Abrielle and I venture out from behind the power plant, and begin to walk toward a small stream behind the Medic Alcove. Abrielle and I keep our heads down and stare at the tan, uneven cobblestone streets as we walk through the village square. The day of the Reaping, everyone walks from person to person to beg for money, something many wouldn't normally do, but most villagers feel more affectionate and softhearted today. Drunks tug on Abrielle's sleeve left and right, but back off when I send scorching glares in their direction. The Medic Alcove seems to be relatively empty, even the sick patients must be present at the Reaping. The grass nips and tickles our ankles as we reach the stream. I really like having a moment alone with Abrielle before the dreaded Reaping. Everything is soothing, like the way the rushing water trickles down rocks in a pleasing rhythm. Abrielle smoothes her dress and lays down by the water, the steady flow is like a lullaby and relaxes her.

"Are you scared for this afternoon, Ari?" Abrielle whispers.

"Not at all." I smile gently.

I peel my bloodstained clothes off of my skin and set them by the stream. I wade into the water and perch onto a mossy rock and begin to scrub off the dry blood. It comes off with difficulty, so I resort to using moss from the rock to wash off what I can of the bloodstains. The red blotches float atop the water and are carried quickly down the stream. I feel as if it symbolizes this morning, all the bad memories being carried away from me, floating away and out of sight.

"People are gathering at the square, I think we better hurry." Abrielle observes with one eye open.

Next thing I know, I am dressed in a pretty gray shirt with ruffles down the front, and a high waisted black skirt. I wince at the smell of my mother's perfume embedded in the clothes because it's absolutely dreadful. I feel ashamed to be wearing clothes of my mother's, it sort of seems that I am becoming more like her. We walk to the front of the Medic Alcove and Atticus is waiting for us.

"Good afternoon, my beautiful ladies. May I accompany you to the Reaping?" Atticus requests. He holds out an arm for each of us to hook onto and we giggle as Atticus begins to parade with us down the wobbly street toward the crowd. My heart soars as I observe his face; it looks as if the incident this morning never occurred. I'm not exactly sure what type of expensive Capitol medicine is in the Medic Alcove, but it does wonders. He still has a trace of a black eye on his left, but I expected bandages and gauze, and I certainly didn't expect him to be at the Reaping.

We grin and joke all the way there, and I'm certain I haven't been this happy in years. People turn and look at us, baffled how anyone people could be in this amount of bliss on a day like today. I don't even walk to the crowd, I float. We put everything behind us, all our emotional and physical pain, to be a family at last.

"Over here, Abrielle!" Father cries from the outskirts of the gathering crowd. So they were sober enough to come, what a surprise. The smiles melt off our faces as our parents push through the crowd and snatch Abrielle's hand.

"Abrielle will wait with us, now go get in line." Mother snaps.

Atticus and I bow our heads and give Abrielle one last hug before we enter each of our age group in roped off sections. My limbs feel like lead, it feels like I'm at my first Reaping. I grasp Atticus' hand and take slow steps, savoring every moment of his warmth. His face is brave, eyes set forward and shoulders back, but he doesn't try to let go until the peacekeepers literally have to pry us away from each other.

There are two projection screens on each side of the stage, and bright red flags waving in the breeze above the stage that read,

"HAPPY 40TH HUNGER GAMES!"

I find this amusing, they Capitol just had to pick red to decorate our streets since it's the color of our blood that will be spilled very shortly. A hush falls over the crowd as Mayor Priscus enters the stage along with our Capitol escort, Yasmin Pictor, and our only two living victors, Pax Pallas, and Virgil Rossi. Yasmin click-click-clicks across the stage on her wretched stilettos and smoothes her waist-length snow blond hair before starting.

"Ladies and gentlemen, President Snow has a special message for us all before we begin our Reaping. Please direct your attention to the screens."

The screen opens to the spine-chilling stare of President Snow. He is sitting in his office, decorated with white marble pillars and a historic scripture of the speech given each year about how Panem began.

"This year, we have some very exciting news," the president begins. I'm sure it's very exciting for him, but how exciting will it be to the actual tributes? The hair on my arms raises and I feel my heart accelerate as I think of the harsh rules for the Games will have in store this year.

"It has been 15 years since the most suspenseful, dramatic Hunger Games in history, the very first Quarter Quell. The reaction in the Capitol was fantastic! However, we all know the next Quell isn't for another grueling 10 years of waiting. That is entirely too long. Thankfully, I have took the initiative of creating a rule change to the 40th Hunger Games that will spice up the competition to add the excitement of a Quell. For the 40th Hunger Games, the lucky young lady or gentlemen chosen will be a selected tribute like usual, but his or her very own siblings will accompany the tribute and compete in the Hunger Games as well! Number of family members or age is not a limitation to compete this year! As always, there can only be one winner. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" President Snow signs off like he just announced a family fun event to the citizens of Panem.

The screen blacks out. The acid in my stomach churns achingly, Sage begged Atticus and I to not accept tesserae, but the truth is tesserae is essential to us not starving to death. Sage can't support us entirely on his low teacher salary, and my unemployed parents demand we bring food to fill their demanding stomachs every evening whether we steal it, use every last cent we have, or whatever else it might take. We split tesserae evenly; both Atticus and I have 35 names in the bowl.

Yasmin's skin tight pink dress looks like it might burst at the seam as she strides over to the bowl and foul images swirl in my head. The most haunting is Abrielle holding a knife, darting through the woods to catch her prey. Her innocence is gone. My worst nightmare has come true, she's not my little girl I tried so hard to protect, she's just an animal doing whatever it takes to come home.

Yasmin's ghastly claws dive into the bowl of girl's names. I hold my breath.