Prim in the Games

Chapter One

"I just love that!" Effie Trinket exclaims. We are at the reaping, and we just finished watching some video the Capitol made about the history about the hunger games. Effie just keeps babbling about this year's games.

"As usual," Effie continues, "ladies first." She walks over to the bowl with the girl's names. She takes her sweet time leaving the rest of us waiting. I'm shaking and sweating all at the same time.

I had a dream last night about this moment. I woke up screaming. Of course my sister was there to comfort me when I did wake up. She said my name is only in there once and they aren't going to pick me. I guess she is right. It's her I'm worried about.

Katniss, my sister, always went hunting in the woods with her friend Gale. It's illegal, but she does it to feed us. She also risked butting her name in the reaping more times to feed us as well. I hope she doesn't get picked.

Effie opens the paper. We are all anxious to find out who it is. Nobody is more nervous than the 12-year-olds, kids like me. They have been dreading this moment for years. Then, just like in my dream her hyper voice yells, "Primrose Everdeen!"

What? Me? Why? My name is in there once... It can't be! A shiver goes down my spine and prevents my sweating. I step out into the aisle, and tuck in the back of my shirt. Katniss's voice rings in my head. "Better tuck in that tail little duck."

I walk out with peacekeepers surrounding me so I don't run. I'm scared Katniss will volunteer for me. Sure, she would make a better tribute, but in the case she dies ... Let's our mother and I won't survive.

I am now on the stage standing next to Effie. She is dressed head to toe in vibrant pink. I'm not really paying attention though, I'm looking for my sister. I find her, she won't look up. she looks as if she might throw up. Her mouth hangs open, her face pale.

The only thing that snaps me out of my trance is when I hear the boy's name. "Peeta Mellark!" shouts Effie. The boys scramble around to reveal Peeta in the crowd. I recognize him. He is the baker's son. I always loved seeing his frosted cakes in the window. He isn't poor, his name only should have been in once as well.

"Go on," Effie says, "Shake hands." I out reach my hand. He looks at me for a minute or so until finally he takes it. Then we are escorted into the justice building. I try to take one last look at my district but my view is blocked by the outline of pink hair.