The day started out grimly. Even though the sun was up and the birds were chirping, it still felt gloomy. It was that day of the year; Reaping day.
I woke up to the voice of my mother blasting through the usually quiet house. I didn't need to eavesdrop to know why she was angry with my father. It happened every year; she was persistent on making us work every day of the entire year! Seriously, who would buy bread on Reaping day? Being the stubborn woman that she is, she always had this very loud argument with father. But it always seemed to end up with her winning and him opening up the bakery. Just like every other argument they have, she always wins.
I got out of my bed and went to the bathroom to get cleaned up, after all, it was Reaping day; a day to celebrate… or whatever the Capitol says. I went back to my room to wear what my mother has laid out for me. It was the same grey pants and white dress shirt I've been wearing for the last two years on Reaping day. I didn't mind them, they looked better than what I usually wore to the bakery.
Strangely, my mother doesn't insist on me working on Reaping day. People don't understand why, but deep down I know that the reason she doesn't let me work is the chance that I might be reaped. She doesn't want my last day at District 12 to be a hard day for me. I always believed she cared.
I went straight to the kitchen to eat something before we went to the square and I was greeted by my father. "Good morning, Peeta," he smiled as he put on his jacket. "Good morning, father." I said as took a seat and reached for some of yesterday's bread. It was ironic how we owned a bakery and yet we hardly ever had any fresh products.
"I'm off to the bakery," He grabbed an apple as he headed for the door, "I'll see you at the square." He hesitated for a moment before he turned and walked towards me, kissed my forehead and whispered, "Good luck, son." He then walked out of the house without adding a word. "Thanks, father." I replied to the door that was now closed after my father left. He and I have always had a special bond. He's always been much gentler to us than my mother; sneaking us some cakes when she wasn't home and making us, particularly me, feel better whenever something went wrong with mother.
I took a bite of my bread, chewed on it slowly. I didn't know if it was the tasteless piece of bread or the fact that there was a chance, very little but nonetheless, a chance that I might be reaped to fight for my life against 23 other tributes, but suddenly the bread seemed more awful than it was. I put it back and headed for the door. Some fresh air before the ceremony wouldn't be of harm.
**
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" Effie Trinket's voice rang through the large podium after Mayor Undersee gave his yearly speech about the history of Panem, the cursed rebellion and the Dark Days which resulted in having the annual Hunger Games.
I wasn't listening as usual, instead I surveyed the crowd, looking for the one face I longed to see every year at the ceremony, everyday around the district and every night in my dreams; Katniss Everdeen. A girl I only encountered once, yet I saw everywhere; heading towards the Hob, going to the forest and selling her game to the villagers… with him; Gale Howthorne.
I snapped out of my jealous thoughts as everyone went quiet and Effie walked towards the glass ball containing the girls' names. "Primrose Everdeen." She read the slip of paper and I could only blink. Primrose Everdeen, she's Katniss's little sister, she's only twelve. I looked over at Katniss so see her shaking form and shocked expression. Before the feeling of sympathy overwhelms me, a loud shriek is heard "I volunteer" I recognised that voice straight away, "I volunteer as tribute."
Numb and empty I stared ahead as I slowly took in what was happening; Katniss volunteered. She's going to the arena. She only has a one out of twenty four chance of surviving. She could die. Die? No, no, no, NO.
I realised that I was repeating the word 'no' out loud when the boy standing next to me elbowed me to be quiet. Meanwhile, Katniss was on the podium, looking frail for the first time. Maybe to others but not to me; I was the one who saw her tear-stained face on that rainy day, gave- no threw her the bread then ran away. But this time was different. I couldn't do a single thing besides standing amongst the stunned crowd as Katniss's eyes glistered with unshed tears. As the crowd raised their hands, I lifted the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips just like everyone who was saluting her, except that I whispered "Good luck, Katniss." before I held my hand out to her.
"It's time to choose our boy tribute," Effie said after the scene made by Haymitch was over, she crossed to the other glass ball, dug her hand in there and got a white slip of paper.
"Peeta Mellark" she read and I felt every eye standing in the square on me. I couldn't move for a few minutes. A million thoughts were rushing to my head. I'm going to the arena; I could die, I could not come back home, I could not help my parents decorating the cakes anymore; I could not paint anymore… But one thought that kept repeating was, Katniss would have to kill me. We were going there as enemies. Me and Katniss, the first girl I have ever loved, were have to fight as enemies.
I made my way to the podium resisting the urge to break down in tears, Effie asked for volunteers, no one offered. Not a surprise.
Mayor Undersee began reading Treaty of Treason just like every other year, only this year I'm not listening with a relieved smile upon my face for not being chosen. My eyes are fixed straight ahead, staring at the crowd, yet seeing nothing. Please let this be a dream… a nightmare… anything please! I tried looking for my father but it was too hard to spot him in the mob so I settled for repeating that prayer over and over in my head, hoping it'll come true.
Sooner than I had hoped, Mayor Undersee finished reading the long Treaty of Treason and gestured for Katniss and me to move closer and shake hands. I held her hand for the first time, not wanting to let go, another dream coming true for me today. The other was a nightmare about her being reaped. It happened. Her hand was cold and shivering, I squeezed it reassuringly only because I didn't know what else to do before facing the crowd and listening to the anthem playing.
I couldn't look into her eyes, I didn't know why. Was it guilt from before? Or was it the knowledge that we would have to kill each other? Perhaps knowing that I could never lay a hand on her and she could possibly kill me in second? I didn't know. I couldn't think straight.
The one thing I was sure of was, I'm not going to the arena and sacrificing Katniss. I am going in there and doing the best I can for her to be safe, to win. I didn't care about losing my life in order to do so. She is not going to die. Not if I could help it.
(Credits to my amazing best friend who helped me writing this story.)