A/N- Here's the first reaping. And yes, I will be doing all of them. Since I'm writing other people's characters, I think it's important to give them at least a little time in the spotlight before they're brutally slaughtered.

This character is brought to you by Little Miss Dancerina. The proofreading is brought to you by mt fabulous beta, Laeve!

And by the way- I don't own The Hunger Games. If I did, Mockingjay would have been a bit different. But now is not the time to rant. Now is the time for Starvation 3. I hope you enjoy it.

I've always been the golden girl. And you know what? It's still not enough.

Mother's hands run through my hair. She spent her time brushing it out. "I think we can leave it down, don't you, Amy?" my mother asks.

I look in the mirror. I look pretty much the same as I always do, to me anyway. Wavy blond hair, long nose, full lips, blue eyes that are really my only defining feature. My hair is nice, but almost everyone in District 1 is blond. Sometimes I wonder if we were genetically engineered or something else strange. We're certainly a very blond bunch.

"I guess so, Mama," I say. I think my hair looks a little wild, to be honest; but mother seems to approve of it, and all of her teasing and pulling on my hair is not something I'm eager to repeat for prettier bangs. My mother gives my hair one last fluffing and pulls one strand over my shoulder. "Time for the reaping, dear," she says. I smile faintly, digging my fingernails into my blue dress. I stand and pull my favorite bracelet from my jewelry box.

"Oh, not that one, Amy," my mother coos. "It will look tacky with the gold earrings."

"Then I can wear a silver pair instead. Please, mama?" I ask. She chews her lip. I know she thinks gold is better, because it signifies being the best; but I hope that today of all days my mother will budge on something like regulating my choice in jewelry. She doesn't like the Hunger Games any more than I do. While my father may approve heartily, my mother and I watch only in quiet revulsion.

"Alright," she finally relents. "I mean, it is pretty and all…"

"Thank you," I say, kissing her on the cheek and turning to go downstairs. I put on the bracelet as I walk, fumbling with the clasp while trying not to fall down the stairs and break my neck.

Of all the proof that my family is affluent, the fact that we actually have a two-story house is probably the most glaring. While very few of District 1's citizens live in the ever-popular cement hovels that pass as housing in most of the Districts, very few people have houses like ours. Which is only fitting, since Reinhart is such a prominent name, I suppose.

I wobble a little as my heels sink into the thick carpet. I can hear my mother cleaning up after us upstairs, humming an unrecognizable tune. I steady myself on the polished banister with my bracelet finally hanging on my left wrist, diamonds glinting aloofly around the amethyst. I could hardly believe it when Glitz and Glamour gave it to me. I mean, something like this is not an unheard-of gift in District 1, but you're more likely to get it from a family member on some very special occasion like a wedding. My friends must have saved up to give it too me, which made me feel bad because I didn't have diamonds bracelets to give to them. My parents would never approve of something like that, best friends or not.

I hear footsteps pounding down after me. Definitely not my mom; she's a little too timid to make that much noise.

"Thyssa!" Topaz squeals. Her arms go around my neck, almost tripping me again. I laugh, steadying myself.

"Jeeze, Topsy! Let me get down the stairs first," I laugh. She smiles sheepishly, letting go of my neck. I take her hand and she smiles brightly. She may be twelve, but doesn't act it. The world is all good and beautiful in her eyes. I'm really afraid how she'll take it when she's finally forced to face the truth.

As we finally step off the stairs Topsy throws her arms around my neck. I laugh. "Just couldn't wait, could ya, kiddo?" I hug her back and take her hand, leading her into the dining room.

"Good morning, girls," my father rumbles. I smile faintly. My father has a different air about him. He's not afraid like me, trying really hard to act normal like my mother, or joyfully oblivious like Topaz. He knows exactly what's going on, and he loves it.

Topaz gives him a kiss on the cheek before scooping an apple out of the bowl. Two strands of her blond hair have been tied back. Her eyes are the same blue as mine. Mother says she looks just like I did when I was her age. Judging from the old pictures we have, she's not far off. She rinses the apple off. I've always been a little surprised people in the lower Districts don't have indoor plumbing, or at least a lot of them don't. I'd never paid much attention to them until the rebellion. Even before the borders were closed, but the small parts of the Districts that have been shown in the Final Eight interviews and all have been pretty much destitute.

