I wake up huddled to my mother. Protected. I let the warmth drape over my body, like the thin blanket that lies atop me. I feel the safety and relaxation fade away as I really wake up, and remember. I'm no longer in the free, beautiful world I always dream of. Well, I secondly dreamt of. I'm in District Twelve, and today, my worst fears will come. The Hunger Games. Katniss says that it's the entertainment for the capitol, it's sickening. The cozy warmth I felt a few seconds ago was replaced by the cold running through my veins.

I slowly sit up, and my back releases a loud crack when I reach a good position. That simply movement caused the yellow fur to shift slowly, and I could see its green eyes. I reach down and stroke my hand through his fur. I'm glad Katniss let me keep him, my Buttercup. He gives me a loud murp and hops off the bed, and trots away. I look over at Katniss and I's bed, she's already gone. I rub my eyes and look around. My mother stirs for just a moment, but I can hear soft snores escaping her.

I tiptoe from the room and through our little house. I manage to pull on a pair of boots, and start outside. Lady, my scruffy goat, greets me by taking slow movements, before I decide to step closer. She nudges my should and lets out a high bleat. "You know what today is, don't you?" I say softly, kissing her furry forehead. I get to work, first by pulling out that overused bucket to collect milk. Lady is almost a necessity now; she gives us free milk and at times where we aren't too busy, we can make cheese.

I finish quickly and slosh back inside, jumping out of the boots and taking a few steps in. Mother greets me, opening her arms. I throw myself in, and again feel the pleasant comfort of her body. We don't need to speak at all, but she starts up immediately. She gets the tub out, fills it with heated water, and scrubs me clean of dirt. She cleans up my hair best as she can, and lays out a familiar outfit. "Katniss's first reaping." I hear Mother whisper as I pick up the clothes. She wipes at her eyes, and notices my watching. "Put them on, love." She says sweetly, a false sweet, and leaves the room.

I'm ready at about noon, now we wait for Katniss. Mother worries a lot about her. Katniss goes into the woods, a place filled with wild animals and other unknown wonders. I've asked to go, but Katniss insists it's too dangerous. So she leaves without me. Soon enough, Katniss bursts through the door, with food. Fish, strawberries and greens. I can see a bit of bread as well. I look up to her and she nods, making me smile. Mother sets to work on her, scrubbing away the dirt that has collected since she went to the forest. She even takes time to scrub her hair thoroughly and braid it.

Mother lays out a fine blue dress with soft shoes, and I feel a twinge of jealousy. But, Katniss deserved it. I had to convince myself. "Are you sure?" She asks, running her hand on the fabric. Mother smiles, and puts her hand on Katniss's shoulder. "Of course. Let's put up your hair, too." She starts to braid her hair in front of the cracked mirror, and I thread my fingers together. "You look beautiful." I manage softly as she stands up. "And nothing like myself." She hesitates, and reaches out to hug me. A true hug, a comforting hug. Katniss wasn't one to just give them out at random, but this time, I could feel her sincerity. She's worried that I'll get picked, 1 out of thousands. But Katniss and Gale are in there quite a few times, and I'm much more worried about her. We pull away and she immediately turns me around.

"Tuck your tail in, little duck." She says calmly, smoothing part of my blouse back .I muster a small giggle and give a "Quack." She laughs too, another genuine thing, "Quack yourself. Now, come on. Let's eat." We decide to save Katniss's findings for dinner. And, we instead serve out Lady's milk and the rough bread made from the grain we get from the tessera. Katniss doesn't touch the bread, but she pokes at it with her finger. Mother folds her hands, occasionally taking a bite or a sip of the breakfast. I eat all my bread, no matter how it sticks in my throat like a lump of coal.

At one o'clock, we make the walk to the square. I like to come here, sometimes to sell Lady's cheese and milk, or just to talk to the inhabitants. Most people here were very nice, and greeted me. If they knew me or not, they were kind just doing that. But today, those nice and pleasant people just became like something I'd once heard of.

In school. They told us that before Panem 'rose from the ashes', the ancient people used cloth dolls filled with straw and dressed in human clothes to scare away things that ate their food. They apparently had a blank face or none at all, and were very still besides when the winds shook their clothes. And here, with the crowd gathering, I could see that. A faint breeze stirred up gowns, trousers, jackets, anything that seemed somewhat loose. Mother kissed my forehead, and held my hand as we walked to the roped off area. 12. I slipped near the rope-off, and extended my hand, clinging to my mother. The other children around me, a few in or near tears, dropped their hands and turned to face the backs of the others. But I refused. I could feel heat drumming up inside me, boiling. It was a weird sensation, so much heat energy. But finally, I felt her hand let go, and we parted slowly as other families reached for their kids desperately.

I can't see very well, but I know what is up there on that stage. Three chairs, a table with two glass balls, and a podium. Effie Trinket, I hear, is at her seat with Mayor Undersee. The unmistakable clang of the 2 o'clock bell starts us off. The crying turns to a hushed sob under the Mayor, telling us the story of Panem. He reminded us why we do this, all because 74 years ago they had to rebel. I think it was stupid, in a way, because the Capitol is a big operation. And District 13, they were a reminder as well. Rebel, and be obliterated. He gives us the rules of the games, as he does every year. But this year, I pay more attention. It sticks to my mind. I can think of how many other districts are showered in gifts, while we are showered in coal dust. How they battle choices – Oooh! Should I choose the roasted pork on rice? – Of food, while we battle for food.

And then, he reads the small note card with the District 12 winners. Only two, in 74 years. Only one still lives, though. Haymitch Abernathy, our middle-aged winner, wobbles and hollers on the stage he collapses into the chair. We all applaud genuinely, a bit of comedy before we come down to it. I figure he's drunk, and very much at it. The mayor tugs at his collar, aware that District 12 is obviously the laughingstock of the whole country. He turns to Effie, who barely fends off a hug from him, to signal her. Mayor Undersee calls us to attention, and we all become solemn, despite Haymitch being drunk. Mayor Undersee introduces her, and Effie bounces up to the podium. She waves to us quickly, as if she's just gotten a burst of energy, and calls out her annual "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

But somewhere, deep inside, I know this won't be my year.