"Katniss Everdeen,"

Her voice over the microphone isn't as loud as Effie Trinkett's had been, she's barely speaking in to the mouthpiece, but that doesn't stop the sound reverberating around my skull, it seems to be bouncing around my entire being. An icy cold hand clenches my chest as I watch her standing on the stage, wearing a blue dress that is so different to her usual attire; I can't help thinking she looks a lot prettier in the worn down hunting clothes. There's a buzzing in my ears that seems to be getting louder as Haymitch Abernathy, the man who will be Katniss' mentor takes to the stage and makes a drunken fool of himself, as he always does. A burst of fear explodes in my stomach as I realise he is Katniss' one key to surviving these Games, and he's not very conscientious. I can't focus on what is being said, but I see Haymitch hug Effie Trinkett, then head dive off the stage, to general laughter. The buzzing in my ears continues, it's pressing me from every side, I'd be surprised if I wasn't being crushed.

Effie, who seems to be appalled by Haymitch's behaviour, crosses to the ball that holds the boys names; but I'm not looking at her. I'm staring at Katniss, who is standing awkwardly on the stage, arms locked by her sides and staring out in to the crowd. I wonder if she is trying to find her mother, or her sister, or Gale …

"Peeta Mellark!"

I feel the shift in the crowd surrounding me, but I can't figure out why. My brain seems to have jammed and I can't comprehend anything that's going on. Surely, surely I imagined Effie saying me name. She can't have. My name can't have come out of that Reaping ball. I feel a slight nudge on my right shoulder and turn to see a boy I know from school – but I can't think of his name – looking at me with wide, fearful eyes. My body seems to have stopped working, but I force my legs to move, one foot in front of the other, out of the crowd of boys who back away slightly as I walk passed, as though I'm carrying a highly contagious disease and touching me would mean infection. I look up to the stage and focus on Katniss as I make my way up the long gap between the boys and the girls. I feel every eye of the District on me, then I glance up to one of the many cameras perched around the square and feel the eyes of the entire country on me. I can feel tears licking at the back of my eyes but I clench my jaw and hold them back, what would everyone – the other tributes especially – think of me if I turn in to a blubbering baby at the Reaping? I nearly trip up the stairs when I reach them, but I manage to catch myself before I show any sign of unbalance. Once I'm in such close proximity to her, I can't look at Katniss anymore for fear of catching her eye. I stand awkwardly, unsure where to go, until Effie flounces over to where we stand and instructs us to shake hands.

Katniss reaches her hand out in an awkward way and I hesitate a second before I take it. For how many years, I have waited to speak to her, to touch her, to hold her hand. Now, I've got the chance. Her fingers close around my hand and my heart does a tiny flutter. My hand clenches of its own accord as I feel her hand against mine. The softness of the palm mixed with the callouses on her fingers, from hunting, I suppose. When we let go I surreptitiously wipe my hand on my trouser leg because I can feel it is sweaty, I admire Katniss for not doing the same thing. Effie starts saying her closing lines to the crowd but I am not listening. I look out over the crowd and see the many staring faces of the people in our District. I will never see them again, never be here again. I chance a sideways glance at Katniss and see her staring in the direction of her mother and sister. I wonder what's going through her head right now.