DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. Oh well, that's why I write on FANfiction!

Author's Note: I hope there aen't already a bazillion fanfics about Prim being in THG. If so, oh well, I wanna write this anyway! ~SpunkySpartan31

I wake up, and find myself in a bed that isn't mine. I roll over to see my mother, fast asleep. I roll over again. The bed Katniss and I share is empty, meaning she must've gone to hunt with Gale already. What time is it? I get out of bed, and pul on a bathrobe that my mother gave to me last Christmas. It still fits me, because I haven't grown since then. In our human ody study, we learned that we are really growing every second, but the difference is just too hard to see. Not me, though. I don't grow at all. But I don't mind.

I check the big old grandfather clock in the kitchen, and it informs me that is is 8:39. I look over to the kitchen table, and am pleased to find that it is bare. Katniss must'vetaken my goat cheese I left for her and Gale. I still have another hunk of it in the fridge, so we can have it with dinner. My face falls, and my heart sinks. If we have dinner together. I almost forgot. The Reapings are today. Funny how you can almost forget about something so terrible. Well, actually, it's not that funny at all.

Eventually, Mom wakes up. I say hello, and she says good morning. I love her, although, I'm not sure if Katniss has ever forgiven her for leaving us. Of course she didn't really "leave" us, but she did mentally after our father died. But she is caring now, and we have a little money, although, we rarely use it. Bartering is more popular than money here in the Seam. She goes to the bathroom to heat some bathwater for me. I look in the cupboard. There isn't much. Some of the tessarae grains (yuck!), some grapes, an apple, and the small leather pouch of money from the apothecary shop Mom runs. A lot more than most people in District 12 have. We're really very lucky, but I still sometimes wish for more. I'm greedy, and I know it. But everypne else says I'm kind, and pretty, and smart, and generous. I don't think I'm generous. If I really were generous, wouldn't I be gving some of my food to the young children? The ones who will die, because their parents can't give them enough food? But Katniss says I'm very generous. And so does everyone else.

For breakfast, I take out the tessarae grain, and pour it into little circles on a pan. Pancakes. I've only had real pancakes once, when I was very little, and my father hadn't died. He bought the mix from the baker for my 5th birthday, and ever since then, I have loved them. Of course, the tessarae grain-pancakes aren't very good, but I do what I can to make them taste better. I make pancakes for everything. We usually use them instead of bread, because Mom puts me in charge of most of the cooking. Pancake-and-turkey sandwiches, and stuff like that. It's actually pretty good. Or, I think it's pretty good, anyway. Whatever.

Anyway, I wait a little bit, then flip the pancakes, and I wait a little more, and the batch of pancakes is ready. I give myself to of the still hot little pancakes, and two for Mom. She comes back into the kitchen while I am starting my second pancake. It doesn't take that long. The pancakes are small, and I am hungry. When I finish my pancakes, I am still hungry. I'm always hungry, but I know that most of the kids here in Seam would do anything to have as much food as I. And most of the parents would do anything for their children to have that amount of food. So I never complain. My mother gives me one of her pancakes, but I refuse. She needs her nourishment as much as I do.

An hour later, Katniss comes in. "Good morning, Mom," she says, slightly coldly to our mother. To me, she says, "How's it goin', Prim?"

"It's goin' good," I say with a giggle. "Did you and Gale like my cheese?"

"Yeah, Gale brought a loaf of bread, so I already had breakfast," Katniss tells me, as if everything were normal. But we all know it isn't. Today will be terrible, and we all know it. What if Katniss gets picked? She has a lot of tessarae, to feed our family, and she wouldn't let me even consider signing up for it. I'm not too worried about me, I only have one slip after all, but how I can I not be worried sick about it? I mean, everyone has a chance at getting reaped. But I force myself not to think about it. A lot of kids have more slips than me and Katniss. But that's horrible, too! I want someone else to be in the Games, instead of me or Katniss! That's terrible! That isn't good, or kind, or smart, or pretty, or generous! Oh, I hate this I hate all of this!

But I just reply, "That's good, Mom and I already had some pancakes."

An hour later, I am in my Reaping outfit, the same one Katniss wore when she was my age, and the same one that my mother wore when she was my age. Except, it's sort of big on me, because I'm tiny. But Mother uses some pins, and it fits me okay. She puts my hair into two braids. I smile and thank her.

Katniss is in a beautiful green outfit. I gasp. "That's beautiful, Katniss," I tell her as our mother braids her hair.

"Thanks Prim." She says this stiffly, and i can tell she's still worried about me being Reaped. I don't think that I'll be Reaped. I'm more worried about Katniss. She has a great deal of slips, and I only have one.

We walk over to the crowd of people milling around the town square. I clutch Katniss's hand, afraid that I'll lose her. "I'm scared," I whisper to her.

Katniss is honest. She doesn't tell me that it will be okay, because we all know it won't. Even if a complete stranger is Reaped, she knows that I'll cry every night of of the Games, and then some. Instead she whispers, "I am too."

I want to stand next to Katniss, but she gets pushed into the roped off area for 16-year-old girls befre she can bring me two where the 12-year-old girls stand. So I push through the crowd, until I see my friend Cici. She is wearing a pretty emerald green dress. I say hello. She nods stiffly. I want to cry, but i know that I can't. Not here, with all these people.

Effie Trinket comes up onto the platform. She smiles at the camera, and then begins her speech. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, for coming to our 74 annual Hunger Games Reaping!" she exclaims. Nobody claps. She continues on. " I'm so glad we're all here together on the beautiful late-August day! And now, if District 12's lovely mayor, Arbor Undersee, would please read to us the Treaty of Treason..." Effie's voice trails off.

Mayor Undersee comes up to the podium and reads a off the treaty of treason. I blink back tears to think of all those lost lives fighting for a good cause, but they lost anyway. Cici says I'm overemotional. My other friend Kaysen says that Cici is just being mean, but she's joking. I see Kaysen pushing through the crowd to get to us. She is wearing a pair of old pants that look far to big for her, and a light pink shirt that goes down to her thighs. A red scarf is being used as a sash and a belt. It is not exactly your commom Reaping outfit, but Kaysen's family, though she'd never admit it, is starving about half the time. I usually give her some of my lunch, which she tries to refuse, but always eats it when she thinks I'm not looking.

We wave hi to her, and she comes over just as Mayor Undersee finishes the Treaty of Treason.

"So, now, ladies first!" Effie announces brightly. We all glare at her.

She swishes her hand around the big glass ball. I grimace, and close my eyes, hoping that our family is spared for another year. "Please not us," I pray. "Anyone but us. Or Gale. Or Cici or Kaysen. But please pease please PLEASE not me or Katniss." I think desperately.

With a little flick of her hand, Effie pulls out a tiny slip over paper. She clears her throat, and I clench my hands together, hoping to be spared.

I barely here the words that follow.

"Primrose Everdeen."