I own nothing but the plot. Characters belong to Suzanne Collins.
– Chapter Two–
When I enter the house, my mother is standing in the kitchen over our stove boiling a soup broth. "Here's a rabbit for the stew," I say pulling the rabbit out and setting it on the counter.
I walked away before anything else could be said and went into the bathroom. I ran a bath, pulling off my clothes before stepping in. The water is cold because the only way we can take a warm bath is to boil water over the stove, which doesn't happen very often. I kept my bath short and wrapped myself in an old tattered towel before going in to mine and Prim's room.
There is blue dress designated for my use lying on the bad. It is one of my mothers from when she lived in Town as a girl. Her parents owned the apothecary but my mother feel in love with my dad and here we are. The dress is short sleeved, falls to my knees, and has a bow that ties behind me at the small of my back.
I tie the bow to the best of my ability before stepping out of the room. My mother and Prim are sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast when I come out and they both look over to me. "What did you just do?" Prim asks standing up.
I frowned and looked at myself; I thought I looked fine. "What have I done now?" I ask as Prim comes up behind me.
"You've got this bow all wrong," she says retying it. I sighed and let her tie the bow before I sat down at the dining room table. They sit down at the table around me and just as I was about to grab a piece of cheese from my sister's goat, Lady, my mother speaks up.
"Here, let me do your hair," she says standing up. I don't protest, and I let her do as she pleases. When she's done, my hair has been put up in an intricate braid. I don't dare touch it in the fear that it would come crashing down. I got up slowly and walked into the kitchen to look at our clock.
Peeta would be here shortly with his two younger brothers Rye and Kale. This would be Rye's first reaping as well as Prim's. Kale is only five, and he was born just after our fathers were killed. Prim and Rye often played together when Peeta and I were out hunting. They had only been seven when the accident happened and when Peeta and I officially met, they became instant friends.
Just as I was slipping my last shoe on, there was a knock at the front. Prim was going to beat me to it, so I stayed where I was. Peeta walked in the house with his little brothers following quickly behind and their mother coming in last shutting the door. Prim and Rye quickly got to playing a game of chess and Kale climbed up to sit in my lap.
Peeta sat down next to us, and put his arm around my shoulder. Kale had his legs wrapped around me and his head resting on my shoulder: the top of his head just brushing Peeta's arm. My mother and Peeta's were conversing quietly in the kitchen but other than that, not a word was being said. My hand was rhythmically rubbing Kale's back and I was watching Rye and Prim's game of chess unfold.
I heard the clock in the kitchen strike ten and everyone in the house stilled. Peeta and I glanced at each other before I set Kale down and we got up from the couch. Prim and Rye stopped their game and our mother's stopped talking. Everyone shuffled to the front door before heading out of the house.
Everyone in the street looked a lot like us. They were either looking down to the ground or walking steely eyed forward. There were no words being said and the only things you could hear were babies crying and the sound of feet. Kale grabbed my hand and I gave it a squeeze as Peeta walked close beside me. Prim was standing close to our mother and you could see the gears turning in her mind. She was nervous and although Rye didn't show it, he was too.
When we arrived at the square, I handed Kale off to Peeta's mother and walked up to Prim. "You're going to be fine," I said smoothing her hair down.
She nodded and I pulled her in close for a hug. "You're going to go stand over there with the other twelve year old girls ok?" I said pointing to one of the many roped off sections. Just as she was about to turn away from me, I pulled her into another hug. I felt her shirttail sticking out and I whispered, "Tuck your tail in little duck."
She walked away tucking her shirt in and I sighed before standing up. Peeta had just finished talking to Rye and we shared a look. Peeta walked over to me and pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he whispered in my ear, "They'll be fine, I love you."
"I love you too," I whispered back before I let go and we walked to our respected sections. Madge was standing near the edge of our section and I stood next to her as the rest of the children filed in around us. Madge looked nice, she had on a pretty pink dress that she probably got just for this occasion. Then again, she had the money to do just that.
Everyone was quiet, and you could've heard a pin drop until we heard footsteps on the stage in front of us. The Mayor, Haymitch Abernanthy – the only living Victor from District 12, and Effie Trinket – District 12's escort walked out, the latter two each taking a seat. The Mayor stood in front of the microphone set up in center stage and recounted the tale of Panem.
