouth waters at the sight of food, the realization of my hunger sits in. My mother hugs me from behind and kisses the top of my head again. Her blonde hair falls down onto my dark hair. She holds the position for a moment before going to get her own plate.

I find comfort in her motherly nature but can't help but feel her fear for me and it makes me worried, no I've made it this fair to get reaped.

My name has never been in there so many times.

Regardless I refuse to be weak about it, I need to be tough. If I am reaped I won't be helpless. Like many in District Seven, I've work at the sawmill from a young age. So it could be worse, I could be from a District like Twelve. They never win, reaped for them means automatic death.

I just try not to think about it.

My five year-old brother, Georgio, devours his meal from the other side of the table. He is a mixture of our parents. With our mother's blonde hair and our father's shortcut hair. But he has the strength and maturity that my father has. He understands the gravity of the day, something not all five year olds understand.

My father can be funny of course, but he knows how to be serious. He is a good father. I was blessed with my parents and I knew it. They cared, not everyone got that. He had the lumberjack look with the beard and moustache. I resembled him much more than my I do my mother, Our brown hair and brown eyes identical shades.

We say are good mornings to each other but soon after we are left in silence to eat out meals. Nothing is said and when we finish we are left to get ready on our own.

I don't waste time to get ready, and I don't think much as I do it. It won't help to get caught up in everything. I just need to walk with my family, meet with my friends, and get through today. It will be over before I know it.

I kiss my family goodbye before getting into the sign in line. I'm playing with the trimming of my dress when I hear a familiar voice.

"Ariel?" The female voice asks. I turn around to see my favorite redhead.

"Joan!" I say relieved to see a familiar face. I have to look up when talking to her; after all I stand at just 5'1 while she towers over me at 5'8.

She gives an empty shrug; even my headstrong friend is a bit humbled today.

"So how are you doing this fine day?" I ask trying to find humor in the glum day.

Joan rolls her eyes, "very funny."

"What's so funny?" And that would make three, I smile at the approach of Cole, his neat black hair gelled to perfection. He gives me a mild smile, I've known for a while now the shy and quiet boy has had the slightest crush on me but there is no time for that sort of thing at the moment. It is still nice to see him here, he has always had a better appreciation of my humor.

"Just a bunch of kids getting reaped." Joan says stubbornly, crossing her arms. Somehow I still manage a laugh as it becomes my turn to get my finger pricked. When its done I wait for the two of them before we walk towards the crowd of waiting children. Where Joan and I leave Cole to go to the female section.

We wait with the other eighteen year olds upon arrival for the reaping to begin.

"They can't find my dog!" A girl from my grade says. I shift a bit. Why do I feel guilty? It wasn't me; I don't kill dogs that actually belong to people. Not that many people own dogs here. Even if I did I keep those things secret, I'm careful. Its always just small animals from the forest (except for the first time that is), regardless I don't want anyone to find me unstable.

Because I am stable, it might sound bad. But it keeps my emotions in check. When I kill a bird or a squirrel, who really cares? It relieves my stress; I don't do it because I like it really, only when things get bad.

"Welcome, welcome!" The cheery voice of the District Seven escort echoes through the Town Center and bring me back to reality.

After going through eighteen years of watching reapings, I don't bother to pay attention anymore; all I care about is when she goes to pull the names. Everything leading up just wastes my time.

My heart is racing and I feel Joan's hand reach for mine, we squeeze each other's hand in anticipation. Joan, Cole, and I are all eighteen. I feel like I have so many people to worry about. Even if Joan can be annoying I don't want her to get reaped, she is one of my best friends.

"Wasn't that a wonderful video?" The escort says, when the video is over, she herself seems excited to pick the first tribute. "Now onto the selection!"

Come on already.

"Girls first!" She says before clattering her way over to the round bowl for females. So many names, why would mine be picked?

Her manicured fingers pick a small slip of paper. I can't be mine. It won't be.

"Ariel Morris."

Alder Elm, 16

I feel my skin brush up against various people I recognize from school as I push my way to find my brother. In the process of signing in I seemed to have lost him. Spore is eighteen, but always seem to be getting lost still, always unfocused.

Many that is why I'm so focused at times like this, I have to be.

This is his last reaping, so I can understand the reason this year behind the chaos with him. He is determined that this will be the year he is reaped.

With all this worry about him getting reaped it has me thinking of myself getting reaped, it would be ironic in a twisted way. My fingers curl when I think about getting reaped because I wouldn't stand a chance. Too faithful, too weak and gullible.

I'm not even good enough to be of any help with the District. Everyone here works from an early age and by my age handles the labor easily, unless they are rich enough to not work. Not that I'm so poor I need to support my family, but the money helps greatly. And everyone here works young, but my job is a joke. Everyone knows it. I never could handle an axe like some people in my grade.

