Chapter Two

My heart sinks, because I realise that I recognise the name. It's a girl I've seen a few times at the bakery window. She stares transfixed at the cakes on the display shelf. I've always wanted to go out and give her one, and maybe that would have given me an excuse to talk to Katniss who was always with her. But my mother has always been in the shop with me, and I know that she would have never allowed it.

I look around to see the little girl make her way towards the stage. For that is all that she is, a child about to be murdered at the hands of the Capitol. She's half way up to the stage, where Effie stands with her teeth bared in what is evidently meant to be a smile. Who would smile at a moment like this? Well I suppose those Capitol people view the situation a lot differently, seeing as they're not the ones who have experience a reaping the way we do. Then I hear the voice.

"Prim! Prim!" It's a strangled cry that cuts right through me. Katniss reaches her sister just before she mounts the steps. She pushes Primrose behind her and gasps-

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

I look away from the stage and down at my feet, because this was exactly what I knew would happen the moment they read out Primrose's name. I'd seen the two of them walking through the town before, and I knew enough to know that Katniss loved her sister more than anything. She was prepared to die for her. Effie Trinket must be delighted. For once she is actually in a District where something 'exiting' is happening. She says something about the protocol of introducing a volunteer, and Primrose starts screaming.

"No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" she wraps her pale arms around Katniss as she speaks. I find it incredible that Katniss has managed to keep her dignity all this time; she hasn't shed a single tear even though it must be killing her inside. Then I see another figure coming through the crowd. Its Gale. He says something to Katniss, before gathering Primrose up in his arms.

He passes by me in the crowd, Primrose still thrashing in his arms. Part of me wishes that he will be chosen as male tribute for District 12, at least then I would know that someone was looking out for Katniss. But there isn't much time for me to dwell on such thoughts, because Effie Trinket is talking again.

"That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?"

Katniss Everdeen, I think silently. The girl I've seen nearly everyday, and the girl who will now never know how I feel.

"Katniss Everdeen." She says in a remarkably steady voice.

Effie trills on, "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 big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

None of us clap, instead we all do something that is as close as we will probably ever come in showing public defiance of the Capitol. First the adults around the edge, then the older kids at the back of the crowd, and eventually all of us. We all put out three middle fingers on our lips and hold them out to her. A mark of respect usually done at funerals. Like a final goodbye.

Haymitch stumbles forward and grabs her around the shoulders.

"Look at her. Look at this one! I like her!" His words are surprisingly fluent for someone who must have been drinking since the early hours of this morning.

"Lots of . . . " he hesitates for a few seconds before coming out with the word "Spunk!" he points at the camera and shouts "More than you!" before collapsing off the stage in a drunken stupor. Katniss just stares in to the distance, as though willing herself to pretend she is anywhere away from that stage.

I train my attention on Effie, because her next words force my focus on to that second reaping ball. There are five slips of paper with the name 'Peeta Mellark' carefully printed on to them, and sitting in the glass ball.

"It's time to choose our boy tribute!" Effie exclaims, and she puts her arm in to the ball, and pulling out a slip of paper very quickly. I don't even have the time to issue a silent plea for mine and my brother's safety before she reads out the name on the paper.

"Peeta Mellark!"

My breath catches in my throat. My eyes widen. I quickly try to put an expressionless front on my face, but it's impossible. The eyes of the boys around me are fixed on my face, and they part to let me through. It feels like every muscle in my body is trembling, yet somehow I make my legs work, and walk towards the stage. I stand on the podium just a few feet away from Katniss.

Mayor Undersee reads the treaty of treason just like he does every year. Only this time instead of patiently listening to him, and thinking about what the coming weeks will hold for the kids on stage, my mind is elsewhere, and I barely even hear the Mayor speak.

Why me? Why her? The odds are not in my favour today. My eyes flicker over the subdued crowd surrounding the square. I find my parents. My mothers jaw is clenched tight, my father staring at the floor. I do see something which does surprise me though. They're both holding tightly to the other hand, as if neither could bear to let go.

Mayor Undersee finishes the treaty of treason in a monosyllabic voice, and the gestures for me and Katniss to shake hands. It's then that I notice how small her hands are, they feel lost in mine. I look at her in the eye, as if hoping to tell her that I'm sorry we're both here. I try to give her hand a reassuring squeeze, but she probably just thinks my hands are shaking with nerves. I really hope that I get a chance to properly talk to her before we're flung in to an arena filled with god knows what.

The anthem of Panem plays, and we turn to face the crowd. The moment it ends we're both ushered in to the Justice building where the door slams closed behind us.