Mila POV

The sky is a brilliant blue, the clouds look like the cotton that Relly the toymaker uses to stuff the teddy bears that she sells to the children of District Three. I look down, and all I see is white. I am walking on the clouds! "Mila!" A soft voice calls, and I recognize it as my mother's.

"Mama? Mama?" I yell, chasing after the phantom voice, my feet silent against the cotton clouds.

"Mila wake up!" the voice has begun to lose the soft delicateness of my mother's voice.

"I am awake, Mama, where are you?" I call, getting worried, then I see the clouds dissolving beneath my feet; and myself falling. I scream.

"Mila, are you alright?" I look up to see a mirror of my face looming over me. My twin Miah is gently shaking my shoulder. "Why were you screaming?"

"No reason," I hastily reply, looking into her worried brown-green eyes, identical to mine.

"Well you nearly gave Gran a heart attack," Miah laughs; our grandmother is the bravest person we know from years of working in the dangerous factories. Whenever one twin scares the other, we blame it on Gran. It's sort of an inside joke. Our parents were both killed in a factory accident, along with our older brother Mill, so we do whatever we can to laugh around here.

"Why did you wake me up so early?" I ask groggily, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"C'mon silly. Don't tell me that you don't remember? It's the Reaping!" Miah pulls out the wooden hair comb from the drawer on our vanity and brushes out her long chocolate locks. She waves her hand in front of her nose. "Go take a shower or something, you smell terrible!" Miah laughs, she is never her usual shy self around Gran and I. "Come help me do my hair. You were so good at this, like Mama." I feel a pang in my heart as I walk over to the vanity, picking up the comb and a couple of simple clips and ribbons. I braid half of her hair around head, and leave the rest of her hair down and flowing, so that it looks like her hair is a crown. This is the way Mama would do our hair for the Reapings, and tears prick behind my eyes.

I leave my hair loose and long, and throw on an old dress that I've worn thousands of times. We have enough money to buy another, but this one was a gift from my mother. I just don't have the heart to give it up.

"You look beautiful, darlings," Gran says as we walk down the stairs into the foyer. She puts her old wrinkly hands on either side of my face and kisses me, then she does the same with Miah. "You two look just like your parents. Let's go, nobody wants to be late for a Reaping."

Derek POV

My sister looks the best when she sleeps. Her face is relaxed and free of the stress that comes with poverty. The sad thing is that she's only eight, and she looks like she has the world on her thin shoulders. I hesitate to wake her and bring her back into reality, but I have to. "Krissy, time for the Reaping," Krissy lets out a groan of unhappiness, then pushes herself out of the bed.

"Derek," she whines. "Can't I ever get some sleep?" Sometimes Krissy gets insanely grumpy in the morning. And I have to put up with it, but it's worth it. Better living here in my friend's old home, than out on the streets or in the community home. But I love Krissy, no matter how grumpy she is in the morning.

"Just get up, sweetheart. District Three ain't gonna wait for Krissy Labre to get ready."

"Fine I gotta change." Krissy shoes me out of her small room and emerges about ten minutes later in her best (and only) dress. It is a faded peach with ribbons weaving through the hem and a big peach sash around the middle.

I offer my arm to her, and she takes it smiling; she's always in a better mood after she's dressed. "Let's go to the Reaping. After you, miss," I say, always a different person around the only other family I have left.

At the square, I take my place in the eighteen-year-old section, and everyone ignores me, just as I ignore them. Who needs friends? I think, when you have a little sister and smarts.

Mayor Lithum clears her throat in the microphone. Her hair is graying and her body is bone thin. "Welcome to the 101st Annual reaping!" I tune her out. Why listen to an old woman recite something that you have heard a billion times? Then, Barbi Moller, in all her hot pink glory, struts to the podium. "Ladies first District Three!" Barbi grabs a piece of paper with her six-inch long hot pink nails.

"Mila Keeley!"

Mila POV

When my name is called, my heart stops and blood pounds in my ears. I can't breathe, let alone walk up to the stage to meet Barbi Moller. Shy Miah grabs my elbow to steady me and tearfully pushes me to the stage. I don't know why she doesn't volunteer, maybe because she knows that I don't want her to. I walk up nevertheless, strengthened by my sister.

As I reach the stage, Barbi pulls out the boy tribute's name. "Derek Labre!" A tall eighteen-year-old joins me on the stage, and he looks unhappy. A wailing emanates from the back of the square.

Derek and I shake hands, and we are headed to the Justice building, prodded by Peacekeepers. I sit down on one of the couches in my private receiving area and wait for my family to come in. Miah and Gran shuffle in, Miah is clearly trying to be strong, and Gran is already there. "Be strong, darling. Be strong and never lose yourself, not even in that hell, and your parents will be proud."

Miah is silent, and she holds me until the Peacekeepers drag them out the door, and they drag me onto the train.

Derek POV

As I am herded into the furnished room, I tell the Peacekeepers to not allow anyone in. I know that it would be too hard on Krissy, the only visitor I would have, so instead I write her a letter:

Krissy,

I love you and so did Mom and Dad. I don't want to die in these Games, but if I do, remember this: be strong. No matter what life puts you through, you be strong. Lots of love:

Derek

P.S. If I get back, I expect less grumpy mornings

I give the letter to a Peacekeeper and walk onto the train, a day away from the Capitol.