The sea sparkles in the sunrise's almost ethereal glow. It's as though shards of diamonds had been sprinkled in the water. I squint up at the sky, trying to gauge the time based on the sun's placement. Probably about time for Maeve to be waking. With a sigh, I reel in the net even though I don't expect anything to be in it. I don't want Maeve to be alone, especially not on Reaping morning. The last thing the younger kids need is for Maeve to have a panic attack in front of them, but, knowing my twin, she very well might. No matter how much she tries to convince herself that she's fine, she can't trick her body into agreeing.

I yank the net over the side of the boat and put the few fish into the cooler, then head back to dock. All the other ships bob up and down with the waves, patiently waiting for their masters to take them onto the sea. Delia, my humble skiff, is the only one out today, and, being the day it is, I expect it'll stay that way.

We splash to shore and I tie Delia to the dock, lugging the fish cooler off the boat. A pair of Peacekeepers await me at the beach to check my cargo. Everything I catch must first go through the Peacekeepers who pay me whatever they see fit- which tends to be no more than a quarter of its actual worth- and then take the goods away to be shipped to the Capitol. Like I'm dumb enough to not realize I'm being scammed simply because I'm young. I scoff at the thought, but there's not much I can do about it.

I nod at the men and set my cooler down at their feet. One of them flips the lid up and riffles through the contents. The other Peacekeeper, a square faced man in his late thirties, looks me up and down.

"What're you doing out here so early, kid?" One of his black eyebrows, the only hair on his entire head, raises lazily.

"Fishing, what's it look like?"
The man laughs. "You've got some spunk in ya. That attitude's gonna kill ya someday. In fact, I coulda killed you for it today if not for my merciful heart. How old are ya?"

He's right. I ought to watch my mouth better. I'm usually pretty good at it, but I don't have time for small talk today. "I'm fifteen."

The other Peacekeeper snorts and dumps my fish into the giant shipping container beside him. "Excited for the Reaping, then? This could be your claim to fame."

"Not really, no. I hope to live past my youth and become a man as... merciful and... patriotic as you two." The words fall from my lips through a grimace disguised as a smile.

Both men straighten, but whether it's to emphasize their importance or because they see right through my sarcasm, I don't know. Either way, I don't want to test my luck so when the Peacekeeper holds out his hand to me, I pocket my skimpy earnings and slip between them, lugging the cooler along with me.

"See where he gets them 'ceps," the bald man says to his partner. I keep walking. Then, he speaks again, but this time to me. "Don't ya wanna leave that in the boat, kid?"

"Nope," I call back. "I don't want it getting stolen."

The excuse is well-worn, but what else can I say? Actually, Mr. Peacekeeper Sir, it has a false bottom so I can sneak food home to my family. Yeah, right. It's like asking for my tongue to be cut out. Better yet, a bullet to the brain. Tempting offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline.
By the time I've reached the apartment, sweat glistens on my forehead and glues my shirt to my back. My boots clomp up the stairs and leave a trail of dirt that shakes loose from the grooves in my soles. I jab my key into the hole and balance the cooler on my hip so I can push the door open. Just as I'd anticipated, Maeve is the only one awake. Her golden blonde hair falls in front of her face as she leans over the ironing board, lips pursed in concentration.

"You're burning a hole straight through that," I point out, nodding to the ringlets of smoke that curl out from under the iron.

Maeve jumps and snaps her head up. Her eyes are only slightly more bloodshot than usual, indicating that while she likely didn't sleep well, she hasn't be crying yet. "Penn! I didn't hear you come in."

"Really?" I mutter, hooking my finger around a groove in the hard white plastic of the cooler's false bottom. It pops open, revealing the handful of fish hidden amongst the ice. "Could've fooled me."

I can feel my sister's eyes on me as I put away my things. Her silence plants seeds of worry in my brain. I have to get her mind off of the Reaping or we'll both go crazy. I yank my shirt over my head, revealing my chiseled abs. Any other girl would be swooning right now, but Maeve groans.
"Ew, seriously, Penn?" Mission success. "In the kitchen? Do you mind?"

"Would you prefer the living room?" I ask cheekily and cover the distance in three quick strides. "There you go."

She shoves my Reaping shirt into my chest. "Just put some clothes on!"

I stick my tongue out at her and she smiles weakly. Internally sighing, I lace my arms through the sleeves of the shirt and flick the light on in my room that I share with my two younger brothers. Cyrik whines in protest and Rye's pudgy face emerges from his sheets.

Maeve's words follow me into the bedroom and plunge into my skin like a knife to the chest. "Let's get ready to go! It's Reaping Day."

Oh, what I'd give to never hear her say those words again.

---

As the opening ceremonies flit by, I steel myself against emotion and swim through the minutes like a caterpillar walking through molasses.

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

Yeah, right.
The Capitol woman claps her hands together and makes a sound like nails on a chalkboard that I suppose is supposed to be laughter. "Let's start with the girls shall we?"

Anything to get you to stop talking. Her holographic hair is hard to look at.

"Let's see here." She dips her claws into the fishbowl of names and clears her throat to read out, "Maeve Driscoll?"

I'm going to puke.

"I volunteer!" The words burst from my mouth as I shove past the other boys to get to my sister. "I volunteer as tribute!"

