Macintosh woke the day of the Reaping with an ache in her back. Sharing the couch with her little sister wasn't the most comfortable thing in District 3, but her family made do in their cramped house. Mac grabbed her glasses from the old wooden table next to the couch. She smiled at her little sister who was still sleeping. With no room for privacy, Mac was forced to change under the covers. She tried her best not to disturb her sister.

After emerging from the sheets in a white blouse and black skirt, making sure there wasn't a crease in sight, Mac neatened her side of the shared, makeshift bed. From underneath it, she dug out her black flats that she would also wear. From the same table that had held her glasses, she grabbed her most precious possession, her butterfly hairclip, and fixed it in her short brown hair.

From where she stood, Mac could see her step mom preparing breakfast.

"Good morning, Mac," she said from where she was positioned at the small gas stove.

"Good morning," Mac replied in her hushed tone. She helped her step mom prepare breakfast for their family. Though they never really talked each morning, this one seemed to hold more silence than usual. Of course it would. It was the day of the Reaping. What was there to say?

Eating breakfast was just as silent as it had been preparing it. Mac always hated Reaping day. Though she never talked much in the first place, she hated it when her family's chatter didn't surround her with news of District 3 and anything else of interest. It felt hollow in their small home.

Cleanup made Mac feel slightly better with the clanging of the dishes and silverware and the splashing of water filling the quiet ringing in her ears. When they were almost done, her step mom stopped her.

"Why don't you help your sister get ready for the Reapings," she said.

Mac nodded and pulled her younger sister away from where she was drying the forks. She wouldn't face the threat of the Reaping, but she still needed to look nice. With Mac's older brother already dressed, she used his room to get her sister ready in. Their step mother had already laid out the clothes she would wear.

Leaving the room with her sister in her nicest clothes, Mac heard her dad telling her older brother to take them to the Justice Building where the Reapings would take place. He nodded and took his sisters' hands.

"Do you think I'll be Reaped?" Mac asked glumly as she watched her sister run off with her friends. She had just recently turned thirteen and was nervous, like any child, for the Reaping.

"I hope we both aren't," her brother said not giving her a definite reply. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Mac frowned, she supposed there would be no definite answer until the Reapings were over and done with.

Too soon she had to separate from her siblings. Her brother had to go to his section and her sister had run to find their parents. In the thirteen year old section, Mac found her best friend, Delly Darwie.

"How are you?" Delly asked, greeting her friend with a hug.

"Fine," Mac replied. "This day's been the same ever since my brother had his first Reaping."

"Yeah, if only the Reaping actually was a day to celebrate like they make us," Delly said thoughtfully. "Or if we were in one of the Career Districts. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"

Mac nodded in agreement. "Then we wouldn't have to worry about being Reaped because there'd be someone else to volunteer."

"Or maybe we'd be the ones volunteering."

The two friends laughed, but had to stop abruptly as District 3's mayor began the ceremony. After the speech, Mac and Delly began giggling to the other quietly as the District's escort, Dweezil, approached the podium. Dweezil was a very uptight man, he hated being around the Districts each year because he found the population below the Capitol so dirty and untouchable. His hair seemed almost too black to be natural and his eyes were a deep green covered by thick black glasses. This year his suit was such a deep green that it seemed black at a glance. Running his hands over his suit to straighten out, he began his welcome.

"Happy Hunger Games," he said in his normal nervous nasally voice. "Good luck to those eligible. If we can get started…" his voice faded off as he went to the first bowl. He fixed his glasses before reading the slip of paper with his eyes squinting with the effort. "Macintosh Smithcon."

It felt like someone had rammed into her chest and the breath was knocked out of her. She took a startled step back. Mac was hardly aware of Delly clinging to her in a death grip. Tears broke through with the surprise and a strangled cry emerged in the back of her throat unconsciously. Mac quickly gathered her bearings and took a brave face as she detached herself from Delly.

"No, Mac! I'll go! I'll go in place of you," Delly whispered desperately.

Mac continued to pry her friend's fingers from around her arm. "No, Delly," she said breathlessly. "I have to do this. I can't take you away from your family."

Failing to keep herself in check, Delly nodded sadly before stepping away and allowing Mac to make her way up front.

"Congratulations to Miss Smithcon," Dweezil said while already reaching his hand into the other bowl.

Gregory Sthal stood in the crowded twelve year old boy section. It was weird not to be at work. Usually by this time he was passing along notes from the top inventors of District 3. That was his job. Sometimes he would even get asked for his opinion which was sometimes valued given the circumstance. They said he was a prodigy. He was so fast at learning new things and memorizing them that his father had found that job for him. His parents were young and were so lost when it came to raising him that they were filled with joy when he had found his place in the District.

They had fussed over him that morning of his first Reaping, making sure everything, even hand-me-downs from neighbors, fit as best as it could. He wore a white dress shirt, after leaving the house had had rolled the three-quarter sleeves up to his elbows. It was semi tucked into his black pants which his mother had spent the night ironing. The dress shoes were a bit big, but they looked good.

He ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair which was combed too perfectly. His light brown eyes were now trained on the District's escort reading the female Tribute's name.

"Macintosh Smithcon."

Gregory didn't know her, but he immediately found the girl in the thirteen year old section causing some kind of dramatic scene. Gregory guessed that her friend was trying to volunteer for her or something. He rolled his eyes and wished to go home to spend a day off of work with his family, his parents and little brother, Lytle.

When Macintosh was up on the stage, Dweezil read the male Tribute's name.

"Gregory Sthal."

At first, Gregory found himself looking around waiting for another scene like the one with Macintosh to happen, but it didn't. Not until he realized that his name had been called. Numb, his feet somehow took him up to the stage, his mouth slightly agape.

But they said I had such a good future in front of me, he thought as he shook Macintosh's hand. I guess now I don't…

Mac looked sadly at the boy who was just barely younger than she was. The Hunger Games were tearing the world apart and know she'd have to say good-bye to her world.

It wasn't long before her family was in the room and they hugged each other, trying to comfort the other while desperately needing it, too. Her siblings were so afraid because, for the first time, they were living their fears that they had told themselves time after time would never happen to them. The odds were against it so why were they weeping now?

Delly came next and they curled up on the small couch, on each side.

"I'm thankful you tried to take my place, but I couldn't have you do that to yourself, or your family," Mac started quietly.

Delly only nodded, too stun to speak. Soon Mac fell into the same thing and they could only sit there and wonder if the other would exist in a few days time.

Gregory had the same problem with his family. Lytle was bawling in his embrace and his parents were struggling to hold it together for their son's sake.

"You're so smart, Gregory," his mom said soothingly.

"I know," he replied hoarsely.

"Just don't lose your head out there and you'll be fine, son," his dad added.

"Okay…"

"We love you," his mom said at last as the Peacekeepers came for them.

"I love you, too."

Suddenly, the two Tributes were on a train for the Capitol, their future in District 3 only a distant dream.

Sorry if it seemed so short. I'm going out of town so I barely had enough time to post this.

Happy Thanksgiving!

*May the odds be ever in your favor!*