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Chapter Two

Did I hear that right? Prim. Katniss's Sister. No. She's only 12. My Brothers age! My body froze as my muscles solidified into a stone formation. Time must have stopped. The looks on the faces surrounding us were warmed with a livid hue. Nobody seemed to mask their emotions; everyone was stunned and enraged at the fact that yet another child was lined up for slaughter.
Young, endearing Prim was going into the games. The child who warmed everyone with her smile, the fair little girl who cared for patients and helped treat the injured and sick with her mother, Katniss's little sister. Oh, no. Katniss.

The impact of Prim's name being called out hit me like a bullet through my chest. I finally remembered how to breath and my head automatically turned towards the one girl who wouldn't let this go; she was as frozen as I was. Her chest was still with the same incredulity that had stunned me. Katniss's face looked blank. She must have been in shock.
I remember the bitterness I had earlier in the day toward people who had the 'odds in their favor', and it all melted away as I desperately wished that I didn't hear Prim's name called. Katniss, much like myself went out of her way to ensure her family didn't have to suffer, she made sure that Prim had only one slip with her name on it in that big glass bowl.
Out of all of us, out of all the deprived people needing to feed their families, needing to enroll their names multiple times to collect tesserae, it was that one slip in thousands, hundred of thousands, which got picked.
I shook my head in disbelief. The odds were definitely not in her favor. I could still hear the crowd murmuring away unhappily as my eyes remained trained on Katniss.

Inches towards the back, Prim stood, hands clenched at her sides, blood completely drained from her face. She walked towards the stage.
Blonde hair, tiny feet, shirt un-tucked in the back of her skirt, Prim shuffled forward and I realized how similar we all were. I suddenly realized that the odds meant nothing. We were completely powerless and anyone, anyone in that bowl could be chosen, not just the ones fending for their families, not just the poor, all of us. It was easy for me to blame the rich, but it was the Capitol that pulled our strings like puppets and caused a rift between the rich and the poor. We were all victims of the system.

I choked back a lump in my throat as I processed all of this, but knew I was missing something, something crucial that I had not yet considered.
The tense feeling in my stomach climbed all the way up to my throat and choked me. Deep down, I knew, I couldn't deny that something worse was about to happen, but what? Could my brothers possibly be called and be forced to fight Prim?
Then it hit me. Katniss. I watched her and prayed that I was wrong. But we were similar in many ways, and I knew what I would do if Rory or anyone else in my family were called; I would never let my siblings march up to that podium and die for the benefit of Panem demonstrating its power.
Then, I heard the strangled cry, she had the whole square stop and turn in her direction, "Prim!" Katniss called forward to her sister and swiftly pushed through the crowd. She reached for Prim, the other kids automatically made a path for her to get to the stage. She lunged forward and covered Prim with her body, swooping Prim behind her behind her back and shielding her from the Capitol's clutches.
"I Volunteer!" She choked out the words.
My heart stopped. I knew it. I tried to swallow the feeling of dread stuck in my throat but it only grew larger. I had to pull myself together. Despite how much I wished it wasn't true, that it was just a nightmare I could wake from, it happened. I couldn't change it, and I couldn't volunteer. I had to do the next best thing. I had to be there for her, I had to help. I pried my way past the rest of the boys in my group.
"I Volunteer as Tribute." She composed herself and repeated her statement. Her words were uttered with strength and compassion.
I reached her and Prim. Prim was hysterical, Katniss must have been struggling to stay brave with Prim falling apart by her side, and I knew what I had to do. Protecting our families had always been our number one priority and that was exactly what I was going to do. I would protect Katniss's family, now. I would be there for her, and would help any way I could. I reached for Prim.

There was some more confusion on the stage. I could feel the Capitol's excitement at watching this reaping and felt sick. District 12 never had a volunteer in decades, and the protocol was rusty—vaguely in anyone's memory, from lack of practice.
The rule was that once a tribute's name had been pulled from the ball, another eligible boy, if a boy had been chosen, could step forward and take the chosen tributes place. The same went for girls.
In some districts, where winning was a great honour, people were eager to risk their lives, but here, where death was almost a guarantee, volunteering was a foreign concept.
"Lovely!" Effie Trinket, called from the stage into one of the capitols fancy microphones. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um..." she trailed off, like she was unsure, herself.
"What does it matter?" said the Mayor. He looked at Katniss with a pained expression on his face. He must have remembered Katniss fondly, and realized the sacrifice she had made. His own daughter had never needed to enroll her name more than the mandatory number of entries, but, really, she was just as likely to be chosen as Prim, and he was familiar with Prim, with Katniss, with all of us. I could tell that he always preferred dealing with Katniss whenever the two of us would go and trade with him, and she was a friend of his daughter Madge. "What does it matter?" he repeated gruffly. "Let her come forward."

