*DISTRICT 10*

*SKYLAR JOYCE EDMONDSON*
*TWELVE*

"Skylar, do you know?" Mrs. Morris inquires as she finishes her lecture, glaring sternly at the young brunette.

"Um..." In fact, Skylar does know exactly how to draw a Punnett Square, but she doesn't exactly want to walk all the way up to the tiny whiteboard in front of the class and create one. She knows she won't get it wrong, but why risk it? "Uh, no, I don't. Sorry." Her cheeks burn and her classmates laugh.

"Hannah, do you?"

Hannah Facha, Skylar's best and only friend, jumps up with a grin, already extending her hand toward the black marker. "Sure do, Mrs. Morris!" She bounds up the aisle, her tangled brown locks swinging. Her plaid shirt is too big on her, and her jeans are ripped and baggy, and she wears thick sneakers, but she's the most popular girl in Skylar's grade. After all, she loves attention and pulls people in like honey to their fly.

Skylar wishes desperately she were more like Hannah, but she isn't. And she's given up trying to change that.

*JOSHUA NATHANIEL GARCIA*
*FIFTEEN*

Josh struggles to read a paragraph in his textbook. It's not that he doesn't understand the words the author is using to describe the Capitol (beautiful, majestic, magnificent), it's that he keeps mixing the letters up, so that the words appear as deautiful, najeztic, naqmificemt. And he's sure those aren't words. Pretty sure, anyway.

He squints at the passage, trying to understand the gist of it so he might at least be able to answer some of the questions, but he's distracted by the boy in front of him.

Cole Hartness is buff and blonde, with cobalt blue eyes. He wears a tight gray shirt over black cargo pants, through which his firm, tone buttocks is clearly visible.

Josh closes his eyes tightly, and prays that when he opens them, he won't be gay. He'll fall magically in love with the nice girl sitting next to him, and they'll be able to get married and have a family and be grandparents together.

But when his eyelids flutter up, he's still gay, and he stills feels affection for the boy sitting in front of him, who is still his ex-boyfriend. Why does his life have to be so complicated?

*DISTRICT 10 REAPING*

Betsy Bop bounces onto the stage, her outfit jangling and clanging, her skirt swinging, her red-painted smile wide. She's mouthing the words to a song that no one can hear over the sound of the bells on her shirt. "Good morning!" she exaggerates into the microphone. "It's a beautiful day!"

"Beautiful," the mayor hurriedly agrees. "Just gorgeous." He glances into the camera, beads of sweat rolling down his face. "We have been working very hard at the farms, lately, and this morning was just-"

Betsy holds up a large hand, adorned with dozens of cocktail rings. "Please, please. Can we continue with the Reaping?"

"Oh. O-of course," he mutters, swiping at his long dark hair.

Betsy returns to humming as she reaches for a slip of paper. "Doo doo doo da doo, duh doo, doo doo doo doo doo, do do. Buh buh buh buh buh, buh ba. Buh na na na na, nuh uh." Her face turns red as she tries to fit her fat hand inside the bowl. "Erm..." Finally, she fits her wrist through and grasps a folded card. She opens her mouth to speak the name of the chosen tribute, but now her hand cannot escape the container. "Uh..."

"Let me help!" offers the mayor, jumping forward, drawing anyone's attention who hadn't already noticed the spectacle.

Betsy eyes the cameras and ducks her head, as though the Capitol residents don't know exactly who the District 10 escort is anyway. "No, it's okay, but thank you, Mayor."

"No, I can help!" he protests, leaping toward the bowl and attempting to yank it off her hand. He succeeds, but in doing so, throws the bowl out over the audience.

Papers rain out over the younger children and the Peacekeepers that line the first row, facing the crowd. A young boy in the thirteen-year-old section catches the bowl, then slams it into the ground, a look of defiance on his face.

"Well, um..." Betsy's face now matches her lipstick. "Let's, er..." She checks the paper that she's still clutching in her meaty fingers. "Skylar Edmondson."

Skylar knows there's no way in a million years that she could possibly win. Even if she had the talent (which she does, a little, maybe, with knives), she won't be able to get enough sponsors. But what's she going to do? She can't just opt out of the Hunger Games.

Betsy Bop seems to be afraid that history will repeat itself. So she grasps the glass container, turns it upside-down, and shakes. Slips with names on them tumble out, opening and fluttering off into the breeze. Fucking fuck, she thinks, biting her lip so hard she draws blood. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. In a vain effort to save the day, she selects a paper. "Joshua Garcia!" She yells as loud as possible, hoping that maybe people will focus on that instead of the embarrassment she already caused. No such luck.

As a boy who Betsy doesn't really notice ascends the stage, a Peacekeeper drags her to her knees.

"Wait!" she squeals. "I-"

"Silence." He deals her a blow to the head, leaving her bowed and unconscious. Monotonously, another Peacekeeper in an immaculate white suit steps forward and shoots her easily on the back of her neck.

"What the hell was that?" The voice comes from the male tribute, who stands tall and straight. Even though he's only around 5'6, he has a muscular build, and when he's mad, his blue eyes turn to ice, and his voice comes out rock-hard. He's scary. "Just what the hell was that? Did I just see you shoot an entirely innocent woman for being a little too overweight?"

The man with the pistol turns on his heels to glare at Josh. He raises the gun to eye level and strolls carefully toward him. "I can shoot you too, just as easily," he hisses. "Would you like that?"

Josh is a little taken aback (he's never heard a Peacekeeper speak), but he's still boiling with rage. "Sure!" he shouts, hoping his voice spreads to the back of the audience. "Shoot me; I dare you!" He throws his hands up and waits. And waits. And suddenly his adrenalin catches up to him. What have I done?

"Now would be the time to beg for mercy," the man declares gruffly.

He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He won't. He can't. He...

"Do you need some help?" The Peacekeeper takes another threatening step.

"I...no."

"Leave him alone." Now it's the girl tribute speaking. She has her hands on her hips. "He'll die anyway in your Games. They all will. There will be only one victor, and that victor will be me. So you shouldn't worry about him." Skylar speaks loudly and bravely, but there's an obvious quiver in her smirk, and her breathing is quickening as she talks.

"Don't lie, little girl," the Peacekeeper warns menacingly.

"Why would I lie about winning the Hunger Games?"

"That's right," Josh says. "Why would she?" And he grabs her hand, trying to console his District partner.

But Skylar squirms out of his grip, trying her best to stand tall and proud on her own, even though she knows she'll never, ever hold up this bloodthirsty persona.

Maybe sponsors are just out of the question for her. Maybe she'll just have to win on her own.

i'm pretty sure this is a bad chapter that doesn't make too much sense, but please tell me how i did. what do you think? :) do you like longer or shorter chapters? reapings, or characters? how are your characters in general?