Reaping day. My gut feeling tells me the odds are not in my favour. Grandma Sae has left me to lie in today, seeing as there will be next to no business at the Hob. I lie in, glad of the extra time to rest, seeing as my Shimmer nightmare came back to me last night. I close my eyes, but as soon as I do a strange feeling settles in my stomach, it rises into my chest and fills up my throat, a horrible combination of fear and worry. My name is in that bowl 20 times, so that I can get tesserae for Grandma Sae, mother and I. Pepper wouldn't let me take out any for her; she say she's doing just fine. I wanted to, and for Rain as well, but they just wouldn't let me.

At about eleven o'clock I decide I am rested enough and get up. Grandma Sae has left my best clothes on top of my cardboard box, which serves as my closet; she has chosen a simple white shirt with brown pants and burgundy braces. She's left my brown shoes next to the box and she has polished them up. I dress, and as I am slipping my foot into my left shoe, an object hits my toe. I reach into the shoe and pull out a small object wrapped in delicate tissue paper. I carefully unwrap it and examine the item.

It is a ring, a man's ring, made from silver, and I recognise it immediately. It belonged to my father; it was his wedding ring. He wanted my mother to have a traditional wedding, before the toasting, and that involved getting the rings. My father spent weeks gathering things to sell so that he'd have money to buy them, and missed a few meals as well. As soon as he was able to get them, he married my mother.

I haven't seen this ring for years, not since I saw it on my father's finger. He always took it off when he went to work, in fear of losing it or getting it scratched, and that is why we have it today, the last piece of my father. I put the ring on my finger, but it is much to big and it would surely fall off. I search through my coat pocket until I find the piece of string I have been fiddling with for days. I place the ring on it and hang it around my neck, making sure it is long enough for m to tuck it into my shirt, close to my heart.

I walk through the kitchen and into my mother's room, fighting back tears that threaten to spill over. She is still sleeping, so I gently kiss her forehead, and creep away. It's now only half past eleven, another couple of hours or so until I make my way to the square. I saunter over to my favourite place- the bakery. I look in the window, and see the most amazing cake.

It has white icing and in the middle are carefully spelt words-

"May the odds be ever in your favour"

I have a hunch they were instructed to make this cake, but it is not the writing I am amazed by. The whole cake is completely covered in flowers, each individually hand crafted. They all look so real. Pink, lavender and orange flowers surround the swirly lettering, growing out of the top and sides of the cake. I know that only one person could have made something this delicate and precise: Peeta.

As if he heard me think his name, Peeta appears in the window with a small forgotten flower. He places it on the cake and only notices me when he looks up from perfecting his beautiful creation. He gives me a small wave, which I return with a smile. He looks behind him nervously, as if checking the coast is clear, and steps outside the bakery to greet me.

'Hey Cori,' he half whispers.

'Hello Peeta,' I reply. I glance over at his cake. 'It's simply marvellous Peeta, you certainly have a talent,' I say. Peeta blushes furiously.

'Yes, we had an order put in from the Capitol, so i can be displayed on the train for the ehm...tributes.'

I understand why even Peeta, the master of words, is struggling with these simple ones. The reaping takes its effect on everyone.

'Well, it's beautiful, but I'm afraid I will have to be going now,' I say, with a nod of my head. I turn on my heel and begin to walk away.

'May the odds be ever in your favour,' a small voice says behind me. I spin around to see Peeta still standing there, a grave expression on his face.

'And may they be in yours, also,' I reply softly. Peeta steps quietly back inside and I continue on my journey.

I reach my house to give my face a quick scrub and comb my hair. My hair hasn't been cut in a while, and it surrounds most of my face. I hear girls at school saying it's cute when I come in with bed hair, but I just think it's a nuisance. It is not co-operating, so I splash some water on it to get it to lie flat. This doesn't work either, but I'm past the stage of caring. Surely if I am reaped, or rather, sent to my death, then I should be able to look like what I want. Unless you come from District 2 and you have six volunteers for one tribute.

I do not visit my mother before I set out. I said my goodbyes this morning, remembered every feature of her peaceful face. That is how I will remember her. It is easier to remember the old days when she isn't screaming in your face.

Grandma Sae will be meeting me in the square, just like she's done for the past four years. I make my way over to the square after saying a quick goodbye to Cluck and Egg. My legs carry me there without me telling them where to go. As I near I can see more of a crowd gathering. Camera crews are surrounding the perimeter of the square, heartlessly filming all the fear and despair. Peacekeepers, marching around in their intimidating white uniforms, hands on their guns. I find Grandma Sae in the crowd. 'Oh Cori, can you not do something with that hair?' she asks, distress lingering on her voice. She tries to pat it down, without success. She groans and pulls me into a tight hug. I hug her back, trying to ignore the camera that is pointed at us.

