The dawn has not broken yet, the bed is still warm, Copy's breathing is steady and deep and even, his back to mine. All these things would normally lull me to sleep, but not today. I know, it's stupid not to go back to sleep, if I get reaped, I'd need it, if I don't get reaped, why worry. Still I can't sleep anymore. What if it's Copy, they reap this year? That would be the end of me. And I can't even volunteer for him.

I try to sit up quietly, pushing these thoughts away. Try as I might not to wake him, he sits up as well, looking at me with sleepy eyes.

"What's wrong T?" though he knows perfectly well what it is.

"Nothing" maybe, just maybe, if I say it out loud, the lie becomes reality, and we will all be safe. Sleepiness leaves his eyes, and his look becomes sharp and earnest.

"We will be ok, as we always have. Hear me, T? Two more years, and we are out of it. They can't hurt us then anymore." I want to believe so much. But sadly, can't.

"Copy..."

"Don't worry, T, it'll be fine. I swear... "

The pitter-patter of small feet is now heard from the small, narrow hallway. Posy is awake, and here for some snuggling. My twin smiles at the thought of our little sister's need of constant display of affection. Our conversation is over for now.

"Come in, Minion, we have been expecting you!" says Gale, opening the door, revealing a sleepy, and teary eyed Posy behind it.

"What's wrong, kiddo?" heartfelt concern dripping from his voice. I simply lift the tattered blanket for her to climb in next to me.

"What did he do this time?" knowing that her distress most likely comes from something Rory said or done.

"He said that they might reap one of you. I don't want either of you to be reaped." her little voice breaks at the end of the sentence, and I feel my anger rising. There is no need to scare her with things like this. I'll have a nice little chat with my little brother, it seems. But soothing Posy comes first.

"For years we were lucky, why would not be now?" I brace myself for the next sentence. " And even if it's one of us this year..." I try to keep my voice even. "Well, then there will be a victor in the family." try as I might, it does not sound sincere, even to my ears. But it seems to calm the little one down, so I guess its good enough for now. Copy gives me the famous "Gale-Hawthorne-is-judging-you-so-hard-right-now" look, I stand his gaze, as always. The silent message being the promise I have just made to Posy, who is already sound asleep between us.

"I guess, that's about true. Anyway, I am expected in the woods, in an hour, so be good, don't kill Rory, see you at the Hob soon, T!" he gets up, but not before throwing a pillow at me for the knowing smile I always give him before he would meet Katniss.

As he leaves, and I'm left with a sleeping Posy, and my disturbing thoughts of the Games, Gale, Rory, Vick and Posy. But in the end, I go back to sleep, as I should, even if for only a little while.

I get up half an hour later to cut my now dry (and illegally grew) tobacco to little bits so I can make lung-killer homemade cigarettes to trade at the Hob, and smoke some myself. The whole process takes about half an hour, and helps me relax, both to make them and to smoke them as well.

I wake my little brother, Rory, to have the chat with him, for scaring Posy like that on our way. He looks just about as scared as Posy did in the morning, but he has the famous 'Hawthorne-defiance' in his eyes. The trait, that he shares with Copy, and our late father. The anger and hatred, that never goes away, never really shows much, but instead burns them up slowly from the inside. I tell him to get ready fast. After that we bid Ma goodbye, and leave for the Hob.

On our way I try to make a conversation, but it's never easy with him. Unlike Copy, Rory is not a very careful person, and would rather die, than to admit weakness, and fear. After about ten minutes of coaxing him, I give up and approach the matter in a more straightforward way.

"Look, Rory, I know you are not a prick, not really, so feel free to stop acting like one and scare Posy like that."

He finally stops and stares at the ground, kicking little rocks with the tip of his worn-out, hand-me-down shoes. His voice is different from before, lost the edge, and the hatred, all that is left now is desperation.

"Ma had a bad dream. It was you two this year. Both of you." my heart drops, as he continues. "None of you..."

I don't let him say any more. I give him one of my rare truly ment hugs and stroke his now shaking back.

"It's not us, not this year, not ever. But even if it is, it won't be both of us. And the other will make it back home, okay?" now we are both crying. His next sentence is like a blow in my guts.

"Don't leave me, Tris, not like Papa did!"

I let go of him a little, put my hands on his shoulders and shake his gently.

"Never. Listen to me, Rory Hawthorne, it would take way more than the Games for you to ever get rid of me or Gale. But it's not gonna happen anyway. So quit moping and being a pain in the ass, and scaring Posy like you did!" I give him another soft shake. "You heard me, right?" he nods, and I finally let go of him, light a cigarette as we start walking again.