"Still hungry, even after that nice breakfast you mother cooked up?" he teases her. "You aren't going to fit into your reaping dress for much longer at this rate. "Topsy pouts, but sinks her teeth into the apple anyway. He laughs, "That's alright. It'll keep your strength up if you're reaped today. Topsy's eyes widen.

"Father!" I say. Even he should know joking around to a twelve-year-old about being sent to their death isn't appropriate for a day it could actually happen.

"Oh, shush, Amethyst," my father dismisses me. "This District needs kids like you to represent it! I mean, look at the slummies we've been getting for the last two years!" I stiffen. "Slummies." I mean, upper-class people call the poorer resident of District 1 that all the time, but I've never liked hearing it.

"Absolutely ridiculous. That boy last year at least had some fight in him! But the girl- pah! Fighting against her own district partner to protect that District Five boy. Of all the kids that have been reaped so far… And did you hear their names? Krenk. Wesley. Baylyn. Those aren't good District One names. You'd think their parents would have at least chosen respectable names for them!" he exclaims, banging his fist against the coffee table. "But you know how it is. Only the richer people bother giving their children luxurious names. A pity. Amethyst. Topaz. Now those are good names."

I don't say anything. I like my name, but I don't agree with the rest of what he's saying. Thankfully it's not a struggle to bite back my arguments. I've been doing it for almost as long as I could talk. It's ingrained into my brain.

"If you or Topaz were reaped, you'd represent our District well. No crying. No pointless self-sacrifice. My girls would win! I wish you could, just to show all those slummies what District One is really made of. But I'm talking too much! Listen to me go on. How was your reaping morning, Amethyst?" he asks, picking up his coffee with a bright smile. I shrug.

"Oh, I don't know. It was pretty normal," I say.

It had been pretty normal. My mother had woken me up by tickling me the way she had for years. I always groaned that I was too old to be woken up like that, but I didn't mean it. Mother knew, so she kept doing it. It was our little morning ritual. After groaning and complaining for a few minutes, I was up and dressed in my going-out clothes. My mother didn't want me walking around town in my nice dress; she was afraid I would get it dirty. In her defense, she was probably right. It had been raining lately and it was muddy.

"Where are you going?" Mother asks me, on her way to wake up Topaz.

"Glitz and Glamour wanted to meet up for coffee and sweets beforehand," I say. My mother smiles.

"Alright. But you only have an hour. Make sure to get back in time!"

Thanks, I will," I say, waving and dashing out the door. The street is wet and I make a note to myself not to cut across the grass. I hate having wet feet. The houses slide by, a mass of small, similar-looking mansions. This is the rich part of town. The really rich part of town. Whenever something in the Capitol was inlaid with gold leaf, or encrusted with beautifully cut gems, or adorned with beautiful porcelain or statues, chances are somebody on this block was at the head of the company that had supplied it.

"Amsy!" Glamour waves vigorously from her front door. She bounds down the steps, orange skirts bouncing around her knees. I'm she probably fought with her mother for the right to wear a shorter skirt to the reaping. Looks like she lost.

"Amethyst, I was just going to start walking down to your house and- what on earth are you wearing?" she asks, a frown suddenly spreading across her face at my plain gray pants and loose blouse.

"What do you mean?" I ask. "You didn't think I was going to wear my reaping clothes to get coffee, did you? What if I spill?" I ask. Glamour, who is clearly decked out in her reaping dress, opens her mouth to retort and then frowns again.

Before either of us has to say anything more, Glitz glides down the stairs. Next to her sister's buoyant energy and brightly colored dress, her quiet elegance and white gown might have faded into the background to someone who'd never heard of her before. But those who knew of Glitz knew to mind their manners around her. For those who really knew her… well, that was pretty much limited to her family, and me.

"Morning, Amsy," she says breezily, giving me a light socialite's kiss on each cheek. I smile.

