THE 150th HUNGER GAMES

District 1 Reaping (12)

Phoebe Drift's (District 1) P.O.V:

There are approximately three living people in this world that I care about. Three of which could be chosen today for the Hunger Games. This is making me so nervous I can't even begin to explain.

I glance over at them each one at a time. My best friend, Ingrid Chatt, standing next to me in the group of twelve year old girls. We became friends two years ago when her older sister and my older brother were both reaped. It hurts my heart thinking about them, especially my brother. I would hate for Ingrid to be chosen. We've definitely bonded over the years. Ingrid was there for me in the hardest times of my life, with my single mom getting sick and passing away a few months after Ethan.

Next I look over at my second brother. We're ten months apart, me the elder, but still practically identical. Phineas glances in my direction, our dark green eyes metting, and smiles weakly as he runs a hand through his light brown hair nervously. I smile back grimly. If he were chosen... It would be just terrible. I love my brother. And I'd be the only one left of my whole family.

And finally, the last person I care about. The one who I'm constantly blushing and awkward around. The one I know likes someone else- someone that isn't me.

Ingrid pinches my arm, disrupting my thoughts. "It's starting."

The escort, I can't remember her name, sticks her hand into the girl's Reaping ball. She's completely dressed in purple and it's a very unflattering shade on her.

"Ing-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" Someone calls out. Really? You're twelve years old, nowhere near ready, and you're volunteering? I roll my eyes. The girl runs up, and I recognize her as the slut of our year, as odd as that may sound considering our age. Her dress is much too... For lack of a better word, slutty. I quickly look over at the third person I care about. Yep. That's what I thought. A wave of sadness washes over me.

"My name is Sharis Davin," The girl announces.

"B*TCH!" Someone calls out. I stifle a snicker.

"And proud!" Sharis grins evilly. I share a wide-eyed glance with Ingrid. "Buuurrn," she mouths, and I smile. Ingrid always knows how to cheer me up.

The escort laughs anxiously. "Well. Let's carry on with the Reaping." She picks a slip of paper from the glass bowl and reads off the name briskly. "Drake Leandro."

My heart stops. I'm not even kidding. I completely freeze for that one moment. Ingrid squeezes my hand sympathetically- she knows how I feel. Drake was Reaped. Drake.

And with her. The one I know attracts every guy. The one I know he already liked. What terrible luck.

He'll never know.