I get out of bed this morning a little earlier than usual. Even though the reaping is upon us, I can't help but feel upbeat today. I get out of bed and give Lilly a kiss on the top of her forehead but then I let her sleep in a little bit more, knowing that everyone else will appreciate it if she's well rested. While making my way to the pantry, I notice that my mother's already awake and reading in her favorite chair. Our dog Maze is on the ground next to her. "Hey mom," I whisper as I give her a kiss on the cheek and pat Maze on the head. "Do you want some breakfast?" She shakes her head no.

It must be that time of the year again. I wonder what's going on in her mind as I tear off a piece of slightly crusted salty bread and eat it for breakfast. She takes the annual reaping much more seriously than I do. My name will only be inserted into the glass bowl seven times, but for her I'm sure that that's seven times too many. We haven't spoken about this year's Hunger Games. As her youngest child, I'm thankful to know that this will be her last time ever having to go through the torture that most parents experience this time of the year. Well, at least until her grandchildren go through it. In the back of my mind I wonder if she thinks I'm going to volunteer for the games. I have repeatedly told her it won't happen, but if I'm honest with myself even I don't know what I'm going to do.

I don't want to volunteer, but as the top ranked tribute at the career center I know that many parents and trainers are hoping and expecting that I will step forward. I wish they thought about my living situation and why it would not be a good idea. I wish they thought about the fact that my mother has already lost a child in the Hunger Games. Unfortunately, the only thing that matters is the "1" beside my name at the training center. Other years, I may have had an excuse. When I was fifteen and younger, I was too young and older kids could volunteer. When I was sixteen, I had another year to wait. This year, I know I do not have much of an excuse. If my name isn't drawn in a week, I'm hoping for an older kid to be picked. With my luck it will probably be a 12 year old with one entry among the thousands in that big glass ball.

If that happens, I know that some eyes are going to be turned in my direction. Perhaps the family of the unfortunate tribute-to-be will plead with me to take their son's place. Perhaps the trainers will glare at me with their normal disapproving looks as I stand quietly watching an unfortunate, less talented kid walk slowly to his grave. Will I give in to the pressure at that moment, or will I think about Lilly and my mother? If the reaping were today, I think I wouldn't volunteer. In the back of my mind though, I wonder if I would win. The temptation to honor my district, spare another kid's life, and move back into the Victor's Village all seem like appealing options to me. Thoughts for and against my volunteering linger back and forth in my mind. I know that district one and two will provide some dangerous opponents, male and female. Then I would wonder if I would be likable by the residents of the capitol. Haman Blodget, the head trainer at the center thinks that my personality is my biggest weakness. I tend to agree. Sadly, they don't really teach personality at the center. You either have it or you don't. A lack of personality doesn't breed much compassion in the eyes of those wanting to decide my fate.

Forgetting about the near future and looking ahead to today's schedule, I have a good reason to be excited.

Today is the day of the monthly fishing competition between myself and my best friend and fiercest rival, Finnick Odair.

It's a beautiful spring day as I make my way to the ocean along the path from the school. With five hours to spare between now and training, I need to catch as many fish as possible. I'll have three hours to catch the fish, an hour to trade them at the market at Promontory Point, and then an hour to get to the training center. Cloudless days are usually the best days to catch fish because the water is clear and the fish are easily visible. Fortunately, I don't see a cloud in the sky today.

As I make my way along the shore and over the dunes I see Finnick getting ready. Of course he managed to get here before I did. No matter how early I get to the beach, it seems like Finnick arrives a little earlier. Sometimes I wonder if he lives here. I'm bigger, faster, stronger and more mentally tough than he is, but he's a far superior swimmer and he has that typical Odair charm. In the short span of my life, I have never seen a kid quite like Finn. Even at the age of 13, he's shaping up to become a man who will break many hearts. Tall, bronzed, handsome, and already a threat to take my spot as the top rated tribute in training at the district four training center. I have openly wondered if he would volunteer for the games when he's older. I couldn't see him losing. His breed is a rarity.

