District 1

Piper heard that in other districts, people hardly volunteered. Unbelievable.

In Districts 1, 2, and 4 — where the Careers come from — this wasn't the case. There were so many willing participants that the escorts had to select the tributes from the pool of volunteers.

Her father, Tristan McLean, had told her that in the future there wouldn't be as many volunteers are there were now, though she didn't understand why.

Dad had won the Hunger Games years before she was born, and she was determined to follow in his footsteps and bring home the same amount of fame and glory that he had.

Plus, who wouldn't want to go into the Arena to fight twenty-three other players to the death if you could have everything you ever wanted when you won?

The escort reached into the glass bowl of male names, then read in singsong. "Bryce Lawrence!"

An eighteen-year-old boy with pond scum green eyes and a devilish smirk whooped and ran up the stage. Personally, Piper didn't know him well, but she'd heard the rumours. The rumours of murder and torture and blackmail.

He'd be a valuable ally to have, though she had to be careful when the number of players narrowed and the Careers turned on each other.

Lawrence grabbed the microphone from the shocked escort and hollered, "Heck yes! I'll be winning, just you wait."

The escort snatched the mic back, pompously fixing his silver wig. "And now for the lady." He dipped his hand into the bowl and plucked out a piece of paper, unfolding it delicately. "Piper McLean."

Piper beamed with pleasant surprise, proudly making her way up to the stage. She stood beside Bryce, and, after she motioned for it, the escort grudgingly passed her the microphone.

"I'll win," Piper promised the cheering crowd. "I'll be like my dad, and return to District 1 with a crown on my head." She found her father among the people, but the expression on his face was not happiness.

It was fear.

◼▲◼

District 2

The female escort stuck her hand into the glass bowl of female volunteers, plucking out a name.

Clarisse held her breath. She was eighteen, and if she didn't get chosen now, her father would never forgive her. He had never gotten picked in his younger years, so he expected her to. She'd spent nearly all her allowance to get her name in the bowl as many times as she could. It was so expensive to have your name put in more than once.

If she didn't get chosen, she was going to run away.

"Clarisse La Rue."

Clarisse pumped her fist, her fear leaving her. "YEAHH!!" she leaped up onto the stage, bellowing war cries. She spotted her father in the crowd, waving and roaring with delight. And suddenly, everything was worth it.

The escort announced the male participant. "Harley Davidson."

Clarisse stared as a muscular twelve-year-old boy whose head barely came up to her chest came bounding up to them, cackling madly.

There was a groan of annoyance from District 2, which always happens when kids get chosen, and Clarisse tried not to cringe as she stood beside a kid who was surely going to his death.

◼▲◼

District 3

"Nyssa Barrera."

Leo's chest caved with sympathy. The tan brunette with the red bandana was terrified. She cast a pleading look to the girls around her, but they all turned away, quietly clearing a path for her.

She sighed and held her head up, marching up the stage. She stood scowling defiantly out at the crowd, her arms crossed.

Then the male tribute's name was called.

"Leo Valdez."

Immediately all eyes were on him, and he tried to grin but found that he couldn't. This was supposed to be the time when he'd say something dumb like "Cool! I love suffering!"

But he couldn't. He couldn't even say "I'll be back in no time," because that meant he'd outlive twenty-three other teens.

So he kept his mouth shut as he made his way to the stage, heart hammering. He decided it wasn't too bad. The district was probably better off without him anyway.

After all, he'd caused the fire that took his own mother's life.

◼▲◼

District 4

"Perseus Jackson."

Percy's heart stopped as if someone had closed a fist over it. The other civilians ogled at him with both wide-open mouths of awe and curled lips of contempt.

No, this was a good thing. He didn't understand why his palms were clammy or why he was suddenly so upset about it all. It was an honour to be in the Games, and he had volunteered. Percy had been training for this all his life, and he was the best in the district with a sword.

The Hunger Games was a normal part of his world, so why had he felt something akin to dread?

As he took his place on the stage, he spotted his mom in the crowd.

Despite his assurances earlier in the day, she was weeping beside Smelly Gabe, his awful stepfather. Percy's heart wrenched, and he swore to himself that he'd try his best to win — so he could come back to her. She wouldn't have to live with the idiot anymore when he came home rich, and she would be so proud of him.

"Silena Beauregard."

Percy turned to see a beautiful girl with brown ringlets and ocean blue irises take to the stage, smiling and blowing kisses at the crowd.

