The 100th Annual Hunger Games Quarter Quell: District Revenge

Valeria Valentine ~ Reaping Day

"Hello dear, how old are you?" Those same words echoed in my ear.

"Hello dear, how old are you?" "Hello dear, how old are you?" "Hello dear, how old are you?"

"Valeria?" Divine says waving her hand in my face.

"Fifteen" I managed finally say.

"Valentine; mhmm, are there perhaps any relations to Yvonne Valentine, the twelve year old who stepped off of her platform too early last year?"

"That is my little sister," I whisper.

"Was your sister my dear," Divine said tapping my nose. "She must've been so eager to play the Games last year, she couldn't wait to dive right into that Bloodbath." Her comment had the District Officials laughing. "Why don't you tell Panem what your going to do to stay alive in the arena?"

"I don't know," I roll my eyes at her, not wanting to answer to anymore of her questions.

"Well you must have some type of skill," She says.

I shrug my shoulders.

"Can you tie knots?"

"No,"

"Can you swim?"

"No,"

"Can you skin an animal?"

"No,"

"Can you run?"

"No,"

"Can you do anything?"

"No,"

"A girl with hidden talents everyone!" She held my hand up in unison with hers. Because I'm short she's slightly lifting me up. "Thank you for your sacrifice,"

I let go of her hand and sit next to the last reaped girl. She's shaking like a wet dog and I can't help but holding her hand to comfort her because that's the type of stuff that we do. She looks at me with those scared eyes I've seen before in my sister when she was reaped and I know exactly how this is going to play out.

36 of us this year, and only one can survive. Sounds ironic doesn't it? How to survive you might ask? Sponsors they say, well that means you must be likeable, and shyness won't cut it with the Districts. To survive, one must gain an ally or two, to form an alliance better known as the Career Pack, being apart of this elite clique requires for you to be likable. Again, one must need to adapt those people pleasing qualities to become a Victor. Something I don't have. I let my eyes gaze off behind the cameras and District Officials and search for Mother and Father, wondering if they're are crying but I doubt it. I know s it's probably too numb for them to put the pieces together. What are the odds of having both of your children reaped? Ha! Those odds must not be in my parents favor.

"Eleven ladies, seven more to go!" She reaches back into the bowl. I know her hand must be tired.

"Magenta Hayslee!"

Great. Magenta.

Magenta, the girl with the magenta hair and magenta skin. The girl whose parents allow her to indulge a little bit too much into the current Capitol Fashion. My parents won't even let me dye my skin a temporary baby blue until I turn 21. But Magenta gets a permanent dye of the deepest color out there and she's only seventeen! Not to mention her outrageous but yet stunning tattoos that circle across her face and stretch from her neck then down to her back, across her hip, and to her leg, swirling around her ankle and ending by her big toe. And trust me, Magenta makes sure she's wearing a dress that shows it ALL. Need I not forget her infinite amount of face jewelry and feathered pink bejeweled eyelashes .