Chapter 1:The Reaping
"Peeta! Get up!" My mother shrieked in my ear. I jump up out of bed and almost trip. I yawn and stretch as I peak out of the curtains of my window. I see people hauling grains and flour to our bakery. Great. Another day of baking. I thought as I plucked my scattered clothing and got dressed. I ran downstairs and see my mother in her apron baking. I look outside the kitchen window to see my two brothers at work hauling the grains.
"Peeta! What are you standing there for?! Get to baking!" My mother screamed at me.
I toss the already made dough my mother made and finger it to its rightful position as bread and put it in the oven. I helped my cruel mother in silence, thinking about the reaping taking place tomorrow at noon. Every teen boy and teen girl in each of the 13 well... 12 districts would have their name put in a large crystal ball like bowl and one girl and one boy would become tributes in the annual Hunger Games. Your age means how many times your name goes into the reaping. Since I'm sixteen, I will have my name in the reaping 20 times. District 13 was blown to bits. I lived in District 9, the grain district. I had to bake bread with my mother. I bake bread in silence all day until my mother said I could go to sleep which is very late. I fall into bed, exhausted. I wake up by the sound of silence which is very rare. My father comes in and hands me my reaping clothes. I place them on my bed and get up. I bake bread until a hour before noon. I get dressed in my reaping clothes. I hear my father call my name. They send me and my two brothers out the door and we get squished into age groups. After about an hour or so, Effie Trinket, the woman who announces the names, skips to the podium.
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She exclaims delightfully. We teens frown.
"And now for the picking of the names. Our boy tribute." She plucks a piece of paper out of our bowl.
"Peeta Mellark." She said calmly. My blue eyes widen in alarm. I hesitate to walk up but she screams my name again. I stumble forward, trying to avoid the stares.
"And now, our girl tribute." She said. She plucks yet another piece of paper.
"Heather Alorn." She stated. I see a blonde girl with blue eyes walk slowly toward the podium. I've seen her before. She was in my school but I hardly ever talked to her.
"And those our tributes for the 74th Hunger Games!" She announces. The crowd gives a stiff applause. We were escorted into a empty room. I was still in shock. I don't want to be a tribute, but there were no volunteers.