They all know it, the people at my school. My mother tries to give me reassuring thoughts on it but I know better. A mother is a mother; she always will try to tell me things like that to make me feel better. My father tries to not give his opinion on it; I know he is slightly disappointed. Not that he would ever let it show. At least Spore can handle an axe.

"Alder!" I hear my brother's voice from behind and turn around as his hand finds my shoulder. I find comfort when I walk into the Reaping with my brother. Even when I know in a few seconds we will separate to go with our different age groups.

Walking with Spore, I can feel the panic radiate from his body, his fingers twitching.

We pass by a few people in my class, they all looked so somber. Everything feels so grim, which I guess is better than if we were excited for two children from home to die. We aren't District Two.

I just hate seeing people I know so, sad.

I hate thinking they could be reaped.

I hate thinking I could be reaped.

"You doing okay Alder?" Spore asks, his green eyes much like my own stare intently at me. If it weren't for his mature appearance you would never guess he is eighteen.

I give a comforting smile to my older brother and squeeze his shoulder. "Are you?"

"Are we ever?" Spore asks and I feel as if he didn't just mean the two of us but a wider range of people, it makes me feel connected to the rest of the District. We all could be reaped. Even the rich kids that don't need to put in their names more than necessary, those slips with their names are still in there.

"I guess not," I answer solemnly as the separation with age and gender start to form. I find myself having to leave Spore. We don't say goodbye because neither of us are good with such things, so we just give each other a reassuring smile before we go with our age groups.

It isn't that I don't have many friends my age to be with, because I'm actually pretty friendly. I just find comfort in my closest family and my own thoughts. I see the Pine family twins in front of me and we exchange silent hellos with each other before we look to the stage.

"Welcome, welcome." The escort chimes. Ironic she welcomes us when she is the guest. "Now like always we have a very wonderful video straight from the Capitol, to explain the necessity that is the Hunger Games!" Her smile stretches when she says Hunger Games. I think she is slightly psychotic, not because she is from the Capitol. She just seems extra bloodthirsty, even for someone like her. It is unsettling. Sometimes I think she would want to be in our places.

The thought of her with cherry red lipstick murdering teenagers disturbs me. So I focus to the video but it disturbs me just as much. When a twelve year-old's dead body flashes on the screen the escort gives an extra toothy smile.

"Wasn't that a wonderful video?" She asks, almost happy it is over. The escort twirls a strand of her orange wig and makes her way to the bowls. "Girls first!" Like always. My mind wonders who it could be, even though I'm not at risk I somehow find myself unable to breathe. Well it be a friend? Or someone I know from school?

"Ariel Morris!" At first the name sounds unfamiliar but when a short and athletic looking girl steps out from the eighteen year-old girl section, I recognize her. I don't think her and Spore are too close, but I'm pretty sure they have had a few classes together. I look to Spore and watch him to see if he looks upset. He looks too focused on his own fate to even notice the girl.

Well at least she is older I guess, also she looks athletic. She could stand a chance. I don't want to jinx anything, but I wish her luck in my head.

When she is on the stage I go back to my state of parallelization as the escort introduces Ariel before making her way to the male's bowl.

Please not Spore.

Please not me.

Hell, please not even be one of the Pine twins.

I've never been too lucky.

"Alder Pine!"

No, it can't be. It can't.

But it so can.

I must look rather shell-shocked because the Peacekeepers look ready to come and drag me to the stage themselves, so I get moving. I feel as if I hear Spore saying something and just pray it won't get him in trouble. My heart might break through my ribcage.

I think it might.

My lungs intake too much oxygen and I begin to hyperventilate, the Peacekeeper behind me guiding me a bit. I'm a mess and millions of people are judging me.

Who cares?

I try my best not to die as I get onto the stage. I look to Ariel and in a moment of selfishness I suddenly wish she didn't look so athletic.

We exchange eye contact but looking away quickly.

One of us is going to die.

Or maybe both.

I'm going to die.

First real chapter! So there is still a ton of tributes needed, but I just picked Seven to write to get more people to see it and keep things going. I think ten will be next or maybe if three or five get their males then them.

So for those around at the moment I would love some feedback. Ariel is created by TheBunnyLordisHere and Alder is my own (don't worry he isn't making it far, I just wanted to get out a chapter and needed a male.)

THE PLAN:

About six reaping chapters, three goodbyes, and three train chapters. Then things will be in the Capitol and from there on it will be about six random POVS per chapter. So all the information is on my profile for those just tuning in. Along with what spots are open!

Thanks for reading :)