When I get home from the woods, I immediately have to wash off and get ready for the reaping. Hunting with Gale and trading at the Hob took much longer than I expected it to, and time was ticking down until I had to go to the Town Square. This year, for the 72nd Hunger Games, my name was entered to the reaping ball sixteen times. Poor Gale had his entered about thirty.
When I'm dressed in an old dress of my mother's and my hair is braided to the side, I go find Prim. She always gets so worried on reaping day, even though she is two years too young to be drawn. I find her at the table, knitting with the new ball of yarn I traded two squirrels for at the Hob for her birthday. She was making a gray something, that I think was going to be small bag to carry pencils for school.
"That's really good, Prim," I tell her.
She looks up and smiles, but it doesn't meet her eyes. I can tell she has been worrying. "Thanks. What did you get today?"
"I traded some squirrels for fresh bread that we can have after the reaping," I say, "And I got some wild strawberries in the woods today. We can put the strawberries and your goat cheese on the bread."
"Yeah," she nods, but I know what she's thinking. She's wondering if it will only be two for dinner tonight.
"Are you okay?" I ask her.
She nods, but it isn't convincing.
"Are you sure?"
This time she shakes her head and says, "Promise me you won't get chosen!"
I wish I could, I want to say, but instead I tell her, "I promise I'll be okay. Don't worry about it."
"Okay," she mutters.
The reaping always goes by slowly. This year, a boy and girl from the seam were chosen, like always. Every year I hope for a few things: that I don't get picked, and that Gale doesn't get picked. And this year I even threw Madge in, just for good measure. But being the mayor's daughter she didn't have much of a chance. Her name was only entered three times.
Prim looks visibly relaxed, and all the way home she talks about her goat, and how she traded the baker a goat cheese for a pastry today. I smiled, knowing that the baker only did that because she was Prim, and everyone couldn't help but love her. A pastry for a goat cheese wasn't a trade that would usually take place, but the baker and his sons absolutely adored Prim. They would wave to her through the window every time she stopped to admire the beautiful cakes.
When we got back, my mother cooked a squirrel and Prim and I set the table, talking about her schoolwork. I dreaded the day when my little sister would someday have to have her name in that reaping ball.
A/N: Hey, all! Please let me know what you think. I know this first chapter is a little weak, hopefully they'll get better as they go along!
Lots of love, LilyFreakingPotter