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Sleep was one of the few activities that could numb the pain of one's state of mind. But clearly, the odds were not in Rose's favor today.

Rose hissed as the sun from the neighboring window reflected straight towards her bed. Burying her head inside her covers, she was determined to go to sleep again.

Oversleeping the day of the reaping is not as unusual as you might think. Most kids tend to try to sleep more that day; some, to be more ready in case they got picked, or some others, like Rose, to try to avoid facing that it is, in fact, reaping day.

With a loud groan, Rose throws the mattress off of her in frustration. Rubbing her eyes, she lay on her back again and stared at the cracked wooden ceiling of her room.

She hadn't really paid much attention to it before. After all, it's just a ceiling, right? Well, yeah, but now that the reaping is only a few hours away and the possibility of her being a tribute isn't that slim, she finally appreciates her most simple belongings.

Taking her eyes off of the ceiling, she glances out of the window. Pink and lavender blue clouds are dancing across the sky as the clock across the street dings 8:00 am.

6 hours until the reaping.

With a half-hearted sigh, Rose props herself up on her elbows, then swings her legs off the bed and slipped her furry boots on. Those shoes weren't ever her size, but the leather had molded to fit her over time. She pulled on trousers and a plain shirt and put her hair up in her usual ponytail.

She struggled to put on her hunting jacket as she walked down the stairs. The oak under her feet creaked occasionally even after trying to make no noise.

Her jacket didn't seem to be her size, though. Of course, at this point, she has worn it for winters upon winters and it's starting to not fit her properly, but Rose didn't want to admit it. In fact, she didn't even seem to acknowledge it.

What's so important about an old, worn hunting jacket that wasn't even her size? you might ask.

Well, it was her mother's. One of the few things that are left of her.

Rose got downstairs and after grabbing an apple from the kitchen table, her eyes stopped at the scratches on it.

On that same table, 3 years ago, her mother had left those scratches as the peacekeepers took her and Rose's father away.

Rose was only 13 when it happened. Her sister was 10. The peacekeepers didn't even give an explanation as to what happened, what was happening, and what will happen. The only answer the girls ever got was when one of the men yelled "To the square! Get them to the square with the others."

Rose's grip on the apple she was holding tightened slightly and she breathed out harshly. She took a bite out of it before walking out of the house, heading towards the edge of the town.

Rose and her sister were lucky enough to live in an upper-class neighborhood of District 7. It was the part of the district where most of the shops were. Usually, at this time in the morning, the streets are full of people that try to trade or buy from the shops. Men and women with hunched, broad shoulders and swollen knuckles, many of who their hands have become rough and cold after countless of hours cutting down wood with axes that weigh more than the loaves of bread that they'll get after trading it.

But today the old mossy roads were empty. Shutters on the washed-out wooden houses were closed.

Rose followed the main road down towards the poorer part of the district, the Slum. More and more bricks missing as she kept on walking down the path.

She was now almost at the edge of the Slum. Only a few gates were left to reach the scruffy field called the Lea. Separating the Lea from the woods is a chain-link fence as high as the mayor's house topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory, it's supposed to prevent the predators from getting into the District, as well as the people from getting out. Most of the time the fence did its job, but only a few knew that there is an opening under the fence concealed by a clump of bushes.

Even so, Rose always takes a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is on. Now, leaning on her elbows, she flattens her belly and slides carefully under the fence. That hole that's been there for years is one of several other weak spots in the fence, but this one is easier to enter so Rose almost always tends to enter the woods here.

As soon as she's in the trees, she looks back, making sure no one saw, heard, or followed her. Three stones later, she retrieved a bow and sheath of arrows from a hollow log. With weak spots or not, the fence has been successful at keeping the flesh-eaters out of District 7. Inside the woods, they roam freely, and there are added concerns like venomous snakes, rabid animals, and no real paths to follow; except for some large stones that are marked with black 'X's. Those are the only navigation that a person can have in the woods.

But even if it's unsafe, there's food if you know how to find it. Rose's father knew and he taught her some before he was taken away by the Peacekeepers. She was 13 then. Three years later, she still wakes up screaming for them to let go off of him and her mother.

Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching carries the severest of penalties, more people would risk it if they had weapons. But most are not bold enough to venture out with just a knife. Rose's bow is a rarity, crafted by her father along with a few others that she keeps well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. Her father could have made good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion. Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they're as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is.

