A/N: Thank you elisemellark (see, here is the chapter! I never break a promise!), (I hope I didn't spell that wrong), Kari (Yup), HungerGamesLover1020 (Thanks, I needed it! But I don't think it was too bad. Ok, actually it was really good;)), IwouldKillForaCheeseBun, Diana(thanks, I know there are errors, but they happen without me noticing and then I can't find them), CharmChaser, DandelionOnFire (I already told you everything I wanted to say, but thanks again), Kiss Peeta(:D)and BBree23 for reviewing.

PLEASE READ THIS:
This chapter takes place on the reaping day. I know, the last chapters took place in march, but I made a time jump. Don't worry, everything important you missed is in flashbacks, though this isn't too much, which is the reason I made this time jump. I think it would've been boring to write/read about their small talk and those sort of things while they became friends and I don't think anyone expected Katniss to run up to Peeta after two weeks and say marry me. It's Katniss we're talking about. I hope you agree.

And I hope you're not mad at me for bringing the games in (no, they're NOT going to be reaped, I don't want them in the arena), but the Hunger Games are 1) a big part of life in Panem and I think if I didn't let them take place somehow it'd be…weird and 2) the main reason Katniss doesn't want to get married and have children and 3) a Hunger Games fic without the actual games (except alternate Mockingjay and post-Mockingjay stories) is somehow…wrong. I think.

Ahh I'm babbling too much again. Just read, enjoy, review!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Happy now?

Chapter 6:

I awake to the sound of something hissing. My eyes fly open and I quickly sit up and look around. My eyes fall on an ugly, old gray cat. Buttercup. The ugliest cat in the whole world. He stares at me with this eyes that remind me of rotting squash every time I see them. He hisses at me again, then looks away.

Not that I care about this stupid mouser. But I would really like to know what I've done now to deserve this hiss. I suppose he just wanted to annoy me.

That's when I see the old, dust covered clock hanging on the wall. 7.00am. Oh. I was supposed to meet Gale a quarter of an hour ago.

I quickly dress and slip into my hunting boots. I grab my bag and make my way out.

When I arrive at our meeting place I'm out of breath. Gale is there of course, waiting. He's obviously angry…or at least very unhappy.

"Where have you been? I've been waiting for you at least twenty minutes."

He's right, of course. Neither of us has ever been late for hunting. So it's okay for him to be angry. But since I am myself I feel the urge to defend myself:

"I slept in. I'm sorry."

This comes out more snappy then I intended it to.

"Why do you snap at me? I just asked you a simple question."

He looks at me questioningly and still angry. I sigh. I really shouldn't have snapped.

"I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that buttercup woke me up. Or…"

I don't need to continue. We both know what day today is. It's the reaping. And while Gale is nineteen, and with that to old to be reaped, his brothers aren't. Prim isn't. I'm not.

But this year, this aren't the only persons I don't want to get reaped. There's someone else. Peeta. Over the past few month, we've become…friends. That's the only word to describe our relationship.

It isn't enough to call us acquaintances anymore. No. Not after all those hours in the woods. Not that we go out there often. Once a month, maybe.

But whenever we go, we stay the whole day. I always look forward to those days. Days of doing nothing, just admiring the forest and it's beauty. The last time we were out here, I tried to teach Peeta how to climb a tree.

Tried is the right word to describe it, because he is more than just clumsy. And he also fears highs a bit. I needed about an hour to help him climb the easiest tree I know. It's on the edge of the clearing covered in purple flowers, the one we found when we first went into the forest together.

We went there again, because now that it's summer, the flowers have an even more intense color. And Peeta wanted to paint them from bird's-eye-view. So I helped him up there.

But once he was in the tree, safe in the crown, he didn't want to climb down again. Maybe a bit because that'd mean he'd actually have to climb again, but mainly, at least that's what he said, because he had a perfect view.

We spent the whole day up there, eating and laughing and drawing. Well, he drew. But I like watching him while he does it.

And he drew the most beautiful picture this day. Because when we were up there and it was near sunset, a deer came to the clearing.

I was just about to shoot it when he whispered: "Let me draw it first."

And he did. Only the outlines, but that was enough for him. It already looked so much like that deer, I was sure once he was done, it'd be beautiful. Then he allowed me to kill it. I did, and I earned much money, but I almost was a bit sad to have killed something so innocent.

After I shot, Peeta started drawing it. Really drawing. I've seen many of his pictures that were good, but none of them was able to compete with this deer. I couldn't stop staring at it.

This was the second picture he gave it to me. And I gave it Prim. Because she loves animals. Since I did that, it's her lucky charm. She takes it everywhere she goes.