Every year the story of the Rebellion is told in each District before the actual Reaping takes place. In short, the tale goes like this; the thirteen Districts rebelled and the Capitol won. In the end, Districts 13 was bombed and the entire District sunk into the seas. No one survived. Since then, the Hunger Games have been held to show the Capitol's power over the Districts. When the Mayor had told the whole tale, it was Effie Trinket's turn.
Effie Trinket was District 12's escort. She was in charge of making sure our Tributes made it safely to the Capitol only so they could be killed in days. She was obviously the low man on the totem pole if she was saddled with us. District 12 was the black sheep of the Districts and you could see it in Effie's face she had no desire to be here.
"Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in you favor," there was no response. "Well, isn't this lovely?" she said clapping her hands together. Not a sound was made from the crowd and she frowned before continuing. "As you know, it is quite an honor to be the Tribute from your District, and should you be chosen, you should wear your title with pride," she smiled.
Something caught my attention to the right of Effie it was Haymitch standing up. He was walking to the front of the stage right at the cameras. He was drunk as a skunk as usual and he stuck his face in the camera. Just as he was making an obscene gesture at the camera, he face planted off the stage. There was a chuckle or two from the crowd before two Peacekeepers picked him up off the ground.
District 12 has only had two Victors in over seventy years. Haymitch is the only living Victor, and if he didn't have to be here, he wouldn't. He won during the 50th Hunger Games and after he won he lost himself to the bottle. I've never seen him sober a day in my life and he never leaves his home in Victor's Village unless he has to. I guess, if you had seen the things he had, you wouldn't want to leave either. I don't know much about the year Haymitch won, but I know it was particularly brutal. I also know he was younger than I am now but older by a year or two than Prim.
When Haymitch had been moved to a safe location where he wouldn't hurt himself or anyone else, the Reaping continued. "Well, after that little show, I suppose it's time to move on," Effie said with a forced smile. "Well, ladies first," she said walking over to the glass ball that had hundreds of slips of paper in it each with a name finely printed on it.
The world seemed to have slowed down around me and everything I heard was magnified tenfold. "Please not Prim," I whispered, "Please not Prim." Every step Effie took turned my stomach upside down and the sound of her heeled shoes reminded me of the sound of a gunshot.
When she approached the bowl, she smiled a long while before plunging her hand in. She moved her hand in the bowl for minutes as if she couldn't pick a single one up out of the hundreds. The sound of my heart pounding was giving me a headache and she couldn't pick a name fast enough. When she finally grabbed a name, she pulled it out faster than I thought humanly possible.
Her walk back to the microphone seemed even longer than her walk to the glass ball and the tension in the square was palpable. It seemed as if all breathing stopped and not a sound was heard but Effie's shoes. When she arrived back at the microphone, she tapped it twice to make sure it was still working and the sound echoed throughout the entire square.
The longer it took her to open the slip of paper the slower my breathing became. You could hear to sound of the paper opening in the microphone, and when she got it fully opened, my breathing really did stop.
"Primrose Everdeen." My mind went blank. This wasn't happening. The odds were in her favor, this didn't make sense. I saw Prim step out of her section and Effie telling her to hurry along up to the podium. My mind raced trying to come up with a solution.
"Prim," I yelled trying to run to her but the Peacekeepers were holding me back. "I volunteer," I yelled pushing the men off me, "I volunteer as Tribute!"
"Katniss, no you can't do this!" Prim cried when I made it to her.
"Go back to mom," I said pushing her behind me and walking to the stage. Prim tried to come after me but the Peacekeepers held her back and took her to our mother.
I got onto the stage and Effie turned to me, "And what's your name?" she asked putting the microphone under my face.
"Katniss Everdeen."
"I bet my buttons that was your little sister," she said with a flourish and before I could reply, she was talking again. "And now it's time to pick our male Tribute," she said moving to the ball filled with the boys names.
All I could think about was how many times Peeta's name was entered; forty-two. Effie took just as long to pick a name this time and my thoughts were turned to mush before she even made it back to the microphone. As she unraveled the paper this time, it seemed it was even louder in the microphone.
She smiled when she was able to get the slip open before announcing the name, "Peeta Mellark."
No. It couldn't be right, this wasn't for real. But, there was Peeta walking to the stage just to the right of me. You could see the shock on his face, which was probably reflected in my own. No, the odds were not in my favor today.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review and tell me what I can improve on!