"Morning, Glitz. Ready to go?" I ask. She smoothes her skirt and nods elegantly, saying nothing. Glitz doesn't always talk, but when she does those outside of our tight social circle shut up and listen. Only Glamour and I are free to carry on a conversation without prior consent. The "plebeians" as she calls them are usually more worried about offending the queen bee than anything else, but the two of us chat happily as we walk, not worrying about her approving of what we say. She might act nasty, but Glitz is really more of a softie than she lets on. And she also isn't quite as much of a queen bee as others might perceive. To the casual onlooker, Glitz is in charge, totally and completely. But within our little triangle, all of us know it's me. I'm much better glue for our friendship, without Glitz's distant behavior and hard temper. While I'm content to let her boss us around sometimes, I'm at the top. I always have been.

Not that that's enough for my father. I frown as I think. He pushes me for excellence even harder than my mother does. It isn't good enough for him that I'm at the top of my class, by far the star of the track team, and probably the most popular girl at school. He wasn't even happy I'd managed to turn out pretty, something I had little to no control over. No, my father somehow expected more than everything from me. Sometimes I wonder if he really ever means it when he says he was proud of me. It makes me mad, but… I want him to be proud of me. So, so much. It would mean I'd finally done it. I could finally stop. It would mean that I didn't have to look down at everything that made me me as insufficient. I want to be able to hear someone compliment me without feeling a little sick to my stomach and ashamed. I want to love the life I know that I'm lucky to have.

"Amsy?" Glamour asks, pausing. She looks a little annoyed, so I assume she'd been sharing her latest piece of gossip and looked to me for a reaction only to find me zoned out, mind far away.

"Sorry. I'm back," I chuckle apologetically. Glamour looks me over with a critical expression, apparently deciding whether or not she'll declare the apology sufficient. I know she will, of course. The temptation to spill her news was always too much for Glamour.

"Alright, fine. I heard that February Brannock and Mars Alomann are engaged. Can you believe that? She's sixteen and he's seventeen and they're engaged already!"

My eyebrows shoot up. As shallow as Glamour might be, she does root out some pretty interesting gossip and she is just too much fun to have around. When she takes so much pride in her work, it's hard not to show interest.

"That's really strange," I muse. "I didn't know they were that serious."

"I don't think they are," Glamour goes on. I mean, her father doesn't like him, and you know February. She's quite the daddy's girl. I really doubt she's going to marry someone he doesn't like. Even if he does have really pretty eyes…" Her eyes start to drift out of focus, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth. "Have you noticed how his left eye is a different shade of blue than the right one?"

"Well, we seem to have found out who Glammy's boy of the week is," Glitz says loftily. Glamour blushes.

"Ugh! I hate you guys!"

We laugh. Even Glitz cracks a smile. After that the icy exterior is gone, we tease each other the whole way. She's really not so aloof once you get her smiling.

We buy some coffee from a young girl sitting with her mother. They're just sitting outside with their pot, under their little cloth canopy. A small group of other vendors surrounds them, hawking fresh fruit that was probably smuggled in from District 11, and dyed scarves, and herbs they might have grown in their gardens. Some people can eke out a living just selling trinkets to the upper class.

The woman pours us mugs of coffee and we add in sugar and milk from the jars she has with her. I can see her calculating carefully. It's a huge luxury for someone like her to use sugar, so she'll be charging us a lot. Probably even more than the sugar is worth, but none of us complains. She makes the best coffee.

One or two other people make a purchase as we stand and chat. When we're done, we return the chipped mugs and drop some money into her daughter's hand. The little girl looks up at us, smiling widely. No matter how many times finely dressed upper-class women stop by, she still can't stop staring at our dresses like we walked out of a fairytale. It makes me a little uncomfortable, to be honest, which is another benefit of not having put my reaping dress on yet.

"I need to be heading back," I say. Glam whines about it a little, but we turn back. I don't blame her. It's lovely out here, with the sun shining down from the cloudless sky. I'd rather just wander around District 1 too, but we have a reaping to attend.

"Thyssa? I'm nervous," Topaz whispers as we walk hand-in-hand to the reaping. I smile.

"Don't be, Topsy. You won't be taken," I say. "If they try, I'll beat 'em all up with my own two hands. I promise."

She smiles. The idea of me beating up anyone, much less a crowd of armed Peacekeepers, is a little ridiculous. It's a funny enough picture to make Topsy smile, even in the face of her first-reaping nerves. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and fall silent, listening to my father and mother talk ahead of us.

"I hope we have a winner this year. A proper winner. One from the best part of District 1, one that we can be proud of!"

