Italic = song lyrics

bold = lyric that has been changed

I don;t own the Taylor Swift songs or the characters.

Tim McGraw by Taylor Swift

I grip my old guitar hard as I stand in line and smooth out the sage green dress Madge let me borrow. Signing up for Panem Song Contest seemed like a good idea when Prim brought it up, but now it seems like a really, really bad idea. This year is unlike any year before in the show's seven-season history. This year, the judges were looking for the best singer/songwriter. Instead of singing along to hit songs, they wanted original songs and to see a performer.

The entire country of Panem is divided into twelve districts. My district is District Twelve. Until this season, the mentor was Seneca Crane, but he has risen in the show's ranks. Now, the mentor is a washed up, indie singer native to District Twelve- Haymitch Abernathy.

Haymitch Abernathy is from my hometown of Seam. He joined a band called The Rebel Line and became their lead singer, rising to stardom a few years later… until the band broke up. Ever since, he has been drunk. Day and night. A few months ago, he presented an award at an award show and fell off the stage drunk. As a final attempt to save his reputation, they stuck him in this contest as a mentor.

Haymitch, like Seneca before him, has narrowed down the thousands of applications to just fifty. Fifty songwriters want the chance to be on national television in hopes of making their dreams come true, and one of them is me.

Each songwriter submitted an original piece about a famous person. This would be the first theme of the contest. Today, one man and woman will be chosen to represent District Twelve in the Panem Song Contest. There are a total of twenty- four "tributes," as the contestants are called. Twenty-three other people to beat.

I don't know why I thought bringing my guitar would be a good idea. I thought I could play the music instead of singing along to a recorded track, but now my hands won't stop shaking. I have to resist the urge to run or call Madgel for a pep talk.

Haymitch sits in the middle of a panel of three judges. The judge to his right is Effie Trinket- his manager. She will also become the manager for the two tributes chosen today for however long they make it in the competition. She's energetic and talks with a strange accent. Today, she's wearing a baby blue wig and metallic silver dress.

The final judge is Chaff Mitchell, a member of The Rebel Line alongside Haymitch. He's a regular looking man, but I know that he is a master at playing guitar. That only makes my hands sweat more.

"Welcome, welcome," Effie says to the crowd. We sit behind the judges in a dark theater. "Happy audition day and may the odds be ever in your favor. Today, one talented man and woman will be selected for the honor of representing District Twelve in the 8th Annual Panem Signing Contest. The judges and Panem will be watching for the next Victor.

"This season is a special season. This show has never featured songwriters and their original work before. Any airtime will be a blessing as many famous singers will be looking for new songwriters. This is your chance to prove that you can write, sing, and perform. The winner will sign a contract with Capitol Records for a record deal and a tour," she says in her fancy accent. It makes me want to vomit, but I settle for rolling my eyes.

"The District Twelve winners will be decided tonight, so stick around. Let's begin," she says before calling the first singer onto the stage. The second is on deck. It sounds like we will be going in alphabetical order, and I thank God that E is the fifth letter of the alphabet.

It's torture when there is a bad singer, and it's torture when there is a good singer. I feel like time is purposely moving slowly as my turn approaches.

Then, as I stand on deck, I remember why I want this so bad. I remember my motivation, and I have to remind myself to be open and stand out.

"What is your name and age?" Chaff asks me when I take center stage.

I remind myself that I just had a birthday. "Katniss Everdeen, age twenty-two."

Haymitch's eyes narrow when he hears my last name. He asks, "Katniss, can you tell us why you're standing here today?"

I've seen enough contestants go by that I knew he would ask this question. I've heard all the answers. For my sick mother, for my dad, for my brother who never stopped believing in me, for myself to prove that I can do this, for a record deal, etc.

I plan to be honest. "My father loved music when I was younger. He tragically passed away in a mining accident, and the music in our house went silent. My little sister was diagnosed with neuroblastoma a few years later, and she asked me to sing to her. We made up songs together, and she's the reason I am here today. My mother worked herself to death four years ago, and I had to take guardianship of my sister. Now, she's in college on a full-ride scholarship, and I want nothing more than to pay for her to go to medical school one day."

Effie wipes a tear from her eye. "What will you be singing today, dear?" She quickly adds, "And the genre."

"This is a country song called 'Tim McGraw'". Then, I start to play.

He said the way my gray eyes shined

Put those Georgia stars to shame that night

I said, "That's a lie"

Just a boy in a Chevy truck

That had a tendency of gettin' stuck

On backroads at night

And I was right there beside him all summer long

And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone

I play my guitar better than I ever have. This is one of Prim's favorite songs that I wrote. She loves the romantic part of it even though it is made up… well, some parts are.

