Hi. It's me, Annie Bell Johnson. Obviously. This is my first story. Feel free to complain about how crappy it is. Oh and y'all can be Grammar Nazis if you want. I don't really ca- Well, actually, I do. Don't be too harsh. I am very fragile. And may the odds be never in your favor!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games because I am not as awesome as Suzanne Collins. That's right, I am awesomer. Just kidding.


Okay, the annual Reaping is today. I stand here in the square, along with thousands of other people, waiting to see what name Effie will pick out of that glass ball with the names of the girls in District 12.

Effie draws a slip of paper from the ball. I hope it wouldn't be Katniss. There are thousands of names in there, it couldn't be her.

...Could it?

I found out the answer when Effie read the name on the slip of paper, loud and clear. No, it wasn't 'Katniss Everdeen' plastered on that piece of paper.

It was Primrose Everdeen.

Next thing I know is that there were shouts of someone's name: Primrose's nickname, most likely. "Prim! Prim!" And then running.

She - Katniss - was on the steps to the stage, screaming the words, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute."

That was very nice of her: to volunteer because she cared so much for her sister. She still looks as beautiful as ever as she stood there next to Effie Trinket, in spite of her nervousness. This is probably why I've had a crush on her since...well, forever.

And I was so distracted by her that I almost forgot that there was still a boy tribute. I wonder who it is, I hope that it isn't m-

"Peeta Mellark!"

Okay, Peeta. Get a hold of yourself.

I slowly walk up the stage, next to the one and only Katniss Everdeen. (Well, of course Effie was between us, but, same thing.) At first I was happy that I'd actually get to be with her, I mean the only ever interaction we had was that time when I gave her burnt bread. Other than that...nothing. All I do is stare at her, watch her as she walks home every day.

Problem is: 24 Tributes. Only one stays alive. She might just have the chance of becoming the Victor. Thing is, I'm going to have to die in order for that to happen. But that's okay. I'd do anything, anything at all, in order for her to stay alive.

I wonder if she still remembers that time with the burned bread. It was raining during that afternoon. She just happened to pass by the bakery at the time. I was peeking behind my mother's back, as she yelled at Katniss, who was lifting the lid of our trash bin with a disappointed look on her face due to the fact that it was clearly empty. She looked up to see my mother screaming words at her, telling her to go away, threatening her on calling the Peacekeepers (stealing is strictly forbidden in District 12; it is punishable by death), telling Katniss how tired she was of seeing those 'brats from the Seam' rummage through her trash. And with that, she put the lid back on.

And then she noticed me. I wonder if she recognizes me...

My mother went back to the bakery with a sour look on her face, but I went back really slowly, watching Katniss as she walked over behind the pig pen and leaned against an apple tree. She slid down the tree trunk to its roots, looking as hopeless as a kitten on a tree branch. She looked so sick and tired and weak and tired and sick. She looked like she was going to die, at that very moment. I had to do something. So I took action.

I got a couple of loaves and accidentally dropped them on the fire, on purpose of course, and then my mother, being the deathly witch that she is, started screaming at me. She quickly got something - I couldn't make out what it was - and hit me with it, hard. The blow was extremely painful, but it was worth it, I couldn't have just left Katniss there in the icy, freezing rain to die.

My mother forced me outside with the loaves and yelled at me, telling me that I'm a stupid creature, that no one decent would actually want to buy burnt bread, and that I should go feed these to the pigs.

And so I did, my feet sloshing through the mud as I approached the pig pen. I tore of the burned parts off the bread and threw them at the pigs. I looked behind me, just to make sure my mom wasn't watching. She wasn't, she was too busy dealing with a customer. Coast was clear. So the rest of the loaves I threw to Katniss. ...Not that I count her as a pig, or anything.

...And I was so lost in thought at the time that the Mayor had already finished his usual dreary Treaty of Reason. He signals us to shake hands. I approach Katniss and she does the same, and we give each other an encouraging handshake. I lock eyes with her and give her hand a squeeze.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem plays.

I will do everything in my power to protect her. I swear it on my life.