This was an essay for a Language Arts project (we were reading the Hunger Games for class) where we had to rewrite a scene from the book from a different character's point of view. And immediately, me being what I am, think 'Hey! I'm being graded for writing fanfiction!' I thought someone out there might like this, so here you go! :)

I wait patiently for Katniss with Mom. I wish she wouldn't insist on hunting-every day she could be killed-but I know that her kills and the food bought with the money from selling them is probably the only reason I'm still alive. It might be better if I weren't alive; I wouldn't have to survive the Reaping.

Katniss appears and vanishes just as quickly, moving like the silent huntress she is. Soon she returns clean as a whistle in one of mother's dresses, a pretty periwinkle blue with shoes to match.

"Of course." Mother says, answering a question I hadn't heard, "Let's put up your hair too." She dries and styles Katniss's hair until I swear she looks like a princess come to visit from a faraway land with simple yet beautiful tastes. Katniss stares at herself in the mirror as if she believes she's seeing a princess too.

"You look beautiful." I whisper, not wanting to disturb the moment of silence the princess has summoned.

Katniss hugs me and answers, "And nothing like myself." Suddenly, I'm scared that my name will be drawn and I will be ripped from my princess sister's arms by the cruel kingdom of the Capitol. Not even the sister of a Capitol princess's sister is safe from the evil dragon-beast known as the Hunger Games. Someone needs to find a valiant knight to kill that dumb dragon already. "Tuck your tail in, little duck." Katniss says, pulling me out of my daydream. More of a day-nightmare, actually.

I hide my fright behind a giggle and chirp "Quack."

"Quack yourself." Katniss replies with a laugh. I love it when she laughs; I wish she would do it more often. "Come on, let's eat." She says, kissing me on the top of my head.

Dinner is milk from Lady and bread made with Katniss's tesserae. She insists on saving the strawberries and bakery bread for supper with the stew of fish and greens, all harvested by her. This only reinforces the idea that without Katniss's sacrifices, we would be starving. Gale would feed us, but if Katniss had never started hunting, she wouldn't have met Gale, and we'd be in the same sorry position we would be without her. For a moment I am crushed by guilt; all I've contributed to the meal is milk and a cheese I gave to Katniss to share with Gale, and the only reason I have those is because Katniss bought me Lady with money from a deer.

Even though I barely have enough appetite to finish my bread, I wish we could eat the strawberries now. For a moment I'm scared that I won't be here tonight to have the strawberries, but I stop myself. I can't think like that, or else it will happen.

We head for the square at one o'clock sharp. No one would be caught dead missing the Reaping; you have to be almost dead to be excused.

Katniss always says it's too bad that the Reaping is held in the square because it is one of the few places that can be pleasant. I think the vivacious banners and prying cameras make the square look uglier instead of prettier.

Racketeers weave in and out of the adult crowd on the perimeter, betting on what unlucky child will get picked. It frightens me to think that someone might be out there right now saying, "That one. The blonde girl from the Seam. I bet you she will be picked." It frightens me to think they could be right. The entire Reaping-Hunger Games process frightens me. I'm as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. And my tail is six feet long.

I sign in with such a shaky hand that it's a wonder anyone could tell it reads 'Primrose Everdeen'. The fact that every other twelve-year-old in this group is as scared as me lightens my mood slightly, but I'm still nervous, fearing that 'that Capitol witch' Effie Trinket, as some call her, is going to declare my name in her booming Capitol accent.

One hour after we arrive, the Mayor begins his speech. This is the first time I've heard it as a possible Tribute, and I want to listen, but fear has somehow stopped up my ears and when I can hear, he is stopped cold by a drunk Haymitch Abernathy, who is shouting in the language of alcoholics and performing what has to be some sort of criminal assault on poor Effie. She is introduced by Mayor Undersee and declares brightly, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I focus on her offset bubblegum wig to distract myself as she cries in her excited Capitol clip, "Ladies first!" Her hand is hovering over the names. I frantically scan through the older groups. I spot Gale and Delly and the Mayor's daughter Madge, but I can't see Katniss. Effie plunges her hand into the ball. My eyes dart quickly through the group attempting to find my sister. She draws a name and the crowd breathes deeply. I am panicked now, desperately trying to find Katniss; some innocent and primitive part of me needs to find my big sister, to comfort me when I cry for the poor souls that get drawn.

It takes me a full thirty seconds to realize that Effie said my name.

I am frozen. My blood has been swapped with ice, possibly permafrost. I couldn't move if my life depended on it, which in this circumstance, I think it does. The crowd around me murmurs at the unfairness of a twelve-year-old being drawn. It's unfair that anyone is drawn! The gladiators of the old world were dead ages ago, so why are we reenacting their faults? I know my face must be papery pale, because it feels as icy as my body. My fists are clenched tight, as if weakly punching at the air makes up for the torture I will be forced through. My veins thaw with a jolt of adrenaline and I stiffly walk up to the stage, feeling like a robot.

"Prim!" Katniss cries somewhere, "Prim!" I see the sixteen-group part and Katniss is in the middle of it. I briefly think that this must be the reason I couldn't find her, she was too well concealed, but then I wonder how I can think such mediocre thoughts at a time like this. My foot has only brushed the stage when something throws me back. I stare in shock at the back of the periwinkle princess gown as Katniss shrieks, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Fear makes me deaf again. I see Effie and Mayor Undersee exchange some silent words. Suddenly, it dawns on me that I am going to lose my sister. I cry hysterically and cling to Katniss, as if the willpower of a twelve-year-old Seam girl can deny the Capitol. "No, Katniss!" I cry, "No! You can't go!"

"Prim, let go." Katniss snaps, 'Let go!" Some force is trying to pull me off her, but I won't go, I won't! It's too late when I realize I'm fighting against Gale and Katniss is climbing the steps.

"Up you go, Catnip." I remember Gale saying. He carries me towards Mom, and I stop wriggling like a fish in a tree.

"Gale, let me go." I whisper in an innocently persuasive voice, "I'll be good, I promise. Just let me go. Let me go, Gale. Put me down."

"Alright." he relents, setting me on the ground. It is then I realize he has set me next to my mother. I feel a spark of betrayal, but I don't have time to care, because Effie has a slip in her hand.

I immediately think that it is going to be Gale. I brace myself to be held back against my will because I know if that disgustingly perfect Capitol voice calls Gale Hawthorne, I am going to die. My insides will disintegrate first, slowly taking my outside with it, until I am an empty shell just waiting for the Grim Reaper to find me. I'm so nervous that I don't even hear the name, but I am relieved to see a blonde boy on stage. Not Gale. That can't be Gale. But I am broken only slightly less when I recognize him. It's Peeta Mellark, the baker's son.

I know close to nothing about this boy, but I hate him. Anyone who will try to lay a finger on Katniss in that arena will feel my sweet little innocent wrath. It is anger that drones out the Mayor's words this time. After Peeta shakes my sister's hand, his eyes somehow find mine out of eight thousand others. I focus all my rage, at him, at the Mayor, at the Capitol, into my glare until I am sure my eyes are blazing in icy blue fury. Everyone has told me I mouth words perfectly, so I know he understands when I say "If you kill my sister and live to tell about it, I will make your life hell."

If I get enough request for it, I will tack on a second chapter, so if you want to hear more, please tell me! I live for reviews!

Also, I have a group of Tributes that I will be using in an upcoming fanfic that are currently nameless, so if you would like one, review or PM me with the name, District, age (6-12 or 18-25; will be explained later), appearance, and any other details you think I may need. In the future look for the story 'Here We Go for the 100th Time'.

And as always, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.