The Hunger Games-One Direction Edition

Chapter One

Lauren’s Point of View

I opened my eyes to an early morning ray of sunlight blinding me. I winced and slowly got up, looking around my room. The shades were drawn over the windows, but from the holes the moths ate from it, sunlight poured into the room. I hurried downstairs, the cold wooden floor chilling my feet as I looked through the tiny pantry for food.

No fresh fruit, so I knew I could gather some from the forest before the early afternoon reaping. Sneaking out the back door, I inhaled the dusty smell of District 12, the producers of coal. I lived in the poorer section, but not in the place nicknamed as the Seam. We could get by from our garden and our tiny collection of livestock, but life was still hard being on the borderline. At least we never went hungry, except for the days known as "Hollow Days", when our stomachs would growl no matter how much food we put into it. We were lucky; we didn’t have to worry about finding one of our loved ones lying on the side of the road, too far gone for any medical attention.

I scooted underneath the fence that bordered the Seam and led into the Meadow. We were forbidden to go into the forest, but with the Peacekeepers’ desire for fresh foods, such as berries and wild game, as long as I stayed hidden I would be in no direct danger of being punished. I paused for a minute to make sure the fence was electrified, and when I confirmed there was no buzzing, I scurried quickly underneath so I would not be seen. I ran into the forest, finding my bow and a sheath of arrows in the trunk of an old evergreen tree. My Father had crafted this for me when I was just twelve, but he waited until I was fifteen to teach me how to use it. I was a natural archer, but my Father knew to be patient with me when I would continuously beg him to take me hunting with him. When he was injured on a trip, he seemed to lose all memories of the ones he loved before we found him hanging from a ceiling beam.

I shook my head and walked through the woods, and after two hours I had managed to shoot and take down two plump rabbits and a few quails. I had gathered about a gallon on strawberries and I had even stumbled across a blackberry patch, gathering a pint of those as well. Hurrying to the evergreen tree, I hid the bow and arrows before I made my way to my home. My Mother turned to me, her dirty blond hair frazzled and hazel eyes still sleepy. She glanced at my bag, which was bulging with enough food to last us for three or four days.

"I got lucky. Plenty of fresh berries and meat," I said, pulling out the strawberries and the pint of blackberries and rinsing them in the tiny kitchen sink behind me. My Mother began to clean and prep the animals for tonight’s feast; I secretly hoped that we wouldn’t be the family with the shades drawn while we figured out how to survive after the reaping claimed one of our loved ones.

Dismissing the thought from my mind, I grabbed a handful of berries and nibbled on them as I stared out of our kitchen window. I finished eating and washed my face and hair, combing my long, dark curly brown hair before putting it up into a ponytail. I looked through my closet and chose a simple dark blue sundress that complimented my green eyes to wear to the reaping. I changed quickly to find my little sister already in a light green dress waiting for me.

She fixed one of my curls that seemed unwilling to stay in the ponytail, her hazel eyes scared as she met my eyes. The sun brought out her blond streaks, resembling more of my Mother than anyone else, as we walked to the town square, the crowd already getting herded into the streets where live footage of the reaping could be seen on one of the large screens placed around the square.

Attendance was mandatory unless you were a breath away from death, and any other excuses would be dismissed and you would be imprisoned. Twelve through eighteen year olds were kept in roped off areas, and I lost Kylie in the sea of people as she went to join the twelve year old and I walked over into the seventeen year olds area, the faces grim and nods of greeting tense. I glanced up at the stage, noting all of the details as my time to dawdle decreased with every second.