I awoke to the feeling I was choking. The day of the reaping. This is always how it starts.
I pulled my sheet up over my head, willing the day to come and go without me.
My mother yells from down stairs, telling me its time to get going.
This day has made me feel claustrophobic for the past four years. Today, the fifth reaping I've been entered into, is no different.
"Peeta! Get the hell up!"
I hear a pounding at the back door and my father's boots clomping over to answer it.
Upon looking out the window I see Gale. My father steps outside and quietly shuts the door. After a few minutes of muted discussion, my father steps back inside. A few moments later, he returns with a tightly wrapped bundle, I have no idea what's inside, but in return Gale hands him a squirrel.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes and begin to dress. With slow, measured movements, I manage to put on slacks, a dress shirt, and dress shoes.
This day is aways a nightmare; always the same. Dressing up, having my blood taken, standing in the square, packed like cattle with every district kid between the ages of 12 and 18. Then , Effie comes to the stage, plays the video from the Capitol, and draws a name. Obviously, my name has never been drawn.
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Luckily, they have so far. There is no single reason they won't be today. I am fortunate enough to have never taken out tesserae. My name is only in the reaping bowl five times. Compared to the other kids in the district, I am extremely fortunate. There are 12 year olds, their first year in the reaping, with their names in more times than mine. I am safe.