I can't sleep. I watch the sunlight creep across the ceiling. Two of us will be sent out to die before the sun sets.

I decide I can't lie in bed any longer, so I change and head downstairs to the bakery. My mother's pulling several cakes from the oven while my father kneads dough. They greet me with wary smiles. I try to return them, but this day suppresses any joy I could possibly have.

Today is reaping day, and whatever happiness the people in District 12 feel, it's drowned in panic and fear as they will soon ready their children for the slaughter raffle. I try to relax, knowing that the odds may be in my favor. I've never had to take tesserae in exchange for additional entries, but it only makes me feel guilty.

I see the already cooled cakes on pedestals and begin making a colorful assortment of icings. Treating them like canvases, I lose myself in painting the cakes. I decorate the last cake like a bed of dandelions. This may be the last cake I ever frost. This one is my favorite.

My parents begin to close the shop for the reaping as I place the dandelion cake in the window. I have enough time to bathe and put on nicer attire as my family already has their reaping clothes on.

My brother opens our bedroom door and looks in as I finish buttoning my dress shirt. "You ready? It's time." I nod and follow him into our living room where I slip on my dress shoes and leave our home and the bakery to meet the rest of town in the square.

I sign in and look around at the other children filing into their respective areas. We're separated by gender and age. I catch sight of Katniss Everdeen with her sister, Prim, who's only 12. My chests constricts in pain for them. My family buys goat milk from Prim, and I always catch her staring at my cakes. If we make it out of here today, I might sneak her the dandelion cake.

I watch Katniss join the other girls of her age. I stare at her for a long time, wishing I could tell her that Prim will be okay, then I see her look to the boys in front as she exchanges glances with Gale. He's more attractive than I am and the girls at school talk about him frequently, but I only feel jealous of him when I remember he's close with Katniss. They hunt together and help take care of each other's families. I've heard people talk about them in the bakery; saying things like "They'll end up married with wild children." There's that pain I'm my chest again.

I remember her in her two braids, singing the valley song. I long to hear her sing now, but since her father died, I wonder if she stopped singing. I wonder if Gale has heard her sing.

I hear the mayor begin to speak and I turn my attention towards the stage. He speaks of Panem's history as he does every year, the country that "rose from the ashes of North America." We're reminded of the rebellion and the Capitol's victory as they destroyed District 13, while dominating the other 12. My attention falters as I glance at Katniss. Right now, seeing her is the only thing that keeps my heart from exiting my chest.

Haymitch Abernathy drunkenly takes the stage and attempts to hug an obviously disgusted and embarrassed Effie Trinket, knocking her wig off kilter. The mayor looks horrified as we applaud our only victor.

Effie Trinket takes the podium and my stomach turns. I wonder how she can be so cheerful as she chooses the names of the children that will die every year. Her bright pink wig and green dress reminds me of a flower… An unnatural looking flower that you'd assume is poisonous and attempt to avoid.

"Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" she practically yells with excitement in her high-pitched Capitol accent. "Ladies first!" She reaches the glass ball with the girls' names and digs through the unfortunate victims of this annual torture. She pulls her hand out, grinning all the way back to the podium to read the name of the girl whose life will be changed forever. "Primrose Everdeen."

My chest tightens again as I find Katniss, wide eyed and motionless in a mob of sympathetic faces. Katniss waivers as a boy from the Seam steadies her. I watch Prim walk toward the stage where Effie is waving her forward. Prim looks so young with her blouse coming out from the back of her skirt. She's only a child. Everyone is reminded just how awful a situation this is.

"Prim!" Katniss' voice cracks and our entire district is focused on the horror in her eyes. Katniss Everdeen, the oldest daughter of a deceased coal miner who everyone knew and loved. They love her, too. "Prim!" It's painful to watch her run to her sister, so pale and fragile. She pushes Prim behind her and yells "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" Gale leaves his spot to carry a crying Prim to their mother. She thrashes in his arms.

