Lightning Struck Tree

Ok, so seriously, DELTA YOU NEED TO STOP MAKING STORIES!

I'M SORRY! I HAVE TOOOOOOOOOO MANY IDEAS FLOATING AROUND IN MY HEAD!

GROAN.

STOP GROANING AND GET WRITING!

HMPH. FINE!

Ok, //coughs// sorry you had to see that!

This is a Hunger Games fanfic that I've been thinking about for a while. Uhhhh, I just recently finished the series and I looooooove it!! Yay!

I don't think there will be any spoilers!

Let's do this thing!

(CAN I HAVE SUGGESTIONS FOR THE TITLE?)

Chapter One
"TIMBER!" Someone shouts from above. I give out a little yelp and leap aside, watching as the huge oak crashes to the ground right where I was a moment ago. I sneeze extremely loudly from the cloud of dust billowing up and frown, looking down at my dust and wood chip covered clothing.

Stupid stupid stupid. I think angrily, coughing again and trying to brush off my clothing. I take off my leather gloves and toss them to the ground, then proceed to try and pick out a huge sliver from my hand. Argh, LUMBER! Of ALL THE THINGS TO WORK WITH IN THE WORLD. . . Suddenly, a whistle blows, the sound moving shrilly through the thick forest. The speakers positioned in and around the district suddenly blare out someone's clear and crisp voice.

"All youth twelve to eighteen report to the district square. Immediately." My heart gives a little jump, but I quickly push it down. Good. Lets get a break from this lame work.

My name is Leelui Greenwood. I am fifteen years old.

I quickly snatch back up my gloves and wave to my director, push past the Peacekeeper watching us work and start along the road to the district.

As I walk along the path, for the first time, I am glad that I am going to the reaping. Ok yes, it might be a place where you get a death sentence, but the odds of me getting picked are. . . they are. . . well they are very low.

Last year it was quite dramatic when the two tributes had been reaped. The two best friend, and possible lovers, as I had speculated, had been called. There had been a lot of crying, but it was even more dramatic when the younger sister of the male tribute had volunteered in place of the female tribute, and then another male had volunteered to take his place.

That was very awkward. But not unlike things here. There was a lot of drama. So I wasn't worried.

And, it was a plus to get out of the most boring job in history. You're allowed to start work in the lumber cutting when you are fifteen, and of course, I volunteered because my mother can't work right now.

I shuffle into the square, tearing off my heavy work boots and gloves, tossing them aside. I honestly couldn't care less where they end up. I would just steal a couple more from my co-workers tomorrow. Suddenly, I spot my mother walking into the square, meeting up with my father, who is rushing in from work. My mother's stomach is bulging and she walks like a robot. My father quickly jumps over to her and kisses her swiftly, leading her over to me.

"Good luck." My mother whispers as she leans in for a kiss. "May the-" But I've already started to say it.

"You first." I laugh.

"May the odds be ever in your favor." I press my forehead against her, then let go of her clammy hands, jogging over to my age group.

I stand between two classmates I know from school, and then sort of look at me funny, as if I'm covered with leeches. One looks nervously up at the stage, but it's empty. For now.

"Hey Greenwood, how's the forest?" Oh. Ok, now I know. They're making fun of me because I have to work in the forest. Most girls my age don't start working until they're at least eighteen. I give her the best dirty glare I can.

"It's actually quite nice." I say primly, lifting my chin. The two exchange a glance and then burst out laughing, quiet laughter, but no less annoying.

"Oh really. Your face argues with that." I lift one of my hands to my face, slightly hurt. My face is covered with scabs and cuts, not to mention the hundred of scars from hundreds of splinters. I open my mouth to snap something back, but suddenly the Panem seal is up, and Karley Katz is suddenly stepping up onto the stage, his chocolate hair flowing in the light wind.

"Welcome to the 49th Hunger Games reaping." He says mildly, in that monotonous voice he always uses. He could not have sounded less interested. More like he was putting up with it until he could go home. "Let's being with the females." I look around nervously, watching the hundreds of Peacekeeper's lines up on the roofs, watching passively. He reaches into the glass bowl and draws out a single piece of paper. I can see everyone following his movements with his eyes. The two next to me are silent, their shoulders tense and eyes fixed on Karley as he opens the paper, his bluish skin glowing slightly with hints of the Capitol.

"The female tribute from District Seven will be." For some reason, I'm entirely calm. I know that I'm not going to get picked. And even if I did, I know that someone would probably volunteer.

People are sick like that.

I know I'm not going to get-

"Leelui Greenwood!" My brain goes silent and for a moment, I think my heart is going to stop. "Let's hear it!" The District is silent except for a few murmurs. The girl next to me gives a slight push, and I realize that I'm clutching her arm. My vision seems to be going a bit fuzzy. She shoves me forward again, and my numb feet begin to carry me towards the stage. As I pass by the adults, I catch a glimpse of my father and mother, standing together, clutching hands.

But my mother's hand is also on her stomach. It hits me like a bolt of lightning. My little brother is to be born any day now. But I'll never see him.

I'll never know what his name will be.

I'll never get to watch as he grows up.

I'll be gone from his life, just a distant memory. As I step up onto the stage, I am praying with everything that I have that someone anyone will volunteer for me.

Please please please. I beg to the crowd as I turn and face them. But, though they all look disappointed, I can tell automatically that none of them are going to help me.

"And the male tribute." I gulp. Please be someone small. Please please. "Everleaf Marcione." I frown. Who?

Suddenly, I see him. He looks slightly nervous, and he keeps reaching up with thick hands to brush back his jet black hair. Huge muscles ripple underneath his work shirt, and his hazel eyes are dark with worry. Despite his worry and his strange. . . kitten like appearance. . . he's huge, and he looks strong. As he stands up nervously next to me, then extends a hand, waiting for me to shake it, I just keep thinking "how am I going to get out of this??" He looks friendly enough, but in those dark eyes lies something cunning. As I numbly shake his hand, I can feel he has a grip that just yells many weeks of hauling huge logs.

Yup, I'm doomed.