Hi, I am attempting to write The Hunger Games in Peeta's view. If all goes well I will continue :)
I wake up with a jolt, it's that day again. My brothers are already up, their beds are empty. We share a room; one room for us, one room for our parents. My father is a baker, and my mother helps him run it. We have a little bit more money than other people in District 12 because we are merchants, but we are still poor. Everyone in District 12 is.
I sit up on the edge of the bed and wipe the sleep from my eyes. It's light out. My brothers will be downstairs helping Dad out in the bakery. I don't usually help on Reaping Day because Clayden is too old and Rye is 18 now so this year is his last year. They feel sorry for me as I am the youngest, and my father and I are quite close. My mother on the other hand, we do not get on. She can be quite strict, and I don't think she really wanted me. I know she wanted a daughter, but I think I was meant to be the girl.
I slip into some comfortable clothes, and go downstairs. There are some bags of flour left by the back door still, so I lift one up onto my shoulder and start into the shop.
'Ah, Peeta, what are you doing up?' asks my Dad. He's at the counter, kneading dough, covered in flour. He turns to me and wipes his hands on his apron, smearing it with more flour.
'I was done with sleeping, thought you could use an extra hand,' I smile. He takes the bag of flour from my shoulder and puts it down on the table in the middle of the room. He turns back to me and places his hands on my shoulders.
'Son, kindness doesn't always get you everywhere, be a bit selfish sometimes. Now go back upstairs, get some rest and get ready,' he turns me around and pushes me towards the door. Reluctantly I go as it is getting close to 1; I need to be ready and waiting in the square soon.
I stand in the doorway of my room, staring at my bed. Today, I do wish I could just roll up and hide in it all day. I am 16, so my name has been entered 5 times, still not as many as some people. Most of the people in the Seam would have gone for tesserae, meaning their names will have been entered many more times. I probably won't get chosen because of this, but I still can't help feeling scared.
I notice my mother has been in since I went downstairs, as she has left an outfit on each of our beds. Just plain black trousers and a plain white shirt; we need to look smart in case our name gets called, and then the whole of Panem will see us. I take a little bit of the gel from the wash room, which is saved for special occasions, and run it through my hair, using the little mirror to try and make it look nice. I settle for a neat quiff, slicked back.
'It's not going to make you look any less scared,' I hear Rye call from the bedroom. He's right, even as I look at myself I can see that I look petrified. I walk into the bedroom and see him. He's a lot taller than me, but he has the same blonde hair and blue eyes.
'Your name is in there more times, so you should be more scared,'
'Yes, but I only have to get through this year, and then it's over for me. You have two more years after this one.' He gives me a playful punch on the arm and then walks out. Your name goes in an extra time every year, so he's got 7 entries. I envy the fact that this is his last year, I can't stand the feeling I get when they pull a name from the boys bowl, hoping that it won't be mine.
The clock chimes on the wall. It's time to leave.
I walk as a man condemned towards the square. We all do. Shuffling along as if our legs refuse to move. It's not a long walk for me though, as I live very close. At the signing in desk they take a prick of blood from our fingers to identify us. Anyone who is missing will get tracked down; everyone has to attend unless they are dying.
Then we are arranged in the square as usual, older ones at the front, younger ones at the back, everyone else around the outside. Some people don't fit and have to stand outside the square, but are still forced to watch on big screens. Some people around the edge have no family to worry about, but instead take bets or place them themselves. I can't help but thinking how sick these people are, it's the same as betting on people's lives, like I am sure they probably do during the games in the Capitol.
On the stage, there are three chairs, two of them are filled; The Mayor of District 12 sits in one and Effie Trinket, the escort for District 12, straight from the Capitol, sits in the other. You can tell Effie is from the Capitol straight away due to her bright pink hair and hideous spring green suit. The third seat remains empty as The Mayor steps forward to the podium to speak.
He tells the same story every year, the history of Panem. How we rose out of the ashes of North America. About the Dark Days, the uprisings. About how they destroyed District 13, how the Treaty of the Treason came about, and then they invented the Hunger Games.
The Hunger Games are simple, every year, as punishment for the uprisings, one girl and one boy between the ages of 12 and 18 are chosen from each district to fight to the death until one person remains, who will be crowned the victor and be showered with riches from the capitol. We are supposed to treat it as a festivity, a sporting event.
Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. It doesn't take very long. We've had two victors, in the past 73 years. As if on cue, Haymitch Abernathy stumbles on to the stage. Our only living victor. He sits down into the third chair. He's drunk, as usual. He hugs Effie, much to her disdain, and she only just manages to fight him off.
The Mayor does not look best pleased at this humiliating show, since all this is being televised across the whole of Panem, live, so it won't get missed. He moves on quickly, introducing Effie Trinket to do the reaping.
'Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!' This phrase is very familiar, I give a slight groan. The Hunger Games are not a happy occasion. She continues on about how honoured she is to be here, but I think she's just obligated to say this, no one is honoured to be in District 12.
And then it's time to start. Another familiar phrase; 'Ladies first!' She goes to the bowl with all the girls names in it and pulls one out. My mind goes to one girl; a girl who I have loved ever since I was five. She is from the Seam and so she probably has numerous entries. The odds are not in her favour. Effie pulls out the name and announces it. It's not her.
'Prim!' we hear the scream from the crowd, somewhere to my right. I turn to look as the young girl whose name was called walks towards the stage. The girl who shouted runs out into the aisle left in the middle.
It's her. Her sister has been chosen. Primrose Everdeen. And then I hear something that makes my stomach turn.
'I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute.'