At the Hob we find Katniss and Gale already trading wild turkeys and squirrels with Sae at her stand.

"Hi Tris, Rory, what's up?" Katniss tries to make it sound like it's a normal day, but fails visibly. We still pretend not to notice. At least I do, and even Rory manages not to throw a fit, on her pretended causality, and goes as far as a mumbled 'Mornin, Katniss'.

"We're as good as one can be today. You alright?" somewhere between accepting her ignorance for the situation, and rubbing the harsh reality under her nose is where I stand on this matter.

"Yes. I worry about next year, though. Prim's first."

"And mine." adds Rory in a hollow voice. I avoid Gale's eyes. He is in fear of that as well. However there's no fear in his voice as he speaks again, with pretended joy.

"This year, however, is ours, again... May the Odds be ever in our favor!"

As he says the words, I catch a glimpse at Haymitch Abernathy, buying his huge dose of liquor eyeing us, or just staring out of his head, accidentally towards us, seemingly too drunk and ignorant to function, still shudders at Copy's words. He notices me looking, and I turn my head quickly.

Somehow I remember to look for my regular costumers, the miners, and constructors, who buy my lung-killers. I sell a dozen to Greasy Sae herself, half a dozen to Rooba, and a few others also buy from me (like Darius, the Peacekeeper, or Graham Mellark, the baker). As I trade, I almost forget about the reaping, Haymitch Abernathy's disapproving gaze, and my anxiety. By the time, Graham Mellark comes up to me, I am almost in a good mood.

"Hello Tristine River Hawthorne, how is life? Seems like the odds have been in your favor for the last few years, I wish you the same this time too" and he winks at me. I catch Copy's furious eyes, and can't help but think of how many times are our names in by now. There goes my good mood...

"Way to get a girl's attention, dimwit. If I hadn't known better, I'd think you are flirting with me, using the age old technique of wooing via insults and threats." that's about as witty as I get today. I know, he expected a comeback, as I am known for my sharp tongue, shitty cigarettes, short hair and sparky temper.

"It was well meant, but, as always I am flattered by your attention. And..."

"Don't waste my time, townie, twenty smokes, right?" running out of patience, I put an end to our banter.

"Right, and a kiss for luck, maybe?" his eyes shine with mirth, and sadness the same time, almost impossible to say no to them.

"Dream on, baker boy!" almost goes for no, I guess. We do the trading quickly after that. "See you at the reaping."

I search for Rory with my eyes, to find him before the old lady's stand, who sells ribbons, and cloth. I sneak up on him, and whisper in his ears.

"Prim likes soft pink the most" he jumps a little at my voice, and blushes deep red.

"Maybe next year... For our first reaping."

After I sell all my cigarettes and freshly cut tobacco, I take my little brother by the back of his neck and guide him towards the exit. We still catch Katniss and Copy saying their goodbyes, and wishing each other luck.

"See you soon, Catnip, don't get too nervous! Rory, pretend to have minimal manners, and say goodbye to Katniss, will you? You coming, Gale, or should I give your message to Ma?"

Rory, clearly not in a very civil mood, mutters a 'Bye Katniss, say hi to Prim for me', and starts walking away. I say bye to Katniss again and follow him. Before even seeing or hearing him, I turn around to see Copy jogging to catch up to us. The way home is uneventful, apart from Rory kicking stones again, Gale scaring a cat, and me having my fifth cigarette today.

At home we find Ma, Vick and Posy awake and waiting for us to have some breakfast and start getting ready for the horror that is to come. Vick and Posy are reasonably calm and playing with some buttons on the floor (more precisely Vick is trying to get Posy to understand some easy rules of a primitive game, that he has learned in school the other day, with no success or whatsoever), they look so caught up and childish, that it makes me smile. I look at Copy, he just shakes his head with a lopsided grin on his face. Rory shortly joins them, still a little gruffy, but at least willing to act like the kid he is.

Ma on the other hand, looks like the ghost of her strong and resilient self, with pale cheeks and sunken, red eyes fixed on us. I don't ask what it is, nor does Copy. We know. It's the fear of losing us to the Capitol, to the Games, the greedy monster that is this system. The same fear, that kept me from sleeping, the same fear that makes Gale so angry and edgy today. We know, that no Odds can be forever in our favor, that it is sheer luck, nothing else, that kept both of us from being reaped until now. I give her an awkward squeeze on the shoulder, Copy on the other hand, ever the mommy's boy, hugs her. Giving them privacy, and myself a chance to breathe, I excuse myself to our room, to change into my reaping clothes.