"District Seven. Where you could only survive if you were a beaver" Rose mutters. Then she glances quickly over her shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

When she was younger, she scared her mother to death, the things she once blurts out about District 7, about the people who rule their country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. But immediately, Rose understood this would only lead them to more trouble. So she learned to hold her tongue and agree with whatever another person was saying, turning her features into an indifferent mask. Manipulative? Yes. But, it helped her survive.

Sometimes, though, she tends to be very passionate about her beliefs and does even not want to listen to others' opinions because of it. Like that one time in school when she bashed a boy's head against a wall because he told her that she couldn't hunt properly.

From then on, she learned not to argue with those people, but to prove them wrong. That, however, didn't mean that she wasn't outgoing or loud when she was with her friend group. She just didn't like discussing tricky topics, like the reaping or food shortages, especially when she was at home. You see, her sister, Daisy, being three years younger, always looks up to her older sister for support. So, Rose had learned to be a motherly figure over the years as well as having the role of a best friend to Daisy.

Like her name, Daisy is as fresh and delicate as the flower itself. So delicate, in fact, that Rose's optimism and positivity is the only thing that seems to bring on such a bright smile to her overthinking self.

A rustle was heard in the bushes behind Rose and she jumped, pointing her bow at the sound in milliseconds. Some hairs above her ear were sticking out, slightly blocking her view as the air changed direction.

Focused on her target, her heartbeat grew quicker. If someone saw her out there then she was dead. She took some steps forwards, slowly and steadily. Her grip on the bow remained firm then suddenly a howl was heard in the opposite direction.

"Wolves"

she lowered her bow and looked around. She was too much of a target out here. Stopping her eyes towards the sky, she remembered that there was a safe place nearby.

She could feel the muscles in her face relaxing, her pace quickening as she climbed the hills, stopping at a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protected it from unwanted eyes.

After Rose stripped the bushes of their berries, she settled back in a nook in the rocks. From this place, she was invisible but had a clear view of the valley, which was teeming with summer life, greens to gather, roots to dig, and fish iridescent in the sunlight. The day was glorious, with a blue sky and soft breeze. The food's wonderful, with the berries bursting in her mouth. Everything would be perfect if this really was a holiday, if all the day off meant she was roaming the mountains, hunting for that night's supper. But instead, she and several others have to be standing in the square at two o'clock waiting for the names to be called out.

Staring at the valley, some thoughts sparkle in her mind. Familiar thoughts, that she's tired of having.

"How can I leave this place?"

"Can I even leave this place?"

"What if I just leave once and for all?"

In a moment, Rose realized and regretted what she just thought.

Having experienced difficult situations in the past, dark thoughts are very common. They stick to someone, they make the person feel as if death is the only escape.

Those thoughts had been stuck on Rose's mind since she was thirteen.

Following her... haunting her... she was never at peace.

Looking far off on the horizon, she breathed out. As she did so, she felt as if instead of air, it was her worries that were leaving her lungs.

But as she breathed in again, she felt heavy.

Just thinking of running away feels wrong. Leave? How could she leave Daisy, who is the only person in the world she's certain she loves? She is devoted to her family. She can't leave, so why bother talking about it?

After a bit of enjoying the view of the valley, Rose decided to head towards the lake to get something nice for tonight.

Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come.

Rose made it out well. The predators ignore her on a day when easier, tastier prey abounds. By late morning, she had a dozen fish, a bag of greens, and, best of all, a gallon of strawberries. She had found the patch a few years ago, but only recently had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.

On the way home, she swung by her uncle's bakery. Most businesses are closed by this time on reaping day, but the bakery as well as a few others were still fairly busy. Rose got in from the back door, then slid into the basement. It was a large room with spruce walls painted black. The paint was a little chipped at places but other than that it seemed super expensive. It's a bit ironic that this place was used as a black market. The only way to get in was under oath.

Rose easily traded six of the fish for some eggs from a bony old woman and the other two were sold for salt. Miss Locksmith took half the greens off Rose's hands in exchange for a couple of jars of marmalade. Rose might do a tad better elsewhere, but she makes an effort to keep on good terms with Miss Locksmith since she's one of the few customers that provide eggs, which are very important in the making of cakes for the bakery.

When Rose finishes her business at the market, she goes to the back door of Miss. Locksmith's house to sell half the strawberries to her daughter, knowing she has a particular fondness for them and can afford her price. But to Rose's disappointment, Miss. Locksmith's arrogant, obnoxious, loud, annoying son opened the door.