I sigh. This again. Mother is resigned, too. There's going to be no talking to my father about anything else until the Games are over.

Before long, we arrive at the square. I pat Topsy on the shoulder and she drifts into her section of the square. I myself enter the section for seventeen-year-olds; shoving my way as politely as possible to where Glitz and Glam are surrounded by our school friends. Glitz is telling some story and doesn't even acknowledge my arrival, but Glam gives me a quick hug.

Suddenly feedback screeches from the speakers. It's too much for one of the twelve-year-olds in front, and she faints. It's certainly put the rest of us on edge, too. Even in our huddle of rich kids with next to no chance of being chosen, the microphone screech has left us visibly unsettled.

"Sorry, sorry," the young mayor chuckles. "Well, I certainly have all your attention now, don't I? A- alright. Let's all rise for the anthem."

Which is a stupid thing to say, because we're all standing already. Some of us sing along nervously as it plays, but I remain silent.

It's so unlikely that you will be chosen, Amethyst. It's even less like that Topaz will be drawn. I mean, there are so many poor kids. Their population is so much bigger, the odds are absolutely for you and all of your friends.

Besides, I promised Topaz she would be fine. I can't make a liar out of myself, can I?

"-and may it be the very best Hunger Games ever!" squeals our escort. She's given her name, but I couldn't make it out through the high pitch and thick Capitol accent. Her name really isn't so important, anyway. I mean, it's not like she's-

"Amethyst Reinhart."

A lead weight slams into my stomach. I hear someone shriek, probably Topsy or my mother, and the eyes of every child in the District turn to look at me. It's not real until I meet their eyes, full of horror. It's not really until I see tears collecting in Glamour's eyes. It's not real until Glam, always the one thinking her way through things, whispers hoarsely that I need to go.

I take one stumbling step forward. Someone's hand supports me as I try to piece my mind back together.

This shouldn't be happening. I promised Topsy that nothing like this would happen. Which I guess is another cruel little lesson for me: don't make promises you don't have the power to keep.

Oh, Topaz…

I can't promise her to come back. I realize that. I won't break another vow to my little sister. But one promise I can keep, that I can start keeping right now, is that I won't give up. That I will keep trying. Yes, I'll keep trying. I swallow the urge to vomit and straighten my back, standing tall. I feel my legs shake as I walk toward the stage, but I steel myself and make it without falling over or breaking into tears, which isn't too bad in my opinion.

"Thank you, Miss Reinhart! Now for the boys!" the escort coos. Even with my head spinning, desperately trying to act strong for Topaz, I can find in myself to hate her as she smiles. How can they justify this? Can the Capitol really excuse the killing of children from a District that never even rebelled? It's nothing short of disgusting, but there isn't a thing that I can do about it.

"And it looks like it's… Lance Brahmier!"

My mind snaps to attention. Lance? I know him. We're not particularly close, but all of the town kids are at least loose friends. Which is what shocks me. Not just one rich kid, but two, and in the same year.

Lance makes his way to the stage. Like me, he's desperately working to compose himself. I see his fists clench at his sides, his jaw working. He looks more angry than shocked, though. And why shouldn't he be? He knows just as well as I do that this is horribly unfair.

"Introducing our District 1 contestants, Lance Brahmier and Amethyst Reinhart!" she exclaims. Apparently, the escort is oblivious to my disgust and Lance's hatred, because she looks thrilled to no end.

And just like that, it's over. The cameras are packed away. A Peacekeeper mounts the stage, taking my elbow and leading me off the stage. Another walks behind Lance. It's not far to the Justice Building; and even in a big, wealthy District like District 1, it's not much of a walk to the waiting rooms.

Almost as soon as I'm seated, Glitz and Glamour are let in. I can just picture Glitz ordering the Peacekeeper guards to let them in right now, or would he rather be reported to the Head Peacekeeper? I don't blame him for sending them in before my other friends and family. Glitz can be terrifying when you try to stand in between her and something she wants.

Glamour manages to hold it together for about half a second before she burst into tears. She flings herself at me where I sit, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. She shakes and keens, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, but I can't understand a word she's saying. Glitz waits with more composure until I've mostly adjusted to Glamour's hysterics. She sits down next to me and wraps one of my hands in both of hers and rests her forehead on our combined fists, clearly fighting to remain in control of herself.

