Chapter Two: Prim

I have never been reaped before. I am so thankful. Fifteen and I haven't participated in the Hunger Games. I still have three more years of possible reaping and I continue to be more and more nervous. My name is Primrose Everdeen; I go by Prim, though. I may be poor, but I love living with Mom, Katniss and Gale. I love having them all here to protect me. Mom is doing ok, she still doctors to the poor, as do I. Gale and Katniss continue their love of hunting and trading secretly. I smile on the outside, but on the inside, I worry everyday they don't come home after a couple of hours. I worry and worry. If something happened and they could've been saved, I would've never known because they weren't in one human's sight. But here, other people have a lot worse problems.

District 14 was built a couple of months ago. I hear they are retired witches and witches; who knew those were actual things?! I hope our two districts can become friends somehow, even though all districts are supposed to be enemies.

Today is the reaping and I have to go get ready. As I put on my socks and shoes, Gale walked in. "Hey, Little Duck. You ready for today?" He smiled wearily down at me. I used to enjoy hearing that name, but now I feel I'm getting a little old for it, and I think Katniss and her fiance can see that too. I am not thinking about that much today, though. Little things don't matter. Today's the annual day where my life could change forever, or stay the same for yet another year. Deep breathes. Praise. Wish me luck...

…

I… was reaped. Deep breathes are needed indeed. I am not ok. I need to face inevitable death. I am small and a little scrawny for my age. I won't have any strengths in the arena and will have no allies. No possible way in hell could I calm down in this moment. Dizziness and lightheaded feeling is washing over me.

As I awoke, I saw a Peacekeeper staring me right in the face. "GET UP OR I WILL SHOOT YOU!" I gasped, partly out of being scared. I stood up groggily as he pointed his gun in the crease of my back. He didn't care that I had just passed out. He had probably seen this scenario a dozen times. He just wanted me out of there. I looked up and smiled wearily as I saw my sister and Gale run into the room. "PRIM!" they shouted.

As they hugged me tight, a tiny bit of relief washed over me. If (when) I died, I would know that my family and friends would care enough to mourn over me. That, somehow, comforted me. Tears welled up in Katniss's eyes as she whispered, "If only I could volunteer."

On the train, I realized that I wasn't the only person coming from District 12. I looked over at Tiftus Pollux, a boy that goes to my school and is twelve. Odd name, I know. Apparently it was his great great grandfather's name and now everyone calls him Tiff for short. Now it sounds like a female's name, but it's kinda cute and catchy. I had no idea what to say to Tiff. Congratulations? No; no sarcasm.

"Hey," I said for no reason at all. I just felt so bad: he was so young. He glanced at me, kind of like, why are you speaking to me? And I understood why.

"Hi." He immediately looked down at himself. All he had left to say was, "Good luck."

"Thanks. Same to you." I went to look out of the window. It was drizzling outside, and there was nothing else to talk about.

"Do you...Do you think you have a chance of winning?" I looked at him. He was staring at me now. I had no idea what to say. If it was someone my age or older with a bit less innocence, I would be truthful with, "I have no chance in hell." But this was a child. He had innocence. My God, he had hope. A little strength in his weaknesses.

"I'm not exactly sure. I don't exactly have a lot of strengths." He nodded slightly in agreement.

"I understand and think I can say the same." He glanced back out towards the window.

Nothing more was said for a couple minutes. I heard a couple footsteps and a door in front of me opened. An obviously drunk man stumbled in with an almost empty cup of liquor and a blank expression.

"Are...you are mentor?" Tiff looked him up and down in disbelief.

"Yep," the man replied simply. He filled his glass almost to the brim at a small table filled with different liquors, took a sip, and remained silent for a couple minutes. "I know what you're thinking: 'This guy is old; what's he doing here?' Well, I'll tell you. I'm the only victor in the past decade for District 12. Sad, I know, but these things happen." He smiled a little at me.

I looked over at Tiff. He had the same expression I did: blank, unable to speak, but inside we were both screaming, 'Who is this guy and what can he teach us and is he any good and what does he have to offer, because right now he isn't giving much retainable information.'

He walked (drunkenly stumbled) over to me, and I stood up. He held out his free hand and has I shook it, he said, "Haymitch Abernathy."

"Primrose Everdeen. I looked out the window as his hand dropped from mine. People from the Capitol waved and cheered, but Tiff didn't move. Haymitch just had a blank look on his face. I wondered what they were thinking. Was Tiff scared? Did Haymitch care about our lives at all? The people of the Capitol were absorbed in their own thoughts. Probably something about betting. They don't care. How would they like it if they were thrown into an arena with multiple ages to fight to the death? Not so much? Ah hell, I'm scared. God, please save me from whatever evil I will soon face.