The forest was quiet today. Katniss inhaled deeply just to hear the rush of sound, the cool damp air filling her lungs. There were still the usual sounds of the forest, a faint drip as the last dew slipped off the leaves, the creaking of old wood in the wind, every now and then a brave small animal lurching through the underbrush.
But Katniss didn't lift her bow an inch. She had no interest in hunting today. Today, for the last few normal minutes of a dreaded day, she wanted the woods to absorb her. Out beyond the fence of District 12, through a gap hardly noticed, it was her only sanctuary, the only place where she could forget how the constant coal dust in the air stung at her eyes. The forest had provided her the way to keep her family alive. Every deer that roamed in her arrow's aim was a gift, and she owed the forest these last few minutes before the Reaping.
As if on cue, a steady thrum began to resonate through the forest, growing louder. It was an unnatural sound, electric and mechanical. It didn't belong in a place like this; it was all wrong. The thrum grew in intensity until the whole air seemed to vibrate with its strength. One deafening shrill blast confirmed what Katniss already knew to be true: the Peacekeepers had come.
A twig cracked behind her, and Katniss spun, arrow cocked and ready to loose. Gale held up his hands and froze.
"Jesus, Katniss!"
Katniss sighed and lowered the bow. "Pretty stealthy, Gale. You're usually the loudest animal in these woods."
"Maybe you're just off your game. Why aren't you getting ready with your family?"
"Why aren't you?" Gale had no answer for her, so he sat down on a log and motioned for Katniss to join.
"I guess we still have some time," he said. They both sat in silence for a few minutes, hearing the distant commotion of Reaping preparation in progress.
"It's Prim's first year," Katniss suddenly blurted. Gale looked at her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"You know the chances are astronomical," he said.
"I know. It's just…it means something different now. I can kill a quail to keep her fed. I can skin a fox to keep her warm. But I can't keep her name from being pulled out of that bowl."
As if on cue, a turkey jostled a bush and stepped into a clear spot 30 feet in front of them. It paused, wobbling his silly fat frame, bobbing his gangly neck.
"I guess you'll have to settle for keeping her fed," Gale said. He placed his hand on Katniss' leg, never taking his eyes off the turkey. Katniss closed her eyes and sighed, then lifted the bow and aimed down the shaft of her arrow.
Despite their name, the Peacekeepers brought no peace with their arrival. The whole town was in disarray, people running across the streets to join their families or avoid the trucks that barreled toward the square. Katniss and Gale snuck along the backs of houses to keep the turkey out of sight. Today had enough to fear; no reason for one AWOL teenager to get a beating just for sneaking beyond the fence.
The Hob was still bustling, but many people were closing up shop, fearful that the Peacekeepers might catch them with contraband. Katniss was relieved to see Veena still manning her corner of the Hob, and she strode over and flopped the turkey on the table. The old woman raised her hands and stepped back in surprise.
"I'll give you one thing, Katniss Everdeen," she said with a smirk, "you've got a penchant for boldness."
"People still have to eat, even on Reaping Day," Katniss said.
"Same arrangement?"
"Yes, thank you, Veena. I'll pick up the bread and herbs later." She gestured to the turkey. "You just get this thing out of sight."
When Katniss and Gale were outside again, Gale took her by the arm. "Later, Katnip. I'll look for you at the Reaping."
"That's it?" she asked. "That's all you've got? You know, this could be the last time we see each other?" She crossed her arms, feigning annoyance.
"Well, we could always get Reaped together, and then we'd get to see each other every day," he said.
"Until that part where we have to fight to the death," she said.
"And how is that any different from what we have now?" Gale smiled one last time and headed in the opposite direction. As he went, Katniss suddenly felt an ache in her stomach, like her insides had turned to concrete and they were pulling her down. She waited until he turned the corner up ahead before she sprinted for home.
When she arrived at home, Prim was fastidiously brushing the family cat, Buttercup. The cat hissed when Katniss flung open the door. Typical.
"Good morning to you, too," Katniss hissed back.
Prim stopped and looked up. "You're late. I was getting worried that we'd have to leave without you." Prim returned to her vigorous brushing. Prim was generally a bright and gentle girl, but today she wore a scowl of anxiety. Buttercup was growling under every harsh stroke.
"Prim, what's wrong?"
"I just…can't…get this mat out?"
Katniss gently lifted the brush from her hand, and Buttercup took the interruption as her opportunity to scurry from Prim's lap.
"Here. Let me fix your hair for you." Katniss folded long strands of Prim's dandelion hair into one long braid that dangled to the small of her back. "Where's Mom" Katniss asked.
