She hates the reaping. Nobody would ever believe it, when they see her all dolled up on stage. But she has nightmares about it throughout the year. She already knows them, knows she'll wake up sweating and shaking, but in the dream the fear is always new and fresh. Most of the time she is climbing the stairs to the podium or a faceless boy or girl walks toward the stage shaking just as she is.
The more haunting ones, those that play in her head over and over again are the worst. They take her by surprise and fill her nights. It's on those nights when she gets up in the middle of the night and calls him. The phone rings for a long time until he picks up and more than once she changes her mind and hang up before he can answer her call – too ashamed of her fear and worries. He knows it's her who calls and usually answers the phone with a mumbled but not unkind "what is it?". She doesn't answer him right away, apologizing after a moment of silence for her waking him and hanging up.
Then there are the nights where it is too much to take and she cries on the phone and between heavy sobs says, "It was you. It was your name I took from the bowl."