(Chapter 2: James)

I've been up since 4:30 in the morning, getting ready for the games. My name has been entered 5 times this year, since I am 16. Unlike most of my friends in District 1, I really don't want to be picked. In my District, being chosen to compete in the Hunger Games is an honour, a chance to go down in glory.

I just don't want to die.

So, every year since my first reaping when I was 12, I've been practising for the Games, in case I get chosen. Climbing trees, making fires, fighting, making traps, surviving the outdoors. That sort of stuff.

But the chances of being chosen are pretty slim. Well, that's what I told my younger sister, Cleo. Today is her first reaping, and she is terrified. She hasn't been sleeping properly for a month, and every night comes into my room to sleep with me. But last night, she stayed in her bed, screaming. I'd come to check on her in the middle of the night, and find her sweating, or crying, or her heart racing like she's about to have a heart attack.

But, thankfully, she is fast asleep at the moment.

I lift weights, make some traps, learn how to purify water, and how to find water. Then I top it off with climbing some of the apple trees near our house and eating apples. I picked some for Cleo and my mother before heading back home.

I turn on the shower and climb in, enjoying the warm sprinkles of water. Then I get out, get dressed and sit down for breakfast. As my mother places down a plate of eggs and toast in front of Cleo and I, I read the clock in the corner of my eye. 10:00.

Two hours until the reaping.