I feel encased and confined in the large group of people. I always feel that way on Reaping days. I'm just glad I'm taller than most people so I don't have to stand on tiptoes just to see over the person in front of me, unlike countless others around me.
Effie Trinket is up on stage and speaking into the microphone. She has one of her odd-colored wigs on and is wearing outrageous make-up. I don't know why the Capitol thinks that wearing styles like that is anything but a sin.
I shudder and look away from her, moving my hands into my pockets. The probability of me getting Reaped is high this year; higher than it is for most. I don't care about myself, though. I care about my family. Who will look after them? But I know who.
My eyes linger on the ground in front of me for a moment before lifting and shifting to gaze towards Katniss. She seems worried; her face is even more stoic and solemn than usual. I wonder what she's thinking. Is she worried about me? Is she afraid of what will happen if I get chosen to go into the arena?
I sigh and shake my head clear as Effie's speech comes to a close. It's time for her to draw out the names. I don't hear most of what she says beforehand. I'm staring at the bowl of female names, my fingers crossed within my pockets. Katniss could get chosen, too, but...she won't. I just know she won't. She can't.
"Primrose Everdeen!" Effie's high-pitched voice rings out through the crowds of people. I stiffen, my eyes widening. Prim? How...?
I look towards the center of the group. She walks uncertainly down the aisle leading towards the stage, looking straight ahead. She may be brave, but she won't make it in the arena. And that would destroy Katniss. There'd be nothing left of my best friend.
"I volunteer!" a shrill, hoarse voice cries out. My heart drops to somewhere around my stomach. "I volunteer as tribute!"
My blood has gone icy in my veins. I keep staring at Prim for a long moment, uncertain if I had just been imagining the voice. But then the Peacekeepers are following someone else up to the stage. Someone with dark hair. Some taller than Prim. Someone with her hair in a familiar braid.
Prim is yelling out desperately. She doesn't want her sister to go into the arena. I don't want her sister to go into the arena.
I move mechanically out towards the aisle, walking on instinct but I'm not quite certain what's going on. I'm not quite certain what I'm doing. Where am I? My arms lock around Prim and I pull her back from the aisle. Her crying makes my heart pound.
Oh, I remember what's going on. I remember where I am. I remember what's happened.
I'm in District 12. This is the Reaping. And my best and only friend just volunteered to go into the arena to participate in a fight to the death.
