My Name is Finch Riveyra and this is my story.
I awoke in District 5, the morning of the reaping. It can't be me. It can't be me. I thought to myself. I got out of bed and pinned my hair up in a twist. I put on a simple green dress and make my way downstairs. My mom and dad are putting their shoes on with solum looks on their faces. "Its going to be okay," I smile at them for reassurance. But it's me that needs the reassurance. I have no other siblings. I am my parents only child. They can't loose me. I shook off the feeling. Its okay Finch. Your district is what? 2 and a half "states". States: The old term for districts. Anyway, that's a LOT of other 12-18 year olds to be chosen. You'r going to be fine. You'r going to be fine. As we make our way to the town square, I look around. I see tens of hundreds of other children walking, all looking sick to their stomachs. I felt quite dizzy myself. We all crowded into the square, my finger still sore from the prick. It was about 5 minutes later when a man walked onto the stage. "Welcome to 74th Annual Hunger Games Reaping!" He exclaimed, too cheerily. "Today we celebrate and continue the tradition. Ladies first." He dug is hand into a glass bowl, hundreds of papers scooting around. His hand griped it. He pulled it out. He opened it. "Finch Riveyra." My heart stopped. My stomach dropped. I couldn't breathe. Everyone turned toward me. I shakily raised my hand. "Make your way up here honey." He said with a big smile. I turned to my parents. Tears were streaming down their face. I looked at them with panic. Help, I tried to scream. But nothing came out. The world was spinning, but I managed to make my way up to the stage. The stairs were steep and unforgiving. I shuffled to the left side of the man, and he smiled at me. I looked down at the audience. The girls side was, relieved, while the boys looked sick. No one is going to volunteer? Maybe that means they think I could win? "How old are you?" The man asked.
"I- I am 14."