𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

THREE

I slide my feet into a pair of dark pumps, the heels boosting my height by at least four inches. When I turn to face my sister, her mouth drops open, and in the vanity mirror behind her awed face, I catch a glimpse of myself.

My heart skips a beat. Loren has done an incredible job with my makeup – smoky shadow and elongated wings of liner surround my dark eyes, framed with thick lashes. My hair appears almost black in the misty morning light, settling in sophisticated curls down my back, and an understated lip compliments the claret of my dress perfectly. The overall ensemble is unbelievable.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I may be able to stand beside my sister and not look like the younger one.

"Wow, I'm impressed with myself!" Loren jokes, now beaming in response to the starstruck expression on the face that looks nothing like my own. "You look amazing!"

"Thank you, Loren." I find myself replying without thought. I still can't quite comprehend how well she has done this morning.

Before we know it, the sirens begin to blare over the District. Loren and I follow our mother out into the streets, where the youth of 2 are beginning to stream into the Market Square in droves.

Attendance at the Reaping is mandatory for all citizens, but only those with kids in the draw tend to stand in the town centre. Giant screens have been going up along the great stone walls of the high school all week, and those who cannot squeeze into the Square will be directed into the courtyard in front to watch from the benches where we would normally eat lunch.

I link one arm with Loren's as we walk. Our heels crunch against the gravel and we try our best to avoid the cart tracks we would usually run through in training boots. There is no running in 2 today, just the quiet chattering of parents and teens and the faint industrial noise of the machines still running in the mountains, even though all the workers have been signed off for the day.

The Square is teeming with Peacekeepers, and mom wanders off as soon as we pass the merchant parade, presumably to find our father. He has been allowed to watch today's Reaping as a parent rather than law enforcement but is expected to jump into action should a situation arise.

It's unusual in the outer Districts, where the Reaping is a solemn affair treated with extreme caution and fear, but here in 2 fights are fairly common. The volunteering situation can get pretty ugly when the wrong students get involved, especially amongst the boys. I've seen kids square up to each other before the Games have even begun over a spot on that stage. The girls tend to be more honourable – if it's your time, then so be it – but the rare scuffle isn't unheard of.

My sister and I join the line of those waiting to sign in, sandwiched between a monstrous girl I recognise from the Academy, who can toss a giant boulder ten metres without breaking a sweat, and one of the young girls from the merchant sector. She's all done up in bows and pigtails, but tears are threatening to leak from her eyes. I notice Loren shoot her a reassuring smile when she thinks I'm not looking.

When I reach the table, the Peacekeeper seated behind it pricks my finger and stamps my print onto the ledger in front of her. I rub the pad of skin against my thumb in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. "Clove Kentwell, 16. Go ahead." The woman drawls without even looking up.

I wait for Loren just beyond the table. She will head over to the fifteen section, whilst I'll stand a little further ahead with the other sixteen year old girls of the District, so we say our goodbyes and good lucks before we separate. We both know that today will be uneventful, but it's a tradition we can't let go.