Firm hands press against my shoulders and press me back into line. The bald Peacekeeper draws his bushy black eyebrows together in an expression of simpathy. Oh, how I'd like to bloody his face until it's unrecognizable.

"Get off me!" I demand.

"I'm sorry dear, only the girls can volunteer for another girl. You'll just have to wait your turn." The Capitol lady says, pulling my attention back to her in time to see a pleasant smile creep across her lips. I don't return it and she beckons to my sister, claws shining. "Come along, my dear!"

My dear. As if. Fakes. All of them. Corrupted, selfish little-

"Maeve, was it? You've got quite a loyal family, don't you? That must've been your brother?"
Indeed it was, pleased to meet you! Allow me to rearrange your face!

"Yes. Penn is my twin and he's fifteen. My sister Leta is twelve, Cyrik is nine, Farrah Lyn is five, and Rye is three." Maeve's voice wobbles as she speaks. My ears are bombarded by audible nightmares of that same voice begging, pleading for her life. Maeve won't survive in there. Not alone.

"Sounds like quite a handful! Your parents must be superhuman!" The eyesore of a woman gasps.

"My parents are dead. My brother and I take care of our siblings."

For now.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that dear. Well, our hearts go out to you. I'm sure you're more motivated to win so you can get back to them."

She will get back to them. She has to. I won't let her die.

"On to the boys then! Which lucky young man will get to accompany the beautiful Miss Maeve into the Arena?" The Capitol woman says. I glare up at her, but my anger fades the moment my eyes flick to her side.

Maeve's usually tan face has gone ghostly white and her chest rises frantically as if she's drowning above water. Don't worry, I want to scream, you'll be ok. I promise.

Long fingernails sink into the second bowl. Clearing her throat, the representative unfolds the little paper and reads another name, but there's hardly time for the crowd to register her words before I break from the line of boys. This time, Baldy lets me pass.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"
I feel eyes on me from every direction as I march to the stage, but focus my own attention on the path right in front of me. Anywhere but Maeve's face. As I pass the row of twelve year olds, I dare to glance to the right and meet Leta's ocean blue eyes, wide as saucers. Without speaking, I convey the message that no matter what happens, she has to be brave for the others. Never let them see your fear... even when it takes everything to keep you from drowning in it.

---

"This can't be happening!" Maeve sobs. My shirt soaks up her tears as I hug her to my chest."The littles! Leta can't handle them on her own! She's only twelve!"

I brush a hand through her hair and try to keep my voice from shaking as I say, "We were only twelve when we had to do the same."

"Aren't you afraid?" She lifts her chin and her bloodshot eyes bore into mine. I look away and shrug as though I haven't got a care in the world.

Of course I'm scared, but I don't get to be scared. I don't get to be weak. A house is only as strong as it's foundation.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I settle on, after tasting the words on my tongue for a long moment. "The thing is, being afraid won't help us. I'm better off trying to help us win. Worrying won't get me anywhere."

"Penn, don't you understand? At least one of us is going to die this week! Why would you volunteer? Why would you-" Her words are cut off by a choked sob.

My sister's body shakes against me and I can tell she's on the verge of falling into full blown panic- the realm of no return. "Maeve, listen to me. Panicking isn't going to help anything. We need to focus on appealing to the audience so we can get sponsors and make allies. Got it? Work with me here."

"You're right."
"Always am," I say with a practiced smile that's faker than the Capitol representative's jewel studded nails.

Maeve stumbles over a sigh and pulls herself together.

"That's it," I encourage, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. Maybe we can both say goodbye after all.

"Just breathe. We'll have plenty of time to figure out a game plan on the train. Let's go say goo-" I cut myself off and silently curse my quick tongue. "-talk to the littles. Just act confident for the cameras."

"Maeve! Penn!"

All of the kids come barrelling into the little room and bury their faces in the fabric of Maeve's skirt or wrap themselves around my legs.

"Don't cry. It'll be ok. Nothing will happen to you," Mae tells Farrah Lyn. I'm proud of her. If I didn't know what was really going on in her head, I almost would've believed the act.

Cyrik stares at his feet to hide the tears that pour down his face. "Maybe not to us."

Gosh, could they all stop trying to set off the water works? I lick my lips and plaster the grin on my face once again. "Oh, you're not scared, are you? Have some faith, buddy! When have we ever let you down? You just get to be rid of us for a while and hang with Leta. It'll be all good."
Leta nods, blond ponytail bobbing. She's always been the best, second only to yours truly, at hiding her emotions and there's no one I trust more to take my place if we don't make it back. "It's like a vacation!"

"Exactly! A vacation from Maeve's stinky feet!" I pull out my secret weapon, humor, and crouch down to pinch three year old Rye's cheeks playfully. He rewards me with a gap toothed grin.

Maeve forces a laugh and slaps my bicep in mock protest. "Hey!"

Cyrik looks up at me with watery eyes and I bump his elbow. "You'll take care of things while I'm gone? Be the man of the house?"

My eyes flit to meet Leta's and she closes her eyes with a nod of understanding.

"Penn," Cyrik says, "you'll come back, right? Promise?"

I stare down at his outstretched pinky. For a moment, even my quick tongue is frozen in place. Whether I like it or not, I know I'm not coming back. I can't lie to him. I won't lie to him. Instead, I just mutter, "Give Delia a kiss for me, alright?"

No one laughs. Even I can't muster up a grin.