Chapter 1: Superstitious or Not?

The knock on our front door comes as I am placing the bow in Prim's hair.

"Katniss! Get the door, dear. I'm not ready," Mother orders. I move to obey. On the other side, I find my good friend, Gale Hawthorne.

"Ready to go, ladies?" he asks.

There are a hundred places I would rather go than the Reaping for the Hunger Games, but I am eligible for the event. I must go. To not attend means inprisonment by the Peacekeepers, if not outright execution.

"You take them on ahead, Gale! I'll catch up," Mother calls from the foyer.

"All right, but don't be too long, Mrs. Everdeen. You know how the Peacekeepers get," Gale warns. I follow him out into the sunshine, clad in my blue Reaping dress. Prim hurries into the road ahead of us, and meets up with Rory, Gale's younger brother, at the end of our street. The two twelve-year-olds chatter ahead as Gale and I follow a distance behind.

"So," Gale breaks the silence finally. "Have you gotten a Reaping Kiss?"

I side-eye him warily. The Reaping Kiss is a tradition in District 12 - a superstition, really. If you kiss someone before the Reaping, it supposedly brings you enough good luck that you're guaranteed not to be picked.

I laugh. "I've survived the last four Reapings without one." I peer at Gale closer when I don't see him join in my mockery. "You actually believe that voodoo?"

Gale smirks sardonically. "Do I have a reason not to? I've kissed Madge Undersee every Reaping Day for the past seven years and I've not been drawn. And my name's in the bowl 42 times this year; the odds aren't exactly in my favor. I came from making out with her at the Slag Heap to pick you gals up."

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "Eww. Gross."

Gale guffaws. "I take it you don't want a kiss from me then? The Reaping Kiss helps more than just yourself, you know. It protects your partner, too. A safe-guard, just to get it over with?"

"No," I deadpan.

"OK," he holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "What about your mother, then, when she meets up with us?"

I goggle at him. "My mother hasn't kissed me since I was, like, 11."

"Before your father died?"

Silence. I glance down at my feet. "Yeah."

"What about Prim?"

"I would, but someone else has beaten me to it," I grin, nodding ahead. Gale follows my gaze to see that Rory is actually kissing my baby sister right on the lips. Secretly, I am grateful. Today is Prim's first Reaping; she should be plenty scared. I am more scared for her than I am for me. Besides, she's had a crush on Rory since she started school. From the way she is kissing him back, she's thrilled.

Gale shakes his head. "I'm gonna kill him." But his eyes are twinkling.

"Oh, leave the poor boy be!" I admonish.

We have now entered the Merchant section of the district. Town, as it's known. As we pass by the Bakery, I remember the game bag slung over my shoulder, and why I brought it. "Get the little ones registered," I say to Gale. "Last minute trade. I'll catch up."

He frowns at me. "You too?" He shakes his head before stressing, "Hurry!" and corralling Prim and Rory up the path.

I now cross up to the rear loading dock of the bakery, where I make most of my sales to the establishment. The Baker has a guilty pleasure for the squirrels I bag, praising how I shoot them right in the eye, every time. Knocking on the back door, I am relieved that it is not the Baker's wife who answers. She is a witch of a woman who hates anyone Seam like me and possibly even beats her own sons. Thankfully, it is her youngest, Peeta, who answers.

I have traded with Peeta often enough. We are in the same grade in school, and my dealings with him have, I guess, made him something resembling a friend. I've never been very good at making friends, and any kind of romance revolts me. I have vowed to never get married or have kids that will just be cast to the Reaping.

"Good morning, Katniss!" Peeta smiles - an expression out of my place on this grim day. I have to admit I like his smile. And his impossibly blue eyes...

I hold up the burlap satchel. "Last-minute delivery. Don't let your mother see."

Peeta takes them with appreciation. "Ready for the Reaping?"

I huff. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Stolen a Reaping Kiss yet?"

