(Chapter 3: Elora)
"Eli, come eat something." Peter calls from the kitchen.
We have a small house, so he doesn't have to yell very loud for me to hear. I snap out of my trance.
"Coming!" I say, then exit the bathroom and sit down at our small, round wooden table. In the centre of the table is half a loaf of bread and some edible plants from the forest. I smile and take a piece of the white, fluffy bread from out of the crust.
"Today is your last reaping before you don't have to worry about the Games anymore." I say, trying to be positive.
"It may be my last reaping, but I still have to worry. What if you get picked?" Peter says, eating some of the crust.
"I doubt I'll be picked. I'll be fine." I say. "Would you like some water?"
"Sure." He says.
I grab two glasses from the wooden cupboard and fill them up with cold water from the kitchen tap.
"Elora, I wouldn't be able to continue on without you." Peter says after a moment of silence. I don't know what to say. "It would be so lonely. I would have to work in the mines."
"I won't get chosen. The odds are in my favour, there are so many more names in there." I reassure him, setting his glass down next to his plate.
"You know what, after this, come into the forest with me and I can teach you to make a few snares." Peter decides, a smile on his face.
"I don't know, Peter, I don't really like the forest." I say.
When I was about ten, Peter took me into the forest to teach me how to hunt. I don't know why, because I loved animals. Once, I took a squirrel, named it Chestnut and tried to keep it as a pet. It ended up biting me and running away.
We snuck under the electric fence, which is never working, and Peter made a trap. Then we hid behind a bush, and I watched in terror as a poor, little baby squirrel found its way into the trap and was stuck, scrambling to get out and see its little squirrel family.
Then, I ran out of the forest, crying.
"You'll be fine, Elora. I doubt that you're as sensitive as you were when you were ten." Peter teases, then stands up, pushing his chair in. "Let's go."
I put on my mother's old boots and walk out the door with Peter. There, we sneak over to the fence, make sure no Peacekeepers saw us, and crawl under. Then we race through a meadow and into the forest, leaping over tall bushes or weeds and rocks until we reach a lake.
I stop, then laugh, out of breath. Peter laughs too and then playfully shoves me into the muddy lake. I quickly stand up, laughing louder, surprised. Then I scoop up a handful of mud and throw it at him.
He stumbles backwards, then does a run up and cannonballs into the lake, causing the water to splash over my hair. I giggle and when he comes up for air I splash him in the face. We throw mud and splash water for ages, then finish off with finding some Katniss roots. Soaking wet, we laugh as we sit in the sun, underneath a tree as Peter explains how to make a basic snare. I ignore him, too busy trying to fix my wet mop of blond, tangled hair. Arms full of herbs and roots, we duck under the fence and head back to the house. The clock on the wall reads 11:30.
Half an hour to the Reaping! My heart beats nervously in my chest, and I feel like I'm about to throw up. My stomach aches and I groan in pain, dropping everything in my arms. Peter notices and looks at me, grin melting into a look of concern.
"Are you alright, Eli?" he asks. I manage a small smile.
"No, not really." I say, then I begin to sob. I fall to the ground, my dress gathering around me. Peter leans forward and gives me a hug, and I bury my face into his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt. I could never wish for a better brother. He studies my face.
"You're fine, don't worry. The odds are in your favour, remember?" he says, trying to comfort me.
I nod, and he helps me up. "Go clean up, the Reaping's in half-an-hour."
I nod again, watching as he walks away.
Half an hour isn't enough.