I looked around, nearly bouncing out of my shoes while we waited. The day had just begun and I knew right away it was going to be one that seemed to be of those ones that drag on forever. I wasn't the only one thinking that either. From the faces of everyone else my age I could tell a few things; half were excited, less were nearly falling asleep standing, and then there were the ones that cried.

It was the first day of school in district 12, and it didn't matter to me if I was back at the bakery or here in this cold, overcrowded square. I just wanted to run around- but my father's hand kept me tethered to one spot. Maybe it would be better if I could talk to Delly or someone, but we were waiting. Just waiting…

Frustrated, I kicked the hard ground, watching as the dust flew out in puffs of dirt. One rock clattered against the ground and skidded into the closest group of people. The community home kids.

"Peeta," my father whispered, with a tug of the hand. He had a smile on his face, but there was something sad about it. He never really smiled like Joey or Alek, my brothers- they weren't what you would call balls of sunshine themselves, but you absolutely knew when they were happy. "See that little girl?"

What one?

I looked around trying to follow his finger, but I couldn't see past Ben Weekes, a tall, skinny boy, and some other children from the community home. My mother told me once that he and his father used to live a few houses down, and that we played together a few times. But ever since Mr. Weekes got sick, and Ben went to live in the home, I hadn't seen him since. Now the only way I remembered him was by his emaciated limbs and sunken cheeks. "No."

Dad picks me up, and puts me on his shoulders. He must really have been excited. "Okay… Now, see the little girl with her hair braided in the red dress?"

"Yeah…" It was hard to miss her. She looked like a lot of other kids from the Seam, but her dress was really bright. It must be something about girls, and how they like to get dressed up and all, but you didn't see bright colors too much. Mama didn't care what I wore because she said it would end up with dust and flour on it anyway- so I never really noticed that everyone wears cool colors. She looked pretty.

"Her name is Katniss Everdeen." What a weird name… "When I was younger, I wanted to marry her mother. She was very pretty and nice-" it felt like unlike your mother was implied "-but she ran away with a coal miner."

"A coal miner? Why?" It didn't make sense to me. Mama said they were the ones who went without food; the ones we'd find picking through our garbage at night. She also it would be better if the peacekeepers did their job and cleaned up our district, but then there wouldn't be anyone left. "Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?"

Dad chuckled. I could feel my own body wobbling as he shook with laughter. "Well, you see that man there?" He nodded in their direction again. "Her father is very special. Because when he sings…even the birds stop to listen." He laughed again, but as that last note hung in the air, I could feel his shoulders scrunching up underneath me.

Was it really just his voice? I kept wondering. Even though that was dad's excuse, I didn't think that was entirely all. The girl's father was smiling widely at his daughter- maybe trying to keep her awake- and it lit up his entire face. He looked happier than most. Besides, I never heard of birds stopping just to listen to one person.

"Okay, then." Dad sighed deeply, patting my leg. "I guess it's time for you to get down now. We're just about to go in."

He didn't talk much after that. Not as we walked inside with the other families, or when the teachers came to greet everyone. Only a short goodbye and I was by myself. It wasn't so bad really. After all the parents left, there were about two hundred of us all together. I found Delly and we started talking to some of the others in our class. Then, when she had to go to her own seat far away from mine, I was left with two boys from the Seam, Eban Davies and Rhett Sullivan- he would be chosen as a tribute at the age of fifteen. They looked just like that girl; dark brown hair, grey eyes, olive skin. They were skinnier than the rest of us, too. I wondered if she and her mother looked that skinny up close. I only got a quick look at her and her father, but it didn't seem that way.

The teacher walked up to the head of the room, tapping a microphone quickly before she spoke. We were going to start music class. "Does anyone here know the valley song?" she asked cheerfully, and looked around, starting at the right side- dad taught me about left and right, two months before when we were baking a pie in honor of Joey's first reaping. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! You there."

I looked over to see her hand lower, and then be escorted to the front of the room where the placed the girl on a stool. There was a blush to her cheeks as she began to fiddle with the ends of her braid.

"Would you like to sing it for us?"

She nodded, and began right away- the woman near fell out of her dress shoes, trying to get the mic up to the girl's mouth in time.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise.

All I could remember was what my father told me about the miner. When he sings…even the birds stop to listen. That still might not have been real, but I bet if there were birds hear, you wouldn't have noticed them…

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow

brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

The room began to fill with applause for the girl with the golden voice, but she just stood there smiling softly. This time she played with the folds of her red dress. You could tell she was proud of herself.

"That was lovely, sweetheart. Can you tell us your name?" the teacher said, touching her back.

"Katniss Everdeen."

"Happy Hunger Games!"

It's here again. I don't mean the eccentric, little woman with the pink hair. Nope. Just the annual reaping. It goes without saying that today will soon be the second worst day of two families' lives- the first being the day they watch their children butchered on live television.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor!" the announcer continues in a high-pitched squeak. Effie Trinket comes from the Capitol, so most of us feel sick in our stomachs at the sight of her, and not because she looks ridiculous. When she first showed up in district 12 today, it was bad enough in her bright green dress, but now she looks as if Haymitch Abernathy, our only drunken disgrace of a victor, shifted her hair over a bit during a wrestling match that was supposed to be a hug. Only Haymitch can barely stand on his own- let alone present himself with dignity- so why she didn't expect something bad to happen is beyond me.

