My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm twelve years old, and right now I'm sure I'm the most frightened kid in all of Panem. Today is reaping day. For the first time in my life, my name will be in the sphere. I could be picked, there's a chance. What for? The 70th annual Hunger Games.
The Capitol is filled with sick, twisted minds that think it's perfectly okay to throw kids into an arena and make them fight to the death on live television. It's disgusting.
My little sister, Prim, walks over to my bed. "Mother told me to wake you up." She tells me. I wonder if she knows what today is, what with her being only eight years old. I sit up, stretch my arms above my head, and get out of our bed.
Prim is staring at me. She's as pale as powder and there are dark rings around her eyes. I can tell she got no sleep. Seeing her like this breaks my heart. My mother probably told he what's happening last night. I hug her, then shoo her out so I can change.
"Tell Mother I'll be down soon!" I yell after her. My voice cracks. I change into an uncomfortable blouse and skirt- both white- and drag myself to the kitchen.
Mother is brushing Prim's hair, her hands slightly shaking. When she sees me, her expression immediately changes from grim to reassuring. Still, my stomach is in knots and my skin is crawling. I kiss her on the cheek and sit in our oldest chair, which is due to give out any day now. When my mother finishes my braid, we walk over to my first Reaping.
My mother signs in and I walk to the section marked off for twelve-year-olds. Most kids are standing in groups by their friends, but since I don't have any friends, I stand alone. I try to distract myself from the Reaping Ball by thinking of food, but Effie Trinket interrupts my thoughts. She's wearing a neon green wig and looks as ridiculous as ever.
"Hello everyone," she squeals, "Happy Hunger Games!" I grind my teeth at that word- happy. The Games are bloody, gory, and barbaric, but never, not ever would I call them happy. Effie drones on and on about Panem's history for God knows how long, then, it's time to pick the names.
She walks to the sphere with the girls' names. My palms begin to sweat an I start to hyperventilate. I think I'm going to throw up, then I just barely hear her call out a name. A name that doesn't belong to me.
"Mara Jefferson!" Effie practically shrieks. The microphone responds, hurting everyone's ears. Mara, a girl of about sixteen, walks to the stage, crying. The smile on my face disappears. I forgot- if I'm not picked, that means that someone else is.
Effie's arm is hovering around Mara's shoulders, trying to figure out if she should comfort her or not. Then, as always, Haymitch Abernathy, drunk as ever, tumbles onto the stage. The smell of liquor fills the room and makes me gag.
"Hey, hey you! Mara!" He yells, holding a drink. "Stop your crying, you people are so annoying! I won the Games! But you are a scrawny one aren't you?"
He laughs loudly. The aroma of the liquor is almost too much. He walks up to somebody in the audience.
"I'll bet you she won't last the first week," he whispers to a man, obviously not trying to obscure his voice. This only makes Mara cry harder.
Haymitch stumbles back onto the stage and smashes his beer bottle on the floor. He then makes his exit with his arms up. We're all silent. In the distance, I hear Haymitch vomit and curse out loud.
"Well," Effie says, "Onto our boy tribute!" she dunks her arm into the boys' sphere and reads the card, "Jerome Chelondie!" she yells. I'm already walking back to my family, surprised I can even walk at all. I hug Prim, not only to hold her, but to block her view of the hysterical Mara, and the boy, Jerome, who is silently crying next to her.
While all of District Twelve parties, I stay home, trying not to retch. When the knots in my stomach untie, I go to sleep.
I wake with a start, my mother and Prim smiling over me.
"Hi," I say, "Good morning." I slowly sit up and try to rub the sleep out of my eyes. Prim breaks into a sprint, coming back in less than ten seconds with something in her hands. Wait. I can't believe this. It's a bow and arrow! I scramble out of bed and hug them both with all my might.
"How- How did you…?" I stutter. "Your father made it before he… well he wanted you to have it" my mother tells me.
I'm outside my home when I realize I don't know where to go. I close my eyes and let my legs take me somewhere. I end up outside the forbidden woods. I don't hesitate, knowing that the penalty for crossing the woods can result in a death sentence. I climb the fence and jump down on the other side. It's amazing how little sound I make.
I pull an arrow from my sheath and wonder what to shoot. The, a deer dashes through the trees. It settles by a bush and falls asleep. I consider shooting it, but it wouldn't be fair to kill when it's too vulnerable. I decide to start small and shoot a squirrel. It's on the side of a tree so I crouch down, aim, and shoot it clean through the eye. I walk over and bend to pick it up.
When I stand, another arrow sticks to the tree, a centimeter from my head.
