(A/N: Here's chapter three...)
CHAPTER THREE
When we walk into the house my dad and Asher quickly shove something behind their backs. "What are you doing?" I ask curiosity getting the best of me.
"Something for your birthday."replies Asher. My dad quickly puts a finger to his lips and looks at him who, is already apologizing.
"Willow, why don't you go read in your room for a little bit?" suggests my dad . I nod silently and start for the stairs. They are acting very suspicious today.
When I reach my room I gently place my bow in the chest at the foot of my bed. I hate to lock up such a beautifully crafted object but my mother insists after Asher mistakenly thought it was a teething ring when he was younger.
I pick up the tiger lily I was working on earlier and continue sketching the outlines. I am about to start shading my favorite part, the petals, when my pencil breaks. "Dang it." I mutter under my breath. I pull open the drawer on my side table and begin rummaging through it hoping to find a spare pencil. I have no such luck. I try to think of closer places in the house might be besides my dad's art studio but again become unlucky. Looks like I'll be making a trip downstairs.
I force myself to walk towards the door. I am making my way through the hall when I hear voices coming from my parents room. I don't mean to eavesdrop but it's hard to resist. "Katniss we need to explain them to her soon, I mean she is almost twelve, almost old enough to participate in the reaping." says my dad. What in the world is the reaping? It sounds scary.
"Do you not think I know this Peeta? I haven't been able to get the thought out of my head all week!" He does not respond. "Sorry, I just thought we would have a couple more years." My mother rapidly apologizes for her sudden outburst. She is obviously stressed. They must be talking about me.
"I know Katniss but they are going to be teaching about them in school soon and wouldn't you rather us tell her than her teacher?" Tell me what? I wonder. I am tempted to just walk in and ask them both this question but my feet feel like lead.
"Yes." is all she says.
"Okay then. I'm going to start on dinner." I hear my fathers footsteps coming towards the door. I quickly dart into my room. Just in time too because right as my door closes I hear theirs open.
I sit there on my bed attempting to process all of this. What did they mean they would rather them tell me than my teacher. Tell me what! Then it dawns on me, the games. I think back to all the lessons we have had on the horrible, annual event. They would never really mention any specific names and when we would ask they would simply say, "When your older." That is probably what my dad was talking about. After all we are suppose to learn more in depth about the rebellion next year in school, but what does this have to do with my parents?
My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. "Come in."
My mother emerges from the other side of the door. "Dinners ready." Her face is grave and distant, automatically telling me that whatever they need to explain to me is not pleasant.
"Okay." I reply as she walks out the door.