Sabrina Brooks

District 7

"Get back here!" I shout, irritated. I push my way through the bushes at the base of one of thousands of trees that are part of the forest that surrounds District 7. The forest would usually be bustling with the teams that cut down trees, however we have an hour off before the reaping. Well, I would have an hour free if my idiotic sister didn't go and steal my jacket.

Bridgette is my twin sister, but apart from our looks (which include our long black hair, green eyes, and being taller than usual) we are nothing alike. I like to be alone with my thoughts and I consider myself smart. My sister is ditzy and giggles uncontrollably. Did I mention she's an idiot?

"Nuh-uh!" My sister called back, passing between the trees at a run, ducking under branches, jumping over bushes, and weaving through clumped together trees. I suppose that is another thing we have in common: we're both flexible and fast; both us drawing as the fastest in school. That's why I couldn't catch her seeing as we run at exactly the same speed.

"That is MY jacket, Bridgette!" I shout at her, trying not to grind my teeth in anger. I don't really worry about my looks or clothes, but that jacket was an exception. It wasn't made out of anything special, but it was given to me by my father on our 16th birthday. Me, not her.

"But I want it for the reaping!" She whines, looking back at me. I see what she's about to run into but I can't get the words out before she runs smack bang into a branch, almost flipping over completely. She lands on her rear, blinking, blood running scarlet down her nose.

I reach her with panic in my chest but that quickly disappears as she chuckles, holding her nose with her hand. "Ow." I just shake my head and grab the jacket from the floor, pulling it on so she can't steal it again. I pull her up by the arm and look at her nose. It doesn't look broken but the blood isn't stopping. "Keep your head high. Mum'll clean you up."

Bridgette and I head back through the woods, walking for a good ten minutes before we come up on the first of the wooden houses that make up the housing section of District 7. A number of people look concerned as we pass. It must look a sight - one of us covered in blood. We make our way to our house. The front door swings open before we even make it on the porch, our mother Rita standing there with a concerned look on her face. "Bridgette? What happened to you?"

"Branch." Bridgette says nasally.

"How?" Rita asks, using a handkerchief from her pocket to clean up the excess blood while pinching the top of Bridgette's nose, stemming the blood flow.

"Running from Sabrina."

My sister and her big mouth… my mother looks at me and not in a good way. That was the problem with Rita - she only pays attention to Bridgette. It's like we had to be the same because we were twins. Twins SHOULD be different, how else are we meant to be unique? I start to talk before she can open her mouth. "She took my jacket! My birthday jacket. She says she wants it for the reaping, but she knows it mine!"

Rita purses her lips and shakes her head. "That won't do Sabrina. Why can't you let your sister wear your jacket, hm?"

"Oh, I wonder…" I roll my eyes. "It couldn't be because it's mine."

"Don't be lippy with me."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to lend my jacket to my perfectly spoiled, idiotic sister!"

"That's it." Rita glares at me. "Stay in your room and do not come down until the bell for the reaping rings."

"Fine!" I exclaim. "But this is dad's jacket! If he were here he'd understand! I wish he were here instead of you!" I push past her, knowing that was a low blow. I slam the door to my room behind me and try to resist the urge to cry. I hated this part of me - being so emotional. Even little things get me. Unable to hold it in I collapse to my bed with my head in my arms, sobbing.

Daniel Miller

District 7

I wait with anticipation, watching through the ragged hole in the wooden wall. It doesn't take long before old lady Griss with her pale hair and wrinkled face appears with her walking stick clicking against the floor. I stare at her hand as it reaches for the handle of the door. She turns the handle. Griss takes one step forward. I breathe deeply just as a water balloon drops down and bursts over her head, drenching her. She sputters and looks around wildly. "W-who…?!"

Thomas behind me guffawed with laughter as Zeke and Owen slapped hands, laughing along with him. I puff my chest proudly standing before them. "The silly fool didn't expect that one!" I say, high-fiving Thomas.

"Yeah! She probably thought nothing was gonna happen… but then… but then it did!" Zeke says, clutching his side since he was laughing so much.

"Come on, let's get outta here." Owen smirks. "Before Griss gets a peacekeeper on us."

At that, all four of us took off towards the forest, through one of the many well-trod paths.

My friends were good friends; cool friends with a brilliant sense of humor. Owen was thin and gangly, but was the most intelligent and claimed to know 150 ways to kill a man. Thomas was the biggest, standing around 6 foot five inches tall with big broad shoulders perfect for wielding an axe to cut wood. Finally, Zeke was slightly smaller at 6 foot and was one of the most feared people at school, which, of course, was great!

