Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science computer-aided Enrich—Oops, wrong story. Welcome to the 64th Annual Hunger Games! You're just in time for the District Three Reaping ceremony. Shh, it's starting…..

Maurice Greyson, age 15 [quick note: anyone else notice that all of the Tributes so far were older?]

"Hey, nerd." That's the first thing that I hear when I get to the town square. It's pre-Reaping ceremony, so there's no need to get into the groups yet. I turn around to see none other than Zanec Mortin, the local jerk. "What's with the girl name, huh, Maurice?" I let out a sigh.

"I've told you before, Zanec: it's NOT a girl name!" I tell him angrily. I doesn't bother me much, when he makes fun of my name—well, not as much as it used to. But that's the past, and besides, it's just him being stupid. Suddenly, in the middle of my thoughts of the past, Zanec puts his hand on my throat and grips. I clutch at his hand, knowing that I can't do anything about it.

"You told me, girly boy? You told me? YOU told ME?" With every instance of me, he grips a little tighter.

"N-n-n-no-o, Zzz-zz-ahnec-kk," I struggle. I know that there will marks on my neck for the next few days.

"Good answer, girly boy. Good answer," relies the bully, and releases my throat while pushing me down. I hit the ground hard, breathing heavily and rubbing my throat. Ow. It hurts, but it's nothing new. Then I hear a smack of human hand hitting human cheek, and it's Zanec who is expressing pain.

"I saw that, Mortin, and next I do… well, Head Peacekeeper Brard has an interest in you, doesn't he?" a voice says, and I can tell who it is. Emily, my older sister. She's my protector at times, and I'll be forever grateful for that. She walks over to me (I'm still on the ground) and offers me her hand. I take it, and I push up as she pulls me up.

"Thanks, Emm. I mean it," I say with gratitude, brushing dirt of my shirt.

"No problem, baby brother. Next time he does that-" she says, pointing at Zanec, who is still rubbing his face. Dang! Emily's hand is imprinted on his right cheek. "-go to the Head Peacekeeper. Promise?"

"Promise, Emm. Now, be good, and I'll see you after the Reapings," she says, and she runs off to who knows where.

"You know, girly boy, for being your sister, Emily is fiiiine. She's got quite the—" Zanec starts.

"Oh, come on, Zanec. That's my sister you're talking about, man!" I interrupt. He may pick on me, but I can still talk to him. It's a sort of abusive friendship, but it's really the only one I have, and it barely counts. Sure, there's Emily, but she's my family, and I guess you have to be friends with your family. Then I hear some commotion.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, if you'll all go to your respective places, please," the voice of somebody I don't know comes over the speakers. I head to the fifteen-year old male section, and await for the boring day to begin.

Eliza Huntington, age 18

I walk over to the little toddler bed. "Ainsly, wake up," and push her slightly. My beautiful baby, Ainsly, yawns. Well, she's not really a baby at two, more like young toddler, but nevertheless… She rolls over to me, and I pick her up gently. "There we go, Ainsly…" I say, my voice is soft. I hold her so that her head is near my face, I kiss the top of her head, and inhale. Ahhh. There's still the lingering scent of a baby's head*, but it's almost gone. I'll miss that smell, that special smell. It calms me, relaxes me, and helps me forget—if briefly—the condition of life.

You see, I live with my sisters, all five of them. We range in age from twelve to twenty-seven. I am eighteen, so I'm not quite in the middle. And then, of course, there's my daughter Ainsly, so that makes seven of us in the house. Yep, that's right. No Mom, no Dad, nor uncle or aunt to take us in. But since my older sisters have jobs, and Casimma being engaged to a very wealthy man helps a lot too, so I guess life isn't all that bad. I do wish that Mom and Dad were still here, though.

I carry Ainsly downstairs, to where breakfast is being eaten. Eggs and sausage, and there's toast?

"Where did we get toast?" I ask, confused.

"Mister Brard brought some over. He came to get Casimma," my youngest sister Aria tells me. I look and notice that Casimma is gone. "Come, sit and eat, Eliza!"

"I'll take Ainsly for you," Bridget offers me. Bridget, the second-oldest, is twenty-five, and she's really good with Ainsly. When Ainsly gets in trouble, she'll go to Bridget. It's actually kind of funny, but at the same time I don't like the fact that she does that. Maybe it's a parenting thing.

"Thank you so much. I need to shower. It was a long night and Ainsly, well…" I say, motioning at the front of my shirt. It's green from, well, take a guess. At least it was on me, rather than all over her bed.

"EWW!" cry out Sarah and Aria, playfully. I walk over to Bridget, who stands to take Ainsly.