He's in her year at school. Being the son of such a lovely lady, you'd expect him to be alright, but he's a nightmare.

Rose knew him since they were children. They were the same year at school and, somehow, if there was a fight, it was always these two.

Their group of friends also doesn't get along well, and that leads to more trouble.

Today his drab school outfit has been replaced by an expensive cream shirt, and his brown hair was slicked back with gel. He was ready for the reaping.

As soon as the boy looked at Rose, he shot a disgusted look but right before closing the door, he noticed the strawberries that Rose was holding.

He turned around and called for his sister "Callisto come pick up your strawberries"

Rose snickered slightly and crossed her arms over her chest as a distant 'coming' was heard from upstairs.

Sprinting down the stairs and jumping from the second last step at the end of the staircase was Callisto Locksmith. Her maple-colored hair was done up in a bun, decorated with a green ribbon and she was wearing an expensive white dress. Reaping clothes.

Rose observed her, her features looked almost identical to her brother's, but they were still so different. She was always smiling and friendly, and he was.. well, himself.

Callisto gave Rose the money for the strawberries and even paid a bit more. She even wished Rose good luck for the reaping.

She needed all the luck that she could get.

The reaping system is unfair, with the poor getting the worst of it. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility when your name goes into the pool seven times. That's true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Panem.

But here's the catch. Say you are poor and starving or in need of extra food. You can opt to add your name more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for one person. You may do this for each of your family members as well.

At the age of twelve, Rose had her name entered six times. Once, because she had to, and five times for tesserae for grain and oil for herself, Daisy, and her mother, father, and uncle.

However, the next year, before turning thirteen, there was the incident with her parents and the Peacekeepers. That year Rose only had to sign up for three tesserae.

But last year, at fifteen years old, Rose had to sign up for her sister's tesserae as well. You see, their uncle, the only family they have left, owns the bakery of District 7, so, in order to get more products for the bakery, he takes the daily supply of grain and oil that the girls have signed up for. Meaning, that Rose and Daisy both had to sign up for three tesserae, but in secret, Rose signed all the tesserae to her own name in order for Daisy to be safer.

And the entries are cumulative. So now, at the age of thirteen, Daisy's name will be in the reaping only two times, but Rose... Rose, who is now sixteen and has been signed up with her sister's tesserae, will have her name in thirty-nine times.

The chance of Daisy's name being drawn is very slim compared to others. Not impossible, but slim. And even though the rules were set up by the Capitol, not the districts, it's sometimes difficult to acknowledge who the real mastermind is.

On other days, deep in the woods, Rose has thought about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in the districts. A way to plant hatred between starving workers, families and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another.

As Rose opened her house's door, she saw her uncle sitting on the kitchen table, reading a worn out newspaper about different types of axes. A ripped page was even sitting at the floor but he didn't seem to notice.

"There she is!" Rose's uncle said with a crooked smile. "our little hunter"

"Hey uncle" Rose put the bag of greens she was holding on the table, a few of them almost tripping off the edge. "Is Daisy home?"

"I think I heard her say she's going to pick up some flowers for the r-" he suddenly stopped and they locked eyes "for um, later today"

Putting a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Rose picked up some of the strawberries that were left and headed towards the Flower Beds

Not that far away, the Flower Beds were a valley with –you guessed it– each and every kind of flowers imaginable. From tulips to chrysanthemum to violets to lilies to roses of all colours.

Standing almost at the edge of the valley, where nature meets iron bars and barbwire as the fence stands tall, was Daisy.

She was standing at where the rose bushes where, and on the grass next to her shoes was a gianormous bouquet of flowers. White, pink, yellow, purple and blue flowers of all kinds.

Rose was half way there when Daisy noticed her. The sight of her younger sister waiting there brought Rose a smile.

"What are you doing here, we have to be at the square in an hour" Rose reminded the younger girl, holding a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

"I just came to pick up some flowers" she pointed at the stack on the floor "I was about to come home, anyway"

"It's fine as long as we don't sit around for too long" Rose sat down next to the bouquet "Plus, look what I got us" she reached for her pocket and took out a couple of large red strawberries.

"Now we're talking" Daisy's eyes widened as she grabbed a strawberry. "A real treat" Suddenly she falls into a Capitol accent as she mimics Diana Reyes, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the reaping.

Rose laughed at the ironically good mimicking of the accent "You almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" she continued, rolling her eyes "And may the odds - " she tossed a strawberry in a high arc toward her sister.

