I sat on my bed, in my pyjamas. I had just woken up and my eyelids drooped with exhaustion. It was the reaping day.

I heard my father's voice from the kitchen.
"GRACE! BREAKFAST!"

I sighed and got to my feet.

Mayor Dollington was by the sink, a bowl of strawberries in his hands. He handed it over to me.
"Breakfast is served."

I looked at the strawberries and sighed. It was always strawberries. I knew I should be grateful. Most of District 11 never got to eat such a luxury as strawberries, but I wasn't. Why couldn't I be like everyone else?

"Are you alright, Grace?" My father put his hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him.

"Yeah... yeah I'm fine."

"I'll find you a dress for the reaping. We have a couple of nice ones."

The reaping. I'd forgotten about that. Every year there is an event called the Hunger games. Children from the ages 12-18 are locked into an arena where they fight to the death. It was created to remind us of the Capitol's power. The Capitol is the richest place in Panem, a large continent once known as North America. There are 13 districts in Panem, one of them being my district- District 11. It all started in the dark days. There was a rebellion. District 13 was destroyed due to it and from then on, there was the Hunger Games.

My father came back into the room after searching for a dress, breaking me away from my thoughts.

He layed the dress on the table. It was a simple, light blue frock made of rough fabric. There were no patterns, no frills and no waves. Just... simple. I liked that.

"Thanks" I murmured. I turned and trudged back to my room, where I changed into the dress. It was more comfortable than it looked.

                                ***

The day seemed to go faster than any other and in no time at all it was time for the reaping.

I stood among all the other 14 year old girls, my heart beating as fast as a propeller on one of the Capitol's hovercraft.

At that moment, Barnie Trinket stepped forward. The Trinkets had been escorts for The Hunger Games for Decades. Their positivity and encouragement ran in the family name.

The man was rather plump for a Trinket. He always had a sausage roll or two in his pocket. However, he was loyal to his name all the same.

First he talked us through the Dark days.
"It's a celebration of our power!" He announced gleefully.

Our power? More like your power. I thought, slightly annoyed.

"I'm sure everyone of you would like to compete in the Hunger Games. Well guess what, two of you are in luck!" He took a bite of his sausage roll.

"Happy Hunger Games" he shouted through a mouthful of sausage and pastry. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

I shivered as he walked towards the glass ball containing all of the girls' names. I had 3 slips in there. I knew that wasn't much. Some people had 40 or more slips. But each slip was a larger chance of being chosen. Being chosen for the Hunger Games. Another way of saying execution.

Barnie stuck his hand inside of the ball and pulled out a slip.

I squeazed my eyes tight.
Please don't be me. Please don't be me.

"Grace Dollington!"

It was me.
No! No, I must have misheard him!

I didn't move, waiting for whoever had been chosen to step up onto the stage.

"Grace Dollington?" Barnie repeated.

It really was me... I gradually took a step forward and stumbled up to the stage, my legs shaking.

"Ah! There you are! So excited you couldn't move, eh?" He chuckled.

I didn't reply.

Barnie looked away from me and walked over to the other glass ball. This one contained the boys' names.

He stuck his hand in and pulled out another slip of paper.

"Coby Sanders!" He called as he unfolded the slip.

Coby Sanders... not... not the Coby Sanders... right?

A boy walked up to the stage, he had blonde hair and tanned skin. A grin was plastered across his face. Yup. It was the Coby Sanders. The son of the latest victor.

I knew where all the sponsor money would be going.

His father, Nelson Sanders, would be our mentor. The capitol can donate money for the tributes. The mentors would choose one tribute to send supplies. It wasn't going to be me.

Colby glanced at me. His eyes shone with excitement. You see, the funny thing was- Colby actually liked the Hunger Games.

I guess his Dad told him stories about his time in the arena and he was enthused by it.

Despite the excited gleam in Colby's eyes, I thought I spotted a slight glint of sympathy. Sympathy for me.

This was only 821 words long. I usually try to make my chapters at least 1000 words long, but I thought this was a good place to end it on.

:3