First time I met Prim was outside the towns bakery. Being a measly little twelve year old girl, I had no friends and my mother never said a word to me. I was hungry with no money and no friends to play with so I would admire the decoration outside the shop window for hours until the bakers wife would scare me away. I still remember Prim´s sweet voice.

"You like the decorations too?"

I remember taking a step back in shock thinking the bakers wife had come out. I looked down and saw Prim with her sweet round face and her shining blond hair. She didn´t look like she was from the Seam. I gave her a little nod and returned my gaze towards the cakes.

"I think I know you? Don´t you live next to us, in the Seam?" She said as she came closer to me.

"I do live in the Seam." I said for the first time uttering a word willingly.

"My name is Prim by the way" Her voice sounded so bell like that it would probably make mockingjays stop singing to listen to her.

"That´s weird."

"Why?" She asked. I remember her pouting like any eight year old would.

"Because my name is also Prim." I said

"Really? Your name is Primrose too?"

"Well, no it´s Primavera, but my mom calls me Prim sometimes when I do something wrong."

I remember her jumping up and down at the thought of meeting anyone with a name similar to her.

What would the chances have been for two girl living near each other in the Seam being named Prim.

"That´s amazing! I´ve got a new friend named Prim. Katniss? Katniss! Look I met a girl named Prim too."

Katniss was standing a few feet away, she looked very interested in who her little sister was talking to. I gave her an awkward wave remembering her from school. She came over and grabbed Prim´s hand and then she turned towards me.

"Your name is Prim? Really?" She asked sounding just interested as Prim did. I nodded.

And that´s how it all started. With a simple name and Prim clung to me as if I was her new best friend and Katniss being a little warring at first, eventually accepted me.

Flashes of that grey day and the memories of how our lives went from there go through my mind at this very moment. I remember once in gym class at school I got a speeding ball right in the gut. I remember how the air left my lungs and the excruciating pain in my stomach lasting for days. Remembering that pain now it seems silly to think that was agonizing. This was pain, this right now. Standing in front of thousand of people and my name being called to be the next person to die for district 12. My brain feels like it´s going on overdrive. I can´t think. I feel angry, denial, guilt.

Guilt for not having said anything yet. People are waiting..no expecting me to volunteer for Prim.

Oh no, oh no

I can feel it, it´s coming back. I can feel it in my chest, in my heart and even in my throat.

I haven´t had panic attacks in years, and of all days now it had to come back today.

you´re going into shock! Control yourself.

I try to breathe, but it feels like my entire organs have failed to function. Unable to speak, completely petrified. I look beside me, Katniss´s face portrays everything that I feel right now. Someone is gripping her arm, a boy from the Seam, and I think maybe she must have started to fall and he caught her.

There must have been some mistake. This can't be real. Prim was one slip of paper in thousands! Her chances of being chosen so distant that Katniss had probably not even bothered to worry about her. One slip could have bought her a year. One slip. One slip in thousands. The odds had been entirely in her favor. But it hadn't mattered.

Somewhere far away, I can hear the crowd murmuring unhappily as they always do when a twelve-year-old gets chosen because no one thinks this is fair. Some are silent, probably looking at me to do the right thing.

I anxiously look around and then I see her. She is paler than snow, like me her hands are clenched in fists at her side. She suddenly takes a step.

What? No don´t!

I still can´t speak. I return my gaze to Katniss. Our eyes meet. She has and expression that nearly makes my heart stop. She wants me to go. She wants me to volunteer instead of Prim. She wants me to go so her little sister can live. It sinks in and I finally acknowledge it. I give her a nod. Tears stream down her face while her eyes show relief and sadness.

I have to do this for Prim and for Katniss, if I don´t I will be lower than the scum that lives in the Capitol.

A coward. Then I see Prim again walking with a stiff body, small steps up toward the stage, passing me and Katniss. I bring myself back.

"Stop!" The strangled cry comes out of my throat, and my muscles begin to move again. "Prim!" I don't need to shove through the crowd. The other kids jump aside immediately like I have a disease as if me touching them might get them reaped next year, but it allows me a straight path to the stage. I reach her just as she is about to mount the steps. With one stretch of my arm, I push her behind me.

"I volunteer!" I scream making sure everyone hears it. "I volunteer as tribute!"

There's some confusion all around me. They hadn´t expected me to volunteer for her. I can fully understand that.

District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades and certainly not anyone who weren't related to each other. In some of the luxurious districts winning the reaping is such a great honor, people are eager to risk their lives, the volunteering is complicated. But in District 12, where the word tribute is pretty much synonymous with the word corpse or suicide, volunteers are all but a myth.

"Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winners and I would ask for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…" she trails off, unsure herself.

"What does it matter?" says the mayor. He's looking at me with a pained expression on his face. He doesn't know me really, but there's a faint recognition there. I am the girl who brings the strawberries. The girl his daughter might have spoken of on occasion. Does he remember that? Why would he?

"What does it matter?" he repeats gruffly. "Let her come forward."

Prim doesn´t say a word except for the hysterically sobbing sounds I can hear behind me. She's wrapped her skinny arms around me like a vice. "No, Vera! No! You can't go!"

