A/N: What . . . what is this? Another chapter up? In only a few DAYS? O.O I must be losing my procrastination touch . . .

Disclaimer: I am the proud owner of a 4 pound, 2 ounce baby. His name is Laptop. Though I do not own the Hunger Games . . .

Chapter 2

By the time we came to the square, I was aware of only two things. One, I couldn't breathe, and two, Jaren still had the flowers in his hair. As intense as the urge was to let Jaren suffer through the humiliation of someone seeing them, and though I could barely raise my arm, I found it in me to quickly ruffle his hair once, getting out all but a few stray petals. He glanced at me curiously before taking my hand and pulling me toward the sign-in station. It only took a few seconds, but as soon as I turned around, the mayor began to speak.

Jared gave me one final kiss on the cheek, but even as his actions said goodbye, his hand clenched tighter around mine, making it incapable for me to leave. I gently squeezed his hand in response, and a minute later he let mine go.

"Good luck."

I didn't respond as I ducked under the rope herding my fellow peers. I quickly made my way to the very front, disturbing few people. I saw a glimpse of Kiti on the sidelines, tucked under Jaren's protective arm, but just had enough time to be glad her and Vin had made it on time. Had the task been left to my mother, there would have been Peacekeepers pounding on my door at this very moment. Thankfully, I'd asked my best girl friend to make sure my siblings got to the reaping on time. Even as I thought it, Avalon grabbed my arm and stopped me from moving.

Today was the only day most people dressed up, mostly because it was required. Avalon had on a faded sea-foam-green skirt that was about a size too small and barely reached passed her knees and a mostly cream top, though you could tell it had been washed out so many times the original colour may have been orange. My own outfit was similar—a slightly longer light blue skirt and a surprisingly white shirt, both held together with silver thread. It must have cost a small fortune and at least a months' worth of his pay, but Jaren had bought me the thread as a birthday gift. I'd embroidered a small pattern of waves along the bottom hem of the skirt, and had even had enough left over to make a dress for Kutiel and pair of shorts for Irvin.

I whispered a quick thank you to Avalon, though she didn't seem to be listening as she stared avidly at the podium of the Justice Building. I'd only met Avalon a couple of years before, but she was a good friend. Especially on days like today where a small thing attendance meant the difference between a few hours of uncomfortable tension or a torture session with the Peacekeepers.

I opened my mouth to ask her if she'd had any problems getting my siblings here, but she pinched the back of my hand to shush me. It probably wasn't a good idea to ask here anyway. I instead tried to focus on the Mayor's drawn out speech.

I'd met the mayor before in person, though only once. It had been for a school event; we'd had to visit the Justice Building for a tour. The Mayor had shaken everyone's hand and thanked us, though I hadn't been sure for what. Mayor Thatcher was a rather tall, thin woman, with quick, sharp blue eyes and hair the colour of the setting sun. She was a firm, fierce leader, but she was also unbiased, and for that I admired her. To be a leader of a District, one commonly referred to as a 'Career District,' and to still be unbiased by the Capitols intrusion in our lives? Any person who could do that had already earned my respect, a thousand times over. Though, according to District gossip, I was among the minority. Many people didn't agree with the decision to let her become Mayor, even though she'd earned the right.

There was nothing that could get me to pay attention. I didn't even try. The words were a repeat of every other year, every other speech that had ever taken place atop that platform, but focusing on the decorations wasn't worth the effort. Some brightly coloured blue banners with faded gold writing, promoting the whole thing as a celebration, with the Capitols as its host.

At least we know where to send the thank you cards, I thought bitterly.

Then came the list of previous District 4 winners. I counted the names as they were read out, but the number is already planted in my brain. Twelve. Twelve tributes from my District had survived. Pretty good odds, most would say. Staring at the few remaining, there were a total of five, and though I could see some of them put on their best smiles, the others looked like they'd rather be anywhere else. I recognized Finnick Odair immediately—he won the games almost ten years ago. A small brown haired victor sat next to him. Annie Cresta. The expression on her face could only be described as complete indifference. I absently wondered if it was some kind of effect of whatever medicine she was taking. For a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw Finnick take Annie's hand. Must have been my imagination; most of the victors don't get along in our District. Sometimes the Peacekeepers have more work taking care of their fights than of the fights of the citizens. I remembered an old victor—long dead by now—had tried to kill another victor once while she was asleep in her bed. I wonder if any of the other Districts had to deal with situations like that.

The Mayor puts away her lists and flashcards and publicly shakes hands with each victor, because, of course, we are a friendly District. We respected our Mayor and our victors who had shown such bravery and we respected the Capitol for sparing us and continuing to let us live.

