Today is the Reaping. You stepped up in line, holding out your right hand. A small prick is felt as they dab the blood and push you along with the crowd.

Of course, your name was called. Who else’s? Henry’s. He doesn’t look scared about it. He almost looks proud. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye on stage, your heart racing. It’s as if he knew this was gonna happen.

You both are whisked away to the train. Before you know it you’re sitting across from Henry on the train.