Watching Katniss mount the stage and speak her name into the microphone makes me feel as if I should do something; take a stand and defend her. But what can I do? A soft spoken baker's son. Would she even know who I am? I feel ashamed as I keep my eyes on the stage and my mouth shut, but if anyone from District 12 could survive the Games, Katniss could.

Effie Trinket asks us to applaud. No one moves. Our entire district remains silent for Katniss. Then one by one, we press the three middle fingers of our left hands to our lips and hold out our arms to her. It's an old gesture, rarely used; it means "thank you, "admiration," and "goodbye," to a loved one.

Haymitch breaks our silence by putting his arm around Katniss and slurring out the words "I like her! Lots of… Spunk!" Then he staggers to the end of the stage. "More than you!" he shouts with a finger pointing at the camera. Making a further fool of himself, I watch him plummet head first off of the stage. He's carried away on a stretcher, and the entirety of Panem must be really enjoying the show.

After minimal debate about the rules of volunteers, Effie continues the reaping. She attempts to straighten her wig, "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"She walks to the glass ball full of boy's names. She moves quickly back to the podium and without hesitation speaks the next name. "Peeta Mellark."

I feel my heart skip into a race with panic. I steadily make my way on stage, overcome with fear and unable to suppress the emotions obvious on my face. I refuse to let my body falter, as much as I feel I could collapse. I half expect Gale to come forward, but when Effie Trinket asks for volunteers, he doesn't. No one does.

We listen to the mayor read the Treaty of Treason, but all I can think of is Katniss. A few months after the mine explosion that took her father, I tried to help her.

It was a cold and wet day that chilled to the bone. I was helping my mother bake bread loaves to sell when she heard rustling outside. She opened the back door and began screaming at a beggar. I looked passed her to see Katniss in her father's soaked jacket. That was the only time I've ever seen her look broken.

I reached into the oven to grab the two loaves that were done cooking. I let the pan they cooked in fall into the hot coals, charring parts of the giant loaves just enough so that they were unfit for sale. I quickly retrieved them and put them on the counter as they burned my hands.

I was expecting it, but I didn't see it coming so soon. The large wooden spoon my mother often uses to mix cake batter with landed sharply on my cheek bone. She yelled at me to feed the burned bread to our pig since no one decent would buy it. I stood outside of the back door, holding both loaves and breaking off only the inedible, hard bits. I heard the bell on our front door chime and watched my mother exit the kitchen. I checked a few times to make sure she wasn't coming back, then tossed the rest of the loaves in the direction of the girl hiding behind the pig's pen, where our beautiful apple tree grew.

Afraid of being caught, I ran back inside and shut the door, but looked out the window in time to watch her disappear in the rain with the loaves of bread. I wanted so badly to bring her fresh, warm bread, but as I felt my eye begin to swell, I knew I wouldn't have gotten away with it.

I couldn't sleep that night. I toyed with frosting concoctions while my family slept. My father crept down into the kitchen; he must have heard me. "She's asleep," he said softly. "I heard you burned bread today."

I nodded, "For Katniss," I whispered. My father nodded in understanding. I remember when he told me he loved Katniss' mother. I feel for Katniss what he felt for her mother. I've never even spoken to her, but I watch her every day. In the halls at school. When she's meeting Prim to go home. My father helped me clean up the frosting and I went to bed.

Katniss met my eyes after school the next day and all I could do was wish I'd done more for her.

The shame I felt for not doing more that day crept back as I did nothing but watch her give herself to the "Games". I look to her knowing that I have my chance to make it up to her.

The mayor regains my attention as he gestures for Katniss and I to shake hands. I look her in the eye and squeeze her hand. I try to accept my death as I silently vow to protect her in the arena.

The anthem of Panem plays to finish off the reaping. It sounds more like a death march. It's fitting. I look one last time into the sea of relieved faces that have one more year before they have to worry again. I take them in, knowing that this will be my last look at District 12.