I've decided to completely rewrite both of my stories and now this will be a companion piece to my main fic, the Finnick and OC story.

Some people think that the worst day of the year is Reaping Day. I honestly used to think it was kind of amazing. Funny enough I was born on a Reaping Day. The town was packed with everyone from District 9, people arriving from the furthest parts of the district all yesterday. The reaping was pretty early and nerve-racking, but afterwards (when you didn't get picked) it was the one free day of the year. Nothing scheduled, no one had to work in the fields in the middle of summer. Just about everyone was out getting drunk and celebrating. I could take a nap if I wanted or spend the day reading with Seb. But this year that was all taken away from me. This year I was reaped for the 70th Hunger Games.

It was surprising honestly, I was seventeen so I had my name in six times and sure I should have thought there was a chance of being picked when usually a lot of tributes are older. But lately the reapings seem to be targeting the smallest and weakest as if the Capitol is trying to send a message. The last five years none of our tributes have been older than thirteen. So maybe I was jaded.

We hadn't a victor in thirty years and the three that are alive are no spring chickens. So it's not like the district even thought that anyone was coming home. But there I sat on the train ride to the Capitol trying not to remember the hours before this. I was so focused on coming home.

I don't even remember much of the morning and getting ready, just Jake yelling that he was going to kill me for sleeping in. I don't think I even brushed my hair before heading out to the reaping. I threw on the one dress I had that was usually reserved for walks with my boyfriend, Sebastian. I was the last person the scanned in, the speech was already being read by Mayor Feeder by the time I finally found my place. I didn't even have time to brace myself for what was next.

"Let's start with the boys," Athena walked over to the bowl that held a merger thousand names. Almost no one dared to take tesserae, afraid of increasing their chances. "Timothy Weidler!"

My heart ached for him and his family as I watched the small boy extract himself from his group. He was twelve years old, absolutely no chances in hell at winning. Another death sentence. I watched as quite possibly the smallest child in the district made his way up to the stage.

Athena didn't even spare him a glance, knowing he wasn't going to bring her any glory. She went to the girls bowl, "Emmer Buckwheat."

Me. That was my name. That meant I was going to the hunger games. I did the only thing I could think off. I pumped my fist and yelled out "Yes!"