Zeke and I had been best friends since we started school four-so years ago. The only difference between me and him was that if someone messed with me, I'd ignore them. They ain't worth my time. But if someone messed with Zeke, he would go completely crazy and beat them to a pulp. When he was ten, he stabbed his mother in the eye with a pencil but somehow managed to talk himself out of getting punished. He's sly like that, Zeke is.

We met Thomas soon after. He was beating this snot-nosed kid up and Zeke offered to help. With that, Zeke and Thomas became friends and by extension with me. Owen was kind of a random encounter. Thomas, Zeke and I were messing around with a 'chipper' where you throw bits of unwanted branches into the machine, shredding them into tiny pieces that were spread about the floor. I was pushed by Zeke and I went headfirst into the machine. Thankfully, Owen caught me, and us four have been friends ever since then.

We finally came to a stop, breathing heavily and panting next to a specific clump of trees that we always hang out around when we need to run away from something.

"Th-that was frickin' great!" Thomas gasped, his huge shoulders moving up and down.

"Now what?" Owen asked, consulting his watch. The watch was a golden thing that was far too expensive for his family. That was because he had stolen it from the mayor's daughter and placed the blame on some random kid at school. Because the kid didn't admit it he was tortured by the peacekeepers. Tough luck. I hear he still finds it hard to pick up a pencil without any fingers. "We've still got half an hour until the reaping."

I shrug and lean against the tree. "We could go throw some stones at Jabb's house?"

"Sounds like fun. Nice one." Zeke nods in agreement and claps me on the back. "Come on, let's go!" He led us off back the way we came, telling a joke about the mayor and a monkey.

Yeah, we four were unpopular, but who the hell cares? We do our own thing. If people get in our way, then we'll deal with it. No-one screwed with us.

Sabrina Brooks

District 7

For a while I stay in my room, red-eyed and sniffling. I pass time until ten minutes before the bell rings out for the reaping. I get dressed and try to make myself look somewhat like a contender for the games god forbid I'm chosen. Getting support is one of the most important things for a Tribute when going into the games. Whatever the act, it needs to be effective: tragic, funny, sad, confident, whatever you need to get the crowd on your side.

I pull my hair back into an untidy ponytail and pull on a blue t-shirt, black jeans, and some sneakers that look the least scuffed. Finally, I pull on the jacket despite the fact it has a few drops of Bridgette's blood on it. Dad would be happy that I'm wearing his jacket, I know. I make my bed all neat and tidy just before the bell rings out over District 7 - a heavy, solemn sound not unlike that you'd hear at a funeral.

It's time.

Bridgette accompanies me to the square, dressed in a wonderful dress that was green with brown tendrils snaking their way around it, all the way up to her neck. I have to wonder, why did she want my jacket? She looks positively beautiful.

We make our way quietly to the already crowded square and put ourselves together in the female group for seventeen year olds. It takes another ten minutes before a hush falls over the crowd as the mayor stands up. If my sister is beautiful, the mayor is a goddess. Her raven hair is tied into braids down her back, landing slightly over her ebony dress which flows down to the floor like a river. The mayor's face is perfect, with red lipstick as the only make-up on her unflawed face.

Unlike most of the speeches, our mayor's is actually interesting, her voice emblazoned with grandeur. She makes jokes and is actually light-hearted. If she wasn't such a great leader and a beautiful woman, I'm sure the president would kill her. After the speech, most people are smiling at a joke the mayor said about horses, donkeys, and District 1.

"Well, that's that then. I'm not too keen on that speech, are you?" The mayor earns a round of applause for that comment. "Let me introduce to you all to the escort for our District… Lita Sherbet!"

Lita turns out to be a robust woman who looked like she could cut down a tree with a slice of her hand. She was tall, even taller than the mayor, and had what could be considered a huge jaw. Lita's hair was, true to her name, sherbet yellow, but despite this odd look she still looked threatening.

"Hello," she boomed with a deep, firm voice. "As you hear, my name is Lita Sherbet. I shall be the escort for the two tributes chosen, along with your mentors." Lita motioned behind her to the two previous winners of District 7.

The female was called Woodpecker. No-one remembers what her original name was, and she doesn't know because she got extreme amnesia after coming in contact with a hammer to the skull wielded by a maniac. She only survived because she fell down a ditch. The attacker followed, tripped, and impaled himself on sharp needle-like plants. The arena was full of them that year.

