A/N: New story, eh? This idea came to me at night when I was trying VERY hard to go to sleep. Hey, do any of you know any tips that help in going to sleep at night? I really need help, I have these awful bags under my eyes now from lack of sleep!

"If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them."

-Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

The reaping was always that one event of the year that put confident and arrogant smiles on the people of District 2. The only other event that increased that prideful air was the interview after the Games, when a tribute from District 2 won the crown. They would then hold festival after festival for their Victor and celebrate until no one was left sober. That was how it always was in District 2 and that was how things were going to stay. However, when the 74th Hunger Games' Victor was received at the train station, there was one small family that did not celebrate. A small family that consisted of only a girl and her unborn child. The girl escaped from the ear-shattering fireworks and ran towards the mountains. And when she reached the top, she fell to her knees and sobbed. Her wish hadn't come true, her worst nightmare hadn't died in the bloodiest possible way. He was back. Healthy and very much alive. The small life in her kicked the barrier keeping it from the outside world and the girl soothed her child down with a warm embrace. The girl wept in silence, shuddering slightly and rubbing her red eyes. She watched the full moon and stood. The fireworks had ended and the music had calmed down to a slow whisper. The girl waddled down the mountains, watching her every step and maneuvering around the large rocks and pointy edges. She listened for voices and when she was sure that no one was coming her way, she slipped into the shadows of the large mansions of Victors' Village. The lights were off for all the Victors had left to congratulate the brutal blonde tribute who had recently been crowned. The girl could picture him, standing in front of the large crowd with that godawful smirk on his face. He would be standing straight, head high and eyes hard. Probably flirting with anything female that had legs. Shooting all the swooning ladies a quirk of his lips and running a hand through his hair that made every girl wish it was her own hand. He would be refusing all the dances only allowing the female population to keep to their fantasies. And if his best friend asked why, he would answer with a simple shrug. "They just aren't perfect."

His friend would say what he always said, "And what exactly is your definition of a perfect girl?"

His reply would be the same too, "I don't know. When I find a perfect girl, I'll tell you."

Twelve years later...

"I want you to get them." Cato growled into the phone. "It doesn't matter if the Reaping is in an hour, I need to talk to my students. Right now."

Brutus let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, be here in five minutes. I'll get your class ready." He turned off the phone.

Cato let the phone fall from his hand, not caring if it hit the floor. He strode towards the end of the hall and entered the room on the right. Grabbing his jacket, he walked out of the room and down the stairs. The Academy was a short walk away from his house. It was close to Victors' Village because most of the trainers were Victors. As Cato arrived at the silver building, he passed through the glass doors after being identified. His class was waiting silently in one of the training rooms. They stood in a straight line, shoulder to shoulder. Their faces were grim and they wore their formal Reaping clothes. The youngest was a tall girl of thirteen and the eldest was a boy of eighteen. The tributes that were to volunteer stood in front, their arms crossed and half-smirks on their faces. The female was short and fast. Her blonde hair fell in simple bangs down to her shoulders and framed a pale face. Her green eyes were narrow slits and a small line of freckles ran over her nose. She had small nimble fingers that set impossible-to-avoid traps and her eyesight was sharp enough to notice the smallest detail about anything and everything. She was the second oldest at age seventeen and a half. The male standing next to her was monstrously large. His muscles were well-defined through the thin fabric of his shirt and his legs were strong and bulky which made everyone steer away from him when he got ready to kick something. His red hair was cropped close to his scalp and his blue eyes could look large and innocent one second and murderous the next. He was wicked with a spear and always slept with a small knife clutched in his right hand. Cato turned to the two students and took a deep breath. "I expect to see one of you sitting next to Flickerman in a few weeks." He began. "If either of you thinks that you won't make it, it would be better to tell me now." Both tributes shook their heads in unison.

"Good. Now, how many tributes must you kill in the bloodbath?" Cato asked.

"At least four each." Alisa answered in a confident tone.

"Who are your allies?" Cato questioned.

"No one." Dmitri replied.

"Who should you be dependent on?"

Alisa smirked. "No one."

"Tell me what you must do when you enter the Arena."

Alisa and Dmitri told Cato their various strategies and backup plans. After a while, Cato held up a hand. "The Reaping is about to begin. You are dismissed."

The escort for District 2 was a nuisance. He was short and pudgy with layers of sharp colored fabrics on. However, there was something different about him that day. He had a wide smile on his face and unlike usual, it actually seemed real and excited instead of forced. He was rubbing his hands as he took his place on the stage. Everyone fell silent as the small man cleared his throat. "There has been a slight rule change." He paused. "There will be no volunteers this year."

Cato paled. He cursed under his breath as he thought of all those nights he had spent training his students until they were left with no fighting flaws. He glared at the escort who was beaming at the shocked crowd. "Now, shall we start with the ladies?" He clasped his hands and nodded enthusiastically. He walked towards one of the glass spheres and pulled out a piece of paper. Slowly unfolding it, he returned to the mike and said,

"Our female tribute is... Alisa Marie Harper!"

Cato couldn't believe his ears. He exhaled slowly and then leaned back in his chair. At least one of them was going in. Alisa walked up onto the stage and the escort dipped his hand into the other sphere. Pulling out another piece of paper, he looked up at the crowd and flashed them a million-watt smile.

"And our male tribute is... Daniel Jay Harrison!"

Cato sighed. The male tribute was definitely not one of his students. He'd never heard of Daniel Jay Harrison and as he watched the small trembling boy step onto the stage, a frown replaced his smirk. The boy was short and looked like a frightened rabbit. His skin was pale and his eyes were large and blue. His hair was ruffled and long blonde bangs fell over his forehead. He was skinny too. Cato rubbed his right eye and stood up. The boy would probably die in the bloodbath, no point worrying about him.