"Ouch!" I squeal as my mother fiddles with my hair.

"Sit still, Annie! Only one more pin…" says my mother. I screech again as she stings my scalp. "There, all done. I think that's my best Reaping hair I've done."

I sigh slightly. Looking your best when you could be chosen to fight to the death. Brilliant. My mother's opinion about the Hunger Games is mixed. She hates to see the children die, but revels and celebrates when District 4 wins, which happens fairly frequently.

"Let me look at you," she says.

I stand up and twirl. She gasps slightly.

"You are so beautiful, Annie," she says as she clasps her hands together. "You will make a man very happy one day."

I roll my eyes. She always goes on about how I'll be an excellent wife and how all the boys will be lining up to marry me. I'm not bothered about that subject yet. I just want to have fun while I'm still young. I am seventeen years old and I still have a lot to live for. Well, that's if I don't get Reaped.

My name is only in the bowl six times. I don't need to take any tesserae. My parents are one of the best fishing families in the District. We don't need the extra oil and grain. I don't want to sound like I'm boasting about it, but I'm just being honest.

"Sayla! Sayla!" my mother calls up to my sister. "Are you ready yet?"

"I'm coming!" she groans as she traipses down the stairs. "Do I need to wear a dress?"

I smirk to myself. Sayla isn't a typical thirteen-year-old from District 4. She hates swimming and all things to do with the sea, whereas I absolutely love it. She wears trousers, even though it's pretty much always hot, yet the rest of us wear shorts and dresses. But she is my sister, and I love her, no matter what she does or says. I will always stick by her.

Sayla stands at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded with a frown on her face. Her black hair is styled in a fishtail braid, with her fringe just covering her eyebrows and framing her silver eyes. Her dress is quite simple; she didn't want anything fancy, just plain white, knee length with short sleeves. Though she isn't over dressed, she looks very striking, with the mix of black, white and grey.

"Yes, of course you do. It's the Reaping; you must look your best. And you do. You look beautiful," replies my mother. "Now, can you get your little brother for me and, Annie, don't forget your grandmother's necklace."

I smile and go up to my room to find the necklace. My grandmother was one of the first ever Victors in the Hunger Games, back when it was first decreed. Her one true love, my grandfather, found a rare pink pearl whilst diving one day and saved it for the day he would declare his love for her. And that day was Reaping day. It could have been his last time to say it. He gave it to her as her District token when he visited her at the JusticeBuilding, making sure she knew how much she was loved. When she came home, she had it made into a necklace and handed it down to my mother as a good luck charm for the Reapings when she was younger. And now my mother has given it to me. It still smells of my grandmother's favourite perfume. Sometimes, when I'm sad or lonely, I find it and sniff it, to remind me of her warm safe arms and welcoming smile. She died four years ago, only six months after my grandfather passed.

I look in the mirror in my room as I put the necklace on. This is the first glance of myself since I first woke up. My mother has done my hair well. It is a braided and wound into a bun with green fabric woven into it the plaits, green to match my eyes, she says. I guess being a good knot tier means you can do all sorts of thing with hair. Rope, hair, it's all the same, right?

My dress is beautiful too. It's a sea blue silk, just above the knee, with a low neckline and slightly ruffled short sleeves. I smile to myself. Considering I had a terrible nights sleep, yeah, I'm not bad. Not amazingly drop dead gorgeous, but I probably will make a man happy one day.

I clamber back down stairs and smile at my mother, who is now holding on to my little brother Flint. He is only a baby, about three months old now. My parents decided to try for another child as they had been unsuccessful for a few years and my father wanted to see if they could have a boy to take over the family business when he is older. I still haven't gotten used to the crying and whining. He has blue eyes and slightly blonde hair like my father. I'm sure he will be the mirror of him when he grows up. She smiles back, with almost a tear in her eye.

"This will be a good year for District 4, I can feel it," she grins. "We should be going. Your father is meeting us there. And we don't want to keep him waiting."