This are the things we always do out there. He draws. I watch. Not only him draw. I also watch the forest and it's life. We wander. I know new places to hunt. He got his answers about the forest. I even showed him how to shoot once, but he said he didn't think he'd be as good as I am. I told him I didn't expect that, after all I have years of practice, but he didn't want to learn how to shoot.

I guess it isn't in his nature. Killing, I mean. He would kill an animal if it was necessary, but he wouldn't do it just for fun. Well, I don't do it just for fun, either. I need it. But I like hunting and I don't think I would give up just because I don't need it anymore.

Gale interrupts my thoughts: "The reaping, yeah. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been like that. Not today."

"I'm sorry too. It must really be that day. I don't want Prim to get picked. Or me. Or Rory or Vick." I say. Or Peeta, like I thought, but I don't know if Gale knows about our friendship and I don't think he is too fond of it if he does. Though I'm not quite sure why. But for what ever reason, I guess it's better I don't mention Peeta.

Gale sighs: "I don't want you four to get picked either. Especially not you." He adds.

What? Not me? Why would he care more for me than for his siblings?
"Why?" I ask. I don't understand.

He seems to want to do something, because he takes a step closer, but then he backs away and answers: "That didn't come out right. It's just because…you've got the most slips out of the four of you."

I have a feeling he's lying to me, but that's the same feeling that asks me if I'm sure I want to know the truth. So all I say is: "Oh."

He sighs again: "Come on, let's not waste our time, let's hunt."

And that's what we do. When I shoot a squirrel I smile, remembering I owe Peeta one. For the picture of the deer. Since I didn't want it to be unpaid I told him I'd pay him the same way I did last time. A squirrel.

But there aren't many animals around today, so we gather plants and strawberries. We're going to sell them to Madge's farther. He's ordered them again, as he does every reaping.

When we're done we go back to our meeting place, because according to Gale we haven't done the most important thing today. So he reaches out, picks a berry from the bush and says: "And may the odds…" He throws it up in the air and I catch it with my mouth.

I feel it's bittersweet taste on my tongue. Bittersweet like today.

Bitter, obviously, because two children of every district will be reaped and all of them, except one, will die. That's all wrong, but there's nothing we can do about it. The Capitol is too powerful. And it's even more bitter because this year is a Quarter Quell again. I remember how President Snow read the card:

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that they attacked the capitol unaware of what they would loose, in the arena will be no cannon firing after the dead of a tribute and no pictures will of the dead be shown to the tributes." He said this in a tone that sounds like he just came out a grave. So cold.

That makes it even more difficult and cruel, because they will kill each other whenever they meet. There will be so much more fear.

But the day is, in a bad way, sweet, too. Sweet for a reason that wouldn't exist if the reaping didn't. There will be a bunch of children safe again. The ones who have turned eighteen. The other ones, like me, will be glad they survived this year and fear the next one.

So it's more bitter than sweet. Just like this berry. It isn't ripe yet, but it tastes good, though. That's the difference. There's nothing good about the Hunger Games. But this Berry, at least it tastes good.

I swallow it: "be ever in your favor!" I say, mimicking Effie Trinket's silly Capitol accent. Gale and I share a laugh, than we make our way to the hob.

After Gale and I had sold everything we hunted, he wished me luck for the reaping and we both went home.

"Katniss!" Prim exclaims. "Where have you been?" I'm a bit surprised. I thought she knew I was hunting?

"Hunting, why?" I ask.

"Because I need your help." She answers and with that she vanishes in the house. I follow her, a bit stunned. Why does she need my help?

Before I'm even all the way through the door she squeals: "This one or this one?"

That's how excited she is. If only I knew why. But then I see the reason. She's holding two dresses up, a blue one and a red one. "Mom says I am now big enough to wear a dress."

Yes, these are dresses my mother wore when she was a merchant daughter. No wonder that she gives them to Prim now that she's old and big enough to wear them. Prim, who reminds her of everything she had, of everything good. I only remind her of the miner she married and everything she gave up and lost.

I believe she loves me, after all I'm her daughter. And I remind her of my father, though that could count for both. But I can't trust her, not after she left us. This is one of the reasons I don't want to get married. When they die, when anything happens to them, it brakes you. I can't forgive my mother though. What she did isn't forgivable. She abandoned Prim and me. And though Prim has forgiven her and I actually try, I don't think I ever will fully.