Prim was screaming wildly behind Katniss, this was my cue to come and take Prim back to her mother who was standing in the centre of the crowd, watching as one of her daughters was being ripped away from her. Katniss urgently hushed her sister "Prim, Let Go."
I lifted Prim and gently pulled her off Katniss. "Let Go!" I soothed her. Prim's fingers loosened their grip and she collapsed in my arms, her head buried in my shoulder. "Up you go, Catnip," I said to her, trying to keep my voice steady without crying in front of her. I handed Prim over to their Mother and took my place back in line in time for the drawing of the boy tribute. Katniss set herself on the stage standing to the right of Effie Trinket.
"Well, bravo!" gushed Effie. "That's the spirit of the Games!" I couldn't understand Effie, she looked thrilled by the entire event. "What's your name?"
I watched Katniss as she croaked out, "Katniss Everdeen."
"I bet my buttons hat was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory do we?"
I grit my teeth. 'Glory'? This was not glorious.
"Come on everyone! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" trilled Effie.
To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12, no one clapped. No one seceded to applaud.
Katniss stood on the stage, looking strong, but inside I could tell, she was dying.

I thought about Katniss in the games, and pictured her fighting for her life against the Careers, cornered by a pack of bloodthirsty, well-trained tributes from richer districts. I cringed and shook the image out of my head. No. She had to win this. She just had to.
Katniss remained unmoving as not even an echo of a breath filled the square. We swam in silence. Everybody took part in the protest. Any other day, I would be thrilled knowing that people actually stood their ground and finally took even the smallest of actions against the Capitol, if it wasn't Katniss standing up there on the podium that started this reaction. Nevertheless, we stood our ground to state that none of us agreed with the events that took place. We did not condone.
Then something unexpected happened, someone in the crowd indicated a rare motion exclusive to District 12, and then everyone in the crowd was saluting Katniss. We lifted the three middle fingers of our left hands to our lips and held them out towards Katniss. One after one, each member of the crowd copied this gesture stretching their hands out towards Katniss, I joined in, showing my respect for the girl I love, the girl who was risking her life for the ones she loved.
This signal was meant for goodbyes... But I wasn't saying goodbye to Katniss, I was showing her that everyone in our district cared for her, believed in her, that we respected her contribution to our district, her sacrifice for Prim, and everyone, especially me, was touched by her in some way.
"She will make it and she will come back to me", I whispered to myself.
A look of gratitude came over her face. She understood. She accepted the gesture. Her face relaxed slightly.
My eyes grew hot. My eyes stung. I couldn't take much more of this. Haymitch stumbled back onto the stage to congratulate her. "Look at her. Look at this one!" he hollered, throwing an arm round her shoulders, leaning against her for support. "I like her!" His face drew dangerously close to hers, his mouth by her nose. "Lots of... Spunk!" he said triumphantly. "More than you," he slurred, indicating the crowd, and the camera from the Capitol, I smiled slightly at Haymitch making a complete idiot of himself. I wondered if anyone recognized his rebellious insinuations against the Capitol. Perhaps he was too drunk to be considered a threat, because it could be argued that he was addressing the audience. I hoped that he wouldn't be punished, that the Capitol would brush him off as too drunk to even stand up straight, since he was Katniss's only hope in gaining sponsors in the games. As he opened his mouth to continue, Haymitch plummeted off the stage and knocked himself unconscious. That should have done it. If the Capitol registered any threat coming from him, it certainly dissolved along with Haymitch's dignity when he made a mockery of himself.
He was absolutely disgusting; every camera was trained on him… but my eyes were focused on Katniss. She finally let herself breathe. Her head slumped down. I suppose she was relieved that her only mentor managed to accidentally damage control his own outburst.
Was it just this morning that I climbed the hills with Katniss? In this moment I yearned for her, to be away from the reaping and into the woods where we belonged. I yearned for us to be away from here. But then Prim would still be voted in the Reaping; She would have had to fight against the other districts. It wasn't possible.
Haymitch was soon whisked away from the stage on a stretcher, and Effie Trinket was trying to get the attention back on her and the scheduled proceedings. She went right to the second part of the reaping. "What an exciting day!" she warbled as she attempted to straighten her wig, which shifted severely to the right. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

