Hunger Games: Welcome to the 75th Hunger Games!

Chapter One

I wake up to hear my mother screaming.

"Mom! Are you ok?" I struggle to keep my voice under control as I shake my mother's shoulder. She bolts up and automatically hugs me.

"I miss him," She whispers in my curly blonde hair.

"I do too," I fight back tears. Not right now, not in front of my mother. I can't do that to her. Five years ago, my brother was selected for the boy tribute of District 12. I was only eleven years old at the time. My brother and the girl tribute, Melissa Hilde, were both killed in the blood bath. I'm just glad that the Careers at least had the decency to spare them a quick death. But if you think about it, the Careers still have no decency in their hearts at all.

Even after all those years, my mother still hasn't gotten used to my brother being gone forever. I often wake up in the night hearing her sobbing into her pillow. Sometimes even I get seen with one or two shining tears on my cheek when I remember his death. Ever since the night my brother died by a quick slice in the heart with a spear, my mother has had nightmares.

Usually, in the morning after a particular bad one, she's too tired to even get out of her bed to go to work, so I have to be the provider of the family by hunting animals. I'm not one of those girly girls that squeal if they see a dead squirrel. I guess no one is, since everyone has seen twenty-three people die on live television each year. But I guess I'm particularly toughened up. I've been through a lot.

My dad died when I was four years old. He died just like how the famous Katniss Everdeen's father died. A mine explosion. He went down into the earth and just simply never came up. And then of course, my brother's death. But the death that really makes me bawl like a baby is my little sister, Ivy's, death. She was only two years old when she caught mono.

She died a few days later and I still can't get over the fact that I'll never get to see what type of person she was going to be when she grew up. I am sixteen years old, and my name is Lavender Beaumont. I'm not the type to go around greeting people and smiling like some naive puppy. I try to be as strong as I can be, even with my broken family. I can't leave my mother alone to fend for herself, so I taught myself how to defend people, including me.

I am pretty good at bow and arrow, though maybe not so well as Katniss is rumored to be. I guess my specialties would have to be throwing knives and that I can easily sense edible and poisonous plants. I lean back from my mother and hold her shoulders.

"Come on, mom. Let's get you something to eat," I guide her to our table. Three chairs are missing an owner. I can literally hear my mother gulp down a sob. Food is really scarce in District 12. We would be lucky if we got five hundred calories a day, so, naturally, all of us are really small and skinny.

I guess that comes in handy when you're trying to run away from wild animals, or people who are trying to kill you. I leave my mom at the table and go to my room to get the leftovers of the squirrel that I, luckily, killed the day before. I bring it into the kitchen and set it on the table.

"One leg for each of us," I say as I grab one of my sharpened knives. I give my mother a leg and I cut myself one, too. My mom looks up at me.

"Thank you, Lavender," In her eyes I can tell she means more than just the squirrel leg. I give her one of my rare smiles.

"You're all I have, " I say simply. Mom nods and looks at her plate. Then she suddenly looks up at me with fear in her eyes.

"Tomorrow is the reaping," Mom says still looking at me. My blue eyes widen, but I quickly blink and get them back to their original size.

"Yes," I nod my head slowly.

"Lavender, promise me something," My mother looks at me with intensity in her gaze.