There are not substitutes in life. I've learned this along the way. Cats can never fulfill security entirely. Lost women will never be confident enough to mother just the way a mother should. And sisters that love you the most dearly of everything and you love in return cannot take your place when it comes to your name being drawn from a bowl. I could see the agony in her eyes. It hurt worse than anything I could imagine.

I'm happy though. Katniss deserves a life. She's worked her entire childhood providing for our mother and me. Without my mouth to feed, it will be one less belly she won't have to fill. She can relax now and live the way she deserves. I can see her, once this has all settled. I see her happy, escaping beyond the fence to live forever more without having the weight of guilt that always draws her home to twelve. She deserves so much more than this, and now Katniss can have it.

I can hear her cries, her pleas for them to take her instead, but the games do not work that way. There are not substitutions of tributes on Reaping Day. It's a privilege to be in the games so no one would ever want to miss their rightful chance to participate if their name was drawn. The Capitol wants us to believe this, that a tribute is glorified. However, they are truly marked for death, a death cheered by callous people in some far off arena where twenty-three children die every year as they are forced into fighting against each other.

"Come up dear, don't be shy!" Effie Trinket says as I stumble up the steps. She pulls me next to her. "Primrose…that's a beautiful name dear! Your mother must be quite the romantic." I catch sight of my mother standing in shock. Two men are holding her up on her feet.

"Thank you," I murmur, trying not to duck my head, trying more than anything to be strong. Katniss is crying enough for the both of us. She never cries. I can't cry too.

"Are you excited little one?" She smiles. I can see her pink gums. They are as pink as her hair. I want to vomit, but in response I nod. Honestly, I'm not too excited about dying. It was only one slip of paper, but that was all it took.

"Good, good, now for our boy tribute!" She walks to the other bowl, and I close my eyes. I don't want to see someone who might kill me in a week or two because he won't be a bad person just someone that has to do a bad deed. For that, I don't want to think badly of someone. I can't even think badly of Effie. She's just a pawn in this all as well, going through motions that the Capitol dictates.

I'm so close I can hear the rustle of the papers. I wonder how many slips there are.

"Neadler Mellark!"

My eyes fly open at the loud thuds of footsteps that come up the stairs. I see the baker's son, the middle one, blond, broad-shouldered, and big. He's twice my size if not more. He's scared though. I can see the grimace in his smile, such an imperceptible feature when seen on the large screens flickering around the lawns.

Effie says something with her voice tinkling in delight. Neadler comments. She laughs, and tells us to shake hands. We're the two tributes of twelve. Neadler takes my hand in his. His hand seems to cover mine entirely. He notices because he purposely overlaps his fingers when he realizes the distance. Then, his eyes meet mine. The games are never predictable, but this much I do know. It's an agreement. He smiles slightly and shakes his head once up and down, and I do too before Effie breaks the moment, and we're separated.

He's not going to kill me. I won't kill him even if I could.

That is the thought I hold onto as Effie whisks us away.

"Wonderful, wonderful," She croons, leading me by the hand and with her other hand on Neadler's back as she scoots us into the justice building. The doors close firmly behind us, and all the commotion from outside on the lawns dies away. My eyes are wide open. I've never been in here. It's quiet with only a few peacekeepers milling around aimlessly. She leads us to benches in the main hallway past the foyer and has us sit on either one.

"You two will love the Capitol," She babbles, speaking to someone other than us, as if someone was standing in the thin air in front of her face. She won't meet our eyes. "Such a wonderful place, you'll have such a grand time. And your designers this year are splendid. Twelve will make a splash this year with a handsome boy like you Neadler and so strong and such a pretty little flower Primrose…I can smell the promotion when you win Neadler, and you'll give us quite the show too Primrose. Everyone loves a martyr..."

Neadler and I sit quietly throughout this chattering. I have my ankles crossed and grip the bench seat with my hands as if I'm about to stand up and make a break for it, but there are peacekeepers to catch me even if I tried. Neadler leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and wringing his hands, examining whatever blemish he has fixated his interest on.

"…So?" Neadler and I look up at her confused. She must have asked us something when neither of us was listening. "So what do you two do?"

Do? I'm not sure what that means. I'm twelve. I don't do much of anything. I go to school, so when she looks at me I shrug. She looks to Neadler for a better reaction.

"I…bake?" He answers with his voice wavering.

"Bake! No, goodness no boy, what do you do even mean by that?" Effie throws her hands up in the air. I'm about to open my mouth to confirm that he really does bake because he's one of the baker's three sons, but she plows on. "What do you do? Can you use a blade? Run? Climb? Fight?" Neadler knits his eyebrows.

"He can wrestle," The words slip out before I can stop them. He looks up surprised that I knew he was a wrestler. I may be twelve, but I'm not stupid.

"Wrestle? Splendid Neadler! Are you any good?" She asks enthusiastically.

"Um…I won quite a bit. Got best in my year," He says this, and Effie audibly sighs. She is relieved one of us can do something.

"Now Prim."

"Yes?"

"We must figure something out for you."

I squirm in response.

