Chapter One

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          I always thought Effie Trinket looked like a fool when she came to District 12, my home. She stood  out in her high heels, colored hair, and elaborate costumes. The people from my district wore plain clothes: the polar opposite of Effie's outfit. The people from the Capitol don't realize how stupid they look in the districts where most people's nice clothes are hand me downs and are saved for the Reaping.

She walks across the set up stage and speaks into the booming microphone. 

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" 

          A tradition: these words have been spoken every year for as long as I can remember.

Even Effie's voice makes her stand apart from the rest of us. The people from the Capitol speak higher pitched than any of us.

But this next moment, when she draws a name, could mean the death of one of our own. Two of our own. They force us to celebrate the games, and we will, but only to hope for our children's survival. 

 "Ladies first," Effie's voice breaks my train of thought. 

          I looked to my right and caught the eye of my best friend, Landon, from across the aisle the Peacemakers have made. It feels like hours before Effie finally reaches the bowl with the girls' names. With my name. I'm not as worried as I should be. There's no way; its impossible.

Effie draws a name. She unfolds it way slower than is necessary. 

"Sarabella Monroe!" 

          The girl next to me nudges me. I honestly can't move. It was like the world stopped turning, I was dead. In a few weeks, a wooden box would be sent to my family, and thats all they'd have left of me.

It's silent as I walk towards Effie, but my thoughts are louder than my District could ever be. My mind is cluttered, but what I'm thinking is that my secret admirer will have to find someone else to admire. I walk past my mother's best friends, the Everdeen's. I see their two year old, Katniss, and hope she is never faced with this fate.

Effie grabs my hand as I walk up the stairs and brings me to the mike. 

"What a beautiful young woman! How old are you, my dear?"

 "Eighteen," I answer.

          I see Effie's discomfort in response to my short and uninterested response. She shakes it off quickly and walks to the male tribute's bowl. 

"Landon Tyler!"

          I freeze for the second time. Landon walks with more dignity than I did. He is stronger than I will ever be. He walks right to me and I hug him with all my strength. This is my best friend, and in a week it may be down to my life or his.

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