Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games and all its characters.

A/N: I'm submitting chapters rapid fire for now because I wrote ahead for a while before publishing. However, please don't expect me to update this often normally! (Like, 5 chapters in 2 hours.) Lol :D

My father wakes me 30 minutes past noon. I'm grateful, because he's managed to spare me from the normal morning havoc. My two brothers preparing the bakery for the day, my mother yelling. I change into a clean white shirt and tan pants. Why not dress up for the occasion?

At 1:00 the whole family signs in at the square. Cameramen sit on rooftops, watching the growing crowd like vigilant insects.

Thom and I are herded into the section reserved for boys- Thom finding a group of 17 year olds ahead of me. I see Gale Hawthorne fully immersed in a group of boys from the Seam. My eyes immediately seek out Katniss, but it's hard to see as the crowd grows larger. The square isn't big enough to hold our whole population, so some people are forced to watch in the streets on the Capitol provided screens.

A quiet bong signals the time- 2:00. Our mayor steps up to the podium, right on schedule, leaving our district escort Effie Trinket alone on the stage. Effie is sporting bright pink hair and the usual signs of wasteful Capitol fashion, looking worriedly for the missing member of the ceremony. The whole thing is taking place on a stage in front of the Justice Building, where two glass balls- one for boys' names and one for girls' names- hold the slips that will determine who our district's tributes will be.

The mayor's dry speech, which I usually tune out, offers perfect distraction from my worries. I focus on his words so I don't have to think of the 20 slips of paper in the girls' ball that say Katniss Everdeen in neat handwriting.

"Panem is a country that rose up out of the ashes of a place once called North America. After disasters, droughts, storms, fires, and encroaching seas swallowed up most of the land, a brutal war was waged for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens.

Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace, and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy between the ages of 12 and 18, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be held in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins and brings fame and fortune to their district.

It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks." The mayor finishes. "District 12's victors are Kerren Deluse and Haymitch Abernathy."

The latter, our only surviving victor, staggers onto the stage, right on cue. He's drunk, as always, and goes to hug Effie Trinket. The mayor looks embarrassed, probably realizing District 12 is the joke of Panem right now, and quickly introduces her to divert attention from Haymitch.

Effie bounds up to the podium, only slightly ruffled by Haymitch's assault, and trills in her lilting Capitol accent: "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor! It is such an honor to be here in District 12! Ladies first!" Effie cries, crossing to the girls' ball.

All I can think is Not Katniss. Not Katniss. Not Katniss. Not Katniss.

And it's not, but it might as well be.

It's Primrose Everdeen.

I'm moving forward because I know what this means even before she does. I see Prim, shaking, walking up to the stage. I'm trying to break through the crowd of boys and get to her, but no one understands the connection I might have to her, because no one but me knows about it.

And then I see Gale, and he's moving toward her too, except people are letting him through. Because it's obvious that he should be up there. But not me. I guess I have no right.

"Prim!" Katniss screams, her voice strangled and tight with fear. "Prim!"

Katniss is in front of the stage now, all attention directed towards her. She pushes Prim behind her. "I volunteer!" She sobs. "I volunteer as tribute!"

The mayor is confused, because we haven't had a volunteer in forever.

"Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. "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…"

"What does it matter?" The mayor says, and there's pain in his voice. I wonder how he knows Katniss. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

And then Prim's screaming at her and Katniss says something and Gale's there to carry Prim away and Katniss is shakily climbing the steps up to the stage.

"Well, bravo!" Effie warbles. "That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?"

Katniss swallows. "Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a round of applause to our newest tribute!"

I'm about ready to strangle our district escort, so my hands aren't clapping. But I'm surprised when no one else does, either. I smile because I understand what they're doing. This is the only rebellion the people of district 12 can muster, but it says something specific. That we do not agree. And we do not forgive them for any of this.

It starts with a miner from the Seam. And then I'm mimicking the gesture, because I remember part of its meaning- goodbye to someone you love. And even though I don't intend to say goodbye to Katniss Everdeen, I touch the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips and raise them out to her. And all around me, Seam and Merchant alike send thanks to our tribute.

Drunk Haymitch Abernathy, completely oblivious to the moment, staggers across the stage to throw his arm over Katniss' shoulder. She sags slightly under his weight and I tense automatically, wishing I could shove him off her.

"Look at her. Look at this one!" Haymitch slurs loudly. "I like her! Lots of…" He takes a while with the word. "Spunk! More than you!" He lets go of Katniss and moves to the front of the stage. "More than you!" And then he falls face first off of the stage.

But I'm not paying attention as Haymitch is carried away on a stretcher, because all I can see is Katniss as she emits a choked sob that seems to tear my heart apart. I'm glad, though, that she's smart enough to know showing weakness when you're the center of attention is a bad move. She's already composed again and I know that she understands the importance of everything she does.

Effie seems vaguely scandalized, so she tries to right the ceremony by speeding everything up. "What an exciting day! But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

She practically runs to the glass ball and is back at the podium, smoothing out the little piece of paper before I can even think.

"Peeta Mellark."

This is not supposed to happen.

I'm shocked, and confused. Someone else was supposed to be called. I was supposed to volunteer, and then I would die for Katniss in the arena. But Effie Trinket called my name. And suddenly I don't feel in control of the situation, and I'm scared to go up to that stage even though that was where I would have gone anyway. And I'm so stupid for thinking I could have planned this out, anyways, because no one can. You're not supposed to control the Capitol's weapon.

I can tell I'm taking too long because some boys are pushing me forward. I steady myself, at least until I can get into the Justice Building, and am glad to find my legs are sturdy enough to climb the stairs and stand next to Katniss.

"Are there any volunteers?" Effie asks, and Thom doesn't come forward. I didn't expect him to anyway.

The mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason in full, but I can tell that Katniss isn't listening so I don't either. She has that look she always has when she's deep in thought- her eyes sort of clear and she looks really focused. I wonder if she's thinking about the bread, if she still remembers that. But all I can see is a tiny girl with two dark braids, looking beautiful in a red plaid dress. And when the little girl sings the valley song, all the birds outside fall silent, because they're in love with her voice. And I'm in love with her.

And it frightens me that the same little girl could now be at death's door.

The mayor finishes and we turn to each other to shake hands. Hers are cold and delicate in mine. I give her hand a squeeze, part to warm it, part to reassure her, and part to steady myself. She has a look on her face that I can't quite decipher as we turn to face the crowd. The anthem of Panem plays, and it's so like a funeral dirge that it sounds like a cruel premonition.

A/N: I love readers and I love reviewers! Thanks so much for reading!