"You have your beauty and innocence to get you attention which is splendid, but you need to do something interesting once you're in the arena…"

Her words die out as the doors open to the justice building. The Mellarks come rushing in followed by the Cartwrights and the Grossiers. They're all eager to see Neadler in order to say goodbye. I see his father enveloping him in a hug while his stern mother swipes at her eyes when no one notices but me. His elder brother Millet cracks a joke or two while his younger brother Peeta does much like his father and hugs his brother firmly—one last time. The Cartwrights and Grossiers smile politely and hug him in turn, the good family friends they are.

I watch the scene from my place, the hugging and kissing and crying. Effie's babbling in the head peacekeeper's ear that came from the Capitol with her in the corner.

I see the door open again, and my heart leaps, thinking it must be Katniss. Instead, Allegheny Black comes rushing inside and throws her arms around Neadler. She's his girlfriend.

I wonder where Katniss is. I thought she would be the first one breaking down the door to see me when they allowed the families in for goodbyes, but she hasn't shown. I wonder if she too fainted like Mama did. That's when I can feel it, the hot, sticky wet globs rolling down my cheeks. She isn't coming. Katniss isn't coming. Gale must have had to take her home because she was so upset. I had seen her drop to her knees just as the doors to the justice building closed.

Effie comes over, "Okay everyone, time for us to be going!" She announces, pointing to her bright watch clasped to her wrist as evidence of the impending hour. Everyone nearest Neadler squeezes in one last hug with him as Effie ushers him forward, pulling me up from the bench as well. I can see everyone's eyes on me. They had not even noticed my presence until now.

"No!" I yell at her, trying to struggle from her grasp. "She hasn't come to say goodbye yet!"

"Yes…well…your mother must learn to be punctual. The Capitol awaits our arrival. There isn't time to dawdle."

I relent as she urges us further down the hall, but I crane my neck the entire time, trying to see through Neadler's crowd to the doors of the justice building. All I receive are looks of pity from Neadler's family and friends. Effie's opening the door for us to go through, and I pull away once again. My chest is falling up and down rapidly, and I'm dizzy as I try to suck in as much air as I can.

I can feel the floor getting closer as someone keeps me from falling. When I open my eyes I see Peeta Mellark knelt before me telling me to breathe in and out slowly. Neadler is holding me against him. I do as Peeta says and breathe in and out as I choke on my sobs. I must look horrible with snot oozing out of me and my mouth gaping open as my whole body trembles.

"Good girl Primrose," Peeta says sweetly.

"She didn't come," I say numbly in reply even though they don't know the answer. "Why didn't she come?"

He hesitates, and Neadler's arms grow tense. Their family, friends, and Effie shift uncomfortably.

Then the front, double doors of the justice building fly open, and Katniss' strangled call of "Prim!" resonates off the wall. I scramble to my feet with Neadler's help, and then I run towards her at full force, pushing my way past everyone. I fall into her arms.

"I'm so sorry Prim," Katniss whispers into my hair. "The peacekeepers were interrogating me. They didn't want me to see you. They thought I might do something to keep you from going."

I nod my understanding. Her volunteering was not a typical occurrence. It was a rebellious action, and they had been anxious to allow her near me. She might have snuck me out of the justice building during goodbyes.

"Mama?" I ask.

"She hasn't found her bearings. She's still coming to." I cry even harder, and Katniss tugs me closer to where we sit on the marble floor, rocking me back and forth like when I was little and fell and scraped my knees. I wished this moment could last forever, just Katniss and I tangled up in a hug for eternity, but I can hear Effie tutting nervously in the background.

"Katniss, I'm scared." I look up to her and see her eyes swimming with tears. It's hard to see her cry. She's the tough one. She's so strong. She's invincible not me.

"I know Prim," She smiles weakly. "Just be really strong. Okay?"

"Like you?"

She laughs, "No, be stronger than me. Be like Daddy was…strong but with a good heart."

"I'll miss you Katniss. I already miss you…I love you."

"I love you so much Prim."

We hug tighter then with my arms wound around her neck firmly, breathing in her scent of the woods—the woods she loves so much.

"You're my everything Prim," She whispers.

"You're my everything too Katniss," I say as we disentangle.

Katniss tucks the back of my shirt into my skirt and smoothes out the wisps around my temples before kissing me on the forehead one last time, "Keep your shirt tail tucked in little duck."

I nod and try as solidly as possible to say in reply without crying, "Quack."

She smiles, and I smile too.

Then Effie grabs my forearm and once again ushers Neadler and I towards the back door.

I turn and say when we're a few feet away the only truth I can think to say to remind Katniss that I'll be okay and that she should live for herself now, "Katniss, I'll tell Daddy you and Mama miss him."

Katniss doesn't reply. She stands rooted to the floor watching me walk away, wearing Mama's blue dress. She looks so pretty. Then, the door closes, but I can still hear Katniss's heavy sobs, passing through the thick door seamlessly like a sharp knife merely slitting someone's throat. The worst part is that I will be the person whose throat is being slit in a matter of days. There's no mistake in that. There is no substitution in death.