We walk together to the square, nodding at other families we know. Conversations are muted, our feet not dragging, but not eagerly striding. Sign-in takes place quickly and then there's only time for me to give Prim a quick hug, and flash an encouraging smile at Katniss before we need to separate into our assigned areas. All the children of reaping age are herded into roped-off areas, sorted by age, eldest up at the front, with the youngest to the back. I join the adults outside the roped area, my eyes searching for my girls. I am calmer once I spot them and I share grim nods and tight smiles of acknowledgment with the parents around me. There is an air of resignation and denial hanging over us all. We know what is coming, but we cannot stop it. All we can do is keep our heads down and hope the storm misses our family.

A flash of color draws my eye and I see the brightly-clad Capitol escort taking her seat on the stage, like a bird with ruffled feathers. Her face is unnaturally white and flawless, her features erased then re-drawn boldly. She is wearing a spring green suit that is tightly fitted and does not look like it would allow any fast or bold movement. Maybe her body feels as penned in as our children are, but I spare no pity for this clown-ish woman who comes each year to take two of our children off to die. My eyes dwell on her wig, the loveliest shade of pink I have ever seen. It is a colour for a flower, or maybe an expensive dress, but looks ridiculous as a shade of hair.

She sits beside Mayor Undersee. I look around the crowd for his wife, not expecting to see her. Marilee, my long-estranged childhood friend, is rarely well enough to leave her home. I remember the three of us being inseparable; myself, Marilee and her twin Maysilee. We all grew up in town together; Marilee was always the one coming up with the wild ideas, while Maysilee was the resourceful one who made the ideas into reality. I thought the three of us would live in side-by-side houses in town when we were grown and be forever friends but the year we turned 15 Maysilee was reaped and did not come home. Marilee wasn't seen in town for a long time, I was turned away from the door when I tried to see her, and when she finally emerged it was like the life had left her with Maysilee. I spot her daughter Madge, not too far from Katniss. Even her own daughter being in the pens is not enough to enable her to battle through the pain and be here. A bitter thought crosses my mind – her child is not in as much danger as my child. Being the mayor's daughter means she would only have the minimum required paper slips for her age, while Katniss has been forced by our poverty to take out extra slips in return for food. But I reproach myself; she's not the only mother who has ever failed her child. I sigh as the clock strikes two and the reaping begins.

As the mayor mechanically recites the yearly speech, I obediently face the stage and keep my face slack and empty. We all know it well, the history, the rebellion, the defeat, and our punishment, the Hunger Games. I allow my mind to wander and I find myself wishing Glenn was by my side to steady me, to give me hope, to remind me of all the beauty in the world. Life was hard, but it was also full of laughter and song and his love brought safety. He kept the harshness of the world at bay, but even he would've been powerless against the reaping.

I am yanked from my musings by the arrival of Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's only living victor of the Hunger Games. He staggers onto the stage and barely made it to his chair, mumbling loudly. I despise the man. He has unimaginable amounts of money and freedom and for eleven months of the year all he does is sit in his house up in Victors Village and drinks. The twelfth month he goes to the Capitol with the reaped tributes, and drinks while they do in the arena. Yes, I despise his useless ass. He won and came back home the year Maysilee did not. I don't recall how he won, when Maysilee was killed by those birds for entertainment, I was inconsolable, but he is alive and my friend is not and even though I know it isn't his fault Maysilee is dead, him being alive is still a waste.

The Capitol idiot is now scanning the crowd, mouth pursed, tilting her head and pelvis towards the camera and dramatically offers up "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

She trots to the ball filled with paper slips, one with Prim's name on it, twenty with Katniss's name and from all around I hear an intake of breath, and realise I too have filled my lungs and am holding my breath waiting for the danger to pass.

"Ladies first!"

"Not my girls. Not my girls" I repeat in my head

The horrible woman opens her garish painted lips and her voice rings out excitedly

"Primrose Everdeen"

Everyone exhales in relief as they realise their daughters are safe for another year.