You can tell she's embarrassed, but that makes it all the better for us. "I'd like to thank the many men and women of district twelve for the hospitality. It's such an honor to be part of festivities with each and every one of you," she says convincingly- except there's no one stupid enough to believe it.

"Oh, I bet," Eban mutters just loud enough for everyone in a five foot distance to hear. We shouldn't be talking, let alone laughing right now, but the nervousness making our heads feel light as air makes it difficult to keep our priorities straight.

"I don't see why she wouldn't."

"And to get things started- ladies first!" Effie says cheerfully, as though having your name chosen is a joyous occasion. I wonder what the people in the Capitol think of this part- sad, exciting, or just like watching animals in district 10, lining up for slaughter.

Her hand reaches into the bowl and plucks out a single piece of paper. I feel bad for the girl already, and just hope it isn't someone I know. District 12 has only had two victors in seventy-three years, and since Haymitch became a mentor, it wasn't surprising the last twenty some years hasn't produced any more.

"Primrose Everdeen."

…Yup. I know her…

How could I not? Not only is she Katniss' sister, but a twelve year old. A twelve year old! And what are the odds of that happening? I suppose she could have opted for the tessare, but that just didn't seem right. Most families who had one child submitting, would most likely have the others sign up for extra rations as well, but even more than their struggle to stay alive, it's hard to miss Katniss' affection for her sister. She would never let Primrose sign up more than she was required to.

One out of nearly three thousand slips. The odds are definitely not in her favor.

"Bad bit of luck for them, right?" the boy on my other side remarks. Kellen Reid. Sometimes I talk to him at school. "My mom told me they just got over losing their dad. Now the little one?"

"Yeah. The older one would've had at least a fighting chance," another behind me says. I don't look at his face though, because quite frankly I wouldn't put it past me to hit them.

"Hey, I got an idea. How 'bout we all shut up, hm?" Eban says. He gives a meaningful glare to everyone in our area, and then catches my gaze. He nods solemnly and looks ahead.

You grow up hearing about the history of Panem and the Hunger Games- the Quarter Quells are particularly crueler version of the annual televised slaughtering that occur every twenty five years. Haymitch won the second, where there were twice as many competitors than usual. The first required each district to vote for their own sacrifices. I know a district 1 boy won that year, but his names slip my memory. Having people start talking like that again about their friends and neighbors is just sick. It's one of the ways you never forget how much the Capitol really controls us.

Though, I shouldn't get mad at them, I guess. Even I thought about it. Maybe in a place like district 1 or 2 where it isn't a secret their tributes are trained fighters, a twelve year old girl would have a chance at survival- I doubt they ever had to have someone that young participate. But she lives here, and with Haymitch…yeah. There's no coming back to district 12 alive.

I tell myself that's why I can't help it as I look over at her. Katniss has to be frozen in shock. Everyone knows she loves her little sister more than anything, and she isn't the only one. My dad even likes the little blonde haired, blue eyed girl. A few times, he said he wouldn't have minded having daughters if they were like kind and pretty like Primrose, or strong and preserving like Katniss. Nearly everyone knows it's because of her, her family managed to stay alive…

"Prim!" Katniss screams, running out of line. The sixteen year olds make a path for her, seeming to expect it as much as I do. But the guards catch her, holding her back from her frightened sister. "Prim!" she yells louder in a strangled voice.

Kept her family alive, I repeat in my head. She would have done anything for them…Like dying herself before letting them- oh hell!

She pushes her way through, and is able to reach Prim who is barely keeping in hysterics. With a quick wave of her arm, Katniss pulls Prim behind her. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" she says in a clear voice.

There's a brief silence before anyone speaks. No one really has the mind to, but someone has to, and of course it's good old Effie.

"Lovely!" she trills, her eyebrows knitted together. She's just as confused about what to do like the rest of us- no one ever volunteers here- but once the general shock fades away, it's hard to deny that Effie is pleased with the turn of events. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…"

"What does it matter?" The mayor says, dismissing her. It's the Hunger Games after all- as long as they have tributes and a good show, the Capitol is happy. The mayor on the other hand isn't- his daughter, Madge, has fewer people that she can consider friends, and I see her with Katniss more than anyone else. They must have talked about her at one point or another. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

"No, Katniss! No!" Prim screams, clinging to her sister's arm. "You can't go!"

That's when we watch Gale move from the group of eighteen year olds. He's one of the closest people to the stage. Gale Hawthorne is taller and older than me, and to make my odds even worse, the two are always together. Well, not in school, but that's because he's two years up. I see him come to the shop with Katniss every time to trade with my father.

Katniss continues to look forward, refusing to look down at her sister. I think she's trying to be brave again. The seam girl who illegally hunts to feed her family- no one would blame her for crying now, but she holds steady. "Let go!" she yells, but seems shocked when her sister listens.

