A/N: I write mostly for my own enjoyment, but I am posting here in hopes of some comments and constructive criticism to improve my writing. Ideas, praise, and constructive criticism are much appreciated and valued - flames will be ignored. Thank you!

CHAPTER 2

After an hour of hunting, I usually would have caught at least a few squirrels, but I'm not really trying. I'm too distracted by the fact that the youngest of the Everdeen girls, Primrose, would be in the reaping this year. 'She's only in there once. One slip among thousands. It won't be her.' I remind myself.

Katniss and I make sure that Prim has her name in as few times as possible, but it still worries me. Not to mention, Katniss has her name in 20 times, all because I wasn't quick enough to make sure that they were well fed, and that she wouldn't have to sign up to tesserae. I was in the games the year Mr. Everdeen died, and was still recovering and on my victory tour when she turned 12. I sigh. I should head back.

By noon, I am bathed, fed, dressed, and I have tried to redo my makeup to look my part as a mentor. Time to get Haymitch.

I walk through the now sweltering heat to Haymitch's junkyard. I prepare myself quickly before I open the door - there's no point to knocking, he'll be passed out drunk anyway, especially since it's reaping day. I kick a trail through the garbage that carpets the floor to get to where haymitch lays asleep on the floor against a wall, knife in one hand, open liquor flask in the other.

I use to try shaking him and calling his name, but after 5 years I know that there's only one way to wake him up. That leaves me trudging over to the kitchen for a pitcher of cold water. On the way over, I open a window, and briefly backtrack to take possession of the knife and cap the flask.

A few moments later has Haymitch awake and quite wet and hollering at demons only he can see, and me perched on the far side of the table as I wait for the coast to clear enough for me to set him up for lunch. A small, muffled "thanks a lot" is mumbled as I shove him into a chair and wade into his bedroom/closet to find him a simi clean shirt.

He slowly eats and dresses in his still drunken stupor, and a few minutes before 2, I get him out the door and headed towards the square.

When we get there, I greet Effie, who greets me with her usual chatter of "Orsa! It's great to see you! Happy Hunger Games! I mean its great to see you, not really him, but you of course…." In her silly capital accent, while she attempts a ladylike way of keeping away from Haymitch's flailing arms and swaying figure.

I nod, smile, and eventually persuade Haymitch to take his seat on the huge stage set up in front of the justice building, and hope that he stays there. As usual, I tune out as President Snow gives his history lesson on the games via recorded video, the same one every year. I glance around the square watching the faces of the frightened children below. Two of them it would probably be their last reaping, by the simple fact that they would be dead in a few weeks.

I find Prim's terrified face in the row of 12 year olds, her eyes glued to the projector screen to my right. Katniss is with the 16 year olds closer to the back, and I see her share a look with Gale.

Haymitch is swaying a little, mumbling profanity under his breath, eyes unfocused, while Effie shoots him a withering look, which is completely ignored. I roll my eyes.

"...Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Effie Trinket's trill voice echoes through the microphone, bringing me to my senses. "Ladies first,"

I can hear the crowd hold their breath as Effie reaches into the glass ball and pulls out a single slip with two dainty, polished fingers, before hobbling over to the microphone in her bright pink stilettos. The seal on the slip broke, she squinted slightly to read the name,

"Primrose Everdeen"

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