And as the mayor began to read the Treaty of Treasons, Percy felt like he was freefalling into empty air, after making a choice that he could not take back.

◼▲◼

District 5

"Jason Grace."

Thalia caught her breath. Oh no, her baby brother was not going into the Games. After their father had left them and their mother got so drunk she fell off a hydroelectric dam, Thalia had raised her brother. She'd only been nine when it all happened, but she remembered every precious moment with Jason, and her body went cold when she realized that it was all slipping through her fingers like glittering sand.

Her fifteen-year-old brother was tough, but in an Arena of twenty-three other tributes to face, she didn't think he stood a chance alone.

The escort had his manicured hand clutched around another slip of paper, but Thalia was already sprinting towards the stage. "I volunteer!" she shouted, voice thundering across the doomed silence.

The male escort made a small noise of faux interest, and threw the paper back into the bowl. "Oh joy. Bessie Taurus, you get a pass. Come on up, girl."

Thalia bravely stepped up onto the platform. "I'm Thalia Grace. Eighteen."

"Great," the escort said boredly. "Goodness, I hate this district. Mayor? You may read the Treaty."

"Thalia..." Jason spoke softly, but she could hear the fear and frustration in his tone. His hand found hers, and his grip was shaking, "Are you insane?"

She held his blue eyes boldly, with the same electricity as his, "One of us is making it out of the Games alive, and it's going to be you."

It was a promise she was willing to die to keep.

◼▲◼

District 6

"Rachel Dare."

The crowd gasped as the name was called. Even the mayor's redheaded daughter was not free from the horror of the Games.

Travis watched her take a deep breath as she stalked onto the stage as if she owned it all, as if no Games were ever going to drag her down. On the stage, Mayor Dare gave her an almost pained look. Travis wondered if his wife had even bothered to show up at the Reaping, or was too busy ordering a new feather boa from the Capitol.

Then the next name was called.

"Travis Stoll."

He took a step back, his hand instinctively reaching to grab his younger brother's. Connor whipped his head around, staring at him with horror-filled eyes.

"Remember our deal," Travis hissed urgently, tightly gripping his brother's trembling hand, willing him to listen. "You do not volunteer for me. You take care of mom and dad, and I win the Games. Those are our jobs. Got it, Connor?"

Connor nodded feebly. "Y-yeah."

Travis wrapped him in a fierce hug, "Don't you dare worry, I got this."

◼▲◼

District 7

The female escort reached into the bowl, and the civilians went so quiet Will could hear the wind whistling through the tall trees.

"Calypso Moonlace."

Will felt the throng — himself included — murmur with pity. She was seventeen, and her past two boyfriends had already been killed off in the Games. And now she was going to join them. The sick Capitol was going to have fun with her for sure.

Calypso discreetly wiped her tears while the escort called the second tribute's name.

"Will Solace."

The citizens of the district shifted uneasily upon hearing the two words. Will knew why. He was growing up to be one of the best medics in the district, and someone they desperately needed in the lumber district, where accidents weren't uncommon.

But there were no volunteers. Will tried not to take it personally. Besides, he had a vast knowledge of healing, so hopefully, that granted him a fair chance of surviving. Hopefully.

The female escort cooed and condescendingly patted him on the cheek as he took his place beside Calypso, and eyed them both like they were statues outside the Justice Building. "We've got a pretty pair this time! As long as you're charming, maybe my district can get some more attention."

Will wanted to slap her fake nose off.

As the mayor delivered his droning speech, Calypso gave him a bitter smile. "So fate hasn't punished us enough."

◼▲◼

District 8

"Luke Castellan."

Annabeth's eyes widened in horror. Her best friend since she was seven years old was about to be ripped away from her. They'd had their whole future planned out — their escape, how they would live on the run, everything.

Luke walked up onto the stage, caught her eye, and had the gall to mouth "I'll be okay."

She shook her head, eyes burning with more than just pollution from the gray factories. This was unacceptable, but what could she do? Perhaps she could stow away on the train and get him off it —

"Annabeth Chase."

Her mouth fell open. The odds of this happening was minuscule. Minuscule. She'd calculated it herself.

But infinitesimal odds didn't mean an impossibility, and she steeled herself and stepped onto the rickety stage.

A wail sounded through the crowd, and she saw with amazement that it was her father. He was howling her name, while her stepmother tried to comfort him. She spotted her stepbrothers among the other boys, looking at each other with worry.