"You're going to have to do it," she says bluntly. "You'll have to kill. If you don't do it, then someone else will. There's no point in pussyfooting around it. Just get it over with and come home, please."

I think through her words very slowly, trying to process them without losing control of myself. "I will… try my best, Glitz. I don't want to d- die, but I don't quite know if I will be able to… to…"

Glitz nods silently. She doesn't ask me for anything more. She knows I'll do the best I can. She pulls me against her, cradling me and her sister against her chest. I swallow hard. She feels so warm and strong, just like my mother always did when I was little and had a nightmare or tripped and skinned my knee. It's so tempting to cry, but I hold it back. Soon Glitz rises, lifts her wailing sister away from me and leaves. She says nothing more, just gives me one long look. The door clicks shut. I gasp once for breath before it begins to swing open for a second time.

Topaz's head peeks very slowly around the door, one big blue eye blinking uncertainly at me. The sight of me seems to stir something in her and she pushes it open the rest of the way and flies across the room. I catch her as she leaps into my arms, skirts flying, and back quivering with her cries. I bury my face in her hair, wrapping one arm around her head and neck and another around her back. I hardly even notice that my parents have entered for a moment or two. I finally look up and hold one arm out to my mother, who seems to be too shocked for tears and is just doing some strange hiccupping gasp instead. She crumples forward; Topaz, me my mother kneel on the floor as one.

"Oh, my baby! My poor baby," she murmurs, stroking my hair desperately, like it will somehow let her keep me if she can just touch me enough times. Topsy's fingers dig into the back of my dress, and I understand my mother's desperation. What if I never touch her again? I want to stock up now.

Slowly I look up, trying to keep my face totally blank. Any possibility of that is shattered when I see my father's smile.

His smile.

"This is wonderful! This is going to be the best thing that ever happened to this District, I just know it! You are exactly the sort of person we need to bring this District the glory and honor it deserves. I mean, look at you! You're strong, smart, beautiful… oh, Amethyst! I'm so glad it was you that was chosen," he exclaims, rubbing his hands together in excitement. Very, very slowly, I pull my arms away from my mother and sister and straighten up.

"I love you, Momma. I love you, Topaz. Now please, go."

My mother looks at me in confusion, but the Peacekeeper was listening for my low, quiet command and he marches in. He looks at Topaz and my mother and then back at me for confirmation, and I nod. He leads them out by their arms as they cry and call my name. Ever so slowly I turn my head to look at my father. He's still grinning.

"Father, stop it," I say through my teeth. He looks mildly annoyed at me.

"Amethyst! Don't use that tone with me. Now listen: you can't let any of those pieces of District scum beat you. If you-"

"No, you listen!" I hiss back. His look of annoyance turns to one of genuine confusion. "I am tired of you loving the Capitol more than you love me. I'm tired of biting my tongue and doing what you tell me to. I'm tired of feeling like nothing I do is ever good enough!"

"Amethyst," he protests. "You know I-"

"No, actually. I don't know," I shout. "If you cared about me at all, you'd be crying now. If you loved me, you wouldn't be here telling me not to embarrass you by being murdered! "

My father doesn't try to interject again. He looks a little bowled over, and I don't blame him. I know I've never looked at him with so much anger before. I've never felt so much anger before. Nothing has ever upset me so deeply as my father standing there and being delighted that I was being sent to my death.

"I am going to win this, daddy dearest, but you know what? I'm not winning it for you. I'm winning it for me. I'm winning it for Topaz, for Mother, for Glamour and Glitz. And when I came home and you try to treat me as your daughter again, I will spit in your eye and laugh," I growl. I take a step towards him and he backs away. "Now get out. Get out!" I shriek, pointing one claw of a finger towards the door. My father almost trips over himself as he turns and flees.

The Peacekeeper begins to open the door to let in another visitor or several, but I slam my weight against it. "No!" I scream. "No more visitors!" I'll regret not saying goodbye to the rest of my friends, I'm sure, but right now I'm too angry to care.

My desire to cry is all but disappeared; and when someone comes in to fetch me to the train, I stride out of the room with my head held high. I will not give in. I will fight for this. And when I am finished, my father won't believe what he's been missing.

I have always been the golden girl. And you know what? It's still not enough. So, now I will become a victor.