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I squint as the early morning sun shines through our small, circular window in the living room of our small, run-down, wooden shack. Today is the day most of Panem, a risen country of what use to be America, or so I’ve been taught, has always dreaded. My name is Rue, and I am twelve years old. I am from District 11, the agriculture district. Today is reaping day. The day each disctict, 1-12, unwillingly sacrifice two random tributes, a girl and a boy whose ages are between 12 and 18, to fight in the annual Hunger Games, a fight to the death on national television. This year, my name has been entered once into the reaping. Each year, depending on how old you are, you have to add one more slip. Like next year, when I’m thirteen, I will have to enter my name twice and so on and so forth. Hopefully, the odds will be in my favor this year. I get up to start my day. It’s really like any other day, really. You just can’t let these kind of days get to you.. What happens, happens. I get dressed in my usual brown pants, and a plain brown, matching shirt. The rest of my family is still asleep. I am the oldest of 6 children. I watch as my younger siblings breathe so calmly. Safe and sound. They are all safe and sound here at home. I dread the day Kalia, the second oldest, turns twelve. I want nothing but for my family to stay safe. Maybe something great will happen sometime in the near future and there will be no more games- I can only dream of that though. I come back to reality. Usually at this time of the day, we’d be working in the fields. That’s a reason I like reaping day. The only reason, really. I mean, I love working in the fields, but the only time we ever really get a day off is reaping day and during the games, while the whole nation watches the bloodbaths play on. Silently, I slip out of the living room door to get some fresh air. I go to the nearest tree and climb it. This tree, it’s a peach tree. It’s my most favorite tree ever. Because of my family being poor, we don’t have much to eat, usually. When the peaches are just done blooming, I pick a handful and bring them back to the shack and share them with my starving family. I like this tree because I can be myself up high in the branches. It’s my comfort zone. Because this is my first year to be entered into the reaping, I decide to wait the rest of the day out, nibbling on peaches, hoping and praying my name doesn’t get picked this afternoon.