She caught it in her mouth and broke the delicate skin with her teeth. The sweet tartness exploded across her tongue. " - be ever in your favor!" She finished with equal verve.

They have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared out of their wits. Besides, the Capitol accent is so affected, almost anything sounds funny in it.

The next half hour was spent by the sisters chatting as they were eating the strawberries, even occasionally mocking the Capitol accent once again. Braiding each other's hair with the flowers was by far the most fun part.

As they were ready to return home, Daisy remembered something

"Wait, I forgot your rose, I'm coming in a second" she called out as she ran to the other side of the valley to where the white rose bushes were.

It was a kind of 'good luck' custom they had with each other. Every year before the reaping, they would give the other a flower, but not any kind of flower. Rose had to give a white daisy and Daisy had to give a white rose.

Rose looked around and saw that the nearest patch of daisies was located exactly next to the fence, which was only twenty feet away.

Looking through the daisies to find the perfect one, Rose found what she wanted and cut it. As she got up though, a rustling was heard behind some trees and bushes in the opposite side of the metal bars.

At that moment she heard a low grunt and what seemed like a pair of glass eyes peaked at her from behind a bush.

Wolves.

Then a howl was heard again

And the glass eyes disappeared.

Rose kept looking at that bush, strangely hoping that the wolf would appear again. Something felt off. Maybe the wolves were following her.

"Rose I found a flower" suddenly Daisy brought her sister back to reality.

Rose turned to look at her, still a bit flabbergasted from her encounter with the wolves.

"There wasn't a rose with no thorns though so I'm going to cut them off at home-"

Rose, looking at the forest again and not really paying attention just agreed with whatever it was that Daisy was saying.

On the way home, it was rather silent. The sisters weren't as talkative as other days, but of course, it's reaping day, so there excused.

At home, they find their uncle ready to go. A tub of warm water waited for them. Rose scrubbed off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even washed her hair with expensive shampoo. That was only for special occasions. To her surprise, her uncle had laid out one of her mom's old lovely dresses for her. A sage green dress with white shoes.

Daisy is in Rose's first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse. It's not as big on her as last year, so she didn't need any pins to hold it in place.

Both Rose and Daisy braided half their hair and let the other half down.

Staring at their reflections in the mirror, they button up their clothes.

"You look beautiful," said Daisy in an dreamy voice.

They caught each other's eyes in the mirror and Rose smiled "You too little deer"

Lowering her eyes, Daisy answered in a hushed voice "Well, we have to look nice if we go to the Capitol, don't we?"

Rose's smile faded immediately and she turned to look at her sister. "I don't want you to ever say that again" she put her hands on Daisy's shoulders "We'll be alright"

Rose protected Daisy in every way she could, but she was powerless against the reaping. The anguish she always felt when she's in pain welled up in her chest and threatened to register on her face.

'She doesn't even know that I'm going to sign up for her tesserae as well' Rose thought to herself

"Alright" Daisy took a deep breath "we'll be fine"

"Come on, let's eat," Rose said and planted a quick kiss on the top of her head.

After eating, the two girls got their 'good luck presents' and at about one o'clock, they headed for the square. Attendance is mandatory unless you are on death's door. This evening, officials will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not, you'll be imprisoned.

It's too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square - one of the places with the most pleasant memories in District 7. The square's surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there's good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there's an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.

People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve- through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones, like Daisy, toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn. Odds are given on their ages, whether they're Slum or merchant, if they will break down and weep. Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully, carefully. These same people tend to be informers, and who hasn't broken the law? Rose could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge protect her. Not everyone can claim the same.

Anyway, anyone can agree that if they had to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker.

The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 7's population of about twenty six thousand people. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state.

After Daisy signed up, she makes her way over to the area with the other thirteens. Rose then finds the opportunity to write the extra tesserae to her name. Now under Daisy's name there's only the number two instead of five.

But under Rose's name, theres the number thirty-nine.

The odds don't seem to be in her favour.

Clutching her stomach, who was hurting out of fear, Rose started to head towards the other teenagers when suddenly people started running.

"Wolves! Wolves!" several of the people yelled as they run to different directions in panic. Climbing on top of a chair to get a better look, Rose saw two wolves howling at the door of a shop and banging on it with their necks.

They didn't seem to be after the people, neither they were lost. They seem to be looking for something. Hopping off of the chair, Rose started going towards them. She was the only one going the other direction as others run away from the scene.

