[Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of The Hunger Games. Obviously.]

On the day my life begins to fall apart, I wake up to the sound of my best friend and foster brother yelling in my face. 

"Hurry up, Lani!" Casmir, a slightly tanned, blonde boy shouts as he shakes me awake. I find myself staring at the opposite side of my little room. Reid's bed across from mine is empty, the blanket crumpled at the end of the thin mattress. She must have already left. I sit up, my head spinning a little, and find myself staring into the blue eyes of Casmir. I make a disgusted noise in the back of my throat.

"Haven't you ever learned about two little things called personal space and privacy, you creep?" I ask acerbically. Casmir just laughs and stands up. He's dressed in a pair of light brown cargo pants, a gray, short sleeved shirt, and a pair of old, heavy-duty boots.

"Harvest starts today," he says, leaving the rest implied. If I don't get up right away to go work in the fields, then I'm likely to be punished. 

"Right," I respond, standing up as he leaves. 

"I'll wait ten minutes," he shouts to me from outside the door. "Then I'm leaving." He closes the door behind him. I smile to myself, knowing that Casmir would wait for twice as long, because he'd feel guilty living me alone. I don't mind, obviously, but he does it anyway. I pace over to the dresser, taking out my harvest clothes: virtually the same thing Casmir was wearing, except a size smaller. Casmir's about a head taller than me. 

I look up to the cracked mirror that hangs on the wall above the dresser. My reflection stares back at me - a short, tan girl with tangled black hair, her brown eyes tired, and an imprint of a pillowcase wrinkle etched into her face. First order of business after I get dressed: wash my face. 

I change into harvest clothes, and step outside the room, heading down the hallway to the bathroom. I pass Casmir on my way out and smirk at him knowingly. He responds with a scowl. "You'd better be ready soon," he says, and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. I roll my eyes.

"I know, Casmir, you're impatient," I respond, and without further conversation, step into the main room of the bathroom. A nine-year-old girl, Jaina, stands at one of the two sinks, meticulously braiding her hair. Her small fingers move deftly over her frizzy red locks, binding them into a braid that starts behind her ear and goes down the front of her chest, almost reaching her waist.

"Hi, Leilani," Jaina greets me, using my full name like she always does. It annoys me a bit, but I tolerate it for her sake. "You slept in. Aren't you supposed to be out of here already? Reid left almost an hour ago." I grimace. Just like Reid to be the first there. Technically, we don't need to be to the field for another half an hour, but Reid is always the first to rise and the first to arrive. She usually helps out with the preparation for the harvest.

"I know she left a while ago," I say, picking up a rag from where it lay haphazardly on the sink, wetting it, and washing my face. "But that doesn't mean we should be there now," I add. "Reid always gets there early. She's just a big show-off." Jaina snickers. 

"You're just lazy," she giggles, a hand covering her mouth. I laugh and slap her teasingly on the arm with the wet cloth.

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Fine. I might be a little lazy. But you're going to eat those words when you're old enough to help at the harvest!" I smile and quickly pull my hair into a ponytail, exiting the room. I pass Casmir, who gives me a eye roll followed by a grin and walks after me through the kitchen. I grab an apple as we leave. Anna, the head of the foster home and our adopted mother, is already out at the fields. She trusts Verity, the oldest girl and the oldest out of all of us kids, to take care of the two-year-old boy Marcus, the seven-year-old boy Eric, and Jaina. Verity's right leg was twisted when she was born, so she isn't able to work in the harvests and walks around with a limp. She does her equal share of work here at the foster home, though.

In total, there are eight people living here. Nine, if you include Anna. It's hard to provide food for all of us - but the ones that are living at the home and are eligible for the Games are all signed up for tesserae. Which would be me, Reid, Casmir, and Talos. This year is Talos's last year in the reaping. I'm a bit jealous of him, honestly. Reid too. She'll be safe from the games a year before Casmir and I, because she's fifteen, a year older than us.