This was it, the last year my name would be placed in the reaping. Forty-two copies of my name were swimming around in that glass bowl. Effie planted one hand on her head as she crossed over to the boys draw and grabbed the first slip she touched. My heart was beating in my throat as a trickle of sweat ran down the back of my neck. I barely had a chance to wish for my brother's safety before she began reading the name. "Peeta Mellark."

Who? I glanced around me trying to find the boy whose name she had just read. My tension eased only slightly; thankful that it wasn't anyone I knew or cared for, until I noticed him. A row ahead of me, a group of boys cleared the way for the boy with blonde hair. He made his way to the stage. The shock of the moment registered on his face, you could see his struggle to remain emotionless, just like Katniss. I almost couldn't believe it. I did know him. Perhaps not well, but well enough.
My thoughts drifted back to earlier in the day when I had traded a squirrel for a loaf of bread at the bakery. I met the baker's son, a blonde-haired boy. I took the loaf from his hands, thanked him, and before I left the bakery he called after me "Good Luck today… We all need it."

Peeta Mellark. The Bakers Son. I sized him up, his broad shoulders and wide arms suggested that he was strong. He was probably well fed and was used to carrying heavy items around for the bakery. He might even be the one who'd kill Katniss in the games. I looked at his eyes and noticed something. He had a hint of sadness… no… sorrow, and also, alarm; the look of stunned defeat that I have seen so often in the eyes of my prey. I thought back to our encounter as I watch him join Katniss and realized that he was just a boy, though strong, he certainly wasn't a killer.
Effie Trinket asked for any volunteers, my heart throbbed; maybe if I volunteered I could protect Katniss. But... what about my promise? Who would protect her family?

A weight pushed my shoulders down, my chest felt heavier; I didn't like the idea of the baker's son going into that arena. Perhaps Peeta's brothers would volunteer, but family devotion only went so far for most people on reaping day, and his brothers didn't take after his father, they took after his heartless, unkind mother. What Katniss did was the radical thing.
The mayor began to read the long, dull Treaty of Treason as he did every year at this point – it was required – but I wasn't listening. It was decided. Katniss and Peeta were both going into the arena. My thoughts were running wild at the sight of both Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark standing on that stage. No two people in the world could belong on that stage less than they did. But then again, who did?
I felt intense pain as I forced myself to breathe. It was over. I might never see her again. I knew that I had to tell her.

I had to tell Katniss that I loved her and that I would be here when she got back. She would come back. We would have our happiness. We would live together in the Victors Village once we got married. I could see her dressed in a simple wedding gown, her long black hair crowned with curls on top her head, a veil of flowers, a warm summers day just me and her and family. Then when we were ready, we could leave District 12, all of us, so we could be free to live our lives together, to have a family, to be free of the famine, the injustice, the reapings. Surely there was a way.
But it was too late to think about all of this now, all I could do was keep my promise and hope for the best. All I could do was believe in her, and believe that she would make it out alive. As for the boy, I would pray for him. His father was one of the kindest men in this town, perhaps Peeta and I could have been friends if I spoke to him more, and we could have hung out in the Seam. Maybe I could have been nicer to him, earlier. But what is there to do now? Whisper my regrets to him as I pass by to say my farewells to Katniss? Somehow it just wouldn't seem appropriate to confess how sorry I was for him now.

The Mayor finished the bleak Treaty of Treason and motioned for Peeta and Katniss to shake hands. Peeta looked her straight in the eyes as he shook her hand. I staggered. The look troubled me. It was the same look I had every time I saw her. My stomach twisted into knots. They both turned back to face the crowd, as Panem's anthem blared over the speakers and washed through us.
I have to tell her, I thought. When I go the justice building and say our farewells I'll tell Katniss I love her. I resolved and held my head up high, staring directly at her as my hands begin to shake.