"The blue one." I say. I'm not one for those kind of things. Girl talk. It doesn't matter to me. Why should I care what anyone thinks of what I wear? It's not as though I'd shoot an animal just because I'm good-looking. Though Gale said once, to tease me I guess, that I should wear something pretty out there, maybe the animals would come to me then. "Only male ones", he said, "but who cares?" And then he winked at me.

But Prim does care, so I tell her she should wear the dress that matches her eyes. Now that I take a closer look, it's the one I wore last year, when my mother surprised me by giving this dress to me. I suppose she wants to make up for all those years.

"Thanks!", Prim says and leaves.

Mother comes in. She hesitates: "Katniss, I laid out a dress for you, too."

"Thanks" I answer awkwardly. That how our conversations always go. Not long, very polite and nothing like they were before.

But I know how much it means to her if I accept something she's offering. There were so many years I didn't, just because I was angry and stubborn. So I go to my bed and laying there is a beautiful, green dress. Green like the trees in my forest. My mother comes in, smiling.

"This is the dress I wore when your father kissed me the very first time."

That's more than just surprising. My mouth must hang open. Not the kiss, of course. But Mother never talks about my father. Never. It's an unspoken rule to her. She must really want to make up, I guess. It's confusing, though.

But she just keeps smiling. "Why are you telling me?" I ask. It's really confusing.

Her smile just grows wider. "No reason." Wow. Pretty useful that answer.

I sigh and put the dress on. Mother braids my hair, like she did last year and Prim comes in, wearing the dress. She looks stunning, so beautiful with her two blond braids and her deep blue eyes. I was right. The dress really does match them. She's beaming when she sees her reflection in the mirror. "That's me?"

My mother smiles. "Yes. Look at you. My pretty little girl." She says, ruffling Prim's hair. Prim giggles.

I'm happy. That she can be carefree like that, even today. And that she was able to forgive my mother. She's a much better person than I am. Though she'd disagree, I know she is. The healer, rather than the killer. Sure, I only kill animals, but it's killing though, there's no denying this.

But Prim, all the times I took her out into the woods and tried to teach her how to hunt, screamed every time I shot an animal, started crying and said
that if we hurried and brought it home fast enough, maybe we could heal it. After a few tries I gave up.

Somehow, that makes me think of Peeta. I once noticed they have a lot similarities. And when I think about the hunting lessons, I find a new similarity. Peeta didn't want to hunt either. Maybe it's just that he doesn't like the bow and the arrow, but something tells me it isn't. Something tells me that he, just like Prim, refuses to kill. And that may be a stupid thing when it comes to surviving, but his morals…there is something about him I can't figure out. And that makes him a innocent, good person.

Seems everyone I know, well, except Gale, is better than me.
But then again, it shouldn't surprise me that Peeta is better than I am. I don't think I would have taken a beating for the life of a person I don't even know. I'm still not sure if he told me the truth about his intentions, but we don't talk about it anymore. Now that I think about it, he seems to want to avoid this topic.

I shake my head. No, he doesn't, I tell myself. Why should he? What would it be that he doesn't want to talk about it? It can't be that bad, can it? He must have told me the truth, because there isn't any other reason. There can't be.

I shake my head again. My thoughts drift to him quite often lately. And the most frustrating is, I can't figure out why. Or when it started. All I know is that I do and, even more frustrating, can't stop it.

Mother braided Prim's hair again and now we really have to get going. I take Prim's hand in mine.

Though she's only got two slips in the reaping ball, I made sure she didn't take out tesserae, I can't not be worried. I just need to think about the girl from eleven last year. She was only twelve, so she couldn't have had this many slips, but she got reaped though. She died when the boy from two, last year's victor, stabbed her with a sword.

I made Prim look away when he did this. I always do, I don't want her to see this much violence though it is unavoidable.

I sigh. I hate the Hunger Games and the Capitol for doing those things to us. But I can't do anything to stop them. I don't have the power. I remember words I heard a while ago, not quite sure who said them though.

I don't know what I'll do anymore. In times like this I think that they have to be stopped. Somehow.

I don't know who said this, I assume it was either Gale, in one of his I-hate-the-Capitol episodes, or Peeta, when we were out in the woods, but I know what this person meant. It can't go on like this forever. They have to be sopped. But no one knows how. The dark days failed and we're still being punished. For something that happened seventy-five years ago. Harder than anyone that started this rebellion could have imagined. So of course we are all afraid of what the Capitol might come up with if a rebellion fails again.

So these thoughts take me nowhere.

We're almost at the square now. I'm squeezing Prim's hand even harder, because I know in a few minutes I'll have to let go. She has to go to the thirteen year olds while I have to go to the ones who are seventeen.

