First off, thank you so much to my first reviewer, xKatharosx, glad that you like the story! Second off, thank you again to xKatharosx for becoming my Beta, and for all of the great spelling and grammar checking. Also, for editing it so fast, and thoroughly!
Reviews are much appreciated!
When I walk through the door, everything becomes real. While I was in the meadow, I was able to temporarily forget about the Reaping, but now that it is time to get ready, avoiding it is not an option. My mother comes to greet me, and decides not to ask where I was judging by the expression on my face. At this point, I am ready for it all to be over.
"I picked out your outfit Prim," mother say carefully.
I don't know whether to cry, or run away, or what to do. Not trusting my voice, I just nod and head up to the tiny bathroom. Once there, I take my brush and start to head down stairs so mom can braid my hair. I'm about to head out of the bathroom, but then I get a second thought. I go back in, and clean the coal dust off of dads shaving mirror. He hated the layer of coal dust that settled over everything in the Seam. Once satisfied, I go to meet my mother.
Wordlessly, I sit on the stool facing the window, and look at the fence enclosing us in District 12. Silently, mom comes up behind me and gently starts to comb my long blond hair. After I start feel the familiar tugging of my hair being put into two French braids, I let my mind wander. Looking in the mirror, I envy my mothers ability to create such artistic hairdos. I have been trying to recreate her masterpieces with little avail.
"Go get dressed Prim," she says gently.
The outfit laid on the dinning room chair is familiar. It's the outfit Katniss wore for her first Reaping. I put on the scratchy gray skirt, and light blue blouse, but the back won't stay tucked in.
"Mom, it won't stay," I whine. I really don't want to have to worry about this right now.
Her eyebrows scrunch up, looking for a solution. After trying to coax the blouse into staying put a few times, she gives up. Her eyes brighten, and she searches through some drawers grabs something, and pins the blouse into place. It doesn't look that great, but I'm hoping that I will only be wearing this for a short time, in a crowd of people so large; no one will notice all the pins.
After fidgeting for a few minutes, I realize I need to do something to keep my hands, and mind busy.
"I'm going to run Katniss a bath", I announce, not really to anyone.
"No I've got it", a voice echoes from somewhere else in the house, then the sound of running water is all that can be heard.
Finally, I settle on the bed and scratch Buttercup behind the ears. The sound of the door opening startles me out of my statue-like state, and I got to greet Katniss. As soon as she opens the door, her usual scowl turns into a smile. One of the real ones that reaches her eyes. She sets her game bag on the table, and by the thud it makes, I know it was a successful hunting trip.
"Oh don't you look beautiful." She kneels down to my eyes level and puts my head in between her hands. I always love when Katniss comes back from a hunting trip, she is always in a good mood, and smells like pine trees, flowers, and wilderness. Like dad.
"Katniss, I ran a bath for you," mom's tentative voice rings from the staircase.
Katniss's eyes turn dark, her previous moment of happiness gone. "Thank you," her voice is strained. Anger and resentment fill the air like thick, black smoke, and I can feel Katniss's wall building back up. She still doesn't like mom doing stuff for her, and tries to associate with her as little as possible. All those bad feelings Katniss has bottled up over the years have made her fiercely independent. Reluctantly, Katniss follows mother up the staircase, leaving me alone petting Buttercup once again. When they return, Katniss's hair is into an intricate braid that could have only been woven by mom. I'm startled when I see that she is wearing a thin bright blue dress, one of moms from her apothecary days. I'm surprised mom let her wear it; her cloths from when she was younger are very special to her.
"You look beautiful," I breathe. Suddenly, a pang of envy hits me like a ton of bricks. "I wish I looked like you, Katniss."
I think she hears the disappointment in my voice, because she leans down so I can see into her earnest eyes. "No, no. I wish I looked like you." She eyes my un-tucked blouse. "But you might want to tuck in your tail little duck."
