(Please note that I made and own the cover image of this story. I made it specifically for this, so please don't steal it. You can be sure I'll report you if you do.)

I crack my eyes open, staring at the strip of pale sunlight that cuts a path across the floor. I turn over, burying my face in my pillow, trying to recall the dream I had been having. Oh yes, I had gotten reaped for this years Hunger Games, the first one to take place since the Capitol had regained control of Panem. "Nice try, Miss Everdeen," I mutter muffledly. The rebels had been overthrown after they had practically won the war, and now the Capitol was coming back with doubled venom. Literally: they were now demanding double the tributes for their abominable Games.

I turn over and throw a pillow across the room, where it lands on my sister, Laterose. "Wake up Rose. We don't want to be late for the Capitol," I say loudly. Rose sits up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She frowns over at me. "That's not even funny," she says sternly. I toss back my blankets and swing my feet onto the floor. "I had a dream," I tell her as I pull on my clothes. She looks up, watching me closely. I avoid her stare. "I'm going to be reaped," I say. I bend over, pulling on my work boots. Her sharp intake of breath tells me this news was not what she expected. She gets up and comes over to me. "Are you sure?" she asks gently.

"Positive," I reply. "Hurry up, the livestock needs taking care of." I twist my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck and jab some pins into it aggressively, then am out the door of our small house. Our parents died in the rebellion a few years ago, leaving my sister and I to our own devices. As a result, I am as sore at one Katniss Everdeen as I am at the Capitol.

I go to the barn where I hear our three cows lowing to be milked and fed. I pick up the buckets right inside the door and go first to the rusty colored cow, Juney. She prods my shoulder with her wet nose, mooing loudly in my ear. "Shut up, Juney," I say, shoving her head aside. "I'm hungry too. Be glad you're a cow, you get fed first." I plop down on the little stool that we keep for milking. "And if you kick the bucket over today, I'll chew your leg off," I add threateningly. After the livestock is taken care of, I go back into the house, which smells pleasantly of new bread. Laterose keeps our mother's garden out back well tended, and we always have some sort of fruit or vegetable to eat. She must be making pumpkin bread, since we have no wheat, and there are pumpkin shells neatly piled by the door. "Come on, get cleaned up and come have breakfast," she orders. She is already neatly attired in an old dress of our mother's, a spring green frock with a little bit of frill at the neck. I wash my hands and face and change into some clean jeans and a blue checkered blouse. I slip my feet into my good brown leather boots and redo my hair. Rose glances up at me. "You're not going to wear something fancier?" she asks.

"Why bother? I'll still look a million times nicer than the freaks in the Capitol," I point out. We sit down to a breakfast of warm pumpkin bread and a tender, boiled chicken. After the dishes are washed and dried, Rose sits still while I braid her hair in what was once known as a French braid. And then she's locking the front door, and we're gripping hands tightly, while we walk towards the town square.

I never liked crowds, and I absolutely hate mobs of people. I stand amidst the other sixteen year olds, clenching my fists, fighting the urge to scream, or run away. I completely ignore the new video from the Capitol, showing both rebellions, and their disastrous outcomes. Finally, the woman assigned to District Ten, Deena Catterpole, begins the repulsive ritual. "Well, that certainly is enlightening!" she gushes, referring to the video. "I'm sure we all enjoy being educated from time to time." She beams her silly smile over the crowd before she notices the murderous looks some of us are throwing at her. "Well, let's crack on, shall we?" She totters over to the girls reaping ball, slightly unbalanced by her foot-high, spindly heeled shoes. She pauses at the half full globe. "I thought we might have a little break from tradition this year," she says brightly. "Instead of girl girl, boy boy, I thought we might go girl boy boy girl." She looks slightly unnerved by the sea of silent faces staring at her, and clears her throat loudly. "Well then, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" She plunges her manicured hand into the glass globe and surfaces with a slip of paper. I know my dream was real, so I concentrate on finding Rose in the crowd. Our eyes meet, and I nod. Deena's high, silly voice rings out over the crowd. "Brandi - Ilonwich." The crowd parts to let me through, and as I walk to the stage, I allow myself a fleeting smile of grim satisfaction. Our last name always gives anyone we don't know a pause, and it was particularly satisfying to have the ridiculous creatures from the Capitol at a loss as to how to pronounce it.