I break the hug and walk over to the cue for 16-year-old boys without another word. I line up and see Peeta just a couple of people in front of me. He doesn't notice me, just keeps his face in a calm mask as the Peacekeeper jabs the needle into his finger and points him in the right direction. He walks away and the line keeps moving. I look over to the girls' line and I see Madge, looking stunning in a white dress. A small pin is attached to her dress, a round golden one with a bird on it. A mockingjay, I think. I presume it is some kind of family heirloom.

I now look towards the back of the line and see Katniss, who looks very sophisticated in a pale blue dress. She's holding onto Prim's hand, who looks very pretty in a white shirt and grey skirt. Prim looks scared and is attempting to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand. Katniss is trying her best to comfort her. My attention is stolen by the Peacekeeper who is shouting at me, telling me to give him my hand. I give it to him and he handles it roughly, stabbing the needle in and yanking it back out. I am told to follow the other boys who are assembling near the middle of the square. Our mayor, Mayor Undersee, is sitting up on the stage, which has been placed right in front of Justice building, and sitting next to him is District 12's escort, Effie Trinket. The seat next to her is empty, but we all know whom it's for.

The clock strikes two, and the mayor steps up to the podium to give us the same yearly speech: how in the ashes of North America the new nation of Panem was made. He makes a list of all the natural and man-made disasters. Then he tells us about the Dark Days and how the districts were defeated, Thirteen obliterated. He says some positive things about the Capitol and the Treaty of Treason. The mayor finishes with his usual 'It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks.' He then goes on to reading the names of 12's past victors. This doesn't take him long, seeing as there are only two, and only one is still alive.

Haymitch Abernathy staggers onto the stage when his name is called. The crowd claps politely, even though no one really likes him. Haymitch is renowned as the town drunk and – just like always- he is drunk. He doesn't even bother to sober up for the Reaping.

As soon as we're all done clapping, he makes a beeline for Effie and tries to give her a hug. Effie has to put in a lot of effort to shake him off, because although he is drunk and old, he is still pretty strong. She wrinkles up her nose and stands up, walking over to the microphone like a little horse, trotting along.

'Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!' She babbles on about it being such an honour to escort 12's tributes and how she can't wait for the games to begin.

After an insane amount of chattering she walks over to one of two huge glass bowls, filled with thousands of slips of paper. She pulls a huge smile and says 'Ladies first!' She leans up on tiptoe and plunges he whole hand in the bowl. She swirls around a bit before plucking out a slip and holding it above her head. She walks back over to her microphone and unfolds the paper. She gives a small sigh before saying

'Primrose Everdeen.'

I almost collapse. 'No… no, no, no,' I mutter, running a hand through my hair. Everyone gasps, like they always do when a twelve-year-old gets picked. I see little Prim walking out from where she was standing at the back of the crowd, her small face as pale as a ghost's. Everyone makes a path for her, when I hear someone scream.

'Prim, Prim!' It's Katniss, who is rushing out. She pulls Prim in close and then puts her behind her. Peacekeepers begin to move in, trying to separate the pair. Katniss tugs against their strong grip. 'I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute.' She exclaims hoarsely. Startled Peacekeepers are struggling to regain composure, as District 12 has never had a volunteer before.

'Lovely!' calls Effie Trinket, 'But I believe there's the small matter of introducing the Reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth the we, um…' she trails off. From what I can gather, Miss Trinket is a very organised lady who likes to follow her schedule, and plan ahead for every last second. She is most commonly spotted with her clipboard, bossing people around and rushing around in her extremely high heels. Poor Effie, this must be living hell for her. Dear, spoilt Effie, not getting her own way. Life's tough, and she'll just have to learn that the way we did: the hard way. I have to stop myself from getting to angry and turn my attention back to the stage.

Katniss is beginning to walk up, but is stopped by a weeping Prim who is clutching onto her hand. 'No Katniss, no! You can't go!' she cries desperately. Katniss is trying hard not to cry; it's not that obvious but I know what to look for. 'Let go Prim, let go.' I see Gale running out of the crowd to pull back Prim, who is frantically thrashing in his strong arms. Katniss steps onto the stage. Effie Trinket reaches out and grabs Katniss by the hand, dragging her over to the microphone. 'Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games,' she exclaims, 'What's your name?'

'Katniss Everdeen,' Katniss murmurs, swallowing hard.

'Well, I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her stealing all the glory, now do we? Come on everybody! Let's give a round of applause to our newest tribute!' Effie starts clapping frantically, but no one joins in. Nobody makes a single sound. We give Katniss what we can: silence. It tells her that we do not agree, that this is wrong. I am the first to start it: I touch my three middle fingers to my lips and hold it out to her, watching as everyone else follows suite and gives the silent salute.

Okay, another chapter down, and quite a long one too! I just want to say thank you to

RedRoses130, Celeq, MagnificKCBEE and Alec Mason for adding this story to your alerts/favourites list. Just don't be afraid to hit the review button and tell me what you think!