The Ninety-First Hunger Games

Prologue

Katniss

President Paylor is dead. Killed probably. Now Celestia, the granddaughter of the late President Snow, is president. She has brought back the Games, once again. My nightmares are back, worse than ever.

I know my children are guaranteed a spot in the Games. Now, we're at the Ninety-First Games. My oldest daughter is now fifteen. Her name is Ash. Her younger brother is just twelve. His name is River. His first year in the reaping and he wakes up, screaming every night. 

Just like Primrose. But she's dead, and she's never coming back. You'd think it would get easier over the years. And it does. But only a bit.

Tomorrow is the reaping. And the odds are not in my children's favour.

Ash

The reaping. Every kid's nightmare. Now I've got River to worry about. Mother's asleep, so I go to River's bedroom. He's up on his bed. I go to him. He looks up as I sit up beside him on the bed. 

"It was me," he whispers through tears. "It was my name."

"Four slips of paper. Out of thousands," I say to him. Victors' children must quadruple the number of times they add their slips. 

"But District 12 isn't as poor anymore. Not as many people signed up for the tesserae. And Aunt Prim was chosen. That was only one slip of paper. Out of even more people. And I don't have a brother. No one's going to volunteer for me," he says, through streams of tears. 

I don't know what to say to that. It's absolutely true.

So I just tell him, "None of us need to sign up for the tesserae. And my name is in more. If anyone in this family is going to be chosen, it's going to be me," I tell him, wishing that it weren't true.

The odds are not in our favour.

Wouldn't it be something, to see two of the victor's children fighting? And two in the same family? What would happen if it came down to the two of us? Would I kill myself to save River? Would River kill me? Would I kill him?

No. I refuse to believe it. It can't be true. 

It won't.

Finnick

Mom took me swimming. But it's hard to enjoy that when there's a 75 percent chance that I will be picked for the reaping.

Not that I know how to calculate percent. They might have taught at school, but I'm ADHD. Can't listen for very long. But I figured that 75 was a good percent to guess. It's hard, having a mad mom and dead dad. But I get through.

Life must go on. But not even swimming can take my mind off the reaping.

But it's not me I'm worried about. It's my mother, who will be having a heart attack when everyone in her family is gone. When I get chosen.

You know how I know I'm going to be chosen? Because I'm the son of two victors. Ever since Snow's granddaughter took over, the new rule was that the eldest child of every family must have their reaping slip amount tripled. And the victor's children must have it quadrupled. One child, no siblings, so it's going to be me.

We both know that tomorrow will be goodbye forever.