I don't entirely know why we're such good friends. I think it may be because he's a thirteen year old with the maturity of someone a few years older and I'm a seventeen year old with the maturity of someone a few years younger. It may also be because we're such fierce competitors. I'm usually not so friendly with my rivals, but there's something about Finn. I want to dislike him out of pure jealousy but I can't. When I compare myself as a 13 year old to Finnick, I know I'm severely lacking. If the roles were reversed and he was a 17 year old, I highly doubt we would even be able to have these competitions. Regardless, I sometimes wonder if it is even possible to dislike the guy. So far I haven't found a reason.

I get to the shore where Finnick has his usual trident and nets spread out and ready to go. I never understood why he trusts in the trident so much. We both know that tridents aren't used in the arena. If he's ever selected for the games, he's going to be at a disadvantage for that reason alone. I have tried to tell him repeatedly that the spear is the way to go but he never listens. His grandfather used a trident. His father uses a trident. He uses a trident. Two things tend to run in the Odair family, charm and tridents. I guess it doesn't really matter when it comes to fishing though. We're both pretty deadly with our weapons of choice. I feel more in control with a spear. The trident is too top heavy for my tastes. It took Finnick a little while to get a handle of the weapon, but he's finally getting used to it.

"Hey Finn," I say when I get within talking range.

"It's about time Xerxes" Finnick replies without turning away from getting his gear in order, "I was about think that you weren't going to make it" he pauses. "Perhaps you're getting a little nervous?"

I laugh out loud. He has never beaten me, but he's still filled with his usual irrational confidence.

Once a month for the past two years, Finnick O'dair and I have had a friendly fishing competition. Over the span of three hours we try to catch as many fish as possible. Finnick uses his helpful but inferior trident and I obviously prefer the spear. At first, it wasn't very close. I would catch twice to three times as many fish as Finnick. He would struggle with the trident due to its weight, but I never tried to persuade him to get a lighter one. I knew it would make him stronger as he filled out. Even at the age of thirteen he has become very proficient.

Last month we had our closest battle to date. With one hour to go, Finnick was ahead by two fish. Realizing I needed to push harder, I caught twelve fish in the last hour. Final count: Finnick Odair 27, Xerxes Featherstone 28. Ever since the moment when we realized I had won by the slightest of margins, Finnick has been talking about this day incessantly. At last, today was going to be the day that Finnick O'dair would get the best of me. Or so he thought.

I tried to brush his talk aside, saying that I really wasn't trying until I realized how well he was doing. We both knew that was a lie though. I never catch more fish than on the days when Finn and I battle. We both have a little extra incentive to win today. For all either of us know, this could be our final battle. The reaping awaits. We haven't talked much about the possibility of my volunteering. We both know he has a rebellious heart. He would love for nothing else but the Hunger Games to come to an end. I care about those things too, but I don't see myself as the kind of a person who would start a revolution.

While setting out my spears and nets, I notice somebody out of the corner of my eye. A skinny, short preteen girl with dark hair and piercing green eyes is making a trail in the sand towards us. It can only be one person.

"Annie?" I say in surprise. "What are you doing here?" Finnick lets out a little snicker.

"What? Do you honestly think I'm going to miss the day that my Finnick Odair finally gets the best of Xerxes Featherstone?," she replies.

With those seemingly meaningless words, a fire burns my insides. "Really Finnick?," I snort. "Annie? Of all people, Annie? How many times have you told me how much she annoys you? I'm beginning to think of you as a liar."

"That's just a game Xerxes, I know the truth," Annie replies while batting her eyes lovingly towards Finnick. "Even though he's an older man and I'm just a little munchkin, I can tell that he's in love with me."

Laughing, Finnick responds with a gentle let-down. "Okay Annie, you may not annoy me but I can assure you that I'm definitely not in love with you."

I take a glance towards Annie to see if her feelings are hurt. I can tell she's not convinced.

We both make our final preparations. I have my longest spear and two nets in hand ready to sprint into the ocean. Finnick is equally ready with his trident. I may not be as sure of victory as I was in the past, but one look at that silly weapon gives me all the confidence I need. We both give each other a furtive glance and then turn our heads back towards Annie.

