I wish I could fly off. Above the trees. Above all of the worries. Especially today, the 53rd reaping. It's dreary and cold out, and we have the day off of school. Usually, I would love a day off of learning about how amazing our president is. But the reaping is even worse; thankfully I don't need tesserae. My best friend Arbor does. His name is in there 30 times. No one knows I’m best friends with him. No one knows I go into the woods to write poetry and see him there. Sometimes I even sing. He’s been my muse countless times, and now since he has so much tesserae, I might have to watch him die. Thankfully, my name’s only in there 7. I’m not that worried about getting picked. With my luck, if I was in The Hunger Games, I'd die instantly. Overall, I'm glad my parents are carpenters. We own a little store called "Knock on Wood". I'm always either at school or in the cashier's spot there, but at least we're not poor. “ROSEMARY," I hear my father shout. "I GOT YOU A DRESS TO WEAR TO THE REAPING!" Ugh. A dress. Great. I detest dresses, but I go with it because my father bought it with his hard earned money. I pad downstairs and find the ruffly brown dress sitting on the wooden counter. I wonder how much it cost. $30? As I slip into it, I hear a swift but gentle knock on the door and I know immediately that it's my mother. "Come in," I call to her. She jiggles the doorknob for a moment and then enters. "It's almost time for the reaping!" she exclaims. "Okay, I just took a warm bath," I tell her. "Let's go!” my mother yells to my father, who headed upstairs to his room. I suppose he has to change into something nice too. For us, the reaping is more chore-like than scary. We all walk out the door, side by side, and I just pray that this won't be the last time. Will it?
