A/N: Hey guys! Busy holiday season, so I haven't been writing much. Good news, though, I've started a new one! (Obviously haha) Read, review, and enjoy!

It's still dark outside when I wake up. Of course it is. Because my father owns the stupid bakery, and I've been trained to wake up before daylight, that way the bakery is open at breakfast, because that's one of our rush times.

I want to stay in bed, but I can't. It's my responsibility to go get things started, since I'm the youngest, and have the most energy, according to my mother. With a sigh, I force myself out of bed and get dressed for the day. I dress a bit nicer than I normally would, because it's reaping day.

I always hate reaping day; there isn't a soul in District 12 who doesn't. The day two children are chosen to go fight in the Hunger Games... The day two children are chosen to be executed, in more blunt terms.

After I get things going for the most part in the bakery, my brother Cyril comes down.

"Morning," he yawns.

"Morning," I say dully.

"You look nice," he comments, eyeing my clothes.

"Sarcasm noted. It's reaping day."

"Oh, right. I haven't paid much attention for the past three years, now that I'm out of the loop."

"Lucky you," I say dryly. "Wish I were the same."

"Peeta, relax. Your name's only in there five times."

"Yeah. Five being the operative word. There's a good chance I might get pulled this year."

"Not really. Not as much as Elroy; he's in seven times."

"Talking about the reaping?" my father inquires as he enters.

"Yes. Discussing odds," says Cyril.

"There are boys with far more entries than you, Peeta. Just remember that," says my father.

Just then, Gale Hawthorne, a boy from the Seam enters. "Good morning, Mr. Mellark," he says politely.

"Good morning, Gale. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to make a trade," says Gale. "What will one squirrel get me?"

"One loaf of bread."

"I'll take it," he says, handing my father a bag, which apparently contains a squirrel carcass.

"Thank you. Peeta, get him some bread, will you?"

I get a loaf of bread out of the back pantry.

Gale is talking to my father when I came back.

"So are you hunting with Katniss today?" asks my father.

I give a start—no one noticed, thank heavens—at the sound of Katniss Everdeen's name. I've loved her since we were five, but she's never noticed me.

"Yes, sir," says Gale. "We're getting an early start so that we can make it back before the reaping. Thank you," he adds as I give him the bread. "I'd better get going. Thank you." His eyes flicker to me. "Good luck today."

"You as well," I say. He walks out.

"He's one of the boys with far more entries. Forty-two, Peeta. He has a family to feed," says my father.

"Oh. They can get that high?"

"Yes. People in the Seam are incredibly poor, as you know, and they can get food in exchange for extra entries. One entry per ration."

"Oh. Well, what about—"

"Peeta, please. Questions later. We need to get working."

I nod as another customer comes in. I put the reaping out of my mind—as much as I can—until it is time to go to the District Square.

I stand with the other sixteen-year-olds when it's about to start. I catch a quick glimpse of Katniss as she makes her way to her spot, about fifteen feet away.

I allow her to become the focal point of my mind to pass the time, tuning out the mayor. I'd loved her since the first day of school when we were five years old. She'd had her now-usual braid parted in two braids, which hung down to the waist of the red plaid dress she had on. I had seen her for a brief moment during the sign-in, with her mother, but didn't get a good look at her until music. When the teacher asked if anyone knew the valley song, she raised her hand, and the teacher had her sing it. I learned in that moment that she had the sweetest voice I'd ever heard, and in that instant, I made up my mind that I was going to marry her.

Now, she is the head and sole provider of her family, her father having died in the mine accident five years ago. She goes out into the woods on a daily basis—illegally, although I don't really care—to hunt, to provide for her family. What really sets my teeth on edge is the fact that she goes with Gale every day. I'm jealous of him, and I suspect that he loves her as well.

It isn't just her bravery and her compassion for her family. She is also intensely beautiful. She has blonde hair, which is always pulled back in a braid, and blue eyes which is deeper than the sky—which is saying something. (A/N: I was basing it on Jennifer Lawrence. I forgot she was dying it for the movie -.-)

My attention is turned when Effie Trinket, the escort for District Twelve begins to speak. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

She crosses to the glass ball containing the girls' names. She pulls a slip and reads the name aloud. "Primrose Everdeen."

Oh, no. Katniss' little sister. Katniss begins to collapse, but a boy from the Seam keeps her upright.

As Primrose makes her way to the front, Katniss seems to gain control.

"Prim!" she shrieks, darting forward, towards the stage. "Prim!"

She reaches her sister just before the stage, and flings herself in front. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

What? No! No! She can't go to the Hunger Games! It's too dangerous! I have no doubt that she could win, but there are many others who are just as capable.

Effie is talking to her, but I'm getting slightly dizzy. My ears are ringing. No. She can't go. She can't go. Not her, not her, not her, not Katniss, not her…

I am jolted out of my inner shrieking when Effie says, "It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

She fishes around in the boys' slips and pulls one out. "Peeta Mellark!"