I know she's scared, like last year and I am bothered by the fact that I can't be there for her in the most dreaded seconds of the year. And I know she's scared for me, because I've got twenty-four slips.

But there are thousands of other names. That's what I keep telling me every reaping.

Now we've reached the square and the peacekeepers tell us where we have to go. I hug Prim one last time, wish her good luck and go to the clump of the other children who are my age.

Effie Trinket, our escort, is climbing the stairs to sit on one of the three chairs, two already filled with the Major and, surprisingly, Haymitch Abernathy, the mentor for the tributes. He's drunk though. Well, no surprise there. He's drunken every year.

That's when I feel someone tap my shoulder. I spin around with a start. But to my relieve it's only Peeta standing behind me. For some reason I'm happy he's here. He gives me a sad smile, but says nothing. Instead he takes my hand in his.

I'm a bit startled, since he's never done this before, but I don't pull back. His hand, much larger than mine, is so warm and reassuring that I simply don't have the willpower to pull it away. I can need something stable right now. So I take a step closer to him, squeezing his hand a bit.

Just then the voice of our Major resounds through the whole square. He welcomes us and starts telling the history of Panem. About the rebellion, the dark days and how the Games started. The whole story, a story no one in the entire district wants to hear, everyone knows what happened. And everyone wishes it hadn't happened.

When he's finished Effie stands up and squeals with her shrill voice: "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

With that she goes over to the reaping ball. That's it. Now she will decide which poor girl is going to die this year. I'm squeezing Peeta's hand so hard that I fear it might loose all it's blood, but he doesn't complain. He squeezes my hand just as hard, while I plead.

Please not my name, please not Prim's name, please not us.

Effie's hand reaches in the ball and she takes her time to pick a slip. Everyone is holding their breath, we could hear a pin drop right now.

Then she pulls out a slip. She unfolds it while I pray that it isn't mine.

"Rose Miller!"

To say I'm relieved is an understatement. There's still something I fear, but at the moment I can't figure out what. I don't want to. Because it's not me. Not Prim. I search Prim's eyes and she smiles, but it's a forced one. I understand.

How can she give me a real smile if there's someone going to be killed?

Though I don't know Rose Miller, I guess she's one of the children of a merchant, that doesn't mean I don't feel bad for her. As she makes her way up the stage, I see how weak she is. She won't make it past the cornucopia. She's crying and she is small, maybe fourteen. Effie tries to comfort her, but it doesn't work.

So she smiles and says: "Any volunteers?"

Silence. That's all to be heard. That's the usual case. In the richer districts, where it is a honor to win the games, there are often volunteers. But here, in twelve, the word tribute means something like corpse.

Effie knows that no one will volunteer, but she asks every year. She isn't even disappointed that no one volunteers. She didn't expect it.

" Well, that means you're our tribute! And what a lovely one! So pretty! Now, clap for her! Maybe she's going to stop crying then! The poor girl is so overwhelmed because she gets to be our tribute! Applause, please!"

Does she really think so? Are the people in the Capitol really that stupid, cruel and uncaring? Do they really think we like to be killed, no, murdered
that way? I suppose yes. Why else would they do it?

I clap though. Because everyone else does. Because it's be dangerous not to. Disagreeing with the Capitol…that's the worst thing I could possibly do. Even hunting out in the woods…that's nothing compared to that. But the applause quickly dies down though. Nobody in district twelve likes the Hunger Games and what Effie just said…that's even more sadistic.

Effie smiles and announces: "And now…let's reap our boy tribute!"

And all relief I felt a few minutes ago is gone.

Because now I remember a boy who is standing behind me and squeezing my hand again. Peeta. I almost forgot about him, because of everything this Capitol woman said, but now I am reminded that he can still be reaped.

And I know that I don't want that. Like I noticed earlier, Peeta isn't a killer. He doesn't want to kill. How can a person so good and innocent, so full of life even be entered in this ball? But his characteristics aren't the only reason I don't want him to be selected for the games.

I don't want to loose these days in the forest, those days where I can be a bit more carefree. But these days won't be the same without him. I wouldn't want them then.

I clutch his other hand and hold both hands in mine, just as tightly as he does with mine. I don't know where this comes from, but when I hold his hands like this, I think I can somehow…protect him from being reaped.

Effie goes over to the ball, digs her hand in and takes out a slip.

"Johann Saddler!"

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding until now. Peeta does the same, but while I am watching him, his eyes are fixed on the boy tribute. He's got a sad, pitiful expression on his face. I can see he doesn't want this. And there's something else in his eyes. Guilt?

