I wake up still lying in bed. Today is reaping day. I put my name in 6 extra times, because I need food for my dad, my mom, my 2 little brothers, and my little sister,  and also me. I don't want us to starve again. I'm the only member of my family going to the reaping. I hate them. I hate the Capitol. I may be a Career, and have been trained, but I don't like the fact that they make kids slit each other's throats. My whole family think the same way I do. I want to make the Capitol Adults go into the Hunger Games. That would be fun to watch. I want them to suffer, like we do. I want to take back Panem. But I can't. 

     "Raymond, get up." I say shaking my 8 year old brother. He lays there still. He doesn't want to witness the reaping, I feel poorly for him, but he needs to get up. I sit beside him and stroke his hair and tell him it will be okay. Finally after a while, he gets up and goes to the table. I follow after him and eat my sliver of bread and 3 sticks of carrots. "Skye, it is time to get ready. Go get some water and fill your tub." Said my mother. I groan and go and fetch water. 

      I continue to scrub myself, finally I soak back into the tub and sit still for a few minutes. I don't wanna go, I don't. But I have too. Unless I- No. I couldn't. I have to go. I stand up and dry myself quickly. Then I go to my dresser and take out a white dress. It is silk, and it is very sleek. I throw it onto myself, over my underwear and bra. I then put on white flags, and brush my hair and teeth. I pull my black-dark bluish hair into a very long pony tail. Then I pin a knife to my back, and in my hair. I hide them carefully, I have to tape my back knife where I can just yank it out. I grin and hug my family.

          I walk out the front door and towards the reaping area. I then stop and turn around to the woods. I go to my hiding place, my cave. I sit there untill the reaping starts. I mouth the words sorry to all of the people who are going to get picked. 

      "Skye Northway!" I hear. I throw myself up and mouthing, it's me. It's me. I've been reaped. I run to the reaping area, duck into the 16 year olds' girls' group and then head out into the aisle. I close my eyes and them jerk them open. I need to keep my eyes open. 

    "Tell them I love them, I love you Mom." I say as she is dragged away. I shout after the soldiers, "BASTARDS". But they can't hear me. I want to cry, but I can't. I need to stay focused, I need to strategize.