"Now you be good, okay Ainsly? Mommy will be right back," I tell her, and walk towards the stairs. I climb them, and go back into my room. I consider just going back to bed—it was a long night! I'm tired!—but push it aside. I go to my dresser, grab some clothes, and head to the bathroom. Fortunately, it's just across from me and Ainsly's room. I close the door, shed everything, and turn on the water. The warm water covers me, and I let out a moan of enjoyment. For a moment, everything is bliss. It's that moment when you're warm, and the water soothes you, and you can forget about everything in the world; all responsibilities, all problems, all your worries. Then my memory surges, and I'm twelve years old again.

The sun is shining, and I can see the stage. The escort is oddly dressed—red floral patterns are everywhere, even on her skin. She's reaching into a glass bowl, and pulls out a little slip of paper. Her shrilly, high voice calls out a name.

"Eliza Huntington!" the crowd murmurs around me. "Oh, boo. It's never fair when a twelve year old gets picked, least of all her," I hear someone say. Suddenly, a voice calls out from the crowd.

"No! I volunteer! I'll go instead!" Everyone around me turns to see, and I do to. Who would want to save me? I watch as Ainsly Maddison goes up to the stage. She came from the fifteen-year-old section. I've never really gotten to know her, and yet she's volunteered for me?

I come back to the present, only to remember her funeral. I can remember crying, so much crying, and me talking to her family, saying how sorry I was that they had lost her, and them saying it wasn't my fault. I still feel guilty, and I feel a pang of sadness coming on. No. Not now, Eliza—pull through. The past is the past.

After my shower, I go out to the dining room, where I see everyone dressed up. Aria, Penny (she's the oldest), and Sarah all having similar yellow dresses on.

"Hurry up, Eliza! It's almost time to go!" Bridget tells me, and I run upstairs. I can't find any dress quickly, so I guess a T-shirt and jeans will have to do. Not that it matters, though. I'll be home in a couple of hours. I come back downstairs, where I see Bridget holding Ainsly. She sees me, and starts to clap.

"Momma!" Bridget looks at me, then gives my daughter to me.

"Thanks, Bridget, I owe you one," I say as we head out the door and down towards the town square.

Maurice Greyson

The crowd is hushing, and I see that our escort, Blanca Mesh, is finally coming forward. I guess that they finally found her after the speech.

"Ah, hello, everyone. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor! So, who wants to meet our Tributes?" the solid white figure asks. She's completely white—everything, head to toe, is a single, uniform shade of white, with the exception of shadows. The crowd doesn't answer the strange woman, so she continues. "I know I do, so without any further delay…" she says, and reaches into a glass bowl. "Ladies first, of course!" she adds, and pulls out a slip.

"Eliza Huntington! Come on up, lucky lady!" I watch as a plainly-dressed girl walks out of the eighteen-year-old section. Dang. Her last year of eligibility, too. I guess the odds weren't in her favor, after all. She looks pretty upset, but then something happens. The voice of a little girl is heard over the silence.

"Momma? Momma?" The crowd awes, and suddenly I remember something I heard at school one day. That was the Eliza, the girl who had gotten pregnant a few years ago and had never been back to school since. I guess that the father had left. Some guy named 'Fray' or something. Wow. I looked over at Zanec, and even he looked a little troubled by this. Then the sobbing began. Eliza dropped to the ground, crying hard. I feel bad for her. Then I see a Peacekeeper, and I realize that it's Head Peacekeeper Brard. He picks her up, and it looks like he's saying something to her. Now that I think about it, I realize that I know that they're connected, too. Her sister, Cassidy I think, is engaged to his brother, who happens to be very rich.

Finally, after what seems like a long while, Eliza is onstage.

"Oh, my, wasn't that heartbreaking?" Blanca asks, and you can tell that she is even touched. "Poor thing. But, now let's see the boy!" she says, and reaches into the other bowl. It takes me a moment to realize the name she calls out.

"Maurice Greyson!" Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap. How will I finish my studies now? I walk to the stage, slowly accepting my fate. The odds are at least 48 to 1 in my favor, and that's with some generous rounding. This will be exciting, although I practically know I won't ever get to go home again. Might as well make the most of it. But as I head onto the stage and the audience claps somberly, I look into Eliza's tear-filled eyes. When we shake, she looks into mine. I feel so bad for her, and I do something that I've never seen before. I bring her towards me for a hug. The applause picks up greatly, and I know instantly that this will be big in the Capitol.

"Thank you," I hear Eliza whisper. Why, I don't know. But I do know one thing as we are taken into the visiting rooms.

I've made a friend.

So, the touchy-feely-emotion-filled Reaping is from District Three. Not how I originally planned it, but… I like where it went, I hope you all did, too. Sorry this one's kind of short. I know I wrote more for Maurice, but I feel that I added a little bit more detail to Eliza. Thank you to the creators of these two wonderful Tributes, and good luck to them in the Games. And, as always, thanks for all the support! See you next time.