Chapter 1

I guess I should tell you this before I go any further: My mom won the 49th Hunger Games while unknowingly pregnant with my brother.

She was eighteen, and she had a fling with her boyfriend – my father – only a few weeks before the Games. She went in, luckily not damaging my older brother, and came out a victor. But she was somewhat mentally tortured because of it. She didn't find out she was pregnant until the long days of malevolence ended, and she was worried she had lost her precious gift of life. My father worried too. But he came out, unscathed. Mother and Father got married after she came back from the Games. She died a few years after I was born.

I was born four years after Finnick, seeing him participate in the 65th Hunger Games when I was only ten. He came out untouched, just like when Mom went in. He was thrust into immediate fame and fortune, and it really was a blessing. Dad could barely keep us on our feet, since Mom's fortune had been spent long ago.

"Nimiane, come on," Finnick whines as we walk through the square of District Four. "We need to get going! The reaping doesn't wait on just anyone, Nimiane."

"Hold your horses," I say, trying my best to match his long strides. I may love Finnick, but, damn, he's irritable sometimes.

"We're almost there, sis. Lets pick it up!"

"I can't pick it up any more than I am!" I yell.

We reach the section for fifteen year olds. "Is Dad coming?" Finnick asks, getting ready to take off again.

"I would imagine so, since he'd be arrested if not present," I say, matter-of-factly. "You know the rules."

"Oh, okay. I'll look for him." He leaves me to myself and a big crowd of people, most of which I don't know.

I sigh. Alone again. Just like when Mom died, I think to myself.

I feel a small tap on my shoulder. I turn my head to look behind me. Nothing.

Huh?

I turn back around to Ingrid's face in front of mine. I jump.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, Ing," I say, breathing heavily.

"It's what I do best," she says sarcastically as she walks to my side. "Finnick going up again?"

"Always will until the day he dies or until someone takes his place," I remind her.

"Oh, yeah. I always forget." She straightens her dress and looks at the wooden stage. "It's so hard to believe that only five years ago, your brother was reaped. Isn't that crazy?" She turns to a random person beside her. "It's crazy, right?"

"I've gotten used to the idea," I say, looking up at my handsome brother. He got all the looks. I got some of it, sure, but not nearly as much as this made-for-the-capitol-man. He could pretty much get any girl to love him, just by one look.

Of course, I'm the exception to that.

I know the odds are surely in my favor. My name is in the reaping bowl less than ten times, out of thousands. I'm sure I won't get in. And they've already gotten two Odairs. Why take another?

"I'm so nervous," Ingrid says, wiping the sweat off of her hands and onto her dress. "This year is going to be bad. I can feel it."

"I can't," I say, not really paying attention. Instead, I stare at the monstrosity onstage, a woman named Lyon Finkle. She looks normal enough, except for her gleaming skin and the large tattoo of a flower that covers her face. "But it seems Lyon can't tell what's bad, since she got that tattoo."

"I think it's pretty," Ingrid murmurs.

Sometimes I worry about good old Ingrid.

Lyon steps up to the microphone. "Let's get this show on the road!" she shouts, expecting the audience to cheer. We all stay silent. Finnick catches my eye and gives me a weak smile. I hold up my hand so he can see and cross my fingers.

The Mayor takes the microphone and recites all the required documents by memory – he's been in the position for that long. Lyon looks bored at first, but then becomes suddenly eager as she jumps up and skips over to the two bowls, filled with each and every name belonging to District Four's teenagers.

Ingrid grabs my hand and squeezes. I squeeze back. Lyon reaches a manicured hand into the bowl with girls names in it – I can tell because I am close enough to see some names but they are slightly blurred. She mixes the papers around and then snatches the one that she feels is right.

"And the girl tribute for District Four in the 70th Hunger Games is…" she says, squinting to read the name, "Nimiane Odair!"

A sudden whisper goes around the crowd of people. I feel Ingrid squeezing my hand, and I can hear her crying. I can't bear to look her in the eye. I remorsefully let go of her calming palms and trudge up to the stage.

I struggle to get up the wooden steps, a sudden fatigue overcoming me. Finnick is furiously speaking to Lyon, grabbing the piece of paper to make sure this isn't a hoax. "It has to be a set-up!" he shouts, coming to my side as I take my place onstage. "Three Odairs is just not fair!"

Lyon shrugs. "I guess you guys have bad luck, then. That's what you get when you were developing during a Hunger Games."

Finnick takes my hand. "She's not going in. I won't let you take her."

"That's not your decision, Finnick. It's her or a volunteer," she says, smirking.

He turns to the crowd. "Please!" Finnick shouts. "Someone, save my sister!"

"No," I say, turning him so he looks me in the eye. "If this is what I'm cut out for in life, I'll do it. You can't fight my battles for me, Finn. You've gone through this. Who knows? I could come back alive."

Finnick tries to resist my argument. "I won't be happy if someone dies for me, you know. I'd stop trying to save my soul, and let me do what I think is right," I say.

"You think this is right?" he says, waving his arms in the air. "This inhumane act upon society? I want you out!"

"No. I'm staying."

Lyon seems to be eating up our conversation. "Volunteers?" she asks, sarcastically. "No one? Okay. Finnick, sit back down." He unhappily does so.

The crowd is silent. I can hear only the sound of my heartbeat and Finnick's brooding thoughts. Lyon reaches her hand into the other bowl, filed with the names of boys. She pulls out the small slip of paper. "The boy tribute is Remington Lore!"

Oh, god. The richest boy in town, forced to fight for his easy life. Remington is nice and all, but something about him sets me on edge. I don't know. Maybe it's his former relationship with Ingrid or his ways with people. But being stuck with him for days isn't going to make me happy.

The boy with the normal bronze hair and sea green eyes comes onstage, not even fazed. He stands next to me. "Well, speaking of the devil," he randomly says. I don't ask him what he means.

The Mayor takes the microphone again, and unenthusiastically closes the program. The crowd files out as Remington and I stand awkwardly. Finnick is still angry. As soon as Lyon and the Mayor are out of earshot, he comes over to me and says, "That was ultimately stupid," he says. "You could have gotten out. People would have volunteered. They would have saved you!"

"Listen, I know you want me here, far away from the Capitol and all, but this is my battle. I was thrown into this, not you. And, whether you like it or not, I'm fighting this one for myself," I say, my volume increasing. I can tell Remington is listening, but I don't care. "Mom would have let you stay in the Games. She knew that you had to do things your own way, and that you have to do things yourself sometimes. Unlike you," I add.

"Mom isn't here. She couldn't stop me. I had no one, and you do. If she was here, she would have done everything for me. For you, too," he says, bitterly turning away. "I'll meet you on the train," he tosses over his shoulder as he walks away.