The characters are not mine.

They all belong to Suzanne Collins, the author of the Hunger Games. But please review anyway!

P.S. – I'm a new author. Go easy on me—this is my first fanfic. ;)

I wake up, and rub my eyes. I look at the bed beside me. My sister isn't there; her canary, Stewart, takes her place. I put on a white satin dress and head downstairs for breakfast only to find Maysilee picking at her oatmeal.

"Morning, Maribelle," Maysilee says, hiding her spoon under the table. She grimaces. "Your oatmeal's on the counter if you want it." I nod at her, pretending not to notice her odd behavior.

I take my oatmeal, which is topped with a few blackberries I gathered a few weeks ago. Oh…that day was hot. Our friend Delilah was busy working in her parents' apothecary, and Maysilee was burning hot to the touch.

"Why don't you take a breath of fresh air?" Mother says. "It's an oven in here, and I wonder if you could pick up a vial of medicine for Maysilee?" I grin at my sister and rush out the door.

I walk down the path to the apothecary. Soon, the smiling face of Delilah Hale is in front of me. "How could I help you?" my best friend asks, and gives me a wink.

"Maysilee's burning with fever," I tell her. She nods, and reaches into a small mahogany shelf and brings out a vial with pink liquid inside. She hands it to me. "Thanks." I tell her. Delilah smiles at me.

As I head back home, I spot a bush festooned with dark-colored berries. I pick one, and pop it into my mouth. Instantly, the berry bursts, and the sweet, flavorful juice is released. I pick another. It looks familiar…they call it blackberries I think. I pick all the berries I see on the bush, and put them in the basket, next to the vial.

I head home with a grinning face.

"Maribelle," Maysilee's voice brings me back to reality. "Maribelle!"

"Aah—sorry!" I tell her hastily. "I must've been…out…for a while?" I'm horrible with words…I'm not as good with them as my sister is. She never stutters.

"Don't ask me," Maysilee says. She takes a berry from my bowl and pops it into her mouth. "So do you think you'll be reaped?" she asks me. I shake my head.

"Doubt it," I reply, hogging my oatmeal. "We don't take tesserae."

"You're right. Just saying…" Maysilee says, lost in her own thoughts. I wolf down my breakfast while she's in a trance.

At around two, we walk to the town square. The mayor is already there, in his black top hat and navy blue coat. Our escort, Scarlett Waters—with her unmistakably scarlet hair and yellow eyes—is seated beside the mayor. Our mentor is nowhere to be seen.

The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason. I don't bother to listen—and neither does Maysilee—as we have heard that speech a million times already.

Before we realize it, Scarlett is already bouncing to the glass balls containing the tributes' names. "Why's Scarlett so happy?" I ask Maysilee. She looks at me in shock.

"You don't remember?" she asks me, horrified. "It's the Quell this year!"

The Quarter Quell. A gorier Hunger Games for the tributes. At least two families will shut their windows, lock their doors—and grieve in peace. This year, two more families will be added to the mix. Yes, this year, two more tributes will be added to the awful concoction—the Hunger Games—and die.

Scarlett puts her hand into the glass ball labeled 'Girls' and draws out a slip of paper, after saying a rather cheery 'Ladies first'. I close my eyes, preparing for the worst, when she calls out—

"Lorie Andrews!"

A small girl, at about twelve, quivers in fear as she walks slowly to the podium. Scarlett greets her with a smile and a pat on the shoulder, then moves on to call the other female tribute. I brace myself.

"Maysilee Donner!" she calls out. I spin around, meeting my sister's blue eyes. Like mine. Maysilee gives me a hug, and walks to the podium.

There must be something I could do to stop this madness. I stare at the ground. It's all I could do to stop myself from shrieking, "You must have the wrong girl!" and bursting into tears. Scarlett immediately turns to the boys' globe, stirring it like a pot and finally choosing to bring out a scrap of paper.

"Terry Pane!" Scarlett cries out. A boy about my age scurries to the podium, in order to stop the tears from flowing. Scarlett grins at him creepily and pulls out another piece of paper.

"Haymitch Abernathy!"

There's something wrong here I couldn't quite place. A tall teenage boy from the Seam (I know, I've seen him wander around town) goes forward. Scarlett wraps up and heads back to her seat.

Then I realize it. Scarlett did not ask for volunteers. Must be a Quarter Quell thing.

I chew on my fingernails. I glance at my parents, who are standing beside me. The Peacekeepers speak with my parents, and let us into the Justice Building.

The instant I see Maysilee, I burst into tears. We embrace, and she pats my back, murmuring, "It'll be alright." again and again. Suddenly, our parents join us and we all wail and bawl until Maysilee cries, "Stop! Stop!"

We break apart. Maysilee gazes at all of us, her blue eyes meeting mine. "Listen—especially you, Maribelle," Maysilee says firmly. We all nod, waiting for her to continue. "You can't stop living when I'm gone. I won't forgive you for that, ever."

"We promise," I reply, finally finding my voice, "if you agree to our terms as well."

"What could I do?" Maysilee says. Then, she sees the look on our faces—serious. She grimaces. "Okay, okay, jeez, go on. What do you want from me?" she grumbles.

Mother smiles at Maysilee. "Oh, just your promise that you come home," Mother says casually. Mother gets all buddy-buddy and casual when she's worried. Also her thin lips are more visible, during a bad time like this.

"Me…? Win? Come home?" Maysilee says, as if she's in a daze or something. She looks up and smiles dreamily, saying, "That would be heaven…" she drifts off.

We hug once more. "Wait," says Father. "I forgot something."

He kisses Maysilee, and I see him press something onto her hand. He also whispers something inaudible to Maysilee. Then, I come forward and take him away before the Peacekeepers could do so.

My parents and I go down quietly. The elevator is a living hell for all those who ride in it. First of all, it smells horrible—like all the Peacekeepers in the world just farted or something—and it smells like sweat. That's just the beginning. Don't get me started on everything else.

In the lobby, I find Delilah weeping. Once the Peacekeepers see us get out of the elevator, they prod Delilah. She walks to the elevator and disappears.

We head home, not saying a word along the way.