The male was old, around 56. His name was Hatchet, and he was a mastermind. He used tricks and traps involving nothing but ropes to kill 12 of the Tributes. He won after sneak attacking and strangling the female Tribute from District 4.

"Well, let's hope I have someone worthy to mentor, just like these two here. But enough chatter, I am sure you are all wondering who is first. Let us start with the females." Lita walked over to the glass bowl on the left and reached in with a ham-like hand. She managed to pinch one and brought it up, peering at it.

"Bridgette Brooks?"

Bridgette? Did she just say Bridgette? I glance to my sister and see her staring in shock. Tears form in the corner of her eyes and slip down her cheeks, wetting her elegant dress. Sniffing and sobbing, she steps forward to the stage.

As I watch her walk I cross my arms and bite my lip. Bridgette… I loved her as a sister, sure, but I didn't like her. She was a spoiled brat with no sense of the world. Hell, isn't this what I want? With her gone then my parents would have to focus on me, right? So many siblings don't volunteer for each other so no-one will think I'm a coward. I'm not, it's just… why should I go to the Games when I can let Bridgette go? I'll be safe… I'll be alive. I ignore the heavy weight in my gut and squeeze my eyes shut. I can't volunteer for her. It's just the luck of the draw. I won't volunteer. I won't volunteer.

In the darkness of my closed eyes an image pops up from out of nowhere. Bridgette, bloody and beaten, broken bones and bruises covering her body. She is still alive and I can tell she is suffering, her eyes looking straight at me, filled with pain and hurt and betrayal. I can see the question in her eyes. Why me? I'm not made for the games, Sabrina, but you are… you're strong and you can make the most of our athletic ability. You can kill, Sabrina, I can't. Why make me suffer when you have a real chance?

No… No, I don't have to. I ignore the image in my head, looking to the floor. She has always dominated my family while I stood in the background. She took the attention, the money, the presents, the love. My dad was the only person who ever loved me.

The image comes back. Now my father is standing over Bridgette, looking at me also. She's weak, Sabrina. She'll die in the bloodbath. She'll die painful and lonely. But you… you have a chance. A real chance. Let her have the love and the attention, Sabrina. What you have is much more valuable. You have will. And if you truly want attention and love, what better way to get it than to win the Hunger Games?

Damn it… Damn it all the hell.

"I volunteer!" I call out, thrusting my arm into the air. Bridgette turns and looks to me, slack-jawed. There you go, Dad. I'll do it… because honest to god, I'd be much less missed.

Daniel Miller

District 7

The well-known loner Sabrina volunteers for her sister and she walks past her without saying a word, stepping up to the stage with the ugly escort. I only recognise Sabrina because me and the guys have knocked her books out of her hands a number of times. It's funny as she simply ignores us, picking the books up only for them to get knocked out of her hands again.

"Hah! What a stupid idiot, volunteering." Zeke whispers behind me.

"I know, right? Why would someone volunteer? It's a quick journey to die. I mean, I wouldn't die if I was in the games but I'm not gonna go and volunteer and push fate, y'know? It's stupid." Thomas says, grinning.

"I predict…" Owen puts a finger to his chin. "…she has a one percent chance of winning. She'll be killed in the bloodbath."

"Definitely." I nod. I agree with Thomas one hundred percent. I'm not volunteering for anyone - not even Zeke. He'd be able to handle himself much better than me anyway. Heck, I'm only in there for three slips of paper, the minimum for my age. The chance I'm chosen is less than Sabrina winning!

Lita puts her thick hand in the bowl delicately and pulls at a piece of paper. Thomas rubs his hands together with a small grin on his face, looking like he wanted to be chosen. Owen rubs the back of his head nervously. Zeke seems to vibrate with expectation and energy. I could see him in the games, ripping people apart. A small part of me almost wanted to see that. I just stand there with a loose smile on my face. I'm not gonna get chosen, the chances for that are far too slim. It'll probably be one of the kids who take a bunch of tesserae - the poor ones that stink like an outhouse. I wonder for a moment what I should do tonight. Probably taunt the family of whoever gets chosen. I love it when people cry over their kids.

I have absolutely, one hundred percent, no chance of getting chosen.

"Daniel Miller!"

...crap.

A/N:- Slight delay, sorry. Well, next chapter is the final reaping so 'till then.