The slim rays of early morning sun coming through the dirty window, above my bed, and onto my face, awake me. I look around my room and take in my everyday surroundings; everything seems in order. Then, I sit up on my bed and I can already feel it. The thing that everybody in the districts feels today. That special feel of dread that comes with today; reaping day. I look outside and see the dull gray streets of District 12 coated with coal dust, as empty as our hopes. Of course, most people would prefer to sleep in today. The day when one boy and one girl, tributes, are chosen for the Games. The day when it is more than likely that the girl and boy chosen from District 12 will never come back.

So far, no one close to me has been unfortunate enough to be chosen, but anything could happen, anybody could be reaped. If they were between the ages of 12 and 18, that is. Then, I think of her. Katniss. How the odds are not in her favor, because all of that tesserae she's taken, since her father died, and how it is more likely her name could be reaped than any other girls', how she could die this year if she was reaped, but I quickly shake those ideas from my head. Today's not the day to be thinking things like that. We already had enough with it being our reality. Where is she now? Getting ready for the reaping? No. She's probably hunting with Gale. Just the idea of them together makes my blood run cold.

I've been in love with Katniss since kindergarten, when she sang the valley song in front of the whole class, on the first day of school, in that red dress. Her voice was so beautiful, even at 5 years, nobody could hold a candle to it. A lot of people said her father's voice was even more wonderful, but I loved her's the best. However, Katniss, the Hunter with Peeta, the Baker? No, it would never happen. She was too . . . amazing, brave, and the total opposite of me. That's why I don't like the idea of Gale and her being in the woods together. Because he stands much more of a chance with Katniss, than I ever will.

I go down to the kitchen where my two brothers and my parents are already having breakfast. I scan their faces for any trace of emotion. My mother's and eldest brother's show nothing, as if it were any other day. My father's and other brother's show an air of worry. We have bread for breakfast . . . again. At least today it isn't burnt, but only because it's reaping day, of course. We eat in enough silence to feel the tension and the unspoken emotions in the hot air of our bakery, until my father decides to break the silence.

"You boys aren't afraid are you" he asks, with an unsure smile. I bet it was meant to be a good-natured joke to break the ice, but he only receives the same unsure smiles as a response.

Once we're done with breakfast we sludge to our room, to put our "finest" clothes on and we wait. Even on a day like this my mother demands we dress and act of a status that isn't ours. I search for something to do because I can't stand doing nothing in all this anxiousness and see the garbage can is full and decide to take it out. I'm already out the front door, but I don't get any farther.

Katniss. There she is, a few doors down, at the mayor's back door, talking with the mayor's daughter, Madge. Katniss. I feel myself getting confident, because if I don't talk to her now I might not ever get the chance to do it again. Katniss. I guess that she's selling them the usual strawberries, but still there she is, with those pools of gray as eyes, her long dark hair, done into a braid, gleaming in the sunlight. She is only standing there, but I feel as if I need to take in everything she has to offer this very moment, just in case one of us does not come back. Katniss.

But, she's walking away now. I want to yell her name; to veer her attention towards me, but I only stay silent. Who am I kidding. I could never have enough guts to even say a simple ' hello ' to her. I watch her as she goes, through the streets and down the meadow, until I can't see her anymore. I snap out of it. I see Madge walking towards me. What could she want? To buy from the bakery? No, she bought yesterday. What else then?

"Peeta!" She calls from a distance, but still walking towards me.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I want to talk to you" she says only a few feet away now.

"About what?" I ask.

Madge puts her face three inches away from mine so she can see my reaction, then she whispers, "Katniss". I could feel myself blush and I just hope it's not too noticeable. I look at Madge more intently now, what does she mean by that? Could she know what I've felt for Katniss all these years? No, I refuse to believe that; the only person that even has a clue is my father. She steps back a little and continues, "I know that you like her, Peeta."

"What?" I stare at her unbelievably. How could she know?

"Don't act like that with me, I've known you since we were little, and I can obviously tell you like her just by the way you look at her," she pauses, but I am too stunned to speak, "Not everybody looks at someone walk away, Peeta"

"I-I-I-"

"I just hope you tell her before it's too late" she says.

"Too, late?" I ask.

"Oh, you know, maybe the not-so-impossible will happen and she'll be reaped this year. Anything could happen, so . . . Why don't you think about it?" she replies with a smirk and stalks away.

I sit down on a bench next to my front door, to steady my self. I'm shaking. Shaking because I can't bear the thought of Katniss ever being dead. But, she was joking, right? I mean how would she know something like that? Just because she's the mayor's daughter doesn't mean she can go playing with people like that! The mayor's daughter . . . The mayor's daughter. The mayor. I can only sit there with the trash bag still in my hand. Was it possible that the mayor knew who was being reaped ahead of time and somehow Madge found out? I drop the trash and cradle my face in my hands. I peer out through my fingers and spot a small, sprouting yellow flower next to my foot. A dandelion. Just like the one years ago. I know, then, that there's still hope.