I stand, frozen in place. Until the Peacekeepers grab me by my arms and haul me to the stage. I climb the steps slowly, then I stand next to Fabiana.

I see mouths are moving in the audience, but I don't hear them. I don't know where my family is. I can't hear anything but a funny roar. It's distant, and it's like nobody else hears it.

I look at the group of 18 year old girls. Some of them are gathered around Georgette. I can see her curly hair sticking up high. I look away. People from my school are staring at me in horror. Twill is crying, this is her first year as a teacher.

My eyes turn to my age group. None of them can look at me. Fabiana's lips are moving and she's holding another piece of paper.

This can not be happening. I have plans. I'm making a tunic. I have a life!

"Johnny Wester." Fabiana announces. My eyes go to the boys' groups. There is movement in the 13 year olds. A pale boy with black hair steps forward, and my heart sinks. His shirt and overalls are patched out of necessity, not fashion. Nobody in District 8 is well fed, but he is easily the smallest boy of the group, smaller than most of the 12 year olds. Two Peacekeepers flank him as he walks to the stage. I admire his composure, from a distance. I've lost all sense of where I am.

There is a commotion in the audience. Peacekeepers are rushing to the south end of the square. I hear a woman screaming, I don't know if it's my mother or Johnny's.

Now there is more screaming and more Peacekeepers. Detached, I watch as the crowd begins to riot. The younger age groups are huddled together and crying. The older boys are leaping into the fray.

Someone grabs my arms and hauls me backwards into the Justice Building. I'm shoved into an empty office and the door slams shut. I collapse onto the floor.

I lie on the carpet and blink. How did I end up on the floor? Does it matter? I've been reaped.

I lie there for a while, until I return to my senses. What would my grandmother say if she saw me collapsed on the carpet? She'd tell me to get up. Stand tall. Start using my head.

Grandmother could be harsh. She had a rough childhood, then started working in the factories, like everyone. Her temper kept her from any promotion, and sometimes landed her in jail. The Head Peacekeeper said that his gun discharged by mistake while being cleaned, and it tragically happened to be pointed at my grandmother in her cell.

Honestly, I liked Grandmother best when she was sober. Not slurring or vomiting in my bed. But I appreciate that she never coddled us. She taught me how to take out rats with a knife. Maybe that will be useful in the Arena. Maybe we'll be thrust into a decrepit tenement building full of rats and drunk parents. I'll be sure to win.

Mother has been drinking less since she fell pregnant with Olaf. I suppose she will comfort him when-.

I stand up. I look around the plain office, at the greys and browns of it all. I sit down in a leather chair and wait.

I don't know how much time has passed, until the door opens. Father is there, tall and sweaty. There is blood smeared across his face, I can see the beginnings of a black eye. He steps into the room with Mother, who is very pale and cradling Olaf in her arms. Paisley and Georgette follow them, sobbing. The lace on Paisley's dress is torn and her knees are dirty. Kelo runs up to me and wraps his thin arms around my waist. He is followed by Paolo and Tarth.

"I have something for you," Georgette announces. She hands me her favorite pendant, and the chain she wears it with. I quickly put them into a pocket and we lock eyes.

The pendant is circular, with notches cut along the side, revealing the edges of a round blade inside. To the untrained eye, it's an antique metal pendant with clover etched into it. Anyone in District 8 would know it's a threadcutter.

"Who started the riot?" I ask Father, while my sisters pull me into their arms.

He shrugs. "Probably a Wester."

Mother hands Olaf to Paisley, then grips my shoulders. "Remember what your grandmother always told us. Stand on your own two feet. Fight when you have to."

"Okay." I swallow. "How bad was the riot?"

"About twenty deaths," Father says. "The Peacekeepers shot most of them."

"One of your classmates was trampled and her arm is broken," Paisley says. "It was Juanita."

A Peacekeeper opens the door. "Time is up."

I kiss Paisley and Kelo and the little boys. Georgette hugs me. I allow Father to embrace me. He takes my chin in his hand.

"You're a clever one," he tells me. "Go make us proud."

"I want you to win," Kelo says in a rush, before turning away.

"Get out now," the Peacekeeper snaps. Georgette pulls Paisley behind her and they quickly exit the room with Father. The door remains open and Fabiana saunters through it.

"Hello young lady!" I stand there while she circles me, examining me. "We have a colorful selection of clothes on the train. We'll have you looking pretty in no time!"

"I don't like 'pretty'," I respond. "I like unique. And functional."

"We have that too!" She smiles broadly. I study her face, wondering what she really looks like under her layers of cosmetics.

A Peacekeeper knocks on the door frame. "Let's go."

"All right!" Fabiana's smile is strained. "I can not wait to leave this district!"

I stare at her for a beat before following her outside of the room. There are four Peacekeepers waiting, two of them flanking Johnny. His face is beet red and his nose is running. I feel bad for him, even if we are now opponents.