Taking a closer look at the scene, the wolves were banging on the door of the butcher's. Rose slowly and steadily walked towards them. The plan in the beginning was to scare them off but they didn't seem to be aggressive.

The closer Rose went toward them, the more their growls sounded like cries and after being just next to them it was when Rose realised that there was scratching and howling from the inside of the door as well.

"There's a third one" Rose whispered in realisation and that's when the wolves saw her.

With their heads low, they maintained eye contact. Rose was frozen but she didn't let her fear get the best of her. She knew how to handle animals, especially predators.

Looking them intensely in the eyes, their howls became cries and those cries became squeals. Right before the wolves were somewhat calm, a rough voice echoed in the street. "What are you doing there girl!" It was the butcher "Get those animals away from my shop"

The wolves started growling even more than before and this time, one could see the anger in their eyes as they showed their teeth.

"They're not here to hurt anyone, they're just looking for something" Rose got in front of them "or someone" she stated as a howl from a wolf pup was heard from inside the butcher's. "Did you by any chance steal their pup from the woods?" Rose spat angrily.

"You better go to the reaping, girl, and let me handle those wolves" he reached for his pocket and as a wolf tried to jump on him, Rose held it down.

"I told you to leave girl" the butcher yelled getting closer.

"No, give them their pup" Rose insisted, still holding the wolves back.

At that moment, the second wolf jumped and as Rose tried to hold it down, she was slightly cut in her palm with the butcher's dagger.

"Ouch" Rose winced, closing her fist.

"You should have left"

People were crowding the place and as the butcher turned around to look at the crowd, Rose took the opportunity and grabbed a large lantern, banging in on the glass window next to the door.

It was as if a glass bomb has gone off, with all the shatters falling at the floor. Rose stuck her head in the window and just as she saw a little baby wolf, she felt someone grabbing her by the shoulders and throwing her in the middle of the street.

"What do you think you're doing? Huh?" The butcher yelled, fuming.

All air was knocked out of Rose's lungs and she couldn't speak, just tried desperately to get up. It was the crowd's time to intervene before the Peacekeepers came, and they were close.

With the corner of her eye, Rose saw one of the wolves jumping inside the shattered window and as the butcher was distracted by the crowd, she managed to get to her feet and hid behind other people. The last thing she saw before fleeing the scene was the one wolf jumping out of the window, holding its pup with its teeth.

She quickly ran back to the square and found myself standing in a clump of sixteens. Most of them exchange terse nods then focus their attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds four chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. Rose stares at the paper slips in the girls' ball. Almost forty of them have Rose Haywood written on them in careful handwriting.

Two of the three chairs fill with the Mayor, who's a tall, balding man, and Diana Reyes, District 7's escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and glittering pink suit with a giant flower on her shoulders. Then, on the last two chairs are sitting the two mentors of District 7; Johanna Mason and Blight Aranock.

Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.

Taking the kids from the districts, forcing them to kill one another while they watch - this is the Capitol's way of reminding the citizens how totally they are at their mercy. How little chance they would stand of surviving another rebellion.

Whatever words they use, the real message is clear. "Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen."

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires the districts to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intones the mayor.

Then he reads the list of past District 7 victors. In seventy-four years, we have had exactly 5. Only two are still alive. When Blight's name is brought up, he doesn't hesitate to stand up and bow with a large smile. However, when Johanna is mentioned, she just flips off the cameras.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, he quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Diana Reyes.

Bright and bubbly as ever, Diana Reyes trots to the podium, her heels slightly getting stuck in between the wooden planks, but she managed to be professional, or at least as professional as she could get, and gave her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Her pink hair must be a wig because her curls have shifted slightly off-center since the incident with her heels. She goes on a bit about what an honor it is to be here, although everyone knows she's just aching to get bumped up to a better district where there are no sudden wolf attacks or victors who flip off the audience.

Through the crowd, Rose spots Daisy looking back at her with a ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least has a slight entertainment factor. But suddenly Rose is thinking of herself and her thirty nine names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in her favor. Not compared to a lot of the girls. And maybe Daisy's thinking the same thing because her face darkens and she turns away. "But there are still thousands of slips," Rose wished she could whisper to her.

It's time for the drawing. Diana says as she always does, "Ladies first!" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and Rose's feeling nauseous, gripping her hands tightly, leaving marks on her skin and so desperately hoping that it's not her, that it's not her, that it's not her.

Diana Reyes crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice.

"Rose Haywood."

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