The pink haired woman, Effie Trinket, escort of District 12 for the annual Hunger Games, reaches her skinny hand inside of the glass bowl that holds thousands of paper slips with names of girls ages 12 through 18 written across them. Effie pulls out a single slip and, with a smile, holds it up for all to see, then walks the few steps back to her podium that perches at the front of the temporary stage that's always set in the same spot-in front of the District 12 Justice Building-for the reaping of the Hunger Games.
As Effie opens her mouth to read out the name of the next unfortunate young woman to be thrusted into the arena of the cruel Hunger Games, each person in the large square in District 12 draws in a tight and nervous breath.
I shut my eyes tight, hold on to the hand of my best friend Katniss Everdeen, who stands beside me in the clump of sixteen year old potential tributes for the Games, and together, we wait, nervously, for the name to be called.
The name exits from Effie's Capitol accented mouth and my eyes shoot open in a flash. My head whips around, my eyes searching frantically as I scan through the square desperately, looking for the owner of the name. The name belongs to Katniss' little sister, Primrose Everdeen.
I stand tall on the tips of my toes, attempting to see over the heads in the crowd, my eyes still searching quickly for the small figure of Prim.
My eyes catch her finally, and she's marching her way up the steps of the temporary stage, her face pale and hands clenched so tightly into fists that the skin of her fingers is becoming a bright shade of red.
After watching her for a few seconds, I fall flat footed and turn my head. My eyes settling on Katniss. As her body stands trembling and slumping over weakly, she holds one hand over her mouth as frightening crying sounds fly from her throat, and she holds her other hand in my own. Her hand is weak and trembling as the rest of her body, but at the same time, it's like she's clenching on for dear life.
My other arm reaches around her body, and I pull her close to my chest, in the attempt of creating a comforting embrace.
Again I look to the stage, my eyes meeting with Prim's frightened blue orbs as I do so. Prim stands nervously beside Effie, who's wearing a bright smile on her make-up caked face as she looks at Prim. My eyes flash cold as I stare at Effie, wanting so badly to take a hand to her face and slap that smile away from her lips.
A daze now comes across my mind as I watch Prim get shown off to the crowd full of disapproving chatter and shocked, furious faces. No one is ever happy about a 12 year old getting reaped into the Games. Effie asks lazily for any volunteers to step forward, and my mind springs out from the haze. I swallow hard, then I shout in a voice as loud and strong as I can manage, "I volunteer!"
The entire population of District 12 is now focusing in on me. Eyes wide and full of confusion, burning uncomfortable holes into my body. Mouths each hanging wide open, in shock. Some more disapproving chatter floats around the air.
A volunteer in District 12... There hasn't been one in decades, until now. But it's quite understandable. The people in this district are all too weak and under trained, and are in possession of too much common sense to actually want to volunteer for something that will most likely be the cause of their death. And on top of that, there's also the minimal amount of advice coming from the District 12 mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. None of that gets District 12 tributes any closer to having a legitimate attempt at becoming a victor in the Hunger Games.
Instead of wearing a sullen expression across her face like every person in the district, Effie looks quite pleased at my choice to volunteer. "Very well," she began in a chipper high-pitched tone. "Please, make your way up to the stage!" She motions towards the stage with her hand and smiles wide at me, my eyes sending a nasty glare back at her.
Carefully I remove my arm from around Katniss' still trembling body and look at my friend for a moment. Her mouth is hanging open, her eyebrows pulling tightly together in worry, her gray eyes glossy, full as well with gratitude and fear.
I attempt to rouse a soft smile onto my lips, though instead my face remains twisted into a scared expression. I turn from Katniss and begin to weave my way through the potential tributes.
My legs are shaking as I climb the stairs with slow, small steps. Prim is still standing to the right of Effie, her eyes in a strong lock of horror. My heart begins to thud loud against my chest as both of my feet finally hit the stage.
Still wearing that evil Capitol smile on her lips, Effie starts to reach her arm out to me, ready to show me off to the cameramen. But before she could get to me, Prim's tiny arms were latching around my middle. In my nervous shaking arms, I wrap her up as best as I can manage then settle my head atop of her light blond hair and close my eyes, for just a few, too short seconds of contentment.
That moment of peace ended as a team of two Peacekeepers came from behind Prim, and began to pry my arms from around Prim and Prim's from around me. When we had been freed from one another, the Peacekeepers guided away a stubborn and thrashing Prim away from the stage.
One single tear threatens me with possibly trickling down my face as I watch Prim try to break past the Peacekeepers and get back to me, with a quick stream of tears strolling down her own face. The threatening tear of mine retracted away, with one quick jerk of of my head towards Effie. She was now standing with her arm draped delicately around my shoulder.
"My my... What is your name, dear?" She questions, holding a microphone up close to my mouth.
"Edlyn Court," I murmured softly into the microphone.
I stand with Effie for a moment as the cameras take in every bit of me, also letting the sea of people in front of me stare and chatter amongst themselves at this time.
Someone tells me to stand in my designated spot in front of Effie's podium and with a somber nod I obey, my thoughts falling back into a cloudy haze as I stood. An angry ringing noise fills up my ears, drowning out most of the words after that moment.
The name of the male tribute strikes through my thoughts with enough force to knock me over, and once again, I'm alert as I had been when Prim's name was called only minutes ago.
My eyes find him in an instant and at the sight of him, my knees start to wobble and my hand flies quick to cover my mouth. My fellow District 12 tribute, is none other than Peeta Mellark. My Peeta Mellark. The person that I'm incredibly honored to have as my boyfriend.
Peeta climbs the steps, and stands beside Effie with a unreadable look claiming his features as he is introduced as the male tribute. Volunteers are asked for, but the air is silent, no one takes the slightest step forward, and because of this, I want to scream at the very top of my lungs. Instead though, my other hand clamps over the one that has clamped over my mouth, and a helpless whimper exits from my tight throat.
As I watch him take his spot on the opposite side of the podium, tears slowly cloud my vision, ready to spill over at any moment with an unstoppable stream of tears.
The mayor drones on and on with the treaty of treason, and just as one tear slips down my cheek, ready to start the others falling like a domino effect, the mayor finishes speaking, and he motions for Peeta and I to shake hands. Instead, Peeta's arms engulf my body and he swiftly pulls me into his chest. I stretch my arms around him and rest my head gently against his warm chest, inhaling the oddly pleasant scent mixture of warm bakery bread and paint that I always catch on his skin and in his clothes.
Reluctantly, we release our embrace from each other when a team of Peacekeepers comes to whisk us away to the Justice Building, where we are to say our goodbyes to our families and friends before leaving to the Capitol.
