24 TRIBUTES (THG PEETA'S POV)

1

      

        I wake up to sunlight. It seems that I didn't close the blind properly, and the rays projecting from the sunrise are hitting me directly in the face. Slowly, I peel the blankets off and stretch my arms over my head. Today was the reaping day. The one day a year my mother didn't wake my brothers and I. We didn't have to work, but I could already smell fresh bread baking downstairs.

         Once I am dressed, I head downstairs to help my father. Despite technically being closed today, I knew baking distracted him, and he baked to keep himself busy. Baking was the one thing my father seemed to be passionate about and enjoy.

       "Good morning." I say to him, as he takes bread out of the oven. He places the hot pan on the counter and looks at me. With my father's old age it was difficult to see our resemblance, but when I would look at old photos long enough, it was obvious. I was taller than both of my older brothers, something I would tease them about whenever the opportunity presented itself. And I had my father's light hair and eyes. His hands were full of scars from the many burns he had endured from the oven, but I knew hands could be worse.

       "Peeta, I told you. No work today." He said to me, but he knew I enjoyed baking as much as he did.

        I place an apron on, as the front shop door opens. It is particularly early for customers to come, but most people saved up for a celebration on reaping day, and their first stop was for fresh bread, usually bought yesterday. My father removes his apron and makes his way to the front of the store. I stay back, and start on some dough my father has left on the counter.

       "Hello Mr. Mellark." I hear a gruff male voice say, and look up from my task at hand. Gale Hawthorne stands in the front of our store, looking so out of place it's almost humorous. Gale usually didn't use our front entry way. He somehow knew when to come around, and what door to use without being told where my mother was. He seemed to have the whole district figured out. And my mind starts wondering to Katniss. She was the same as Gale, knowing when to sell to my father and when not too. It was another thing I was always thinking about her.

        My father makes his way back to where I'm standing and reaches for the fresh bread. We knew the kids in the seam had a much higher chance of being drafted for the games. Each year the capital hosted The Hunger Games. It wasn't much of a game. The games were a reminder, that the capital could kill any of us, at any point in time. Each district would have a draw once a year, revealing a male and female tribute. Once this was decided, they would be shipped to the capital, and made to participate in a fight to the death, broadcasted to all of Panem. The reason seam children usually got picked was due to the large amount of times their names were in the reaping bowl. Once you turn 12, your name is placed in once. When you are 13, twice. This continues until you are 18, when your name is in 7 times. But the capital decided to be extra giving to those who wanted to add their names more than the required amount. If you were really desperate, you would enter your name more times. Each additional time a name is entered, you would receive more tessera like grain or oil. For the poor part of our district this kept them alive. It was a faulty system. I wonder how many times Gale has placed his name in the bowl, or Katniss. The thought makes me feel sick.

        Once the trade is over, my father comes back to assist me.

        "They've done well for themselves." He says simply, and I know he's talking about Gale and Katniss. Not only did they know district 12 like the back of their hand, but just the power they have. Both of them are striking to look at, I hate to admit. I always wondered how they met, and secretly hoped they were cousins. They did resemble each other greatly, but every time I saw Gale look at Katniss I knew that wasn't the way someone looked at their cousin. And I also knew that this idea of Katniss I had been creating in my head was true. Her strength and resiliency, it was something that I envied and admired.

          My father and I put a dozen loaves of bread in the oven, he tells me to get ready. We all tried to look our best on reaping day. Maybe it was to show the capital that we are doing all right, but I couldn't be certain. After I bathe, I put on my blue button down shirt, and black pants.

         I ate some bread and cheese that my father left on the counter. "Good luck today boys." My mother says, coming out of the kitchen. My brother is behind her, and shrugs his shoulders. Today was his last reaping day. Even though he only had his name in 7 times, I couldn't help but worry.

          "Thank you." I mumble. My mother and I hardly spoke to one another, unless we needed to. I loved her, but I knew she was unhappy with her life.

         "We better go." My father says, pushing himself away from the table. As we walk to the main square I search around for a familiar face. But instead of spotting my friends, my eyes land on Katniss. She is already standing among the 16 year old seam kids, but she stands out. She's wearing a dress, and her hair is different than usual. For someone so deadly, she seemed so small. I am broken out of my trance when my friend places an arm around me. James. He was on the wrestling team with me.

        "Are you scared Peeta?" He asks, his tone mocking. I fail to point out that right now would be a normal time to be scared, but I felt nervous. For myself, for Katniss. Really for anyone who was going to get reaped.

       "It is a fight to the death." I whisper to him, a small smirk on my face. He just laughs. "You are right." He agrees, and we stand among our classmates, waiting for Effie Trinket to come and decide our fates.

         The square was decorated by the capital, two large glass bowls placed on the stage. I am surrounded by people which makes me feel more comfortable. In these seats there is Effie Trinket, our district escort. She looks like a walking piece of strange art, but so did most people from the capital. They had a strange way of talking and dressing. Seated next to her is our Mayor of district 12 Mayor Undersee, I knew his daughter Madge well, but not him. The third chair is empty. Haymitch Abernathy the only district 12 winner of the games that was still alive. Each year he would show up, late and drunk.

       Mayor Undersee steps to the microphone, and begins the speech he says every year. He explains what life was like before the Capital gained power. The horrible conditions the world was in, and dives into the meaning of the hunger games themselves.

       "It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks." The mayor says flatly. As he begins to read the past winners from district 12, a very drunk Haymitch stumbles onto the stage, but my attention is elsewhere. Katniss, who I could spot easily before seems to be lost in the crowd now. I decide to give up, until I see the back of her head. My eyes are trained on her, and I vaguely hear Effie when she comes to the mic.

       "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Effie chimes into the mic. Before I can look away, Katniss turns her head. She is looking past me, and I turn my head to see who caught her eye. It's Gale, he had a half smile on his face. I turn my attention back to Effie.

         "Ladies first!" She says, smiling largely. I think about my friends whose names are in the bowel, and Katniss I wonder how many times her name is in it.

       Effie reaches into the bowl, pulls out a slip. She opens it carefully before reading out the name in a clear voice. And it's not Katniss or any of my friends. 

         It's Primrose Everdeen.