Orianne ~ 15 ~ District 2

My alarm goes off. I groan and roll myself off my bed and onto the floor. Slowly, I crawl over to my nightstand, still half asleep, and slam my hand down on the alarm clock, causing it to shut up. Get up, get up, get up, I tell myself. Opening my eyes, I stand and walk to the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face.

"Hurry up, Ori!"

"Patience is a virtue, Bruit", I sing back sweetly.

My brother's just being stupid, as usual.

I finish up in the bathroom and walk out the door. Before I know it, Bruit has me in a headlock. Dammit, I think, I shouldn't have let my guard down.

"God, you took long enough," he mutters, "You're about as fast as a dead slug."

"Shut your face."

He lets my go and starts to head for the bathroom, but in a matter of seconds, I have him pinned, "Shouldn't have let your guard down, sucker!"

Wrestling is my specialty. Wrestling and knife throwing. I've been training for the Hunger Games, like, since I could walk, but I'm still gonna wait two years until I volunteer.

The name's Orianne Lysem. I have two older brothers, well, I did. One was killed in the Hunger Games a couple years ago, but I never get emotional, son don't ask me to now. I'm 15 and live in District Two.

I let Bruit go and quickly run back to my room, before he can get me into another headlock. It's about three hours until the Reaping. I reach for a hairbrush and flat-iron and attempt to make my hair decent. Around 45 minutes later, my hair is straightened and it looks presentable.

Next, I choose my outfit. I rack my closet, looking for something pretty, but not too girly. After a while, I find a dress that looks okay. I pull it on. It's purple, with ¾ sleeves and a thick red belt across the middle. It stops around the knee. I slide on red flats and look in the mirror. The dress fits my slender-yet-muscular build quite nicely.

Wait, I think as I stand in front of the mirror, something's missing. I run back to the bathroom, which Bruit had long abandoned, and pull open drawers and cupboards, searching for the perfect hair accessory. I scramble around for about 20 minutes. I'm unable to find what I'm looking for, until Bruit comes stumbling in. He's holding a triangular clip and locket. They're a matching set that my brother gave me before he died.

"Hey, Ori? Are these yours? Don't ask me how they ended up in my room, bu-."

I grab the jewelry from his grasp and run out before he can finish his sentence. In my room, I slip the necklace over my head and secure the clip to a lock of red hair. Perfect. On my way to the door, I steal a glance at my clock. Wow, hard to believe it's already 9:02. Time sure does go by quickly.

I dash down the stairs and skip breakfast. Sitting on the couch, I flip on the TV and catch the District 1 Reaping. The clock says 9: 42 when the escort draws the girls' name. Another girl quickly volunteers. She walks briskly onto the stage and the escort asks he name. The girl flashes a perfect smile and replies, "Ruby Rowan."

Rowan. The name echoes in my skull. I turn off the TV. I've heard that name before. Suddenly, a scene flashes through my mind. That girl… my brother… Rowan. Narrowing my eyes, I stand. I am going to take her down. Remember how I said I don't get emotional? Well, right now, I'm driven by one emotion… hate.

I charge out of Victor's Village, heading for the square, where the Reaping takes place. I live in Victor's Village because my grandpa won his Games and invited my parents to live with him. When I reach the square, I realize I'm late. The mayor is ending his speech by the time I sit down in the 15s' section.

I don't need two more years of training, I'm gonna volunteer.

I see the escort grin his idiotic Capitol smile. His name is Kylen Sombler. Kylen's body is covered in cheetah spots and he's bald, so he looks like one big cat. As always, he begins with his sinister purr of "May the odds be ever in your favor" and goes on to say, "Ladies first."

He paws around the jar of female names and pulls one out. He reads the name that's printed on the slip of paper, "Koll Cingsword!" A small 12 year-old starts to make her way to the stage, but I beat her to it. I grab the microphone out of Kylen's hand, "My name is Orianne Lysem and I'm volunteering."

Kylen smirks, "Excellent."

Mr. Sombler prowls over to the boys' bubble. He takes his time choosing a name. I keep my eyes trained on Kylen as he calls the name into the microphone.

"Caliber LaFelton!"

A young boy comes from the pen of thirteen year-olds and walks up to the stage. Kylen pats his shoulder, "Welcome aboard, Caliber."

Caliber and I shake hands. His brown hair covers his blue eyes. But his eyes were unfocused and there was something different about them. No pupils. Then, it dawns on me. Caliber's blind.