Taking a bite of my apple, I gaze up at the sky. It's a bit overcast, and there's a faint hint of wind rustling the tree. At least it isn't hot like last year, I think, remembering the previous harvest. It had been one of the hottest days in the history of the district, and several people had to be carried away from the fields after they fainted from the heat. Looking back down, I notice Casmir has passed me, so I lengthen my stride to try and keep up.

-~-

We arrive later at the fields. A sea of wheat undulates in the cool breeze, which has picked up a bit since Casmir and I left. I see a figure standing in the distance next to a large barn, a long braid swinging through the air behind their head as they turn to face us. "Reid!" Casmir shouts, and jogs the rest of the way to the figure. I make a small noise of protest in the back of my throat, but speed up my pace to follow. Casmir is smiling. "You think you're so much better than everyone else because you can wake up at ungodly hours to get here," he jokes, but his face turns serious after he notices Reid's grim expression. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Good morning, Casmir, Leilani," Reid states in her usual formal tone. "I don't know how, but you seem to have forgotten... it's the day of the Reaping."

My heart drops to my stomach. I had completely forgotten about the Reaping. Casmir looks like he had, too. He straightens up, his face a mask of cool, collected calm and his joking attitude gone. "I did forget," he says simply, and sighs.

This year is the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, a horrible fight to the death that two children from each of the twelve districts are forced to participate in. The Hunger Games are always a solemn affair here in District Nine, but it's even more serious this year - it's the first Quarter Quell. The Quarter Quell happens every twenty-five years, and it brings some sort of horrible twist to the Games. It's the first Quell, so I didn't know what to expect, but what President Coriander announced to the world over television was terrible. I can still hear the words clearly in my head. 

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district will be made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent them."

This was by far the cruelest thing President Coriander could have done to the districts, especially the more impoverished and smaller ones. The members of our districts were like family, and for us, being chosen for the Games was basically signing your own death warrant.

I figured that one or both of the tributes would be from the foster home I was in. We were the unwanted children of District Nine. Our parents had either died or abandoned us, and we didn't have any family to look after us. We weren't the only foster home in the district, but to be honest, we were the only one that would accept this many children. The other foster homes could almost always afford education for their kids because there weren't that many, and they were well known by the district and had plenty of friends and supporters. As far as I knew, there weren't any disabled people of Games age in the district, and District Nine would never act like District One or Two - sending physically gifted tributes into the games to give the district a better chance at winning. It was cruel, but most citizens of District Nine thought of this Quell as an opportunity to cast away the unwanted district members.

If they picked someone from our foster home, they wouldn't have that many to choose from - only four of us are Games age. That would be Casmir, Reid, Talos, and I. Casmir is liked by almost everyone he meets. He has this happy attitude that's almost infectious, and when people are around him, they're almost always smiling. So that pretty much rules him out as a possible candidate for the Games. Reid would be out too - she's respected for her hardworking attitude and intelligence, and she treats everyone as if they're close friends of hers, as long as they don't offend her. She's well-known by the district, and I doubt that people would send anyone but a stranger to their deaths. Talos has muscles for brains, but he's at least needed to do a lot of the grunt work at the harvest. He makes friends with the other men and women who do the part of the harvest that requires physical strength, and there are a whole army of those people. 

So that leaves me. 

I don't make friends with many people, only really Casmir and Reid. I also don't have much physical strength, at least not as much as Talos. I know that the people in the foster home with me would never nominate me, but they only make up a tiny fraction of the district's population. If my name comes up most in the votes, which is likely... 

I'd be going to the Games.

[So, how did you like the first chapter? I liked the idea of doing a fanfiction on The Hunger Games, but I don't like using other authors' characters... so I decided to make it in a completely different time period! I feel like Casmir's going to end up being one of my favorites - but just wait 'till you see who's going to come into play in the Games! *cracks knuckles like Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul and smiles evilly* Comment what you think of the chapter (or the overall idea) - I'm honestly really excited for this. And sorry it was a short first chapter - I'll try to make them longer in the future.]
[I'm getting all nervous about this chapter now and idek why... XD]
[Thanks to everyone who reads this, and may the odds be ever in your favor!]

~Lark