I knew Katniss Everdeen was trouble from the first day we met.

It was a month after the deadly mine explosion. I had just lost my father, like so many of my classmates. We all trudged into school that Monday, unable to look each other in the eyes. But in the middle of history, my teacher began preaching about the accident that was still so fresh in our minds. She admonished the fallen miners, and told us how their lives couldn't have been lost in vain, because a life lost in pursuit of serving the Capitol is a life well spent. It was enough to make me sick. After about thirty minutes of this indoctrination, I couldn't take anymore, and ran out into the hallway crying. I remember feeling like I was crying so hard my whole body would come apart, and hearing my heart pounding in my ears. I remember sitting there on the cold linoleum floor sobbing for what felt like forever before looking up to see two gray eyes looking into mine, and a hand reaching towards me.

"What's wrong?" A soft voice asked.

It took me a while to realize that it was Katniss Everdeen who crouched in front of me, waiting for me to return her gaze, her question which still hung in the air like the coal smog of the Seam. I swallowed and attempted to answer her, but only a squeak came out.

"It's just that, that I," I paused, taking a moment to compose myself again before continuing. "It's just that I really miss my dad, is all," was all I was able to choke out before another sob caught in my throat. When I finally calmed down again, I looked up at her, waiting for further consolation.

But no further consolation would come from Katniss Everdeen, not that day or any other day after that. Her once warm gaze was now cold and disconnected as she threw down my hand and stood to her full height, then towering over me. Her mouth, which previously rested in the gentle curve of an ambivalent smile, was now pulled back in a taut, thin line of indifference, almost indignance.

"So?" she spat, backing away from me as she spoke. "Life goes on. And your tears won't bring him back. So just, just get over it!" She turned and stalked away from me, leaving me in her wake of frustration and anger.

I knew from that moment that our casual friendship had been terminated, maybe for good. I'd squandered my time with her. Forget trying to reach out to her, forget forging a meaningful connection to someone so similar to me. From that moment forward, I hated Katniss Everdeen with every fiber of my being: for kicking me when I was down, burning a bridge that was halfway built, leaving me out in the cold.

Fast forward five years, to the reaping of District 12 for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. I stood in the square alongside my mother, gripping her hand with near deadly force. At 16, my name would be submitted 10 times: 5 times for the number of years I'd been eligible to be a tribute, 5 more for the tessarae taken out in my name. I was forced to stay in the moment at hand by an eery screech of the microphone that stood on the stage. Behind it stood a woman I could only describe as colorful and Capitol. She gave the usual introduction, welcoming us to the reaping, then stood aside as the history of Panem, the rebellions, and the Hunger Games played on two large screens above her. When the video ended, she stepped back up to the microphone to announce the beginning of the selection, then walked over to a large bowl containing the names of the girls that were eligible to be tribute. As she fished around for a card and began unfolding it, I felt my mother gripping my hand with every ounce of force she had.

The Capitol woman smiled and leaned forward into the microphone. "Primrose Everdeen."

My jaw dropped. Prim? How could little Prim have been chosen? She was only a child, for God's sake. Her name was only in the running once. My mind was racing now, trying desperately to unthink every thought of malice I'd ever aimed at Katniss. But what happened next shocked me even more.

"I volunteer! No, I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

A hush fell across the crowd as everyone whipped around to see who had spoken. But I knew who volunteered before I saw her face: Katniss Everdeen had stepped into her sister's place. The Capitol woman positively sparkled with excitement as she invited Katniss up to the stage, while Prim dissolved into tears and was hauled away by a sobered Gale, one of the Everdeen family's close friends. A single tear slid down Katniss's face as she climbed the stairs to stand next to the woman.

The rest of the reaping and the hours after became a blur. Another boy I went to school with was reaped: the baker's son Peeta Mellark. I'd admired Peeta for years. His silent strength, his kind heart, his gentle words. All were features that initially drew me to him. We'd spoken in passing, but never had the courage to really talk to him. And now he was headed to the Capitol to die, alongside my former friend and current enemy Katniss. Since that day five years ago, all I'd ever wanted was to have her out of my life. But not like this. Not when it would affect Prim and her mother and everyone else that depended on her. But at this point, there was nothing I could do. Just wait, and ironically hope the odds would be in her favor.