The night comes too slowly. The day draws out as everyone leaves. Mother and Dad to the fields, along with Sabrina, who's nine, Tony, who's seven, and even Cora, the five-year-old. During harvest everyone works. But harvest will be over soon. Then comes the victory tour. I've been dreading it ever since I won the Games. Now its almost here. Great. More stress, more nightmares, more Games. And how am I supposed to get by the fact that I have to stare down at the families of children I've killed? And then there's Katniss's family to deal with. I try not to think of the victory tours. Except it's impossible not to think of them. So I try to not think of anything. I stare out into space.

I watch the sun slowly set. Look at the torches being lit to signal stopping time. See my family filter in to my house. Eat dinner. And suddenly I realize how quiet the evening is. Too quiet. Dad, who works at a different field then Mother, finally sets his fork down.

"Alright, what happened today?"

Mother stutters. "What? What do you-"

"Come on, Lena, you can't hide it forever!"

"I don't know what your talking about, Harry!"

" Lena! I know what it's like, just tell me!" Dad stands up, fists clenched.

"Harry! Not in front of the children!" Mother is standing now too.

"Lena, what happened today? Tell me. Tell me now." Dad's voice changes to a roar. My food lies on my plate, forgotten as I watch the argument unfold.

Mother loses it and yells too. "They shot ten little boys, Harry! Couldn't have been more than six or seven! Shot 'em because they weren't walking right on the paths! And they didn't just shot 'em! They made sure it wasn't quick and easy and painless, Harry! They… they… Oh, God, Harry, how do you think it felt watching that and knowing my children were in that danger? Hmmm? You don't even have any idea what it was like. So I don't want to hear another word from you on that! And I don't ever want you to act like you know what it was like, Harry, because you don't!"

Dad stares at mother. We all do. This is a side of her I've never seen. Then Mabele, the second youngest, and older sibling only to Bell, starts to cry at the outburst of sound that rarely occurs in out relatively quiet home. Mabele's full name is Mabele Hatua Clark. I don't know what my parents were thinking when they named him, but it means Forward Step in some ancient language that my parents found old books on. Come to think of it, they probably would have been arrested-or worse- if anyone found those books. Killed like the ten little boys that were shot today. The flashing thought brings me back to the present.

Bell, unsure of what to do, only knowing of following her older siblings emotions, begins to wail. I pick her up in my arms and try to comfort both her and my three-year-old brother, all the while glaring at Mother and Dad. The grumble and make excuses of being tired and washing the dishes and such and such. And they go off to bed still grumbling, still making excuses, leaving me with five wailing children.

This night is off to a GREAT start.