What a load of bull—

District 4's escort, a woman by the name of Ezra Cleary, is then introduced. A petite woman with hair one shade brighter than blood and a dress that came down to her shins and flared. I'd seen this type of dress—more of a gown, really—and the vague thought of a mermaid came to mind. Focusing more on that thought, the escort looked like a character in one of the picture books I'd read to Kiti and Vin a few months back. I ducked my head as a smile crossed my lips. This woman probably had no idea how ridiculous she looked.

"Happy Hunger Games!"

Hearing the words caused all humour to recede from my expression. It wasn't a laughing matter. Avalon even gives me a curious side glance before returning to her otherwise stoic position.

Apparently, Ezra Cleary is a woman of many words. It took a conveniently timed cough from the Mayor for the woman to finally finish up her welcome speech. After that though, every went much too quickly. She dipped her hand into one of the large glass bowls—I couldn't help but think of the time Irvin had convinced me to let him keep a fish in a bowl exactly like it—and then her hand has been withdrawn, the piece of paper unfolded, and the name read.

"Catari Winshell!"

It barely took three seconds.

Without even counting, I knew it probably took me twice that long to comprehend it.

Two seconds to take the first step. A full eight seconds to reach the stage.

All in all, it took closer to half a minute for me reach the spot the tributes designated place. It gave a lot of other girls enough time to volunteer. Someone would volunteer for me. They always volunteered. That was why I was walking up the steps. That was why I wasn't crying. Someone would volunteer.

"I'll make sure you're in the Hunger Games so you can die!"

"Are there any volunteers?"

It was with that thought that the realization hit in. No one would volunteer for me. Not Avalon, she had four little brothers to take care of and a promising future. I'd feel beyond guilty if she gave that up for me. Not even the girls who were dying for a spot in the arena would volunteer. All the girls in my year had probably been warned and/or paid off by Parvati, and the girls in years behind me still had another chance next year.

I'm going to die.

"No!" The shriek came out terrified and tear sodden. I glanced over to see Jaren, jaw slack, the most heartbroken expression on his face. I could see the exact moment his heart broke. It hadn't been his voice though, and that somehow almost made it worse. His grip was loose and Kiti didn't even have to struggle to free from his grasp. "I'll go! I'll go!" She screamed as she sprinted toward the stage, and it took all I had in me not to let her jump into my open arms. Avalon rushed from the crowd and grasped on Kiti's arm just as she was about to mount the stairs, and she takes her in her arms.

Ezra Cleary glanced at me. Anyone could tell that Kutiel, especially since she was small for her age, definitely was not old enough to volunteer.

"She's nine." I said in response, and I was surprised by the harshness of it.

Ezra smiled, but it was clearly coloured with disappointment. "No other takers?" There's no one. Just a silence that occasionally is broken by Kutiel's sobs. Even Irvin is openly crying—he hasn't done that in years.

I refused to look at Jaren. I couldn't bear to see his expression again. I'd break down, right there, with thousands of eyes watching.

"Lucky girl." It was Ezra's only comment directed at me personally, and it made me want to punch her in the face.

The name of the boy tribute was the only thing to break the silence, but I didn't even hear it. No one I knew who I cared about could have been picked. Jaren—his last reaping had been the year before. Irvin—his first wouldn't be for another few years. No one at school talked to me enough to form any friendships, other than Avalon. And she was safe as long as it was me standing on the stage.

It didn't even matter I hadn't heard the name; I see another boy volunteer in his place anyway. I didn't recognize him. Not surprising.

Seven entries out of thousands and it's my name they called.

I'd been able to keep my family alive without having to apply for tesserae. My family had been decently well off; enough that we'd had three meals a day, every day for years until my father had left. Even then, though, we'd been okay. My father had the decency to leave most of the money—I couldn't bring it in me to think it was because he actually cared about what happened to us—and I'd offered to work on a small fishing boat as soon as I was old enough. I was a natural at casting nets, even at a young age, and I always brought home at least two fish to have on the table for dinner.

The boy took his place, and we were forced to shake hands. He might have tried to tell me something, but my ears had stopped hearing (or maybe my head had stopped listening) and I didn't quite catch them. They might have been along the lines of good luck.

I pulled my hand away quickly.

I knew when the anthem had ended because the Peacekeepers suddenly appeared, leading us through the front doors of the Justice Building. I vaguely wondered if anyone had tried to make a run for it. I'm sure someone had. The real question would have been how far they'd gotten, and if it was even worth the effort to try.

I was shown to a room a left there, my mind too muddled to process the trip; I probably wouldn't have been able to escape the building, let alone the District. Even if I did know the woods better than they did, they were the ones with guns. Tridents, spears and nets don't work so well in the trees.