I gawk at him. "Not you too!"

Peeta shrugs. "They say it guarantees you won't be picked. That it'll bring you good luck." He stares down at his feet. "Believe me, I need it."

I stare at him, remembering. "Your cousin." Peeta's cousin was Reaped for the 71st Hunger Games three years ago. He survived the initial Bloodbath, but was hunted down and killed not long after.

Peeta nods. "Siblings' chances go way up if a relative has been in the Games, Victor or not. The Capitol likes that sort of thing."

He's certainly right about that. Even Victors' children are favorites for Reaping and have rigged many of them. I pity this kind, sweet boy in front of me. I think back to what Gale said, about a Reaping Kiss not only protecting yourself, but your partner as well. Should I... oh, to hell with it!

Fisting my hands into Peeta's dress shirt, I slam him back up against the loading dock door. Before he can say a word, I bash a bruising kiss against his lips.

This is my first-ever kiss, so naturally, I am terrible at it. But pretty soon, I feel Peeta's mouth slanting over mine, responding, making up for my sloppiness. Peeta deepens the kiss and our arms subconsciously go about each other. I feel the Baker's sons hand caress my ass, feeling me up. As if on instinct, I raise my leg to his waist, accidentally banging my knee into the door. Peeta's other hand actually squeezes my breast. I let him, biting my teeth into his lower lip and I yank him closer with a guttural groan. "Mmmm..." My satchel has slipped from my grasp, falling in the dirt, forgotten...

"Katniss!"

Peeta and I jump, break apart, our arms still around each other and in a very compromising position. I glance back, my eyes wild and my breasts heaving with gasping pants, to find my baby sister gaping at us in shock. I must have lost track of time, and she circled back to get me.

I quickly disentangle myself from Peeta's embrace and clear my throat. "There. You should have good luck." I quickly grab my satchel and run to Prim, glad if for no other reason that it was her and not, say, Mother or worse still, the Witch who caught us.

"What were you doing with him?" Prim whispers like a gossiping schoolgirl as we make for the Justice Building.

"Primrose, not now!" I snap.

Prim and I get through the Reaping without incident. So does Gale, his last one.

And so does Peeta...

I try not to think about how much my kiss played into such luck.

Mother and Prim and I sit at our meager dinner table that night. A single candle in the window demonstrates that we have survived for another year. Somewhere in District 12, there are two homes with windows darkened, signifying two families with children who will, in all likelihood, never come home. In 74 years, District 12 has only produced two Victors, and the last one happened when Mother was my age... almost a quarter-century ago.

"I'm so glad you both are safe," Mother sighs.

Prim grins. "I figured we would be safe. Rory Hawthorne gave me a Reaping Kiss. And Katniss made out with Peeta Mellark."

I choke on my water, my cheeks burning with warmth as Mother's head swivels to me with interest. "I did not make out with him! I... kissed him."

"A Reaping Kiss?" Mother's eyebrow raises.

"Uh... yeah," I mumble. "His brother was Reaped, so... Peeta's chances..."

"I thought you didn't believe in that stuff. That the Reaping Kiss is a superstition..."

"God, Mother, it was just a kiss! I didn't Toast the bread with him!" I scowl. There is a sudden knock at the door. "I'll get it." I cross to the foyer and open the front door. My eyes have scarcely widened at who it is before his arms are around me and his tongue is bashed down my throat.

I give a choked squeak into Peeta's mouth before I get my lips to work again, twisting them into his as I hesitantly kiss him back. The force of Peeta's kiss bends me back so far, he nearly sweeps me into a dip, and I find myself gripping his shoulders just to keep upright. At long last, Peeta releases me.

I blink rapidly once, then again. "Thank you," I whisper stupidly before turning on my heel and closing the door while Peeta is still on our front stoop. I return to the dinner table.

"Who was that, dear?" Mother asks.

"Oh, a new Peacekeeper on patrol. Stopped to ask for directions," I lie.