Ryan Caroline Archibald

Nate and I walk to the square together. He is wearing fine khakis and a blue polo shirt, while I have on a light blue sundress with golden flip-flops. We've just returned from sailing in the early morning wind—it's something we do nearly every morning weather permitting. Actually, Nate does most of the sailing. I lounge around on deck and get some sun. We talk. This is life for me. I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.

I can see my parents outside around the square, both waving to me slightly as Nate and I enter the group of seventeen year olds. We're closer to the front when than we are last year, and the only heads in front of us are those of the eighteen-year-old boys and girls. I don't have any other siblings, by Nate is like a brother to me. We have a similar tan appearance and hair color; the only thing that really sets us apart is our eyes.

Our mayor approaches the podium and welcomes us to District 4's Reaping of the 23rd Hunger Games. He describes the history of Panem as he does every year at every Reaping. I sigh and grumble with boredom. I dislike the Reaping, because usually I don't' know the tributes who get sent into the arena. Two years ago a girl who lived in my neighborhood was chosen, but that's all. Watching the Games is much more exciting for me, when I'm at home or on my family's yacht.

Nate chuckles at my exasperated expression and I turn my nose up at him in response. He scowls playfully "Come on, now, there's still a chance we could get chosen. Wouldn't that be interesting?"

I laugh at the idea. My name is entered seven times out of what, thousands? I'd never need to enter it more for tesserae like some poorer kids need to. Anyways, there are plenty volunteers in our District. I've watched other Reapings on our television, like District 11, where every tribute that gets picked has the look on their face like "I'm such a goner". Sucks to be them.

Once the mayor has finished, he takes a seat and our escort stands now in his place. Telemachi has been our escort forever—maybe even since the first Hunger Games. He always wears a different bowtie with the same slicked back navy blue hair. This year Telemachi's bowtie is bright pink with a red jewel in the middle. He's such a weirdo.

Telemachi greets everyone once again and wishes them a happy Hunger Games. He introduces our past victors, all four. Our most recent was four years ago, when Poncho McCormick won. He was a beast, a deadly hunter after he got his hands on another tribute's crossbow. Then he totally betrayed the other top tributes, or Careers, as most people call them, and won 2 days later. The other victors are all relatively young, and include Mags Chance, who won a few years back using fishhooks.

Once Telemachi has done all this, he goes to choose a female tribute. He reaches in, brings back a slip of paper, and reads the name. "Josey Subso!"

I feel Nate turn around and then tremble besides me. We know Josey Subso. Or at we've least heard of her. Her mother has come to each of our houses more than once, begging for money to buy her daughter treatment. Josey Subso is thirteen years old and terribly sick with an incurable disease. How or why she's been selected is beyond me. All I know is I cannot allow her to go into the Games.

"Any volunteers?" Telemachi has begun asking and I rush forward towards the stage. "Me! I volunteer for tribute!" I exclaim. I feel Nate jerk around and follow me, grabbing my shoulder, shouting. I mute out his voice and pull away, giving him a genuine smile before standing on stage. Telemachi grins and claps me on the back. Nate watches helplessly. He must know I'll be okay. I can fight with a knife, bow and arrow. I can swim. But his face pains my heart, and I know his eyes are full of loss and fear. Because there will be other kids like me who know what they're doing. It makes me think—have I possibly given my life to someone who is bound to die?

Nolen Rivers

I don't expect it when they call my name next. But all of a sudden there's "Nolen Rivers!" and kids turn to stare at me and I just smile. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do. I'm certainly not going to start crying, shivering or fainting in fear. I intend to be a competitor in these games, winner or not. There is crying though, from where my little sisters stand, all huddled together like a group of small birds. None of them are eligible for the Games yet, but my sister Sophie will be starting next year. I wonder if I'll be back to prepare her then. I can't actually protect her, but I can hug her and kiss her and tell her everything's going to be fine. In other words, lie to her. My mother tries to calm my siblings, but I can see that she is heartbroken as well. First she looses her husband and now her only son.

Even if I win, will I come back the same person? I will become a murderer in these Games, if I intend to survive. But I don't want to be a Career. Even being from a so-called "Career District", it just isn't who I am. I am the confident funny guy who can swim like a speedboat, who is fit and who can stab nearly anything that moves with a trident. I don't want to travel in a group of other kids who are gifted and tough like me. It sounds like a recipe for disaster. Say it gets down to all those Careers as it has in the past, then what happens? I'd be a goner for sure. Some of these kids don't need tridents to break your neck.

Telemachi congratulates both me and…Ryan. She's from the wealthier part of the District 4, so I don't really know her even though we're the same age. When we shake hands she grits her teeth at me in a tight smile.

"Good luck, Rivers" She wishes me in a humorous voice. I cannot tell if she is being genuine or sarcastic.

"You too," I respond anyway. She's be a decent ally. But for some reason, I can picture her as a Career for sure.