As I sat alone in the room, I tried not to notice the softness of the chairs. The brightness of the lights or the newness of everything. It was all high quality, fairly expensive fabrics and useless ornamentations. Really, who needed a candle holder that could support sixteen candles? If that tipped over, the whole place could go up in flames in a matter of seconds.

It was my brother and sister who got the honour of saying goodbye to me first. They didn't do much but cry, and I had no problem with that. This was their first encounter with loss. They had been newborns when my father had left us, and they weren't as experienced to that kind of pain as I was. I tried to comfort them, told them that Jaren would look after them, and Avalon, and that I'd be home if a few weeks.

I couldn't remember ever lying to them, and here I was, making impossible promises that I knew I couldn't keep.

It took them almost half of my allotted time to calm them. Maybe they knew I was lying, or maybe it was just intuition, but when they hugged me for the last time, Vin said, "You've been the best big sister ever." I started crying at that point, but it was their time to leave. Even then, the Peacekeepers had to practically drag them from the room. It broke my heart a little bit more than it already was.

Avalon came in next, and though we've never been one for emotional outpourings, we sat on the couch provided and cried. She told me she'd take care of my siblings as best she could, but it was an empty promise. She had her own family to feed without beginning to worry about mine. I told her I'd make it out of the games alive and give her half of my winnings for the rest of our lives, but we both knew the truth.

There was no way I was going to come out of that arena alive.

I sat there for a moment, trying to memorize everything about this girl I called a best friend. Her brown curly hair, her kind, warm eyes, her soft features. I wanted to hold onto these things.

Before Avalon left, she wiped away my stray tears, fixed my shirt and gave me a kiss on the cheek. It was the most amount of comforting I'd ever received before, and I was immediately depressed by how it would probably be the last.

"Do us proud."

It was my last visitor that I was so anxious to see, even though I could hardly stand to look him in the eyes. My goodbyes with the others had taken longer than I thought, so when I saw him walk through the door, his expression was urgent, his steps rushed. I laid a comforting hand on his arm, but he seemed annoyed by the gesture so I dropped it.

Hastily, his finger shaking with nerves, he pulled something out of his pocket. He looked like he wanted to hand it to me, but he glanced at my face and hid it in his palm for another moment.

"Cat." His voice was as steady as the ground, his gaze as stable as a steel cord. The way he said my name wasn't a goodbye. He took a moment to compose himself, and when he looked in my eyes, I could see a new kind of fire burning in them. "Catari Winshell."

Uh oh. Full name.

Then he held out the object for me. I suddenly couldn't breathe. It was like the one time I fell underwater when I was out fishing with my father, too little to know how to swim. I'm scrambling at the water, or air, or whatever was trying to suffocate me, but I couldn't get purchase on anything solid.

Until finally, my fist impacts. The object just happened to be Jaren's face.

"Are you kidding me?" I screamed at him, letting another blow fall on chest as he stood in shocked silence. "Are you kidding me? You wait till now to—to . . . to do this? What is wrong with you?"

Because the small thing that was previously perched in Jaren's open hand, the object now lying on the floor, was a ring. Small, silver, and definitely worth too much for Jaren to be able to afford.

And all he could think to say was, "What?"

I felt like raging, breaking his face against the table, shoving him out the window, anything to get that stupid look off his face. "You propose now? When I'm about to die? And it's not even romantic!"

And then Jaren laughed. I punched him again, though he didn't seem to feel the impact as much as I did in my knuckles.

This is what he wanted to do this morning. He wanted to ask you to marry him. But why still do it now? Why bind your life to someone when you know you're going to be watching them die in the next few weeks?

He took my hand and started massaging my knuckles. His voice was deathly calm as he spoke to me. "I don't expect this to be a marriage proposal, Cat. This is a promise. And I want you to promise that you'll do everything in your power to come back home, because, no matter what, I'll always be here for you."

And that just about made up the lack of any romanticism before.

I kissed him. There was no need for words. These were our last few camera free moments, and I didn't have any intention of wasting them, which is why I felt such utter disappointment when Jaren pulled back. He picked up the ring carefully, didn't even offer to put it on my finger. Placing it in the middle of my palm, he wrapped my fingers around it. When he leaned back down, I closed my eyes, expecting another kiss. His lips were at my ear, his words slow but urgently clear. "Use it." His hold on my hand tightened and the ring dug into my skin. "Use it. I'll wait for you forever."

I didn't have time to ask him to explain. I didn't even have time for a last kiss. His hand was ripped away from mine and even as I reached out to him, the dying breath of a word on my lips, Peacekeepers had dragged him from the room, shutting the door between us.

"I love you."

Forever.

Jaren would be waiting a long time.

A/N: So . . . What do you think? I'm not asking for much, just even a smiley face. :) How hard are those?

*~*Courtney*~*