I can tell she is trying to act casual, but the slight shake in her voice betrays her. She's scared. However, she doesn't want me to know. I act like I didn't notice anything, but quack in an attempt to calm her nerves. When this receives a genuine laugh, I put my hands on my hips, and make motions like I'm flapping my wings, hobble around the room, and quack for all it's worth. She continues to laugh, "quack yourself."
She pokes me in the stomach just as a deep bell rings through the District. The mood in the room quickly changes from cheerful back to its frightened demeanor. Katniss's face suddenly turns grave, "Time to head to the square for the reaping, Prim." All I can do is give a slight nod before Katniss grabs my hand and leads me out the door towards the village square.
They host the Reaping in the village square, so that the JusticeBuilding is in the back round. This is a shame, because the square is one of the few places in District 12 that can be considered happy, and enjoyable to be in. Sometimes, I like looking at all the market stalls, I can't afford anything of course, but all the different food, cloths and candy are still memorizing to look at.
I'm vaguely aware of the rough gravel under my feet, and the train tracks beside me, when Katniss abruptly stops. "Prim, listen," she begins, grabbing my shoulders, "when we get to the square, there will be a line, and then they will prick your finger to take a little bit of blood. It doesn't hurt much."
"You never told me that," I whimper with my bottom lip trembling.
"I know," she starts rushing through her words, "then you go and find the little kids. I'll pick you up after the Reaping." As a second thought, she kisses my forehead.
Reluctantly, I let go off her hand, and get in line. My eyes flash in panic around me. There are so many sad and scared looking people. Peacekeepers adorn the roof with guns as well as cameras. They are everywhere. When a lady in a white coat tells me to stick my hand out, I slowly comply. My mind is going a mile a minute, and even though I flinch when the needle pierces my finger, I am too preoccupied for it to really bother me. Finally, I head to the 12 year old section and wait for the reaping to begin.
I am too worried to really notice anything, but vaguely see Mayor Undersee take his seat, and when Haymitch Abernathy, our only living Victor,falls off the stage after saying something, a nervous laugh escapes me. He's drunk, very. As usual. No wonder District 12 ever has a Victor; it would be a miracle to squeeze any advice out of our Mentor. It is evident in our Escort, Effie Trinket, the strange woman from the Capitol dressed from head to toe in poufy neon pink fabric, face that Haymitchis not her favorite person in the world.
"Well, how about we look at a little video sent all the way from the Capitol?" Her voice carries the usual strange Capitol accent. Only instead of mocking her, the crowd remains silent.
The video starts, and it is the same one every year. It describes the famines, droughts, and fires that killed most of the world's population long ago. Also, the violent seas that ate up most of the land mass. "The country Panem, a shinning Capitol ringed by 13 Districts, raised out of the ashes." As the video begins to tell about the Rebellion and creation of the Hunger Games, I zone out, and wait for the video to be over. I don't like how they talk about District 13 being blown up and all the people dyeing.
When some people are nervous, they twiddle their thumbs, or chew their nails. Well, I squeeze my hands into tight fists at my sides. I'm glad when the video ends, because my fingers are starting to get tingly from loss of circulation.
"I just love that!" Effie's voice chirps just as the music starts to fade. "Let's get started! Ladies first!" Finally the moment that has caused me so much grief has come. I will be glad when this is over.
The whole District inhales a sharp intake of breath as she bobbles over to the glass bowl containing every eligible girls name in the District, some more than others. Her perfectly manicured nails shuffle the slips around in the jar, tantalizing the audience. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."
Please do not be Katniss, I plead silently in my head, anyone but her.
Finally, Effie picks a pale white slip of paper.
Please not be Katniss.
She walks to the front of the stage.
Please do not choose Katniss.
Breaks the single piece of thin black tape keeping the name hidden.
Not Katniss.
Then, her lip stick smeared lips form the name of the innocent young girl being sentenced to death.
And it's not Katniss.
It's Primrose Everdeen.
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