For most girls it's a pretty dress, they wear for the reaping, but since I don't own any dresses (save for an ancient, tattered skirt, that belonged to Ma, and grandma, and maybe some more women in our family before them, that I only wear for dancing), and even if I did, I probably would not wear them, so I put on my loose, black linen pants, and one of Papa's old, grey, button up shirts. After I'm done, I check myself in the mirror. All I see is a pale, skinny girl, with hollow cheeks, very messy, straight, short, jet black hair, in way too big clothes, and sparkling, icy grey eyes. The only tolerable features in my face, are my eyes, Papa's eyes, that would light up with mischief, when I smile. Other ways I am a little too tall for a girl (not close as tall as Copy, but, taller, than, for instance Katniss Everdeen) and too thin to be called attractive, with sharp facial features, that only look nice, when I smile genuinely. All together, I am a little too angular, and scrawny, for a seventeen year old girl.

I try to tame the nest on my head, that is my hair, and scrub my face for a little colour. I fail at both, so I give up on trying to look presentable, and leave the little, dark chamber, we call bathroom. In our room, I find Copy fully dressed for reaping, in Papa's clothes (too short for him on the legs and arms), with a very serious expression on his face. The sight makes me crack a smile, and giggle a little. He could wear anything, and still be the most handsome guy in the whole District, but these clothes do make him look ridiculous, at least to me. He makes an annoyed face at me, then smiles too, not being able to hold it back anymore.

"Well, at least we tried" he is grinning now, from ear to ear. I throw a pillow at him, and soon, we are hitting each other with the soft objects, giggling, and making idle threats. We are now carefree, and childish, and so amused, that Ma's presence goes unnoticed for a few minutes.

When we take notice of her, finally, she is smiling a genuine, but tired, teary eyed smile, visibly trying to carve this moment into her mind forever. But with the pleasant thoughts slowly leaving, reality knocks again in. We have to leave, to be at the square in time.

It goes the same way every year. Anthem-documentary-reap-a-girl-reap-a-boy-treaty-anthem. So no surprise comes our way, when the Anthem booms loudly in our ears. Or when the documentary film starts. I steal a glimpse at Copy and catch him looking with a silly, nervous grin on his face. We share a wink, as I see him mouth the words of the film "...terrible war...a motherless child..." I even let out a giggle at this point. I catch Katniss looking too, Copy smiles his gorgeous smile at her. Maybe one day, I will always see him smile like this, and I think, I can handle accepting Katniss Everdeen as a sister. Not that I would have a problem with her, no, quite the contrary, we get on well, had some good times together with Gale, and the kid-siblings we have. And I am drawn back two years in time, when we would teach Posy talk. Making it a contest, whose name would she say first, with 'Wowee' being the victor of the war for Posy's heart. Or when we've tricked Vick into taking a bath, something he's dreaded ever since he was born, or when Copy and I have taught Katniss of a few basic snares, or when we got Lady, the goat, pranking the teacher in school, every damn September, going to the Hob in the mornings, selling strawberries to the mayor's daughter (who I believe to be Copy's secret crush, the girl, he could never have), having dangerous sledge races on the hill by the District border, resulting in two broken ankles, a sprained wrist, a head wound, and probably the best winter memory, since Papa passed away for the five of us, spending warm summer evenings by the river bank, swimming, splashing water in each other's face. And despite all the stress that reaping gives me, I smile a little. This is when I hear Effie Trinket's nasal voice.

"...Hawthorne"

I feel the blood leaving my face, as I pale whiter than the wall. My legs feel like they are suddenly filled with lead, my head is dizzy and I am ready to collapse any second.

"Tristine River Hawthorne, where are you, dear? Don't be shy, come on up!"

Shy? No, scared shitless? Absolutely. I command my limbs to move, grit my teeth and take a shaky step forward. Breathe, Tris, breathe!

I search Copy in the crowd. There are no words to describe his expression. Scared, down struck, unbelieving. I shake my head at him. Don't volunteer for tribute. Losing one of us is enough for Ma and the kids. Finally he nods. It's his reassuring nod, that gives me strength to walk up to the podium.

"There you are, sweetie, hurry, hurry, we don't have all day!"

"Fuck my life!" I mutter loudly. No matter how drunk he is, Haymitch Abernathy hears my cursing and laughs loudly.

"That is the best way to say it, darlin'! No illusions, I like that! See the glory in your work!" the last sentence is for the cameras. Wow. He is probably the only person to dare to say these things out loud. Of course, he's got no one to lose, but still.

"And now, for the boys!"

My heart clenches. Not him, please, please, not him! I beg and pray and plead with all that I am, to the Odds, the God of the Old World, the Devil, Mother Nature, the Great Spirit of the heathens, anything and anyone, that might hear me and answer my pleas, not to let it be Copy.