Rhiannon lifts my leg to stretch it. The methodical counting down from twenty seconds begins in my mind. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen...

"So, the Reaping is tomorrow," she begins, a smile creeping on her face. "Mr. Wolffe has been training me. I'm sure to be strongly considered as a volunteer."

I roll my eyes. Fourteen, thirteen, twelve...Here in District 1, it's a huge deal to volunteer for the Hunger Games, a competition where kids from the ages of twelve to eighteen fight to the death until there's one person left-a victor. Mr. Wolffe is a very pricey trainer. He trains many of the high-class kids, like Rhi and I, in District 1. He showed me that I am a quick, silent killer with swords and knives, and that I am excellent at running and climbing(due to my flexibility from dancing). I am unlike Rhiannon though, because I fear the Reaping. Every year since I turned twelve-and I am now fifteen-I have been fearful that on one Reaping, my name would be called. But last year, there were so many volunteers that I didn't even have to fear. I don't even care anymore, because I know my name won't be called.

Three, two, one... I switch my leg so that Rhiannon can stretch the other one. The countdown starts again, as Rhi bores me with her excitement for the possibility of her being chosen as a tribute.

"What if they choose Kai Pimmelton? She's so good with an axe! Oh my gosh, what about Glimmer! She's gorgeous! They probably already have their sights set on her," she babbles, her frizzy dark blonde hair already arranging itself like a curly sun around her face.

I begin to tune out her incessant chatter about the Games and focus on what really matters to me, ballet. Soon, the stretching is over and I warm up on the barre, letting my mind wander. I begin to think of all of those foolish volunteers who are so willing to give up their lives at a moment's notice to kill innocent people and possibly be killed as well. Well, that won't be me. Not this year, not ever. It certainly won't be my ten-year-old twin siblings, Olive and Vernon. I'll do everything to make sure that doesn't happen. My parents, on the other hand, are stupid. They put us through training, each of us beginning at the age of five. They want us to volunteer. In a sense, I've already let them down. My parents become more distant from me every year that my name doesn't get called.

That night, I fall into a dreamless sleep. When I awaken, my maid comes and greets me with a comb and a cup of tea. She gently brushes my hair and arranges it into a beautiful braided bun with pink and white ribbons weaved in and out of it, letting a few of my auburn curls escape. She slides a strapless, pink floral dress over my head and ties a large white ribbon around my small waist when suddenly the thought hits me: it's Reaping Day. My heart thumps so loudly that I think it might explode. My mother comes in my room and greets me coldly.

Without even looking at me, she says, "Let's hope you finally make us proud this year." I feel my face turn a deep shade of red in anger, but I bite my tongue.

"Anyone with sense wouldn't want their firstborn daughter to die. Just saying," I mutter.

We all leave and head to the town square, where thousands of other people stand pressed together like sardines. We are all pressed close to the stage, where Gaelyn Voltz, our representative from the Capitol, stands smiling in her hideous pale pink skin and ridiculous hot-pink begins.

"Welcome, people of the fabulous District 1,to the Reaping for the 74th Annual Hunger Games! I am so happy to be here with you on this fine, sunny morning!" Her plastered, fake smile irritates me, just like all of the other people from the Capitol. But as usual, the deafening applause rises from the crowd. She goes on, "Yes, well today is going to be very special!"

Gaelyn blabbers on about how this year's Games are going to be especially entertaining and fun. She pleasantly introduces us to our deaths, and makes some lighthearted jokes here and there, inciting fake laughter from the crowd. Suck ups,I think. Bored,I stare down at my flats that I had custom made to somewhat resemble my ballet point shoes. That is, until Gaelyn says, "Let's get down to business!" and sticks her hand into the huge, ornate glass bowl. She digs around for a bit, and then pulls out a name. I feel sorry for the poor sap whose name is about to be called-

"Breelle Tylk?" Oh. My. God. That "poor sap" is me. I am literally frozen in place. Shaking, I am shaking now. A huge grin spreads across my parents' faces and my brother and sister are cheering, but I can't hear anything or anyone because the only sound that permeates my eardrums is the thumping of my heart. "Breelle? Are you here?" Gaelyn asks, scanning the crowd.

My mother shoves me foward. I force myself to move, to blink, to breathe. Then I hear shouts from around the square. "Hell, if she doesn't want it, I'll take it!" a familiar voice trills, high and clear. It belongs to Glimmer.

"Do we have any takers-" Gaelyn begins to ask, but my father interrupts her, saying, "Bree is happy to accept the offer," His voice lowers. "Aren't you Bree?" A small, choked "Yes." comes out of the back of my throat, as I slowly make my ascent up the platform. Everything is too bright for this moment. Gaelyn's hair and skin, the sun that tauntingly shines brightly in my face, the smiles on my parents' faces, the cheers from the crowd. I stand as Gaelyn announces the boy tribute named Marvel (I don't really know much about him), whose secretly jealous friends cheer for him as he cockily runs up the platform, slapping people's hands as he runs.

"Congratulations, tributes. District 1, meet your new tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

As cheers and applause echo through the throngs of people, I can't help but think that the ascent to the platform of the District 1 Justice Building may very likely be my last...