THE 150th HUNGER GAMES

District 6 Reaping (12)

Amoura Deparnieux's (District 6) P.O.V:

I stand among the other anxious girls at the Reaping. Most of them are anxious nervous, and hoping not to get picked. My case is the opposite. I want to be Reaped. Anxious excited.

I want to win this thing. I want to be crowned the winner of the 150th Hunger Games, to be the one, single survivor of 192 children between the ages of eighteen and twelve- when I'm twelve. I want to be a legend in Panem- Amoura Deparnieux, winner of the Quell at the youngest possible age. I want to be the champion of the Hunger Games. Scratch that. I will be the champion of the Hunger Games.

It may seem like a big dream for a small girl from District 6, but I hope to achieve it. I've been training myself with knives. I've been making all the preparations. I'm totally, completely, absolutely, positively ready for this.

And plus, I'm going to be against other kids my age, all of who are inexperienced, and the adolescents I'll be against in the final games so far aren't all that threatening. Maybe that girl from the sixteen games Dilemma or seventeen-year-old winner Mildred are formidable enemies, but I know I can take them on. But I've had this dream since I was aware what the Hunger Games was, at five years old when my brother was chosen to be in them. Ammo died. He didn't have my skill or my mindset.

The escort decides to make me wait a little longer and Reap the male tribute first. "Axel Button!"

A boy wearing a colorful bandana walks forward and takes his place beside the escort. He doesn't look very strong or skilled or anything. I smirk. This kid obviously isn't going to make it.

Next the escort chooses a girl name. This is it. This is my time to shine. This is my time to volunteer. "Fa-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I call out loudly. "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

The escort smiles as I run up. "What is your name, sweetheart?"

I roll my eyes. "My name is Amoura Deparnieux, and I am no sweetheart. I am a winner."

The escort laughs, and I can't tell whether it's at me or not. Maybe I am only twelve. Maybe I am small. But they shouldn't judge whether I'm going to survive until they've seen me. Seen what exactly I am capable of. Because I am capable of winning the 150th Hunger Games.

Axel and I are lead into the Justice Building. I lean over and whisper to him, "You know you're going to die, right?"

He ignores me and stares at the floor. I frown, and whisper to him again. "Unlike you, I've got skill. I'm going to win the whole entire Games."

"You've also got a huge ego," he remarks loudly.

I narrow my eyebrows. How dare he offend me like that! I am the future winner of the 150th Hunger Games. I reach out and punch him in the face, my fist colliding with his nose with a crack. Axel lets out a little yelp of pain, and before I can do anything else, some Peacekeepers pull me away. I give him my best death glare.

I will kill Axel Button in the arena. Yes, I will.