Prim motioned to her mother's bedroom, where the door was closed. Their mother had spent many days behind a closed door after their father's death, and a Reaping Day was especially painful. Their mother didn't speak much of their father or his death. Katniss remembered many nights of hushed arguing in the months before, a chasm that formed between her parents. She also remembered the morning she awoke to find her father disappeared and her mother forever changed. It was a gray morning, silent as the dead of night. Not a single bird was singing that morning, and neither was her mother.
Katniss finished the braid and stood Prim in front of her. As usual, the back of Prim's blouse had sprung free of her pants, giving the appearance of a duck tail. Katniss tucked it back in and hugged her sister.
"Today is just another day. Tonight we'll all be back here together. We'll have dinner and fall asleep, and then we'll have another year until the next Reaping."
"I know. I know that much for sure, Katniss. We'll always do this every year." And as much as Katniss wanted to say otherwise, that someday the Reapings would stop and their mother's door would never be closed again, she had to convince herself first.
The square was already packed when they arrived. Everyone stood in neat little rows by age. When you're broadcasting the Reaping to all of Panem, the Capitol demands symmetry. It makes for good TV. Peacekeepers lined the square, imposing and anonymous in their black-screened helmets. Katniss ushered Prim over to the other young girls.
"Katniss, stay with me. I'm scared," she said, clinging to her blouse.
"I know. Just stay with your friends. I'll be right over here." Prim let go of Katniss' hand and didn't move. "Quack quack, little duck." Reluctantly, Prim allowed herself to be swallowed by the throng, and Katniss felt her insides turn cold as they had with Gale.
Katniss joined the rest of her group just as the projectors whirred to life and the national emblem was emblazoned on the courthouse walls. The national anthem blared from the speakers, trumpet peals so loud you could feel them in your ears.
The doors of the courthouse swung wide, and out paraded Effie Trinket, District 12's representative to the Capitol. Katniss remembered her from past years, but she managed to make an impression with every visit. Amid the fog-grey of District 12 uniforms, Effie was a lighthouse. She was dressed in a radioactive pink skirt and blouse, studded and lined with dozens of glittery silver jewels. The skirt flared out at the waist, making her lower half look like an umbrella. Her shock-white hair was done up in voluminous curls, each tip dyed a lightning blue. She was a ridiculous sight, a strutting Capitol peacock. In her paleface makeup, she had more frosting and frills than the cupcakes Peeta and his father used to make.
Peeta. The baker's boy.
She hadn't thought about him in a long time. Out of curiosity, she scanned the crowd for him. She found him somewhere near the middle, square-jawed and stern-faced, staring straight ahead. She remembered him as a fair-haired happy kid when they had grown up together. Katniss used to tap on the windows of the bakery and Peeta would come over and make silly faces against the glass, pressing his tongue and nose so they were flat and misshapen. It drove Peeta's dad nuts, but it made Katniss laugh.
Somewhere around the time Katniss' father died, Peeta lost his mother as well. They were both 13 and he was never the same after that. Those happy eyes she remembered as a kid turned grey and distant, even vengeful at times. Bags formed under his eyes from stress and no sleep. He shut himself off from the world, hardly speaking to anyone, and certainly not her.
And yet an icy memory swirled in her mind, a memory of a rainy night almost a year after her father died. Food was scarce in District 12, but the town had found itself particularly starved. Katniss had spent the whole day at the Hob, trying to barter some work for food, trying to sell whatever she could, outright begging toward the end. There was nothing to give. Defeated, she was staggering down the street in the rain. She, her sister and her mother hadn't eaten in three days, and she couldn't bear coming home to tell them a fourth was ahead.
She collapsed against a wall across from the bakery. The lights were still on, and she could hear shouting coming from inside.
"It's burned! The whole thing is ruined!" Katniss recognized Peeta's father's voice. She also recognized the crack of a bare hand connecting with another's face. "Whole district is starving, and I have to throw out perfectly good dough. Go give it to the pig. We may be eating him tomorrow thanks to you."
The side door slammed open, and Peeta stormed out with the charred loaf in his hands. Even in the faint light, Katniss could see the red mark on his cheek from his father's hand. Peeta was about to toss it to the pig when he spotted her across the street. For the longest time, he seemed incapable of moving, his mouth sunk to a frown, his eyes unblinking. Katniss stared back, her heart a maddening pound in spite of her exhaustion.
He finally snapped the trance and started toward her, the loaf outstretched. Katniss' spirit rallied—she would have something to take to her family after all, and of all people, thanks to Peeta! He stopped about twenty feet from her and nodded, as if wanting her to meet him halfway. She heaved to her feet, took a few sloshing steps forward, her hands already grasping the bread in her imagination.
Katniss was about to tell him thank you when his hands just…fell away. For a second the loaf of bread was suspended in midair, just out of reach, and then it fell to the earth, cratering into a puddle of mud. Katniss stared in horrifying disbelief, and the effect was doubled when Peeta brought his booted foot down and ground it deeper into the mud. When the bread was thoroughly ruined, he held an icy stare on Katniss. Then he turned and went back inside the bakery, all without a single word.
