Reaping Day. All of my thoughts consist of the thing. It's not actually a thing (at least not where I'm concerned). To me it's more of a horror movie come to life, but I guess that's okay. We all need to be scared sometimes to keep in touch with reality. You just can't constantly live in fear.
At least not without hope. Hope is the only thing stronger than fear.
My family doesn't have much hope. We have some, Lord knows more than we did, but still not enough. Not enough to keep away the nightmares. Not enough for me to abandon my mother and sister to be with the bakers son. And certainly not enough to believe we have a chance to get through the reaping.
I sit alone in the woods with my bread from Peeta and some goat cheese from Prim. Suddenly I hear a branch snap.
"Don't turn around so fast. I swear you'll give yourself whiplash." Peeta says chuckling
"If you wouldn't scare me like that maybe I wouldn't have that problem." I retort as he sits beside me. We sit there and just hold each other. Sometimes no words are the best words. All too soon the silence is broken.
"We have to get back." says Peeta beginning to stand
"I know. I'll try to come by after the reaping."
"Happy Hunger Games!" says Peeta in a posh Capitol accent
"And may the odds be ever in your favor."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
When I get back Prim and mother are already up and preparing for the inevitable.
"Good morning little duck." I say
"Mom has a dress for you on the bed."
My face turns to stone as walk into the bedroom. "Good morning Katniss."
"Morning," I mutter,trying to be civil for Prim's sake. I dress quickly and as quietly as possible.
"Would you like me to do your hair?" My mother asks, voice void of all emotion. I subtly nod and sit down in front of my mother. She begins to intricately braid my hair.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
I stand with the group of sixteen year old girls while Effie Trinket talks about how fantastic everything is. How can something so fantastic send twenty-three children to their deaths every year?
I snap my head around when Effie calls "Ladies first." In that ridiculous accent. She walks over to the bowl and plunges her hand inside. She swirls her fingers around a bit for effect ,then selects the one on the utmost top. Her heels clank against the stage as she makes her way over to the microphone.
"Primrose Everdeen!"
All I can think is "No! Not my little duck" Then, without my consent, my feet take off.
"Prim, Prim! I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"
Peeta comes and picks up Prim and carries her away as I make my way up the stage. Effie says something about that being my sister and I nod looking straight, my face showing no emotion. Then, in perfect unison, everyone in the square lifts up the three middle fingersof their left hand. Something comes over me. A sense of… of hope.
Then it's all gone when the boy tribute is called.
"Peeta Mellark!"