The familiar cold finger of dread creeps up and down my spine. If I knew anything about Katniss—and I'd like to think I did, even if I'd never actually spoken to her—she never would have let her baby sitter sign up for tesserae. Unlike my older brother.

If that was true, Primrose's name was written on only one slip of paper in that giant bowl. If the odds were in favor of anyone, it was Primrose.

But yet here it was: the stone cold reminder that no matter what we did or how we tried to protect our families, the Capitol could take them at any moment.

Now, we had to watch the death of a malnourished child at the hand of someone much stronger and older than she. What a perfect reminder of our own hopelessness.

Noise of discontent started brimming in the crowd. No one thinks it's fair that twelve-year-olds like Primrose have to go against eighteen-year-olds. Of course, there's nothing anyone could actually do about it. But we all still murmur our disapproval anyway.

Even so, Primrose is taking small, brave steps toward the stage. I can hardly even see her over everyone else's heads since she's so short.

"Prim!" My head whips to the sound of Katniss's voice, now strangled with desperation. "Prim!"

We all wordlessly part to make room for her. She brushes right past me, her arm hitting mine. It seems like a mere second later, she's shoving Prim behind her and gasping, "I volunteer!" You could cut the silence with a knife. "I volunteer as tribute!"

The crowd starts murmuring again, and Effie has an odd, panicked look on her face. My whole body is covered in goosebumps at the sight.

I had never witnessed someone volunteering before, not in District 12. We were not one of the stronger districts where it was an honor to take place in the Games. We never even stood a chance. So whoever had the sore luck of being picked would have to take the burden this year.

But not Primrose Everdeen. Her fate was changed, all by her sister.

A hard lump rose in my throat and I could practically hear my pulse hammering in my ears. Now, instead of watching an innocent child, I would have to watch the target of my unrequited affections suffer before millions.

She wouldn't have the chance to marry Gale Hawthorne, even if she wanted to. And I would spend the rest of my life wishing I had been brave enough to say something, anything, to her. I'd lost my chance. In District 12, the next day was never promised and I had taken each one for granted.

I would have to learn my lesson from Katniss Everdeen.

"Lovely!" says Effie Trinket, her shrill voice breaking into my thoughts. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…"

Who gave a damn?

It seemed like the mayor agreed with me, because he said, "What does it matter?" Effie just stared at him, unaccustomed to any interruptions. "What does it matter?" He asked again, his voice gruff. "Let her come forward."

Primrose is screaming, clinging to Katniss. I can't make out what they're saying to one another. I see Gale Hawthorne emerge from the crowd, pluck Primrose off of Katniss, and vanish back into the crowds.

"Well, bravo!" Effie Trinket gushes. "That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?"

Katniss's face is stony, her eyes staring somewhere beyond all of us. "Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?"

What a ridiculous thing to say. It just proves how out of touch they actually are in the Capitol. What glory is there in having your entire country watch your slaughter?

When Katniss says nothing, Effie continues. "Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

My hands stay still at my side, even though I half expect the surrounding people to clap out of nothing other than fear, if not apathy. But the entire square is dead silent. It's outright defiance to their celebration, and fear spreads throughout my body.

And then I catch the ripple of something so much more dangerous. The people in the crowd are touching the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and then holding it out to Katniss. I don't even hesitate to join in on the gesture, even though it could very well earn me a bullet through the head. They can't shoot all of us at once. Right?

I haven't made that motion very many times in my life. Despite our own hunger, my family had faced little tragedy to warrant such a goodbye, such admiration for a person we love. But here we all are, giving it to Katniss.

But Haymitch trods straight through the moment, staggering over to Katniss. "Look at her. Look at this one!" He throws an arm around her shoulder, almost knocking her over. "I like her! Lots of… Spunk!" He says triumphantly. "More than you!"

Haymitch releases her and starts lumbering around the rest of of the stage, pointing to one camera. "More than you!"

Who is he targeting with this little show? What is he trying to accomplish?

I'm hanging on his next word, but it never comes. He plummets off the stage and out of my vision. Effie wastes no time turning the attention back to her job at hand.

"What an exciting day!" She tries to straighten her wig again, which keeps tilting to the side. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

Please don't be my brother. Please don't be me. I don't even have time to wish for the fate of my school friends; I tunnel all of my energy into Teff and me.

Instead of fishing around like she did for the girls, she plucks the first slip she touches. I keep repeating my mantra. But it's not enough. "Peeta Mellark."

My blood runs cold. It's as if all my senses fail at once and stop processing the world around me. My vision goes blurry, the murmurs of the crowd falling to the wayside. I can only process my cracked lips, my empty stomach, and the feeling that I am plummeting straight to the core of the Earth.

I hope none of that showed. The people surrounding me give me a little push, and the crowd parts for me just like it did for Katniss. I straighten my shoulders and try to look in control as I make my way toward the stage, toward Katniss.

One stupid, fleeting thought pops into my head. Hey, at least you'll get the chance to talk to her before you die.

Effie has the audacity to ask for volunteers. I never even considered that my older brother would stand up for me the way Katniss did. I just swallow hard and wait for them to move on.

The mayor starts to read the long, dull Treaty of Treason but I don't process a word. I'm surprised by the vast stillness in my mind. I would have thought I'd be filled with panic and desperation, clinging to any possibility of escape. But my body floods with such a freezing hardness that I hope I'll ever warm up again.

I risked one quick look at Katniss. And thankfully, she was turned straight ahead.

Did she remember what happened, all those years ago? Did she ever think of when I threw her that bread? It was the only time she'd noticed me, and it was my own fault. With my luck, it had never crossed her mind since. I don't think I'd remember me, either.

My mind snaps back to the present just in time for me to hear that we are supposed to shake hands. Hers are small and a little chilly, palm rough against mine. I squeeze her hand just a little, hoping she would know that I'm on her side. That she's not alone here. If we both have to die, at least it will be with someone from our own district. Someone kind. That is all we can ask.