A/N: So sorry it took so long. So much stuff going on. The beginning of this was just sitting in the back of my fanfic folder, all lonely. Haha.

Chapter 2:

Of course it had to be Artie Hawthorne. The most stuck-up kid in all of District 12. I hated him so much. I mean, he'd even tried hitting on me! (Along with all of the other girls in school.) Ugh. If nobody else killed him, I would.

I practically ran into my compartment to get away. I plopped down on the bed and started crying. I should've known this would happen! My parents had told me victors' children had been Reaped before, but none had be children of two victors. Great. Just my luck I'd be the first.

There was a knock on the door, and my dad walked in.

"I though you might like this." He held something out. "It was your mother's"

Then I knew. The one thing that would make me almost exactly like my mom. I took the Mockingjay pin from him and pinned it on my shirt. "Thanks," I said.

"You look so much like her…" Except for my eyes, bright blue just like his. "You're gonna be okay, you know that? You're strong. And no matter what, I'm not losing you too."

I was almost crying again. I was having everything taken from me. The feeling of safety that I'd always had, my mother, and now maybe even my life. But I had to believe him. I was strong. I'd make it.

He hugged me tightly. "Whenever you're hungry you can come out and get food."

I nodded, and he walked out. That was the first time I'd had a whole conversation with him since…since mom died. It felt nice. I'd felt so alone,

I leaned back on the bed, and sighed. This train was nice enough, if only we could just skip over the Capitol, and keep going to who knows where. It'd be simpler than where we were actually going.

I think I might have fallen asleep, because next thing I know, someone is knocking on my door again.

"What?" I snapped. Unless it was my dad, I just wanted them to go away.

Of course. Stupid Artie walked in.

"Hey, Prim," he said. He sounded as though we were best friends. Which we weren't. Not even close.

"Get out, Hawthorne. Or just maybe you won't even make it to the Capitol."

"Oo, nice one. I think I'll take my chances."

"I'm warning you Hawthorne."

Still he walked closer. "What? What will you do? I'm older, bigger, stronger, and faster than you."

That's it. I jumped up from the bed and punched him right in the mouth. He stumbled back, his hand covering his face. I could see a little blood under his hand. Serves the jerk right.

He was calling me horrible names as he backed out. It didn't faze me. I'd been called worse. I grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it at the wall. It helped get rid of at least a little anger.

I decided to go get some food, even though my dad and Artie were probably there, just waiting to tell me off.

I was right.

"How dare you punch him!" Dad was practically yelling.

"He was getting annoying, and I told him to leave, but he wouldn't listen."

"That's still no reason to punch him." His voice was deadly calm. And I must say, it scared me a little bit.

"I told him to go, and he didn't, though!"

Of course, poor Artie could do no wrong, and I got in trouble. Stupid stuck-up, snobby jerk.

"So, when we get there, what's going to happen?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

"You're going to see your prep teams. It's not going to be nice, but you'll go through much, much worse in the arena."

Huh. So we get to go through hours of torture before we even get to the place we're going to die. Nice, Capitol. Nice.

Prepping was worse than I'd expected. It was horrible to the billionth power. After the plucking and waxing and the awful baths, I was red and sore. And I hated it.

And the costume, oh the costume was hideous! The baggy coal miner uniforms were back. Great way to make sure we lost because we didn't have sponsors when we really needed it. My stylist looked crazy. Drawn on eyebrows, silver lips, orange hair. It looked like a rainbow threw up on him. How the Capitol people think any of that is attractive, I'll never know...

I was one of the first tributes to get down to the chariots. I hung out with the horses while I was waiting. I'd always had a better bond with animals, than people.

"Hey," I heard Artie say in my ear.

"Get. Back." I said, shoving him away with my shoulder.

"Hm. Tempermental. I can work with that."

I spun around. "You think you're all that don't you? Well, guess what? You're not. You're the most selfish, stuck-up, snobby, jerk I've ever met!" The words just exploded out of me. I wasn't going to pretend to like him. We had to kill each other in a matter days, better to just pretend the other didn't even exist.

"Ah. So what you're saying is you like me?" I swear. His head was so thick.

For some stupid reason, I blushed. "I do not! You're obviously stupid, if you got that out of what I said!"

We climbed onto the chariot, and I stood as far away from his as possible. When our chariot finally rolled out, I was ready to punch him again. Thankfully, he shut up. The crowd had been focused on the chariots before us, but a few people called out my name. Recognized me, because of my parents. I was almost an exact copy of my mother after all. Except her scars. Those can never be copied.

"You're famous," Artie noted.

I shrugged. "My parents, not me." Nobody really knows me. Primrose Rue Everdeen. Named after two different people, who both died when they when they were young. I'm not friendly, I'd protect Gwyn no matter what the cost, I'm too stubborn for my own good... No, nobody really knows me. Just my name. Made famous because of my parents.

Someone actually screamed, "Katniss?" And it felt like I was smacked in the face. And I almost fell off the chariot. I managed to avoid it by grabbing Artie's arm.

He somehow managed to grab my hand. I tried to shake him off, but I couldn't. He was gripping my hand so tightly, my fingers were going numb.

President Buchanon said the long and very boring speech, my parents told me President Snow used to make. Then the chariots were wheeled back into the Training Center.

"Let go!" I hissed, shaking my hand.

He smiled, and let go. Then, because he's a jerk, he kissed me on the cheek. I swear. If he kept doing that junk, he wouldn't even make it to the arena.