"Prim, go to Katniss, she needs you," I say as quietly as I can not trying to sound harsh, because this is terrifying me and I don't want to cry so it seems like I have regretted my decision. When they televise the replay of the reapings tonight, everyone will make note of my tears, and I'll be marked as an easy target. A weakling. I will give no one that satisfaction of seeing me look like a coward. "Let go!"

I can feel someone pulling her from my back. I turn and see Gale has lifted Prim off the ground and she's thrashing in his arms. "Up you go, V," he says, in a voice he's fighting to keep steady, but I can see it in his eyes. He is relieved it´s not Prim or Katniss. I guess he never cared for me as much as I´d hoped.

And then he carries Prim off toward Katniss. I make up my mind and slowly climb the steps.

"Well, bravo!" gushes Effie Trinket. "That's the spirit of the Games!" She's pleased to finally have a district with a little action and drama going on in it. "What's your name?"

I take a deep breath. "Primavera Ellison," I say.

"Well I must say your names do sound similar. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? ."

I stare at her in complete shock. How could anyone still think this was entertainment.

"She´s my friend." I choke as I look towards the crowd and she Katniss and Prim hanging onto each other as if any minute a peacekeeper would come a take her away.

" Isn´t that sweet! Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" trills Effie Trinket.

Silence, not one person claps. Not even the ones holding betting slips, the ones who are usually beyond caring. Possibly because they know me from the Hob, or have encountered Prim with her sweet pigtails who no one can help loving. So instead of giving the mandatory applause, I stand there panic-stricken while they take part in the most daring form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong. For me? If it had been anyone else I would have accepted it, but I´m the girl who got panic attacks every once in a while. I´m the girl nobody loves.

Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me. But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim's place, and now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

That´s when I cry. Tears stream down my face and I try to hid it by looking down. I fail miserably.

Suddenly Haymitch decides wake up from his drunkenness. Approaching me the stench of alcohol instantly hits my nose. He decides to congratulate me by throwing his arm around my shoulders. I´m surprised, his strong for a mean drunk.

"Look at her. Look at this one!" He bellows. Not only does he reek of alcohol but it seems like he hasn´t bathed in forever. I hold my breath trying not to gag.

"I like her!" He hollers as he releases me and approaches the front of the stage.

What is there to like idiot? I just ruined my chances at looking strong in front of whole Panem. "Lots of..." He´s trying to find the word at the tip of his tongue. " Spirit!" he says victoriously. "More than you!" He raises his hand and points towards the camera. "More than you!" He most be out of his damn mind because either he is addressing the audience or he seriously mocking the Capitol. I´ve seen drunk, but he is on a whole new level. Just as he's opening his mouth to continue, Haymitch plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious.

He's vomitous, but I'm grateful. With every camera leeching on to him. It gives me time enough to quickly brush off my tears. I can see the hills I climbed this morning with Gale and Katniss. For a moment, I ache for something.

We should have listened.

Run away as Gale had said. We would have made it, but I know I was right about not running off because who would have taken Prim´s place?

Katniss!

That would mean losing the one person who has kept us all alive for years. This is how I will repay her. For her giving me the friendship I didn´t deserve.

Haymitch is whisked away on a stretcher, and Effie Trinket is trying to get the ball rolling again. "What an exciting day!" she warbles as she attempts to straighten her wig, which has listed severely to the right after Haymitch´s attempt of a hug. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" Clearly hoping to contain her gigantic hair situation, she plants one hand on her head as she crosses to the ball that contains the boys' names and grabs the first slip she encounters. She zips back to the podium, and I don't even have time to wish for Gale's safety when she's reading the name. "Peeta Mellark."

Who?

The name sounds distantly familiar. I watch him as he makes his way toward the stage and I immediately recognize him. Medium height, stocky build, ashy blond hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the moment is registering on his face like my face did, you can see his struggle to remain emotionless, but his blue eyes show the alarm I've seen so often in the prey Katniss catches in the woods. Yet he climbs steadily onto the stage and takes his place.

Effie Trinket asks for volunteers, but no one steps forward. He has two older brothers, I know, I've seen them in the bakery, but one is probably too old now to volunteer and the other won't. This is standard. Family devotion only goes so far for most people on reaping day. What I did was suicide because Prim is not blood-related to me.

The mayor begins to read the long, dull Treaty of Treason as he does every year at this point — it's required — but I'm not listening to a word.

I know him from the bakery and I think I share three classes with him at school. I guess I´ve never noticed him before because we don´t come from the same part of District 12. Never once have we ever interacted. The only reason his name sounded familiar is because I usually catch Katniss looking his way at lunch, when he is standing with the other kids who live in the good part of District 12. And sometimes I would catch him watching Katniss when she doesn't notice him. With one look into his eyes I knew why he was sneaking looks at Katniss. He likes her just like Gale. I remember feeling extremely jealous. Katniss is beautiful with her olive skin and long brown hair, no wonder many boys liked her. When the thought crossed me I remember feeling stupid. Katniss is my best friend I should´nt feel that way towards her after all she had done for me. I find it ironic either Peeta has to kill the girl he likes best friend or I will have to kill him.

The mayor finishes the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for Peeta and me to shake hands. His are as solid and warm like the newly baked bread at bakery. Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is a squeeze. Just a nervous spasm.

We turn back to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

Oh, well, I think. There will be twenty-four of us. Odds are someone else will kill him before he kills me.

Of course, the odds have not been been with me or I wouldn´t be standing here.