Why should he be guilty? He didn't start those games. There's no reason for him to be guilty.

I tear my eyes away from his and watch Johann Saddler. I don't know him, though his black hair and grey eyes tell me he's from the seam. Maybe I've seen him once or twice, but he never stuck in my mind.

He is eighteen I guess, at least that's what he looks like. I don't know how long he is going to last, but he doesn't seem as weak as our usual tributes. I don't think he's going to win though. We haven't had a victor in twenty-five years. And with the Quarter Quell rules, I don't expect him to be the next one.

When Effie asks for volunteers, no one says a word and the two are escorted to the justice building, where they will say their goodbyes to their families.

I look at Peeta again, who is now watching me. "What are you thinking?"

Is he serious? Does he really want to know what I think? About the reaping? The Games? "What are you talking about?" He has to know that talking about those thoughts is dangerous.

He quickly looks around, making sure no one hear what he said. No one did, I'm sure of it, everyone is busy being relieved and hugging their family members. But if anyone did hear what I think, I would be dead.

"I'm sorry", Peeta says. "Not the right place." I nod my head. He's right. We can talk about that somewhere else.

Prim is standing in the crowd, probably searching me. Before I can say anything, she sees me.

"Katniss!" She exclaims and runs over. Then she hugs both Peeta and me at the same time. Then I remember our hands, still intertwined and let go of one to hug Prim back.

But I don't find the will to let go of the other one. I can't. It's stupid, I know, but I fear that if I let go, he and Prim will get reaped or I will get reaped or Gale or anyone else I care for.

Wait. Did I just think I care for Peeta? Not to him, but to me? I sigh, but so quietly no one can hear me. Yes, I do care for him. I guess I can admit that to myself, I mean, I'm even calling him a friend now. But it's strange though. I'm not used to this. Letting people in. Though, I have a feeling I already let him in by visiting the bakery with Prim a few month ago.

When Prim lets go of us, I give his second hand a squeeze again and pry my fingers loose. But Peeta does something I didn't expect.

He grabs my wrist and pulls me into his arms. It only lasts a few seconds, but I feel how strong, warm and solid his arms are. Just like his hands. And when he pulls away, I find myself wishing he wouldn't.

But I push that thought away. What was that? I'm not one for these kind of things. For something physical, even if it's just a hug. So why would I wish for it to last?

Peeta smiles at me, dimples in his cheeks and I suppose a bit happy about the fact I didn't pull away. And when he looks at me like that, I can't help but smile back.

Prim chooses this moment to talk: "Hey Peeta, it's quite a while ago that we met. Would you mind visiting when the games start? I mean, if you can't, that's okay, but you told me that you always have to watch them alone and I don't really want you to."

I didn't know that. That he has to watch them alone. What does his family do? Why do they not hold together like a real family? Aren't his brothers trying to make it easier for him, like I do with Prim? But then again, they aren't as close as Prim and I. But so…nothing. Not even when it comes to the Games?

Peeta smiles, but hesitates. He looks at me. "If you don't mind. I'd like to. Really." Why should I mind? Does he think I don't want him in my house. Well, I might have thought that a month or two ago, but…I don't think it'd be that bad. He's already seen it from the outside. And I don't want him to watch the Games alone. That seems cruel.

"Of course. You can come if you want."

"Thanks." And then he adds: "I have to look for my family now, they'll be wondering where I am."

"Yes", I say. "We have to find mother, too."

He hugs Prim, promises her to come over in a week when the games start, smiles at me and vanishes in the crowd.

Prim is smiling at me while we make our way over to mother. "What?"

"I asked you that question a few month ago and you said you don't know." She begins. I'm confused. What is she referring to? She continues: "I asked you if you like him and you answered you don't know. But you do like him now, don't you?"

Oh. I didn't expect her to ask that again. She's right, when I heard this question the first time, I didn't know the answer. All I knew back then, was that I wanted to get to know him. I do know him better now, but there are still many things about him I don't understand. But now, unlike last time, I can't say I don't know. It's not true. I do like him. There's no other reason for spending time with him. And enjoying it. So I say:

"Yes, I do."

Ugh! Finally I'm able to update again. Sorry for the long wait. I was super busy with my Latin. But everything went well and I loved the last line in the translation:
"The earth is the mother of all human beings."
Great, isn't it? I will never forget those words. So true! And beautiful!

Um, alright, I know you don't really care. But I needed to say that. Well, just so you know, I have to study for the next week, too, since I still have to write three exams. So, I still won't have too much time to write.

Ok, that's everything I wanted to say. No wait…there's something else!

REVIEW!