The Hunger Games - The Spark - Book One

Chapter 1: The Reaping

Note: The last two Hunger Games books did not happen in this book. In this book, only the first one takes place, and this takes place twenty-six years after the ending of the first book. I hope you enjoy it!

Dedicated to PhoenixMcGarrett, for my amazing cover!

Please excuse any mistakes, this is unedited.

"Fawn! Come on, breakfast is ready!" my mother called.

"I'm coming!" I yelled back. I sprinted out of my room to arrive at the table. Our house was small, but it was the biggest in our section. We lived in the Seam, the dirtiest and poorest part of District 12. I looked like most Seam children, with my straight dark hair and my olive skin. I acted like most Seam children. I was a nobody, compared to the town kids.

"C'mon, c'mon, hurry up now, we only have a little bit of time before the Reaping."

Oh, yes, of course. Today was the Reaping for the 100th Hunger Games, the Fourth Quarter Quell. I'd been lucky enough not to be picked in my sixteen years of life. 

Everyone was on edge, especially young mothers, because of this year's twist. It was the worst twist yet.

Mom and I had been sitting in front of the old TV, watching the anthem play when it was announced. Our television automatically turned on whenever there was a special report, and tonight there was one. I knew this one was for this year's twist for the Quarter Quell, and I was worried about what it would be.

President Snow came on camera, still looking as young as he did twenty years ago. I knew from old tapes that he still looked the same.

"Ladies and gentleman, people of Panem, I hope you are all excited about this year's Quarter Quell. To celebrate the one-hundreth Hunger Games, we will be doing three conditions this year."

He picked up three cards out of an old box, both with a large 100 written on the back.

"The first condition is . . ." he paused for effect, "That people of every age can be reaped."

My mother gasped, and I froze as I realized what it meant. Oh, God. My mother could be reaped. A little two-year-old could be reaped. The oldest woman in District 12 could be reaped.

"The second condition is . . . ." another pause for effect, "Is that there will be twice as many tributes to accomodate the amount of people able to be reaped."

There was another pregnant pause as my mind processed this. Forty-eight tributes of any age. Oh, dear God. I felt sorry for the four District 12 people going into the Hunger Games this year. I prayed I wouldn't be chosen. 

"The third condition is that we will not be accepting volunteers."

That didn't mean a lot. Not accepting volunteers? The only problem would be in the Career districts, where people fought to be a tribute. Idiots, in my opinion.

I hardly noticed the anthem playing once again and the TV shutting off. I barely felt my mother's arms wrap around me and her sobbing.

All I could think about was Blye. My best friend.

Blye had a greater chance of being reaped because of her parents. Her parents were the two most famous victors of all, the star-crossed lovers. Katniss and Peeta Mellark. Blye was their only child, and she was my age, sixteen.

Blye was too delicate to go into the Hunger Games. She had been born weak, another reason for the Capitol to target her. She had been lucky to get this far without being chosen. Blye was as intelligent as her mother, and could start a fire just as easily as anyone else. Blye was the reason Katniss didn't want another child.