I stand in the crowd with the other twelve year olds. I've always felt nervous on reaping day, worried that Katniss, or Gale or someone we know is going to get picked, but somehow, today, the fear just seems a little more real. It's like now that I'm here, standing in the twelve year olds section, the reality that this could actually be happening finally works its way into my head. It's odd, that no one I know has ever been reaped, and maybe that's why I always had this little feeling that we were actually safe. Of course we were not safe, we were never safe from the Capitol, but I liked to pretend that we were.

I know Katniss did all she could to protect me, taking tesserae to make sure I wouldn't have to. I think I'm more worried for her than she is for me. She tried to convince herself that I'm safe.

"One slip in thousands," she tells herself constantly. That's right. One slip in thousands. The odds are in my favor. And after the reaping, we're all going to go back home, me and Katniss and Mother and all of Gale's family. We're going to have a nice meal with some of the game Katniss shot last night, some bakery bread that Gale got, cheese from Lady, and the strawberries they found. It's going to be a good night, right after this horrible reaping. It will be a celebration of relief. I try not to remember that there will be two families who, after this afternoon, will be struck by grief as they watch their children on TV for the next few weeks.

Effie Trinket walks with a spring in her step onto the stage. She has freakish pink curls this year. I remember, when I was little, I would laugh every time I saw a person from the capitol. They just look so silly! I'd laugh at Effie, except I'm too worried about the reaping. She goes on about what a pleasure it is to be here, and her voice makes me sick. It is so cheery and happy, and excited. Excited for what? It's like she doesn't see us as people, only as the workers who provide her city with coal and entertainment. I guess that's how all the Capitol people think of us. Don't they know what this is like? Don't they have families, friends, neighbors, who they care about? Or is it everyone for themselves? Are the people in the Capitol capable of love? Or Caring? If they are, why can't they see that we in the districts are too, and understand how horribly they treat us? Sometimes I think about what it would be like if I walked up to a Capitol person and asked them my questions. The ones about love and understanding our pain. I know though, that I would never do that.

The mayor goes on about the treaty of treason and such and I barely hear Effie saying "Ladies First" as she walks over to the reaping ball that holds the girl's names.

"Primrose Everdeen!" Wait. That's… that's me. I can't believe it. Of all the names, it's mine that get's called. Shock is my first emotion, followed closely by immense, terrible, hopeless fear. Never. That's the word that comes into my mind, and following it, all the things that that I will never get to see, to do, all the people I will have to say goodbye to. Memories of tributes' gory deaths flood my mind, stabbings, beheadings, getting ripped apart by mutts. I walk slowly, and stiffly, thinking that maybe if I just walk slower, I'll never make it to the stage at all. I think I might be shaking, and I realize that I've already given up on myself.

I'm almost to the base of the stage, when suddenly, someone pushes me out of the way. It's Katniss.

"I volunteer!" she yells. The panic in her voice is obvious. She repeats herself, like she's worried no one heard her.

"NO! Katniss!" I try to pull her back, wrap my arms around her and hold on with all my strength, but Gale picks me up and carries me away. I'm struggling hard, screaming at Gale to put me down, screaming for Katniss not to go. Gale sets me down next to my mother, but wraps me in his arms, embracing me, and also making sure I don't run back to the stage. I don't even try to fight back the tears, I just let them pour down my face. By the time they've announced the boy tribute, (I didn't hear his name), the front of my blouse is soaked.

Everyone starts to move away from the square, and I lose track of what's going on. All I know is that my sister is going to the games. She's going to the games, she's sacrificing her life for… me. The whole thing is so awful. I can't take it. If she dies in the games, I'll probably be thinking that should have been me.

I'll admit, I felt a brief moment of relief as she volunteered, only for it to be replaced by guilt. Why should I be relieved that my sister is giving up her life for me? I also feel guilty, knowing that many other children don't have older sisters like Katniss who can volunteer to protect them. In a way, that makes me very lucky, but it's Katniss who needs the luck. She's the one going to the games.

Later, not much later, my mother takes me to the justice building to say goodbye to Katniss. I have finally stopped crying, but even seeing her might bring the tears back. Come on, hold it together, Prim. Don't have Katniss' last memory of you before the games be of you crying uncontrollably. Let her see that you can take care of yourself, so she won't worry. She's just sitting, not crying or anything. Well, she's never been very emotional on the outside.

I climb onto her lap and hug her, and we're just silent for a while. The silence is very filled with feelings, like we all know the idea of what we're trying to say but can't put it into words. I try to put all of my love for her into that embrace, I hope she knows how much I love her. Of course she does.

Then Katniss starts giving instructions, what to do while she's gone. I tell her I'll be all right. I tell her maybe she can win. I tell her to really, really, try. I make her promise to try to come home, and I can see in her eyes that she will try as hard as she can to keep her promise. Maybe just because she's promising it to me.