These years later, Katniss still didn't know why he had done it. Why he seemed to hate her so much. But she supposed she owed him something from the experience; the next day she awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. No one was going to save her family. So she had to do it herself. She made a crude bow and a handful of arrows and crawled through the open space in the fence. Eight hours later, she had lost all the arrows but one and was bruised and battered from crashing through the forest. But she had killed a quail. She had saved her family for another day. So there was that, Peeta.
"Welcome, welcome," Effie was saying over the loudspeaker, snapping Katniss back to the moment, "to the District 12 Reaping for the 74th Hunger Games!" She tapped her fingers on the palm of her other hand in delicate applause, an act which was not returned.
"On this most glorious day in Panem, two of you will receive the honor of representing your most…" She paused, cleared her throat. "…esteemed district in glorious battle. For glory! For future! For Panem!" Effie's voice was like cotton candy, sickly sweet and airy, and her message was just as substantial. As soon as the Reaping was over, and Effie was safely back indoors, Katniss imagined she would rather wipe the dust of District 12 from her heels.
Effie seemed to sense the unrest of the crowd. "Well," she said. "No point in standing on ceremony. Let's begin."
She crossed the platform to a massive bowl full of small white slips of paper. "Ladies first," she said. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."
Effie let her hand dangle above the bowl for a second, then plunged it deep in the nest of paper. Now Katniss felt that familiar lurch in her chest, the flutter of dread and fear for the name pulled from the bowl. The jostling in the bowl stopped, and Effie delicately lifted a single paper between two fingers.
"Our first name is…Primrose Everdeen."
Katniss stood blinking in confusion. She couldn't have heard right. Maybe she was just imagining what she feared most. Then her worst fear was confirmed as a group of students parted, and Prim was left alone in the middle, wide-eyed and trembling. Katniss heard a whimper from somewhere in the back of the crowd and knew her mother's knees must have given out. A couple of Peacekeepers moved in to bring Prim to the platform.
"Katniss…? Katniss?!"
Katniss found her legs again, and they were running to the platform before she knew what was happening. "Prim! Prim!" she screamed.
She intercepted Prim just before the steps to the platform and tried to wrench the Peacekeepers free from her. "Get off her! Prim!"
"Katniss?! I…I'm not a hunter."
"I know. I know, Prim."
On the platform, Effie was impatiently gesturing to them. "Come on now, no time to waste. Come on up."
Katniss felt like the world was swirling around her. She could see her mother clearly now, hands and knees in the dirt, weeping. She had lost a husband, and now she would lose a child. She saw Gale, pained and helpless in a moment of need. She saw the Peacekeepers, uncaring and silent, weapons at the ready. She saw Effie, exasperated, beaming big smiles at the Capitol cameras. And she saw Prim, her sweet Prim, as delicate as the flower for which she was named, who would be swept away in the Games like a blossom in a storm wind, and Katniss she had to do it. No one else would.
"I volunteer," she whispered. And then louder: "I volunteer as tribute!"
Effie's mouth fell open, perplexed. The crowd drew a collective breath. The Peacekeepers looked at each other, then released Prim and fell upon Katniss at once.
"Katniss!" Prim yelled.
"It's okay, little duck," Katniss said. "Go back to Mom." They touched hands for just a moment, before the Peacekeepers manhandled Katniss up the steps of the platform.
"Well, well," Effie said, regaining her composure. "Such excitement here in District 12! We have a volunteer! And what is your name, dear?"
"Katniss. Katniss Everdeen." Effie's eyebrows raised.
"And not just any volunteer, ladies and gentlemen. Katniss Everdeen has bravely volunteered in place of her sister! Let's have a round of applause for Miss Katniss Everdeen!" Again, Effie clapped alone.
"But we're not done yet," Effie said, crossing to the other side of the platform. "One to go. Now, the boys." She thrust her hand into the bowl containing the boys' names.
Gale had already moved to comfort Prim and her mother, and the three of them watched mournfully from the back. Thank goodness for Gale. Katniss needed him to be spared for the sake of her family. She was beyond saving, here, on the other side of the Games now. She needed a friend back home that she could rely on.
Effie jerked her hand up and held the paper aloft. "It is my great pleasure to announce that the other competitor from District 12 will be…Peeta Mellark!"
A lightning bolt skittered down Katniss' spine. Peeta. It was unfathomable. Again, the crowd dispersed and Peeta stood stoically alone. The Peacekeepers started forward, but Peeta didn't need their assistance. He strode forward with intention, but he wasn't looking at Effie. His eyes were locked on Katniss, and murder was written in his expression. And in the slight smile at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible, pleasure. There were no friends in the Games, and Katniss knew with every step Peeta took, there were none here either.