Chapter 2

I enter my small house and Prim greets me, already dolled up for the Reaping. Her shiny blond hair is in two braids and she's wearing one of my old outfits, even though it's a little big on her.

"Katniss! The Reaping starts in an hour," She tells me, worried.

"It's going to be fine Prim. You won't get picked," I lie. There's always a chance that you'd be picked.

"But!" she protests.

I cut her off, "It isn't going to happen, alright," I say, fixing a small section of her hair.

"Prim? Can you come here Sweetie?" Mom calls from the kitchen.

"Coming Mom!" She says, running towards her.

I head to my room, where Mom had laid out a dress for me. It's a light blue button up with small sleeves. I put it on before heading downstairs, where Mom offers to braid my hair for me, just like every Reaping. Once she's finished, Prim and I walk up to the Hall Of Justice, where the Reaping is.

As soon as we get there, Prim starts to panic. The area is crowded, with teary eyed adults hugging their children and dead eyed eighteen year olds who are already numb to the annual death draw. I spot a few twelve year olds hanging around near the front. They all look too young to be involved in something like this.

I shush her, "Prim, it's alright. They're just going to take a little bit of blood, just to make sure its really you, but after that, you just go to the crowd and hang out with the little kids, alright. When it's over, just find Mom and me and we'll head back to the house."

Prim nods, but she's still teary. I lead us to the lines, but she gets to the front first because hers moved faster. I watch as Prim winces as her blood gets taken. She looks at me one more time, fear in her eyes, before I lose her in the crowd.

"Next," The flat voice of a peacekeeper orders. I step forwards and he pricks my finger, before planting it down on a piece of paper. I try to shake the sting out.

"You're good to go. Next," The peacekeeper says, grabbing the next person's arm.

I look around for Prim, but she's probably with the other twelve year olds already, so I go into a section with people my age. One girl, Lycie Orban, who's in my grade, is already crying, but a few of her friends are trying to console her.

"Katniss!" Someone calls, close by. I turn to see Cecily, wearing a button up white shirt and a knee length satin red skirt, "It's about to start!" Her blond hair has been pulled back into a elegant bun, but a little bit of curly hair has fallen out of it. Her small brown eyes are slightly red, because of crying. She isn't the only one with red eyes, but quite a few are like that because people who are eligible tend to get drunk the night before a reaping. I tried it once when I was thirteen, because Travier, who had never touched a bottle of wine or held a cigarette before, opted to do it. I can barely remember the night, all I know is the next day Travier was reaped and I had a terrible hangover.

I look towards the stage and I can see our District's escort, Aiola Marcher, standing tall on the stage, fiddling with her microphone. She's wearing a ridiculously small and bright red dress, adorned with sparkles and enough flashy material to permanently blind me.

Behind her is three of our District's five mentors, Johanna Mason, Blight Hemingway and Coren Millington. Johanna Mason had won the 71st Hunger Games by pretending to be weak so that she wasn't anyones target, then killing the few people that were left. It was a dirty strategy, but she came out alive, so it payed off in the end.

Blight won the 47th, I think. He won by a stroke of luck, when the entire arena had been thick forest with mile high trees. He would hide in the treetops until someone came near him, then he'd pounce and kill them.

Our final living victor was Coren Millington. He was ancient. He had won his games before they became double digits, by pure strength alone, because before the career days, District Seven was always the best off, because we'd been using a deadly weapon since we were ten. There was a rumour that the only reason he survived was because when it was time for the final fight between the two final tributes, who both happened to be District Seven, the female tribute tripped and fell off a tree. Now though, he's a ninety year old man who's drooling in his sleep. He hasn't left District 7 for nine years and I doubt that that number is going to go down.

"Hello! Hello! District 7!" Aiola's nauseatingly squeaky voice echoes through the microphone, "And welcome to the 74th Hunger Games!" Aiola pauses, waiting for an applause. After a few seconds, a short, small and awkward one occurs.

Aiola frowns, but in seconds she's back to her overly happy self, "Everyone knows the rules of the Reaping, so how about we get right to it!" She pauses again, but no one claps.

"Ladies first then, I suppose," She says, trying to sound cheery and excited.

Aiola digs her too long nails into the clear bowl for a few seconds, making a show of moving the papers around, before finally selecting one. I know my name is on twelve little papers. What if this was one of them? My heart starts to beat faster and faster. I glare at the paper in her hand and pray that it's not mine.

"And District's Seven female tribute is Primrose Everdeen!" Aiola announces, proudly.

My heart stops. Prim. Was the another Primrose Everdeen in District Seven? Everdeen couldn't be that uncommon a name, right? But then my sister appears, being dragged onto the stage by two buff peacekeepers. I manage to get out of the crowd.

"I volunteer!" I scream, without even thinking about how this was probably going to kill me. Every eye in the audience turns towards me.

"I volunteer as tribute," I says, as calmly as I could, even though my legs feel like jello.

"No!" Prim screams, "Katniss!"

I take a step forwards, the crowd clears before I barely move. Suddenly, there are two peacekeepers at my side, pulling me along to the stage. I walk up to Aiola, who was gesturing me to come towards her.

"A volunteer! How rare!" She exclaims. I search the crowd, before seeing Mom. She's crying and so is Prim.

"So tell me, who are you?" She asks.

I still, remembering that I was onstage, "Katniss Everdeen."

"Was that your little sister you just volunteered for?" She asks, excitedly.

"Yes," I tell her. My voice sounds hollow.

"Well isn't that just so honourable!" Aiola squeals. She waits for an applause, but she gets a crowd for people with three fingers in the air. It's a symbol of respect. Aiola looks bewildered at the crowd. "Now, for the males," she says, trying to get the crowd at attention.

She puts on the same show for choosing another piece of paper, "Rilien Keys!" She yells.

A short guy, fifteen years old or so begins slowly walking up to the stage. He has bright red hair that's cropped short and his eyes are a dull brown. Rilien is short, but he, like most of District Seven, has strong muscles from chopping down trees.

"District Seven's tributes for the 74th Hunger Games!" Aiola shouts, as Rilien and I shake hands. No sooner are we herded off to the Justice Building to say our last goodbyes.