Kurt looked up, heart pounding. No thoughts passed through his head. Not one. The shock was too great. It felt like he was looking at the world through a long tunnel. Every sound was muffled, and the only thing he could make out was his heart pounding.

It wasn’t going as fast as he would have thought under the circumstances. Instead it was slowing down as like it wanted to just give up and throw in the towel then and there. A hand pushed him from behind, bringing some of Kurt’s senses back.

He looked over his shoulder to see who had pushed him. It was a boy from his school, staring, tying to usher him forward. He could feel other eyes on him as well, as they realized it was Kurt whose name had been picked, but that he wasn’t moving. Slowly as though the ground were being pulled out from beneath him, Kurt began walking forward.

He blinked, the world still fuzzy around the edges, as he looked out at the crowd from the stage where he was standing adjacent to his female counterpart. He blinked and realized he couldn’t remember coming up there. He had been in the crowd what seemed only a nanosecond ago. Time was slipping away painfully quickly.

The District 6 escort, Emma Pillsbury, who had just plucked Kurt’s name from thousands of others, then asked for volunteers. Nobody spoke up. What seemed to be only a moment later Mayor Figgins is finished reading the Treaty of Treason that Kurt had not absorbed a word of. Now instead of silence there is a faint ringing. An omnipresent buzz.

Kurt stares straight ahead, ignoring it. Mayor Figgins motioned for Kurt and the other tribute to shake hands. Kurt turned to face his opponent. She was a pretty Asian girl, and when he held her hand in his it was shaking like a leaf. He tried to smile in a reassuring kind of way, but his face just made a tiny spasm, then went back to its mask of shock.

The anthem of Panem played, and the world went back into fast-forward. Before Kurt could think he was sitting in an old room in the Justice Building. It was well furnished, but seemed musty and under used. The moment he was left alone to await family and friends he thought he would break down. He felt like breaking down and crying. Like attaching himself to the floor and never letting go. Instead he simply sat and waited.

Any sign of emotion let out now would show later. He needed to look good for the cameras. This was something he understood well. When he watched the games growing up he always paid special attention to the early stages. That’s when you can see who will make it, and who won’t. Any sign of weakness now would affect him for the rest of his life, which in all probability would be very short.

He took deep breaths. A moment later his father burst into the room. He didn’t say anything. Burt Hummel was a man of very few words, but lots of emotions. He expressed those through gestures. He hugged his son for several minutes, before pulling back to search his face. “How’re you holding up?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m fine.” Kurt’s voice came out in a choked whisper so that it was almost funny. His father nodded, understanding the lie, and why it was necessary. “Son. You will come home. You’re smart, resourceful. You have the skills to win this thing.” Kurt attempted to smile at his father’s returned lie. He felt his eyes begin to shine with tears, but he blinked them away.

“While I’m gone you take care of yourself, o.k.?” Kurt said, looking his father in the eye. “Don’t worry too much. Whatever happens is mine to deal with. You stressing yourself out is bad for your health.” Kurt remembered when barley a year ago his father had had a near fatal heart attack.

Luckily District 6 had a semi-functioning health facility. Burt was strong, and in relatively good shape from years of laboring, and pulled through. Kurt got the message while working his shift on an assembly line. His job was to screw in the final piece of a locomotive engine.

Kurt’s delicate fingers where surprisingly good at this kind of thing. They were nimble and quick. Kurt had an eye for mechanics. He could see the balance, the way things worked together. He remembered their neighbor running in to tell him the news. The panic that rose in his throat. Kurt blocked out those memories now, as he sat, holding his father’s hand on the couch.

Time slipped away again, like sand falling through a sift. There was just no way to hold it. A Peace Keeper marched in and told them it was time for Kurt to leave. Kurt looked around at the room, briefly lamenting that there was no one else for him to say good bye to. He turned to his father one last time, but didn’t smile. His dad deserved more than a lie. “I love you.” was all he said, before turning and marching through the door, his head held high.

Blaine looked up at Wes’s voice calling him. He was riding a horse past huge gated areas full of cattle. They went on and on. Row after row of the large animals staring at him lazily. They were all white, with on thick black band around their middle. That designated them as food for the poor. All animals shipped to the capitol where free range, and grass fed.

Blaine sighed at the site of these malnourished, diseased animals. He turned his eyes away now from the sea of black and white to see Wes and David approaching him. “Blaine it’s almost 1:00” David said, looking down at his watch. “Yeah we have to get going.” Wes added.

Both of their voices were lacking emotion. Usually they were very cheerful, but today was the reaping. Blaine nodded and got off his horse. None of them said a thing as they walked back to the stables. Blaine sadly led his horse Sadie, back in her stall trying not to think it might be the last time he saw her. Don’t think like that he scolded himself. Of course you’ll come back.

Blaine’s family was one of the wealthiest in District 10, so his name had been entered the minimal number of times. “Why is it you always visit the District cattle farms?” asked David as they walked down a path towards the town. “It makes me sad.” Blaine replied, furrowing his brow. “I don’t really know. I guess it’s just… hard to explain.”

Wes and David exchanged a glance. Sometimes they just couldn’t understand Blaine. They reached the town square, which was already packed with people anxiously watching the justice building, or T.V. screens, depending on how close they were. It was eerily quiet, especially considering the huge crowd that was gathered there was.

District 10 was actually huge, with several towns, but this was the largest. Blaine and his two best friends pushed their way to the roped off area for boys aged 12-18. As they were 16, and therefore had their names entered more times, they stood near the front.

They watched as the mayor made his opening speech, telling the story of Panem, and how the Hunger Games began. He finishes with “It is both a time for repentance, and a time for thanks.” Before turning and taking his seat. The District 10 escort Terri Latro stood up and teetered over to the podium, smiling broadly. Blaine hates terri and everything she represents. Her Capitol clothes disgust him. He frowns as she says “Ladies first!” then snatches a slip of paper out of a large glass ball. “Brittany S. Pierce!” She reads aloud.

An athletic blonde girl grinningly steps out of the crowd. Blaine frowned, as he watched her head towards the stage. Brittany was one of the sweetest people he had ever met. She was also one of the stupidest, and always assumed the best in everyone. She didn’t deserve this. No one did. Blaine clenched his fists in anger.

Now Terri was reaching her hand into the second glass ball. Blaine watched as her fingers grasped around for a moment, then caught a single slip. They delicately took the paper pinched between two fingers and pulled it out slowly, so slowly. She looked at it, cleared her throat and read out in a high velar voice “Blaine Anderson!”