Chapter One

When I wake up, the smell of fresh bread hits me like a wall of concrete. You would think after waking up in the bakery every day of my life, that I wouldn't be as effected by the scent. But, all I can think about is that this may be the last day I open my eyes and see the flour covered floors and smell the sweet bread in the ovens.

I rose from the ratty mattress on the floor of the room I shared with my two brothers. One would get his name put into the games as well, the other was already above the required age. Lucky him. A yawn slipped past my lips as I went out into the store front, still in my bed clothes. There wasn't a need to dirty another set before the reaping began at two. I was just about to go looking for my dad when he walked in the back door, holding a squirrel.

"Courtesy of Gale Hawthorne." He grumbled out in a rather gruff voice and I nodded, feeling a couple butterflies arise in the deepest pit of my stomach.

"And Katniss?" I question, as always, and my father cracks a small smile before replying that she hadn't been with Gale today. Nodding, I realized I should have expected that. She was probably back at her house, preparing for the reaping. It was her younger sister's first reaping... I think her name was Prim or something like that.

That morning, we feasted on fresh bread, which was an amazing contrast to the stale stuff we usually tended to eat. The squirrel pared rather well with the nut and raisin bread we had the privilege to eat.

Usually, we would have worked the shop afterward, but it was forbidden to work in the reaping day. It was to be treated as a holiday, even though we were essentially just sending two of our youngest citizens to their death. Here in District Twelve, our tributes rarely come home to a future of untold riches and prizes beyond their wildest dreams. Our latest one is named Haymitch... and well, he's not the best champion ever. Actually, he's just the town drunk. A highly esteemed drunk who is put on a rather high pedestal because he was smart enough to win the Games.

As the reaping hour came nearer and nearer, my mother drew the curtains shut and ordered everyone to get ready. Not wanting to arrive at the reaping with a black eye, I did just that. The bath I took was rather cold, as we didn't have time to boil the water, but it wasn't something that was odd for me. Cold baths were a normality around my home.

My mother fussed over my older brothers, ignoring me as I pulled on my best clothes. The pants were a charcoal black, similar to the color of dust the miners drag in every evening. The shirt was plain and white, but it still looked rather good. It was required for everyone to wear their best when going to the reaping... after all, if you were going to the Capitol, you want your family's last view of you to be a good one. I finished buttoning the pristine white shirt before toe-ing on the worn black shoes that used to belong to my oldest brother.

Even though I was conscious through it all, the hours before the reaping went by like seconds. Each moment, I felt more fear rising inside of me, wondering if the unthinkable would happen. Wondering if I would be sent in as make tribute. Of course, the odds were in my favor... The Seam boys all had their names put into the Games more than mine. Gale Hawthorne's chances were even higher than mine. So, it wasn't like I had to worry about my name being picked from thousands of slips of paper.

As my mother pushed me out the front door of the bakery, the butterflies in my stomach roused once more and made my palms sweaty with anticipation. The names weren't even being drawn yet, and I still felt the incessant need to puke from the nerves welling inside me.

When I stepped up to the sign in, my breath was as shaky as my hands. I signed my name on the long list of names, before adding my age beside it. The boys and girls were split on different sides of the stage that had been set up in the town square, and then they were split into different corrals by age groups. I went to join the rest of the sixteen-year-old males before the mayor rose to tell the story of Panem and The Hunger Games, just as he does every year.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intones the mayor.

Then he reads the list of the past District Twelve victors. In seventy-four years, we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive. And that's Haymitch Abernathy, who drinks himself nearly to death day after day. He staggers across the stage, hollering something unintelligible, before collapsing into a chair beside the Capitol's escort, Effie Trinket. He tries to give the pale, pink haired woman a hug, which she barely fends off before straitening her spring green suit.

The mayor looks distressed, probably since the entire joke of District Twelve is being televised all around Panem. I'd look distressed if I was in his shoes as well.

Bright and as bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor." Her pink wigs seems to be falling off, but she ignores it as she draws a deep breath before walking over to the crystal orb that contains the names of all the girls in District Twelve. My heart starts pounding harder and harder, and soon I'm scared it will explode from my chest. I'm not fearing for myself, but for the girl I've adored ever since the first day of school. The one with the beautiful chocolate brown braids, wearing her mother's finest blue dress.

"Ladies First!" Effie announces before let her hand fish around in the glass ball. As he hand rises out, gripping a small slip of paper, I feel as if I may be having a heart attack. She crosses back to her podium before unfolding and smoothing out the paper. The silence that filled the town square could have been cut with a knife. She reads out the name in a clear voice... and it's not her. It's her little sister. "Primrose Everdeen." And that's just as bad.

If there had been any chatting before Prim's name was called, it had all silenced, as it usually does when someone as young as her gets chosen. I searched the crowd for Katniss, but when I finally found her, it was too late.

Her voice was strained as she screamed for her sister, and the Peacekeepers held her back. The young blond screamed for her sister in return as another group of Peacekeepers drug her to the stage. She had almost made it before Katniss said something that nearly made my heart break under the pressure.

With a sweep of her arm, she pushes Prim behind her protectively. "I volunteer!" She gasps. "I volunteer as tribute!"