Three Girls, Different Worlds ~A Hunger Games FanFic~

"I GOT IT!" I scream in a funny voice, lunging for the volleyball hurtling towards me. I bump it to the setter - and one of my best friends - Caroline. She surprises the other side by pretending like she's about to set it to outside, the smacking it onto the other side.

"CRAP!" Laura yells, diving for the ball and just barely missing it.

"OHHH!" Caroline and I yell, chest-bumping.

"Shut up, already!" Tyler complains loudly. "And it's still my serve, GraceAnne!"

"Well you know what, Tyler?" I asked. "Meh."

"Meh?"

"Yes, meh."

"GRACEANNE! YOU NEED TO GET READY! THE REAPING'S IN AN HOUR!" my older brother and District One victor, Douglas, yells. He won last year, when he was fifteen.

Sure, he wasn't the strongest, but he was smart. He outwitted the other tributes and managed to kill the last girl, from District Eight. So now my family and I live in Victor's Village. He's supposed to mentor this year, and he told me this year marks the beginning of his prostitution, which I find disgusting.

"Ugh, fine! Caroline, Laura, come on! We need to continue our tradition!" Our tradition was to get ready at one of our houses. Seeing as mine was by far the nicest, we went there.

Technically, I guess it isn't a tradition yet, since we're only thirteen, but we'll make it a tradition! Laura and Caroline follow me.

"So, how many people do you think are pissed about the rules this year?" I ask, keeping a steady pace. This year, the 125th Hunger Games, was the fifth Quarter Quell.

This year, President Rayne announced that there would be no volunteers, and she made sure to include the fact that this would be the most dangerous Games yet.

"Probably all the eighteen-year-olds are mad. But if one of us gets picked, we're doomed," Laura says.

"Unless we win," Caroline interjects.

"Precisely," I say. "To the Victor lair!" I announce, sprinting towards our house. A foot comes out of nowhere and trips me, sending me sprawling to the ground.

"Oh, dang it!" Warner says in his feeble imitation of me, grinning. He apparently thinks I sound like a parrot.

"GraceAnne! Are you okay?" Laura asks, helping me up.

"Of course, Warner's just in love with her," Caroline says, making a kissy face.

"Don't make me puke right before the Reaping," I threaten. "I'm a whiz with a spear, after all."

"I could take you with a sword," Warner says casually.

"Just go home and put on a monkey suit or something," I mutter, dusting myself off. I punch him in the jaw and laugh maniacally while I run off.

Laura and Caroline follow me, panting when they catch up to me at the house. "Well, how's it going?" I ask, smirking.

"Just unlock the door," Caroline growls.

"Gladly," I say, smiling, and open the door to my lush house. I like living in Victor's Village. Sure, Douglas' screaming for the first few weeks wasn't fun, but I managed. Now he's close to normal!

I lead my two friends up to my room, laced with mascara and eyeliner and such. "What color sundress, purple or green?" I ask. The purple is a pretty light lavender, and the green is a mint.

"Purple," Laura says.

"Green," Caroline says at the exact same time.

"Sorry, Caroline, I'm going with purple," I say, grinning. She stick her tongue out at me and picks up some eyeshadow.

We primp and prod and perfect, until we're all ready to go. We run down the stairs, and see that everyone else in the family has left already.

Shit! We're almost late! "All right, we need to run there. Aaaaand . . . Commence sprinting!" Laura yells, and we giggle and start running as fast as we can.

We weave in and out of the stragglers on the street, leap over crates of goods, and run into the Square, panting.

Our escort, Harry Leeman (A/N - who is modeled after my old science teacher, Mr. Underwood) is already speaking. He has a slight beer gut, and thick glasses. His hair is in a ring around his head, wreathing it with gray.

He is one of the few Capitol citizens who don't surgically alter themselves. He'd probably be fired by now if he wasn't such a kickass escort. Seriously, he's probably the best one in all twelve districts.

Our other mentor this year is Diane Spinnet. (A/N - modeled after my History teacher, Mrs. Weaver) She was a ruthless killing machine in her Games, but she's about forty now. I've heard she's grumpy.

She has short, spiky, dark hair and dark eyes. She has a habit of wearing black nearly every day. Harry crosses to the first ball, having finished his short speech, and digs around for a while before returning to the podium.

I'm not too concerned; I mean, the odds are definitely in my favor. My name is entered only two times, as I've never taken tesserae. Plus, me being in the Hunger Games is just too weird to be true.

My prediction is proved wrong as Harry reads the name. "GraceAnne Stokes!" Caroline and Laura gasp and immediately cling to me.

Most people at least know the name, as my brother won last year. It's such a funny turn of events it seems unreal. I suppose this is real. Maybe I can win. I'm good with a spear.

Still, I am only thirteen. Quietly, I pry myself from the grip of my friends and mount the stage. Douglas is observing me quietly, keeping his face emotionless. I see Mom and Dad in the crowd, looking as if they haven't absorbed it quite yet.

I shake Harry's hand, and he smiles at me warmly. I think I like Harry. He's a nice, old man, but by no means feeble.

Although, as he reads the next name, I swear I could strangle him. "Warner Hargrove!" (A/N - not his real last name.) I groan a little bit. Of all people, he chooses Warner?!

Hilarious, fate, hilarious.

Despite the circumstances, as he shakes my hand, he grins at me. I shoot him a death glare, so full of venom he actually flinches, and I have to suppress a chuckle.

Well, Warner, let the 125th Annual Hunger Games begin.