Home Is in Your Arms

Morning sunlight shines through a small gap between the curtains and gently wakes me from my sleep. I mumble into my pillow, then sit up. Unfortunately, today is not a day where I can afford to roll over and go back to sleep for a few more hours. Today is reaping day.

My stomach turns into knots at the very thought of it. Today I will watch the lives of two children and their families come crashing down. And while everyone else in District 12 is celebrating another year that their children haven't been reaped, these families will be hiding in the darkness of their homes. Mourning for the child they are almost guaranteed to never see again. Except for on the television, when they're forced to watch as the tributes kill each other. Today I will take some poor girl under my wing and try to teach her how to stay alive for this year's Hunger Games. Haymitch will take care of the male tribute. If he can stay sober enough.

I get out of bed and take a cool shower to help myself wake up. Before actually getting dressed, I slip on a pair of black shorts and a blue tank top and go to the kitchen for breakfast. I open a window to let in the warm early summer breeze then start a small pot of coffee. I had never tasted coffee until I moved into the Victor's Village. My family was too poor to afford it before the Games, and while I was in the Capitol I barely ate anything. Coffee has seemed to grow on me since I came home three years ago.

Two cups of coffee and a roll with butter later, I return to my bedroom to look presentable. I strip down to my undergarments and slip into a fairly simple black dress. I say fairly simple because 75% of my wardrobe is shipped to me directly from the Capitol. For free. Today's dress is solid black with a hem that falls somewhat loosely to my knees and a strap that crosses over my chest and meets at the back of my neck. People have noticed that every reaping day I wear a black dress. It's become my signature, but what people don't know is that I wear black because I grieve for the children who get reaped. If President Snow ever found out, I'd be publicly executed for treason.

Along with my dress, I slip on a pair of black two inch heels. My light brown waist length hair remains in its natural wavy state, and a brush helps it look a little neater. Finally, a very light application of makeup around my blue eyes finishes the job and I'm ready to go. The few things I decided to take with me are already packed, so I grab the small bag, make sure everything's cleaned and put away, and head out the door to the center of town.

Nobody is out yet, since they don't have to be at the Justice Building for another two hours. When I reach the building, however, I'm immediately greeted by an exceedingly bubbly Effie Trinket, complete with pink wig.

"Freya!" she shouts. Normally I'm a very pleasant person, but Effie's voice is an octave too high, even for me. "How wonderful to see you!"

"It's nice to see you too, Effie." I respond. We hug lightly and plant soft kisses on each other's cheeks. A Peacekeeper takes my bag from me and disappears to have it sent to the train. "Haymitch is late again?" I ask.

"Oh of course." Effie replies, sounding mildly exasperated. "That man can hardly take care of himself. I'm sure he'll show up eventually, though. He always does." Regardless of Effie's attempts at trying to remain hopeful, I can still see worry in her expression.

The next two hours are spent giving last minute appearance adjustments, filling the glass reaping balls with the names and sitting them on the tables, Effie worrying about Haymitch being late, and me wishing I could just go back to bed. Without the Games existing. Without wondering every day how my District is going to survive. Without having to be reminded every day that we are slaves. When the square is full, Effie, myself, and Mayor Undersee take a seat in the chairs that are lined up on the makeshift stage. One chair remains empty though, as Haymitch is still nowhere to be found. I'm almost tempted to go and get him. Almost.

When two o'clock strikes, the mayor stands and gives his usual speech about the history of Panem, the Dark Days, and how the Hunger Games came to be. I don't really listen, because I've heard it so many times, but I pretend to pay attention. When the mayor lists off the past District 12 victors, my name is announced and people applaud me. I flash a smile and respond with a light wave. Another victor who has long been dead is applauded. Then Haymitch Abernathy is announced.

Haymitch seemingly appears out of nowhere, hollering something that I can't understand. I can smell the alcohol on him before he even comes near me. He stumbles onto the stage and into his chair as he looks confused at the crowd's applause. It's hard to contain my laughter as he tries to hug a very distressed Effie. When she finally pushes him off, Haymitch just gives me a drunken wave, which I respond to; minus being drunk, of course. Mayor Undersee is obviously embarrassed by the situation. I can't help but feel kind of bad.

When the mayor announces Effie, she quickly jumps up to try to save the day. She's obviously unaware that it doesn't matter to the people of District 12.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she practically sings. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Then Effie goes into her obviously rehearsed speech about how it's such an honor to be here. Everybody knows she'd much rather be at the Capitol.

"Ladies first!" she says. The moment of truth has begun.

Effie crosses to the ball with the girls' names in it. My tribute for this year is somewhere in this crowd. Awaiting her death sentence. Effie's hand digs into the ball until she plucks a slip of paper out. She walks back to the podium, unfolds the slip, and reads,

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Everdeen?! Prim?! It can't be. Prim and her mother tried to cure my father. Prim must only be twelve. I know her name was only in that ball once, because her sister wouldn't let her take out any tesserae.

Prim walks up the aisle, shaking like a leaf. At first, you could hear a pin drop because of how quiet it is, but then people start whispering and mumbling to one another the way they always do when someone so young is reaped. There's no way I could mentor this girl; she's younger than I was when I won! Suddenly there's screaming.

"Prim! Prim!" Prim's sister, I can't remember her name, is running out of the crowd of girls her age. Before anyone can register what's happening she sweeps her sister behind her. "I volunteer!" she screams breathlessly. "I volunteer as tribute!"

I'm shocked, but at the same time, I'm not. It's not uncommon for siblings to abandon each other when one is reaped, but this girl loves her sister more than anything. She would never let her enter the arena if she could help it. Effie, however, is tickled silly by the thought. She tries to bring up tradition of asking for volunteers after introducing the reaping "winner," but Mayor Undersee turns it down and she doesn't push it any further. She's obviously just happy for some excitement in her District.

Some hysteria ensues, with Prim screaming at her sister. Katniss, that's her name. Katniss tries to calm her down, but with no success. Then a boy comes out of the crowd, probably a friend, and scoops Prim up into his arms. He says something to Katniss then disappears into the crowd.

Katniss turns and climbs the steps. We lock eyes for a moment, and I try to offer her a smile that says "I'm sorry." She doesn't respond. Effie makes a show of introducing her and asking about her sister. I want to tell Effie to leave the poor girl alone, but instead I keep my mouth shut. What happens next, though, truly shocks me.

The audience brings the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and raises the fingers to Katniss. This is out of the ordinary bnecause in the Seam, people can be cold. How can anyone blame us though? We're the poorest District in Panem, with everyone worrying how their family is going to survive. They don't care about anyone else.

Haymitch, being his usual drunken self, makes a fuss over Katniss. Something about her having spunk. Honestly, I'm not even listening. Haymitch and I have a love-hate relationship. I was young when I was reaped, so he automatically thought I wouldn't even survive the bloodbath. Needless to say, I proved him wrong.

Haymitch gets angry and starts shouting at people. Thankfully he doesn't address me, because I don't want to fight with him right now. When he falls off the stage and knocks himself out, I want to smack my hand to my face.

"What an exciting day!" Effie cuts in. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

She walks to the ball with the boys' names, one hand trying to hold her now lopsided wig in place. Effie doesn't bother to draw out the process of picking out a slip. She grabs the first piece of paper her hand lands on and hurries back to the podium.

"Peeta Mellark."