There can be many life-changing moments.

One that stays in my mind is the death of my father. My hero, my guide, my saviour. I'd always been close to him, closer than I'd been with my mother. I was the very definition of 'Daddy's little girl'. He was the one who taught me how to hunt, how to be gracious, and above all, how to take care of a family. That skill came in handy when he died in a mine explosion, leaving my incompetent mother to take care of us. She'd been absent for the first year or so of his death, mentally checking out and refusing to check back in. I'd been the mother, taking care of my younger sister, Primrose, making sure she had food, clothes on her back, a figure to look up to. It had all been up to me.

Another life changing moment was the day I met Gale. He was my best friend, and I hoped that it would never change. I couldn't imagine life without him; he was the only male I could depend on in my life ever since my father died. We hunted together every day, both understanding the burden of taking care of a family at a young age. Gale was the oldest of his siblings, and was determined to help his mother provide for the family. Hazelle Hawthorne had been there for her brood, at least. It was more than my mother had ever done.

Of course, a life changing moment was occurring right now. I stood amongst a sea of other children, boys and girls of all ages, waiting expectantly with baited breath. The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Gale stands in the middle of an all-boys row, his messy dark hair tamed with grease, and a proud stiffened back. He glances at me and smiles reassuringly, and just like that, I feel my insecurities melt away. He mouths at me, 'Smile, Katnip' and I pretend to frown at him.

I break his gaze and my eyes roam over the crowd. I spot my mother, standing towards the back with the other nervous parents, her blonde hair intricately braided into tight worms in a hairstyle identical to my own. She isn't looking at me, and her face is pinched with worry. I follow her gaze and see that her eyes are trained on my younger sister, Prim. I feel my own chest tighten when I see how tiny she looks against the taller kids. I recall the words I spoke to her that morning.

"Don't worry, Prim. You're name has only been in there once. They're not going to pick you."

It was true. The odds were ever in her favour. I roll my eyes at the stupid expression that the Capitol had coined, some sort of macabre slogan for the Hunger Games. I can see how tightly her fists are clenched, and think about striding over to stand with her. To try and comfort her. Before I can make a decision, a woman hurries onto the stage, waving her arms.

"Welcome, welcome!" she cries, her blonde curls bouncing up and down enthusiastically as she speaks. "Welcome to the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

A halfhearted applause is scattered among the group of parents. The children don't move. We are all rooted to the spot. As Effie Trinket warbles on, I try to distract myself by staring at her garish outfit, wondering how people possibly wore things like that in the Capitol. Truth be told, the bubblegum pink bubble dress with the matching cropped feather jacket, and the fascinator in the shape of a peacock's tail was positively tame compared to some of the others. Some of them even dyed their skin. It was little things like that that made me happy to be a part of District 12, even though there were far more disadvantages.

Like this. Like today. The reaping. Where one lucky boy and girl were chosen to represent the district in a televised death match. It sounded so primeval, especially for a society which considered themselves to be futuristic. I stare at the round fishbowl on stage, which contained 20 slips of paper with the name Katniss Everdeen on them. Gale had been entered 42 times. It was the price we had to pay to support our families.

"...honour!" Effie declares, just as I begin to listen again. "Fame, fortune, and glory. I wish you all the best, and may the odds be ever in your favour!" I smile slightly when I see Gale mouthing along to her over-practiced speech. "Without further ado, we will now select the tributes that will represent District 12."

She moves away from the podium, and I catch sight of her shoes. They're easily one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen, tall stilettoed heels in a shocking pink covered with mohair. It gives me comfort. The Reaping is a serious event. A little bit of lunacy seems to break up the sombre mood for me. Effie doesn't even stumble in them; she walks as if she is floating on water. Her hand dips into the first fishbowl, hovering over the slips of paper with the mandatory black rectangle sealing them. Like an eagle scouting prey, she attacks a slip of paper, triumphantly pulling it out and holding it high.

