I stared up at the enormous stage with my heart in my throat as the name-reader woman strode up to the podium. Cianah Kress was clad in all glittery blue. A thin, glittering dress draped around her shoulders and tightened at her hips, hugging her thin waist. Her hair shimmered with what only could be sky-blue hair dye. Waving a blue polished hand adorned with nails at us, she smiles and nods her head graciously. "Welcome to the 64th Hunger Games Reaping! One lucky young man and one young woman will be chosen to participate in the exciting Games!" She beamed, flashing her bright white teeth. My eyes wander over to the glass domes where they keep the tributes names. I know for a fact my name is on 17 of those small but deadly strips. I wonder if I'll be chosen.

I swallowed and stare back at Cianah. She's currently ranting about how exciting the Games are and how lucky we are to get to honor our district. Honor, shmonor, I think. I couldn't care less about it. "So, shall we start the Reaping then? Girls, I think you can wait your turn just this once!" Cianah smiles and her perfectly done nails are hovering over the boy's tribute bowl. Dipping her fingers in and searching for a slip, she eventually takes one in her hands and starts to rip apart the tiny strip of tape binding the corners to eachother. Unraveling the slip, she reads out in a clear, excited voice, "And our male tribute… is Marcellus Greene!"

I groan. Marcellus Greene. Oh, his poor, poor family. Marcellus is a 17-year-old boy with 6 younger siblings that he is the main provider for. Flipping back his reddish-brown hair, he stands up and walks over to the podium with a dazed look, as if he can't believe that he was just called. I can see the emotions in his expression, and I'm sure everyone can guess what he's thinking. Who will provide for the family when he's away? And if he doesn't come back, what will happen to them? Suddenly, the second oldest child in their family, Aanisa, is running up to him with tears fresh on her young 13-year-old face. Screaming, she is taken away. "Aani!" Marcellus bellows, trying to get the Peacekeepers away from her. More Peacekeepers are shoving him back towards Cianah, and he finally just sits there.

"Oh, well that was quite the display there, hmm?" She gives the crowd a look of desperation, and almost immediately is back to her bouncing, bubbly self. "So, son, who was that? A girlfriend?" Cianah winks at Marcellus. He glares at her in return. "No," He growls. "That was my sister, you inconsiderate-" "WELL!" Shrieks Cianah. "Let's just get on with the Reaping, now shall we?" She sends him a cold look. Her hand is floating over the girls bowl, and I am swearing inside my head, hoping, not me, not me, not me, when her hand dips into the dome and is pulling out a slip. She starts to tell us the tribute. "And our female tribute, for the 64th Hunger Games, is…" She opens the slip, and with a tiny rip of some tape my heart is racing. With a chirping little laugh she cries out, "Cassia Simmons!"

Every last bit of hope I had has just shattered, bursting into a million crystalline pieces inside my head. Fighting back the urge to start screaming or crying, or maybe both, I stand up and make my way over to the stage. "Hurry up now, dear, we don't have all day," calls out Cianah. I shoot her a cold glare and jog up to the stage. Laying an arm over both Marcellus' and I's shoulders, she announces, "Ladies and gentlemen… our tributes, Marcellus Greene and Cassia Simmons! Now, Juliette, would you be so kind as to…?" Cianah gestures to a girl that looks like she is around my age. Juliette is dressed in a tight-fitting strapless pink dress with a humongous, sweeping pink skirt littered with pink cloth roses that starts right at her thighs, and enough glittery makeup to paint a parade float. Something about her seems familiar.

Juliette escorts Marcellus and I to different rooms, to say our goodbyes to our families. After nudging me into a room, she smiles at me eerily. A light somewhere in my head flicks on and I realize; I know this girl. And I hate her. She is a stuck-up, absolute Capitol brat. When we were both 12, at the party the Capitol threw just that one year to celebrate the tributes, I spilled a drink on her dress and she threw a fit, calling me a sloppy pig. That was the last time we saw each other and it sparked a flame of hatred that has burned ever since. "Oh… Flassia, was it? I'm so sorry you've been chosen!" she grins. I have a burning urge to slap her. She laughs. "Now, would you really believe that? Anyways, I'm sure you remember the little… incident at the party 2 years ago." She smiles. "Yes, I do." I snap. "You're a nasty, little Capitol brat who doesn't deserve even half of what you get."

Suddenly, she is furious. She slams me against the wall. "Listen, Simmons," she spits out. "You wanna know why you were chosen? I blackmailed the tribute names. All of those slips had your name and your name ONLY on them. I'm going to enjoy watching you get bludgeoned to death, hung, or whatever awful thing awaits you in that arena." Juliette moves her hand up so that I am choking. I stare her straight in the face with what I hope is an expression of pure hatred. "Have fun getting killed out there. And remember… make it exciting. I'd like to enjoy every moment of it." She grins at me once more, and with one sweeping move she has left.