I wake to sunlight spilling through the window, its warmth settling across my cheeks. Slowly, I open my eyes and let them wander across the room.
Viviane is still asleep, completely still. A small smile tugs at my lips before it fades.
Of course she is.
It's Reaping Day.
Her pillow is still damp. She cried herself to sleep last night.
I pull on my old pair of jeans. They don't have any holes yet, but they're worn enough to tell their own story. The once-dark blue fabric has faded from years of salt, sun, and hard work. I slip into my blue striped sweater and quietly leave our room, careful not to wake anyone else.
Our home is surprisingly large for a boathouse. The front holds a small kitchen with a wooden table, a worn bench, and a stone fireplace that barely keeps the cold away during winter. There are two bedrooms—one for Viviane and me, the other for my parents and my little brother, Ozzie.
Ozzie is only a year and a half old. Too young to understand why everyone whispers today. Too young to know why fear hangs over District 4 like a storm cloud.
The other half of our home is our family's shop. My mother spends her days sewing clothes and repairing fishing nets. My father carves fishing gear and tackles repairs before heading out to work as a fisherman. Nearly everyone in District 4 depends on the sea. Fishing isn't simply our trade—it's how we survive.
I make my way toward the meadow overlooking the shoreline.
Annie is already there, waiting.
Annie Cresta has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. Her long auburn hair catches the morning light, and despite everything, she manages a small, gentle smile.
I sit beside her without speaking. We stare across the dew-covered grass, breathing in the crisp morning air. It's one of the few places in District 4 that doesn't smell of fish. Here, the scent of saltwater gives way to fresh earth and damp grass.
For a while, neither of us says anything.
Finally, Annie breaks the silence.
"Did you sleep at all last night?"
"I actually did," I admit. "What about you?"
She lets out a quiet sigh.
"Not much. Edwa kept having nightmares."
Silence settles between us again.
Edwa is Annie's younger sister. She's about the same age as Viviane. That's how Annie and I first met.
Three years ago, Viviane disappeared. Panic spread through our family as we searched every dock, every alley, every stretch of beach. Annie's parents were searching too.
Eventually, we discovered our sisters had wandered into the woods together.
Annie and I were in the same class, so we searched side by side until we found them. We've been inseparable ever since.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulls us from the memory.
We both look up.
Walking toward us is the boy who won the Games two years ago.
Finnick Odair.