Effie strides back towards the podium, her heels clicking on the floor. She flourishes the paper, her clown-like painted lips stretching into an impossibly wide grin. She opens the flip, smoothing it out in front of her.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

My heart drops, ricocheting off my stomach and shooting back up my throat. I feel the audible sigh of relief from the hundreds of girls around me, but all I can do is try to catch a glimpse of Prim. She's still standing in her spot, unmoving.

Effie Trinket squints out at the crowd. "Primrose Everdeen!" she repeats. "Come on up, young lady!"

Finally, Prim begins to move. She stumbles from her spot and slowly breaks away from the ranks, discerning herself as the female tribute. Effie spots her and waves frantically at the Peacekeepers to hurry and accompany her onto the stage.

My feet move before my head can register what I'm doing.

"Prim!" I shout, taking off after her. "Prim!"

She turns around, a difficult action when you're being shouldered by three muscular Peacekeepers. My heart lurches. She's already started crying.

We both move forward at the same time, trying to embrace, but the Peackeeper's don't let us. We're restrained before we've even taken two steps. The words shoot out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" I cry, steadying myself.

The next few seconds are a blur. Prim starts screaming, and I try to block it out. The Peacekeepers escort her back to her place in line, where my mother meets her. Another group of them grab hold of my arm and strongarm me up towards the stage, where Effie is still marvelling at the glamour of the Games. "A volunteer!" she cooed as I approach. "This isn't the normal protocol taken at the Reaping, but if there aren't any other volunteers?"

Her voice dies out and the only thing to respond is the wind. She nodded to herself, and asks me what my name is. I tell her. She realises that we're sisters, and I know that the Capitol will love this angle. She holds my hand and thrusts it into the air. "Ladies and Gentleman, put your hands together for Katniss Everdeen, our first tribute for District 12!"

The crowd is completely quiet. Not one person raises their hands to clap. There's too much sadness in their eyes. I see a mixture of pity and respect. I see Prim. Her red-rimmed eyes never break contact with me.

Effie, somewhat disgruntled from the lack of applause, stalks over the second fishbowl. She plucks the paper out without hesitation, and reads it without introduction. "Peeta Mellark."

My stomach does another somersault as I look at Peeta, whose face is ashen. No one volunteers to save him. He doesn't look as though he expected it. Once he is next to me on stage, I feel his body warmth. It steadies me.

We're both expecting Effie to close the ceremony so we can hurry to our deaths. Normally, she says a minute long spiel about the honour of our district, and then the tributes are ushered offstage. This time, it is different.

Effie has been conferring with someone offstage. He's tall and thin, with an unmistakeable air of the Capitol about him. He gestures out at the crowd, and Effie clasps her hands together and nods. She returns to her spot in the centre of the stage with a strained smile.

"And now, for a special announcement. The Capitol have one last message about the Hunger Games, and that is that this is all about promoting loyalty, strength and survival. It truly is an honour." She clears her throat. Peeta and I exchange looks with one another. We wonder what she is getting at.

"Ladies and Gentleman, the Gamemakers have decided to make this year a little more interesting. A pre-cursor to next year's Quarter Quell, if you will. The rules have changed slightly, staring with District 12. This year, there will be three tributes from this area. This is an advantage to all of you! You have more of a chance of producing a tribute who is a winner!" She beams out at the stunned audience. "The Gamemakers have been very generous in deciding that this rule will begin with District 12."

I already know what's going to happen. They want a show. They want to see a drama unfold before their eyes in the arena. It isn't just about killing each other in bloody, messy ways. It's about entertainment. What could be more entertaining than seeing siblings fight to the death?

I know who she's going to say before she says it. She doesn't even bother going back towards the fishbowl. The Capitol have already made their choice.

"Now, we won't be selecting this tribute by random draw," she trills. "The Capitol have already made their decision."

Don't say it. Don't say it.

"Primrose Everdeen! Make your way onto the stage, young lady!"