One Lucky Winner

Chapter 7 ~ Katniss

This takes place right before the reaping of the 75th Hunger Games.

* * *

I braid Prim's hair into two French braids. She's wearing a red sleeveless dress I bought it for her at The Hob. I'm wearing a dark blue jump suit that my mom bought for me a few days ago, along with my pin and my hair in its classic side braid. The outfits we're wearing are beautiful, and perfect for today's reaping.

A few weeks ago, President Snow announced to all of Panem that the 75th Hunger Games would include tributes from 'different countries'. I think it's dumb, because he's hardly punishing the districts for the Dark Days. He said that only three tributes are to be from Panem. He then said that the three tributes are to be drawn from a random district. Onscreen, he drew a 'random' district from a bowl, and that happened to be District 12. Then he ended his delightful little speech by saying everyone between the ages of 12-18 go in the bowl, including former victors and people who have been drawn in the past. That means Peeta, Prim, and I have the chance to be picked.

The day Snow announced it was awful. I almost went crazy, as it can be imagined. I left the house and sat in the woods for six hours, and then drank with Haymitch. Then I went home and sobbed. Lovely day, it was.

I'm infuriated and an unbelievable amount of pissed off at Snow. I know the only reason he's doing this whole 'foreign tribute' thing is to get rid of me. He just wanted me or Prim or Peeta to get another chance to be in the games. Also, I'm willing to bet a lot that the 12 slips of paper in the bowl he picked the district from all said 12.

But, I have high hopes today.

Because I won the games last year, we're rich, which means we actually have money for food. Prim and I didn't need to put our names in extra times for grain and oil. My name is only in the bowl 6 times, because I'm 17. Prim's name is in twice, because she's 13. I think our chances of being picked are pretty low.

I finish with Prim's hair. She turns around in her chair.

"Thank you," she says, looking nervous.

"You're welcome," I say.

"Do you think we'll get picked?" she blurts.

"No," I say. "My name's in there six times, your's two. That's only eight. Eight slips of paper out of...probably somewhere around 5,000...are ours. The chances are slim."

She nods, looking much less nervous. She's easy to reassure.

As soon as she stands up, the whistle that calls us to the town square blows. Time for the reaping.

Prim's nervousness comes back; I can see it in her face. I grab Prim's hand and give it a squeeze.

"Slim chances," I say.

"Slim chances," she repeats. It's only been a year, but it seems she's grown so much since the last reaping. She's more mature and seems to understand more things. I know she's smarter than me, too. She's starting to work in the medical field, helping men who got hurt in the mines. Her and Mom do that some days, and I'm left alone at the house.

We walk to the square together, hand in hand, with our mother trailing behind us. We get checked in, and go to the mob of teens. They're drawing the three names out of one big bowl, so there's no 'boys' and 'girls' sides. It is separated by age, though. 12 year olds in the front, 18 year olds in the back.

I give Prim's hand a final squeeze and walk towards the back, where the 17 year olds stand. I see Peeta, and immediately want to avoid him, but I know that would looks suspicious in everyone's eyes, because the whole country is watching today. So, I force myself to stand by him. He looks at me and fakes a smile, and I do the same. It's awkward between us. We went from pretending to be lovers in The Hunger Games, to strangers, then back to pretend lovers in the Victory Tour, and now back to strangers. It's on and off between us. Through it all, he's kind of become a friend, but I can't see myself as his actual lover. I care about him, but not like that.