Dear Diary,

It's only two days before the reaping. Here in District 2, everyone around my age is excited. Today, a boy who goes to my school, Cato, is throwing a party at his house because he is planning to volunteer. I'm not afraid to volunteer; I would just rather wait until it's my last year to enter if I was to volunteer at all.

So anyway, Cato lives in a pretty large house, but no larger than mine. Only his backyard opens up into a very large ditch which he shares with his neighbors. It's like a small valley, with steep hills on every side. I don't know him very well, but my brother, Caiden does, and so do some of my close friends.

So, I went. I'm not always the "party girl," but my friends were going, so…I went. It was kind of crowded, because most of the people in our grade were there, and some older (like my brother), but I knew most of the people.

We were all outside, and I went to get myself a drink from the cooler. So then I stood up, and there was Cato, standing right there in front of me.

"I hear you're pretty good with a knife." He says.

I narrow my eyes slightly and look at him, confused. "Yeah, I guess…" I say, because he's right. I'm the best knife-handler out of everyone at our school, and also one of the fastest people, boys and girls included. But I don't know where he's going with this.

He raises an eyebrow and folds his arms. He's quite muscular, and I doubt he'll have too much trouble in the Games. "I'm not sure if I believe it." He says with a little smile.

Now, nothing irks me more than when someone underestimates me. I'm muscular but slender, thanks to years of training. I'm also not exactly short, but I'm shorter than him. I suppose I could see why he wouldn't believe it. But he must know how good I am. Doesn't he? My face hardens. "Get me some knives."

"You've got a temper, don't you?" He laughs. "I'll be right back."

I roll my eyes, but wait there because I want to prove to him that I am the best.

He comes back shortly, clutching five steak knives in his hand. Perfect. "What do you want me to hit?" I ask, sounding almost bored.

"Hmm…" he says. He throws a knife poorly into one of the legs that holds the deck up. "Throw two directly above that knife, and two directly under." He walks towards the knife and shows exactly where; each knife should be about a centimeter apart.

A small crowd has gathered now. I take the knives and step in front of the target, about ten feet away. I squint at the target, and then throw the knives one at a time, no longer than a second apart. They each hit the target in the right place. The people who were watching clap.

Cato stands there, jaw agape, and looks amazed. I smirk. "Close your mouth, it's rude." I say.

He immediately shuts his mouth, and his deep blue eyes widen. "You are good." He smiles. "You gonna volunteer?"

I breath a laugh and shake my head. "No."

"You would be good. I've seen you run, too. You'd have a chance. Why not?"

I just shake my head. "We'll see." I say, and then I ran off to join my friends again.