I do not own Hunger Games or any of the characters.

I hear my name and stumble forward toward the stage, in a state of shock. How can I fight? I'm not a fighter and I never have been. Katniss is the fighter. Suddenly I know what will happen if I don't do something. I look back, right at Gale and I know he will understand me. I turn back to the stage and mount the steps slowly. The crowd is silent as Effie Trinket brightly welcomes me. I want cry. I want to crumple to the ground, curl in a ball, but I won't disgrace my district like that. I won't shame Katniss. I can be strong like her. I gather my courage and look at her. He is holding her against him, his hand over her mouth. She is fighting him and glaring at me. I am grateful that Gale realizes that this is what I want. I am strong too.

"Well aren't you a pretty little lady Miss Everdeen?" Effie smiles at me and shakes my hand. I know that my eyes are wide in shock. I can't smile or respond. I just look at her, frozen with shock.

Haymitch, the man who will train me, stumbles forward to congratulate me in an obvious state of intoxication. He is always drunk and I am afraid him and his rough ways. "Look at this young flower! Just a child but not a tear shed." His throws his arm around me and I almost stumble as he leans on me. He reeks of liquor and a lack of hygiene.

The crowd still remains silent, though I don't know why. In the past everyone at least claps or something. The silence is uncomfortable for me as all of Panem watches.

"This little mite has got guts! More than you have!" He yells, staring at the cameras. I wonder who he is talking to. Surely not the Capitol. Nobody taunts the Capitol. My confusion is building, breaking through my shock when he suddenly trips and plummets of the stage. All cameras are now trained on him and for this I am thankful. I wrap my arms around myself and take in a deep breath. I won't lose my composure. I can be strong, too.

My eyes stray back to Katniss and Gale, my family. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she continues to fight him. Her eyes are pleading and glaring at me. Begging me to let her die for me, but I won't let her. She raised me, fed me, and cared for me, but I won't let her die for me.

I am startled by a shriek that echoes through the square. "NO!" Katniss has wiggled his hand down below her mouth. "PRIM!" She screams before his hand is replaced.

I smile at her and she freezes. Now she knows what I am doing. I am small and I will die, but I am willing to die for her. Now she won't have to worry about me and she can look to her own life.

Effie's voice shatters through my thoughts. "What an exciting day!" I realize that Haymitch is being carried away unconscious on stretcher. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" She slips her hand into the ball that contains all the boy's names. Pulling one out, she reads, "Peeta Mellark!"

My grip on composure becomes a little more secure. I know the name and watch as the familiar boy makes his way through the crowds. He is the baker's son. I know because I love to gaze in the display window at all the beautiful cakes and tasty looking breads. He is shy but very kind.

He is making his way through the crowd. He is of medium height, stocky build, ashy blond hair that in waves over his forehead. I can tell that he is deeply shocked and I don't wonder why. He has probably never had to put in for a tesserae and so the odds should have been in his favor. For how shaken he looks, his stride remains confident as he steadily climbs onto the stage.

Effie Trinket asks for volunteers and I am afraid. I am afraid that Gale will speak up, but he doesn't. I look at him. There is an apology in his eyes and I understand. Katniss is his girl and I am her sister. Katniss comes first. I accept his apology. We are both trying to save my volatile sister.

The mayor is reading something, but I am not listening. I am just trying to keep myself under complete control. Panic is setting in. Even though I understand why Gale didn't volunteer, I was desperately hoping that he would. He was my chance of survival. We all have a survival instinct. I can't think about this or will lose control.

I look over at Peeta. He is looking at me. He looks poised, but underneath I can sense currents of terror and confusion. I wonder if I look like that, but I dare not glance at the big screens.

Whatever the mayor is reading goes on and on and I begin to fear that I cannot hold myself together any longer. He finally finishes and motions for Peeta and I to shake hands. His are strong and warm. He looks me right in the eye and all I see in reassurance. I cannot smile or express any emotion and I hope that he will understand. I am thankful for his kindness and I won't kill him. Neither will I fight if he tries to kill me. I am not a fighter and I hate death.

Deep inside, something twists. Though I loathe death, I will be living and dying in a place of death for the amusement of the Capitol. A tear slid down m cheek. At least Katniss will be safe.