But when you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think my favorite song

The one we danced to all night long

The moon like a spotlight on the lake

When you think happiness

I hope you think that little black dress

Think of my head on your chest

And my old faded blue jeans

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think of me

I've never had a real boyfriend before. In school, I was named a weird outcast when my father died. I was only twelve. I closed myself off from everyone, but I preferred that over the pity I received. Then, the bullying started.

I spent all of my lunches in middle school and high school in the music room. That's where I learned to play piano. My father had taught me guitar, but I taught myself piano. Music has always been there for me.

There was only one person who was ever nice to me, and he tried to be my friend. His name was Peeta Mellark. I pushed him away for four years. Then, when he was sixteen he moved to New York to become an actor after auditioning and getting a role in a blockbuster movie. As he was preparing to leave town, I realized how much I had come to like his annoying presence. I had even begun to develop a crush on him, but I thought I would be insincere to confess my true feelings for him as he was leaving to become famous.

So, I held it in.

And I wrote songs about him.

September saw a month of tears

And thanking God that you weren't here

To see me like that

But in a box beneath my bed

Is a letter that you never read

From three summers back

It's hard not to find it all a little bittersweet

And lookin' back on all of that, it's nice to believe

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think my favorite song

The one we danced to all night long

The moon like a spotlight on the lake

When you think happiness

I hope you think that little black dress

Think of my head on your chest

And my old faded blue jeans

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think of me

And I'm back for the first time since then

I'm standing on your street

And there's a letter left on your doorstep

And the first thing that you'll read

Is when you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think my favorite song

Someday you'll turn your radio on

I hope it takes you back to that place

When you think happiness

I hope you think that little black dress

Think of my head on your chest

And my old faded blue jeans

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think of me

Oh, think of me

Mmm

He said the way my gray eyes shined

Put those Georgia stars to shame that night

I said, "That's a lie"

There's a round of applause. The judges thank me with neutral faces, and I take my seat back in the stands. My heart continues to pound for an hour after that.

It's late in the day when the constants finally run out. I've turned my phone off because I can't look at the clock anymore. I also can't take the numerous texts from Gale, Prim, and Madge asking how it's going. So I sit and try to think about how my life will change if I win this competition.

I could move Prim out of our seedy two bedroom apartment. She commutes to college in a beat up Honda that is on its last leg. She could stop worrying about me working my life away at Sae's restaurant and playing shows there at night. We could afford clothes that aren't second hand or thrifted. We could eat dinner that doesn't come from the sale section or out of a take out box.

Life doesn't have to be grand. It could just be… better.

The judges deliberate for what feels like forever, but it's really only a few minutes. They took a lunch break midway and probably selected two front runners then.

But when the three of them take center stage, I want nothing more than to start the day over.

Effie Trinket is the first to talk. "We want to thank all of you for your patience and participation. If your name is not called, this is not the end for you. We saw real talent today, so continue to work hard and make your dreams a reality.

"But only two contestants can advance to the national competition. If your name is called, please meet us at the judges tables," she says before handing the microphone to Haymitch.

Haymitch looks uncomfortable as he takes a slip of paper from Chaff. He reads, "District Twelve's tributes will be Thom Lee and Katniss Everdeen."

I feel the air around me escape the room and the sound of fourth-eight sighs echo in my ears. Numbly, I collect my things and make my way to the judges table. I can't believe this is happening.

I can't believe they chose me.

Thom Lee looks to be a few years older than me. He has the same olive skin and dark hair as I do. His hair is darker than Gale's though. He's got broad shoulders, but they're not too broad. He's almost cute in a nerdy way.

Effie hands us a thick binder with a smile on her face. "Congratulations! What an honor this is. First things first, these are your Bibles for this competition. They include rules, contracts, strict dress codes, and itineraries for your first few days in the competition.

"You will also find a first-class train ticket to New York in the first folder. We leave one week from today," Effie pauses to eye both of us through thick lashes. "We want you to dress to impress and give District Twelve a good impression. In two days, you will meet me at a salon where you will be cut, plucked, and dyed to fit the role of a famous singer. In the first folder, you will also find a gift card of $500 and a list of outfits and occasions. Have fun on your shopping spree, but remember what you are competing for. My phone number is inside if you have any questions."

Thom nods with excitement, and I try to do the same. The packet feels like a thousand pounds in my hand. I can't help but wonder what I just got myself into.