Reaping day. The day that every family fears. The day that two families are told that their child will have to fight against twenty three other brutal children. The day that 2 families will have to accept their Childs near death.

I wake up on reaping day and everything suddenly feels more dismal. Misery lurks in the air everywhere on this day, just like it does every reaping. I slide my feet onto the cold floorboards, and quietly scatter down the stairs into the kitchen.

The kitchen is always like a tropical country as all the ovens tend to be on full blast for most of the day, cooking all sorts of breads and patisseries. 4 ovens take up the whole of the right wall; enough to bake 20 loafs at once. The counter next to them is made up of 2 cupboards and a tiny sink. In the middle stands are oak dining table, a luxury for are district. My mother leans against the table, mopping her brow with a grey tea towel.

'Showered yet?' she says gruffly

'No' I mumbled back, 'isn't dad in there?'

'no, we went to get flour about half an hour ago, mind you he should be back soon, so make sure you've out before her gets back, he finds Reapings very agitating, so don't get in his way?

'Doesn't everyone!' I thought to myself. I trudged into the bathroom, annoyed by my mother's remark.

'Your brothers went out early! So you won't see them till after the Reaping!' she shouted after me, but didn't bother to reply.

I let the cold, running water splash onto my face, stimulating my senses and blowing off the cobwebs in my mind. Most days I would spend the time in the shower day dreaming, the hurriedly washing my body before my family could shout at me for wasting water, but today I take extra care on cleaning myself, so I would look presentable if I got picked today.

I shut off the water, grab a towel and hurried back to my room. On my bed my mother had laid out some black, straight legged trousers and a white short sleeved shirt. Both had not a single crease or speck of dirt on them.

'Typical mother.' I thought to myself.

As I dressed, I made sure every button was done up correctly, and that no creases we folded in to either piece of clothing. I slipped on my leather boots that I wear to every reaping and stomped downstairs.

'Could you be any louder!' my mum snapped at me as I walked into the kitchen. I noticed that all of the ovens had been turned off and that the kitchen was surprisingly cold.

'Why are all of the ovens off?' I asked her curiously. Usually we leave the bread to bake whilst the reaping ceremony takes place.

'Because your farther didn't get enough flour!' she said angrily 'now come over here and let me comb your hair.'

As she combed my hair I noticed that she looked like something was worrying her. I doubt that it was the fact that it was Reaping Day, because most years she is her usual miserable self, but I dared not say anything.

When she finished she stepped back, sighed and place her hand on my shoulders 'I love you Peeta' she said shakily.

Loves me? I have never heard her utter the words before! Something must surely be wrong, but I can't ask her, it'd probably just upset her more.

'I love you too' I said back, without really thinking about what the words meant.

'You better get going, the reaping starts in half an hour' she said with a half smile, 'Go on, see you after the reaping for the celebrations'

'Yeah' I replied. 'See you'

I got to the reaping just in time; I was one of the last few to sign in. I made my way over to the section rope off for the 16 year olds. I joined my row and scanned the crowd. It didn't take long to find who I was looking for.

Katniss Everdeen stood there looking more stunning than ever. Her dark hair was braided up her head, just how she had it last reaping, and she was wearing the most beautiful ocean blue dress that fell just above her knees. I could see her seam grey eyes searching the crowds too. She meets my gaze for a split second, but it was enough to send my heart racing. She stopped searching the crowds and I followed her gaze.

'Oh god.' I thought when I saw whom she had been searching for.

Gale Hawthorne. Gale is Katniss' best friend, but everyone knows he's madly in love with her –well everyone except Katniss. They spend all their time together, so the odds aren't ever in my favour when it comes to who she will love, she doesn't even know I exist.

I jumped when the mayors droning voice spoke.

'It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks' he goes on and lists the districts victors. In seventy-four years, district 12 have had a measly two victors, and only one is still alive: Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man who at this moment is staggering onto the stage hollowing out something unintelligible, then he falls into his chair.

'Drunk again. No wonder we haven't had any winners since he's victory, never sober enough to mentor anyone.' I thought to myself.

Effie Trinket trots up to the podium in so ridiculously high heeled shoes, but still as bubbly as ever.

'Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour' she says with a horrifically wide smile. She went on for a bit then caught everyone's attention from squeaking in such a high pitched voice that even dolphins could have heard it and said:

'Ladies First!' she squealed and plunges her hand into the glass orb.

I held my breath. There are thousands of slips of paper. The chances of Katniss' name being pulled out are next to none, so I should be worrying.

But the name Effie squeaked out worse than any name getting called out, but it wasn't Katniss'.

The name belonged to Primrose Everdeen, Katniss' younger sister.