The games had given me two options to stay alive. Pretend to be in love with my best friend... or chance luck.
The day of the reaping. The only day out of three hundred and sixty-five that I hated.
My friend, Indigo, nudges me. We're standing in neat, straight rows as we wait for the names to be called out. She knows Indigo Brogan's written on well over thirty slips of paper, but she's standing straight, tall, proud, and unafraid in her hand-sewn green dress. Her family owned the tailor shop in town, though they're made poorer than the other merchants by Indigo's ten younger siblings. The idea of eleven children is frightening. That meant eleven mouths to feed, if you didn't count their three sheep. Luckily, Indigo's a natural h…
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