The Peacekeepers took out their weapons, and Frederick Chase abruptly quieted.

Annabeth gulped, holding back tears. There would be no weakness coming from her today.

As the mayor read out the Treaty, Luke faced her. He was a little taller than her, but Annabeth could clearly read the desperation in his cold blue eyes.

To calm him, Annabeth whispered in a low tone, "We're both getting out of this. I have a plan."

◼▲◼

District 9

"Margaret McCaffrey."

Meg stormed onto the stage. She may be short and twelve, but she had the guts of someone much older.

"It's Meg!" she yelled into the crowd. "Not that anyone here cares."

The escort shot her an affronted look which she made a face at. She glared into the audience, but at the sight of her stepfather's angry stare, her fire quenched.

The second tribute from the grain district was a skinny eighteen-year-old platinum blond wearing a large purple jacket that had been patched many times. Octavian Augur.

"Nice blanket," she scoffed at him, folding her pudgy arms.

He ignored her comment, and just smiled genially. "Don't worry. As long as we work together, we'll figure something out."

She was loath to admit it, but Meg believed him.

◼▲◼

District 10

Frank Zhang was worried for his grandmother.

She'd never dare say so, but he knew she was afraid, and that she hated Reaping Day. It was a constant reminder of the loss of her daughter.

Frank's mother had won the Hunger Games a long time ago. It got them a nice house at the Victor's Village, and she'd married his father and had Frank, living happily for a few years.

Then Emily Zhang had refused to do something for the Capitol. And it had ended in her murder, with her husband mysteriously poisoned a day later.

"No one ever wins the Games," his grandmother had told him, eyes hard and unforgiving. "Even the ones who survive."

The female escort cheerfully called the male tribute's name.

"Frank Zhang."

Fear raced through his veins as he made his way to the dais. He found his grandmother standing near the front of the crowd. Her pinched mouth scolded him, Stand up straight, Fai.

Hastily he straightened his back.

The next name was Hazel Levesque. Her wild brown curls had been carefully pinned back, and she wore a ragged pale blue dress.

He felt sick to his stomach. He'd had a crush on her for years, and now they were heading into the Arena together. It was a cruel twist of fate.

◼▲◼

District 11

"Maria Hesperide."

Ethan watched as the seventeen-year-old girl with olive skin and black hair tucked under a green cap made way towards the stage. He recognized her from school. She kept to a group of girls mostly, and there was dangerous talk that she wasn't from this district.

Another girl wearing a grey jacket — Zoë, he remembered vaguely — stopped her, and they shared a hug before she continued on her way.

He wondered if the Reapings were ever rigged. So many kids who were suspected of breaking the law seemed to get selected here.

The escort called the second tribute.

"Ethan Nakamura."

Honestly, he wasn't even surprised. He'd always had such rotten luck.

No one stopped him or called to him as he trudged to his place on the dais. Was it better or worse that nobody would care whether he lived or died?

◼▲◼

District 12

Nico started when he realized everyone was looking at him. He hadn't heard himself be called, but he hadn't been paying attention. He had been too eager to get back to the Hob so he could steal a little figurine he'd been admiring. Maybe when his sister came back he could give it to her.

The female tribute was already on stage. Katie Gardner, a sixteen-year-old girl he felt would be much better off in District 9 or 11 with the grain and crops than here. She playing with a small wild daisy, which he suspected she'd illegally picked from beyond the fence.

"Nico di Angelo?" a too-dressed up woman called out chirpily, peering into his crowd.

Wait. They were looking at him because he'd been called. The boys parted for him, but he stood there frozen.

The fancy lady in a glittery ball gown beckoned him over. "Come on up, now. Don't be shy."

Nico felt his palms get damp as he went cold all over. His name had only been put in three times among hundreds of others, and he'd put in absolute naïve faith that he wouldn't be reaped. His feet moved forward, and in moments he was on the stage.

All he could think about was the amount of food the Capitol must have if their funds were simply spent on luxurious dresses like the escort's.

And while the Treaty was read and Katie gave him an absentminded handshake, he didn't hear or process a thing.

His hearing only kicked in when the escort spread her gloved hands and said something that only sounded cruel to him now.

"And may the odds be ever in your favour."

Early predictions?

And side note — I'm curious how you found this book. So let me know! ^_^