"Annie, will you do the honors?" Finnick asks.

"Certainly my love," Annie responds causing Finnick to roll his eyes. "Ready." One last glance in Finnick's direction. "Set." My muscles get tense as I wait for the charge. "Go, Finnick, Go!" I may be wrong, but I think Annie want's Finnick to win.

We're off! I try to push Finnick with my left hand as we make our way into the ocean. Of course I hear Annie in the background crying about the injustice of my move. We both sprint to our favorite fishing spots and immediately take cautious steps towards schools of fish. I feel my confidence and strength growing with each minute. Almost every throw is on target as I catch a few bluefish, speckled trout, and flounder. I find myself able to use my spear and nets to their maximum potential. I think about the items I'm going to trade these fish for at Promontory Point. I'll probably get enough bread to last a week. Hopefully I will be able to get some goat's milk. If I'm lucky I'll find a little gift for Lilly and mom. Even in the thick of the competition I'm afforded a lot of thinking time.

In the distance, I can see Finnick. I brush it off as a coincidence, but every time I look over in his direction I only see him using his trident. "Weird, I wonder if his father made that suggestion," I think to myself. Even though I'm sure of another victory I don't take much of a break. I deftly make my way towards another spot in the ocean where I find a school of catfish. Catfish are easy to catch because of their size, but if I catch too many of them I have to head back to the shore to drop them off. Within a matter of just a few minutes, I am able to catch five.

While I lay them on the beach, take a breather, and get a sip of water, I ask Annie how Finnick's doing.

"Oh, he's beating you. I bet he caught something like 100 fish by now. Isn't he so dreamy?"

Why did I even ask? Since we started our little friendly competition two years ago, my biggest haul was 34 fish. His best month was last month, when he caught 27.

Regardless, I wonder if there's perhaps a half truth to Annie's words. Maybe he's actually winning this time. I better get back in the ocean.

I rush into the water ready to make my final push. I look off in the distance and it appears that Finnick has completely ditched his net in favor of his trident. Could he really be so confident with that archaic weapon?

My final hour turns out to be my best in years. I find another school of bluefish and in fifteen minutes I'm able to catch six. After a few more minutes of walking around, I catch a trout, two ladyfish, and a flounder. I end my hour by spearing two more ladyfish, one more trout, and one more bluefish. Fourteen in the last hour. I had to have won.

"Time's up Finn!," I yell out across the water.

As we walk towards our starting point, I can tell that Finnick's time wasn't wasted. I have never seen him catch nearly as large of a grouping of fish as he caught this morning. Still, my pile looks a little bigger than his. When we get back to Annie, I see the faintest of smirks on Finnick's face. "I think I got you this time Xerx." He puts his final load with the fish he caught in the first couple of hours. Again, my pile looks bigger. "I wouldn't be so sure about that Finn. Look, my pile is bigger than yours."

"You're right," he replies "and if we're going by weight I think you would have me beat." For the first time all day, beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead. Then he turns to Annie. "So Annie, I have a question for you. How many years do you think we have been having our friendly competitions?"

"Well sweetie, I think it has been about two years," Annie replies.

"Correct," Finnick says. "And Annie?"

"Yes dear?"

"In all of those years, how has the winner been determined? Has it been by the number of fish caught, or by the weight of the fish caught?"

Annie pretends to think for a moment and then blurts out "I think the winner has been determined by the number of fish caught. And may I add that you looked very graceful out there Finnie."

"Thank you sugarpie," Finnick playfully responds. He then turns back to me. "You're correct again. And seeing as how I caught 36 fish with my trident, and Xerxes has never caught more than 34 fish, I'm willing to guess that I would be declared the winner."

"How did you-" Immediately, I rush to count my fish. I know I had a good day, but I'm getting a sinking feeling as I sort things out.

"Thirty one... thirty two... thirty three...," I hold up the last fish.

"Sorry Xerxes, I believe that makes thirty four."

Little bugger. Finnick Odair finally got the best of me.