The 40th Hunger Games ✓

District Twelve Reaping

District Twelve Reaping

*Maggie*

A year ago my best friend and I were just 12 years old. Now, she's dead. She became a bloodbath tribute. She volunteered for me. I feel guilt every single day because of that. It was all my fault. If it weren't for me she would still be with her family, safe and sound. Her sister had tried to tell me it wasn't my fault, but I know better than to believe that.

I got ready for the reaping, and walked around the town. I had plenty of time, for our reaping didn't begin until 8pm. I hated that. I'd much rather have the time District One had, which was 9am. At least you'd get it over and done with much faster.

I walked in seemingly endless circles around and around. I walked along the fences that locked us in. I even dared to lean on the fence occasionally, because the electric was never on this time of day. One could sneak out of the district, if they wanted, and no one would be the wiser. I thought about doing that right then, but decided against it. I had family that I couldn't just abandon.

Finally 8pm arrived. I walked back to the square one last time. A name was called. "No!!" I shouted. I couldn't help myself; it was the name of my best friend's little sister, who was a year younger. The peacekeepers looked like they wanted to take me out. "I volunteer!" I shouted, and they backed off. I looked at the girl I volunteered for. One person from that family saved my life, now I was saving one of their lives. It was simply the right thing to do.

*Kaleb*

Where do I begin? I don't even know anymore. I guess I can start with my name. My name is Kaleb and I'm just the simple son of a miner, a coal miner, that is. I am a twelve year old from District Twelve. I am not of much importance to the Capitol. I didn't much care. The only way they would ever care about me was if I became one of their precious tributes, and even then they might not even care. I am from Twelve, after all. Like I said, though, I don't care. They don't care about me; I don't care about them. The feeling was mutual.

At precisely 8:03pm our reaping began. The girl's slip was chosen and read at 8:27pm. I couldn't hear the name, but I heard a girl scream, "No!" then she shouted, "I volunteer!" People watched in shock as the girl trudged up to the stage. She was our first volunteer ever. She looked only a year older than me too. I think she'd said her name was Maggie, or something like that.

Usually the boy was chosen three minutes later, at 8:30pm, but, because of the commotion the girl had caused, the boy wasn't chosen until 8:36pm.

I had every moment of the reaping timed out and I was getting slightly frustrated by how things weren't perfect this year, like they were every other year. I supposed you could say I was a bit OCD. I didn't mind so much. What I minded was what name was chosen at 8:36pm: mine. The Capitol would write both myself and Maggie off right away, I knew. I hated that about them.