Here's Chapter Two! Hopefully you guys enjoyed the first chapter; let me know what you think of this one, too! Reviews would be wonderful; thanks for the one so far! (:

ALSO, if you read my last chapter, I got a review saying I should name Peeta's brothers. I was a bit hesitant, but I did end up naming them. His eldest brother's name is Bannock, & the middle brother (older than Peeta, younger than Bannock) is named Ryden. Both derivatives of bread, yes. xD 'Bannock' means something like 'oat bread', & Ryden is a form of rye bread. xD

As a side note to my Cause of Death subscribers: Don't worry! I haven't quit writing for CoD. Not in a million years! But I am taking a bit of a break, to work a dent into this little project I assigned myself. (: Maybe I'll squeeze in a one-shot or something. Maltara? C: But if any of you are Hunger Games fans, I'd love some feedback! (:

Prim. Primrose Everdeen. This year's female tribute representing District 12, is Primrose Everdeen.

I stand in complete shock and horror, as does everyone else in the District. Whenever a 12-year-old is chosen, it's quite a natural upset.

My eyes snap to Prim. The other twelves around her shuffle back, making room so Prim can walk up to the stage. Her face is ghostly white, and her hands are clenched in fists at her sides. She walks stiffly, terror written all over her young face. I glance at Katniss, who looks just as pale. Her jaw is nearly dropped to the ground in sheer disbelief. Prim's name was in there once. Once. One slip of paper amidst thousands. She shouldn't have been chosen. Statistically, the odds should have been very much in her favor. But they weren't.

Just as Prim is almost at the stage, Katniss' shrill, clearly-terrified voice pierces through the silence.

"Prim!" she yells, running towards her sister. Several guards step forward, but she pushes past them, stepping in front of her sister.

Then Katniss says something that nearly stops my heart.

"I volunteer!" she yells loudly and desperately. "I volunteer as tribute!"

A shocked murmur runs through the crowd as people strain to see what's going on.

"Lovely!" exclaims Effie, clapping her hands in glee. Her bubbly attitude at a time like this enrages me, and I clench my hands into tight fists to keep myself from doing something stupid.

I can't believe it. Katniss just volunteered for Prim. Katniss, the girl I've loved for so long, is going into the arena.

Prim's thin arms are now wrapped around Katniss, and she is screaming protests, clutching her sister's dress even tighter.

"No, Katniss!" she screams, tears pouring down her cheeks. "No! You can't go!" Katniss turns around to face Prim, and I can tell she's fighting back tears. The last thing she wants is to be labelled as a weakling or softy for crying on public television.

"Prim, let go," she replies harshly, trying to disentangle Prim from her dress. "Let go!" she repeats when Prim holds on tighter. Gale quickly walks up behind Prim, picking her thrashing form up in his arms. Their eyes meet, and Gale murmurs something that I can barely make out.

"Up you go, Catnip," he says, also fighting to keep his voice steady.

Katniss takes a deep breath and climbs the steps, meeting Effie on the stage.

"Well, bravo!" she gushes again, clearly delighted. "That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?" She holds the microphone out to Katniss.

"Katniss Everdeen," she chokes out, clutching the fabric of her dress. I can see her take a deep breath in and out, steeling herself for whatever was to come.

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

To the endless credit of my District, the entire square is silent. Completely and utterly silent. Not a single soul claps. Instead, they mournfully press their three middle fingers to their lips and extend them out towards Katniss. It is a symbol of thanks, admiration, and goodbye to someone they love.

I watch Katniss' expression on the screen, and can see that she is now in a very high danger of crying. Thankfully, Haymitch Abernathy chooses this pause in Effie's talking to stumble on stage.

"Look at her! Look at this one!" he exclaims drunkenly, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "I like her! Lot's of... spunk! More than you!" he adds, pointing to Effie. He releases his hold on Katniss and walks towards the front of the stage. In his drunkenness, he somehow misjudges the distance between himself and a 10-foot-drop, and plummets right off the edge of the stage, knocking himself out cold. Everyone gasps, different emotions coursing through them all. Some register shock, while others are just suppressing a laugh. Most, however, look down in embarrassment; that was my current standing on the situation. This entire... ordeal... was just broadcasted live to all of Panem, meaning everyone in the nation just witnessed Haymitch knock himself out.

Effie is back to center stage, clearing her throat and trying to draw attention away from Haymitch, who is now being whisked away on a stretcher.

"It's time to choose our boy tribute!" she says merrily, pulling out a slip of paper and zipping back to the podium quicker than lightning. I don't even have time to worry about who it is, before she says it.

"Peeta Mellark!"

Wait, what? I think to myself, frantically looking up at Effie. That's... me.

The crowd around me begins to part as faces of District 12 stare at me silently. Oh my God, I think silently. She picked me. My name. I am going into the arena. For a moment, I forget about everyone else; Effie, Haymitch, the other citizens, and even Katniss. All I can think of is my certain death. I start to walk slowly up to the stage, and I struggle hard to remain emotionless. I cannot appear weak either. Even though I'm fairly muscular from lifting heavy sacks of flour and the like, other tributes will label me as a weakling if I'm seen freaking out over national television.

I ascend up the stairs to the front of the Justice Building and join Katniss and Effie center-stage. Effie calls for volunteers, but none step up. I hadn't expected anyone to, really. Not even Ryden. Sure, we were family, but not close like Katniss and Prim. Family devotion only goes so far for most people on reaping day. What Katniss did... that was an extreme.

President Snow now steps up and does the annual reading of the Treaty of the Treason. After, he motions for us to shake hands. We stare at each other for a moment, as the real horror of the moment hits me. I am going into the arena with Katniss Everdeen, the girl I have loved for years on end. Only one of us gets out of there alive. I can see something reflecting in her eyes, too. Recognition. She must remember that day when we were younger. The day with the bread in the pouring rain.

Suddenly, I am so determined to get her out of that arena alive, that I find my left hand clenched into a fist. I quickly release it and reach out my other hand and shake hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I realize that it doesn't matter if I die; and if Katniss is to get out of here, I will have to. We may not have ever spoken, but I love her, and her family needs her. Prim, her mother, and... Gale. As much as I hate to think it, Gale needs her, too. They're best friends, after all. My family doesn't need me; not really, anyways. My mother hates me, and despite Ryden's 'good luck', I don't have much of a relationship with him, either. Bannock and my father are probably my two family members that I'm closest to. Sure, my death will upset them, but they'll mourn me and move on soon enough. They don't depend on my to feed their family or take care of a younger sibling. Hell, none of them really need me for anything.

Yes; I have come to the following conclusion: Katniss Everdeen will get out of the arena, and I will not.