I climb the steps and saunter to my place on the stage. "Well, we're off to a good start!" Deena says brightly. She minces over to me and shoves her microphone in my face. "How old are you, dear?" she asks. I decide to make thing very interesting for this woman. "Old enough to be in your bloody Games, but not old enough to escape them," I say, fixing my point of focus on a spot somewhere above the crowd. Deena's smile falters slightly as the assembled people try to stifle their chuckles. She hitches her toothy grin back into place and scurries over to the boys ball. "It's the boys turn, now!" she trills. I pay no attention to the reaping, I intend to take out my district partners first thing, before we can form an alliance. I glance at the girls ball, and a see, with a thrill of horror, the name on the slip that was near the top: Laterose Ilonwich. Instinctively, I know which name Deena will pick next, and my insides curl up at the thought of us both being in the arena.

I casually put my hands behind my back, sneaking my hand into the back pocket of my jeans and pulling out an elastic hairband and a large, smooth stone. Shifting position slightly, I load my makeshift slingshot and wait, watching for the right moment. The second boy is climbing onto the stage now; now Deena is talking to him; now she is turning back to the girls side. Now! I sneak my hands to one side, still mostly hidden, but where I can get a fairly good shot. She has almost reached this side of the stage when I release my stone. There is a resounding crash, a musical tinkle, and the hissing whisper of thousands of paper slips sliding onto the ground. I instantly whip the hairband back into my pocket and stand with a look of detached interest on my face. Deena is in a tizzy, and the crowd is startled and somewhat agitated. As Peacekeepers surge in from all sides to help Deena, I catch Rose's eye and wink, ever so slightly. Her eyes widen briefly, then a look that I know all too well settles on her countenance.

Deena is tottering back and forth, trying to snag a slip of paper, and getting more and more distressed. The crowd is utterly silent again, watching her struggling to cope with the situation. "We must have another girl tribute!" she says to the Peacekeepers.

"I'm sure no one would mind if you volunteered, Deena," I say callously, still staring off into space. Laughter explodes from the sea of humanity in front of me, and Deena looks like she's about to explode. She plucks a slip of paper from the new pile at the edge of the stage. "Abigail Samton," she says, and doesn't attempt any pompous questions or announcements. "Well, here are our tributes from District Ten. Shake hands, you four," she says, looking harried. The other three shake hands, but I remain where I am, arms folded behind my back. We are escorted to the Justice Building and lead into our separate rooms. I plop down, waiting for Rose to appear. She does, and kneels down to take my hands. She stares into my eyes a moment, her mouth trembling. I cross my eyes at her, and she bursts out laughing. "Why did you break the ball, Brandi?" she asks.

"I saw your name in it, and I knew Deena was going to get that slip of paper, I just knew it," I tell her. She stares at me a bit.

"You could have been executed on the spot, if they found out," she tells me soberly. I shake my head.

"They'll just make sure I'm one of the first to go in the arena," I say. She grips my hands tighter. "You will try to win, won't you? You will try to come home?" I give her a squeeze.

"I'll do more, ducky, I will actually succeed." She hugs back, and for a moment, we just sit there, holding tight to each other. Then we break apart, and she wipes her eyes. "Good luck. I'll keep the farm going til you get back." I nod, unable to say anything. Then Peacekeepers are there, and I watch as my sister is marched out the door. I sit a moment, thinking. I'm not one to show any emotion, ever, so there was no way for anyone to know about the numbness that was growing inside me. I comfort myself with the thought that in one more year, Rose will be too old for the Games, and we'll both be free of them. As Peacekeepers come in the door, I stand up, my expression stony again. They grab my arms and attempt to march me to the train. "I am sure you are capable of walking to the train on your own, you need not use me as a support," I say acidly. We tributes board the train, and see Deena Catterpole and our mentors waiting for us. "Now, ladies and gentlemen-" Deena has started the speech I knew she had planned. I completely ignore everyone and stalk to my room, slamming the door. I glare at the cameras. "Don't care what you stare at, do you?" I say, the scorn in my voice almost tangible. I fling myself in a chair, and watch as the fields and meadows, houses and barns of District Ten roll away, then vanish completely in the distance. Everything I knew was changing. No matter what the outcome of the Hunger Games are, my world will never be the same again.