"Up you go, Catnip," Gale says, ripping Prim off her and throwing her over his shoulder. She still thrashes in his arms, near sobs as she calls for her older sister, but there's no beating his strength.

Catnip? Of course, they even have nicknames for each other.

"Well, bravo!" Effie shouts. Bravo indeed, we all love it when someone's willing to die. "That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?"

Effie holds the microphone close to Katniss' mouth. Her voice is somewhat lower than before, but just as steady."Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?" Effie laughs, turning something like a sibling's sacrifice into a bit about rivalry. "Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

No one but the pink-haired broad claps. Everyone else stands silently; raising their three fingers to their lips, and holds it out to Katniss. I stand by frozen, unwilling to repeat the motion. It's a silent gesture for the dead, or in her case, someone who will be soon enough. It's something people do in honor of another, but I can only see how they have already written her off.

"Look at her. Look at this one!" Haymitch bursts out, breaking the quiet reverence to remind us he's the reason she's doomed. He stumbles across the stage and nearly falls on top of her, as he throws his arm around Katniss' shoulders. She makes a disgusted face, but holds it together much better than Effie. "I like her! Lots of… Spunk!" I swear I can see the spit fly from his mouth. "More than you!" he shouts at us, and then to the cameras, "More than you!"

The drunken ramblings are cut gratefully short as he tips forward, tumbling from the stage. Now really isn't the time, but a few people let at a laugh. We're already a joke of a district, what does it matter anymore?

The peacekeepers on the other hand, are a little more shocked. They move quickly, scrapping an unconscious Haymitch from the ground, and plop him onto a stretcher. Within minutes he's taken away, and so is the only entertainment factor district 12 has.

"What an exciting day!" Effie says, calling everyone's attention back to the fact we're only half done. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

I catch myself wondering what it would be like; if by some sick joke Gale's name was drawn. The little charade of strength Katniss has going on would be completely shattered. I don't want that to happen though- I just want her to get out of there alive, even if it means killing some boy from our district. If Gale were in that position, would he give himself up for her? I doubt the Capitol would allow him to do that, or maybe they would for the viewers' enjoyment- but that would mean forfeiting your life.

That doesn't seem likely- things change in the arena. Those two have families to take care of, so maybe he would fight her off.

If it were me, I don't know what I would do. I couldn't kill her, but I'm not prepared to die yet. At least I could take comfort in the fact that I only have five slips with my name on them. I'm more nervous about if Alek, with his seven, or Eban, with twenty, were pitted in the ring against her. Those two would be toast right away. Alek can just beat me in wrestling, but that's because of his height. He doesn't know how to cook, or hunt, or do anything really besides wrestle. But if that happens how could I watch the people I know being involved in something like that?

"Peeta Mellark." I look around, wondering if I did hear my name called. It couldn't be…It just can't…

When I see their faces, it's hard to escape the truth. Horror. Pity. Sadness.

That's when I feel that thing again. Yes, I'm scared out of my mind. I really don't want to die- but that wasn't what I meant.

I feel like I'm floating as I climb the stairs, and take my place next to Katniss Everdeen. For so many years I wished I could say something to her, but what could I say now? "Hope you don't die?" I'm sure that would go over real well. She'd probably think I'm trying to provoke her. "Don't kill me?" Everyone's fighting for their own lives, so why would mine be spared? If she's going to get herself killed for Prim, what's stopping her from killing others for the girl as well? It's best if I just give up…

So as I stand there, I try to remain as collected as much as I'm able. Though I'm sure I look positively frightened compared to the girl on my left.

"Now," Effie laughs to herself, "if any boy or girl would like to volunteer as tribute, please step forward."

I think she half expects someone to step forward with the rate this year is going, but I know no one will. Most people have a hard enough time trying to stay alive here, where it's supposedly safe. What Katniss did for Primrose was incredible- most siblings bid each other farewell with tears, not resistance. I know that even if Joey were young enough, he wouldn't, and despite the fact Alek can, he won't.

"Very well," she continues, sounding slightly disappointed. "Mayor Undersee, if you would…"

The mayor takes his turn, and recites the Treaty of Treason- if I wasn't going to die, I'd probably be like Eban - standing in the audience, mouthing the words that we unconsciously memorize year after year. But when I find him in the crowd, his mouth is silent, eyes cast downwards.

"Now will the tributes shake hands?" he says to us. The words have no life, no hope to them.

Katniss turns to me holding her hand out. Without thinking I grab it. It may be a customary thing, but I'm holding her hand! It's the most notable interaction I've had with her these last eleven years that I don't care that she's technically being forced into it. Her hand feels so small and cold and really kind of delicate. In mine, it almost feels like a child's… well, given that child had callused fingers… Fingers that have killed countless living things…

Oh god… Let it be known to all of Panem- I'm a goner.

(Thanks for reading! Anyway, I'm not sure if I should continue, so if you like it or think i should write the next chapter, please message me. Thanks again)