Hi guys! Yes, this is an awfully cliché story, but I wanted to write it. So I shall write it. Peeta/OC
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Hunger Games, but I don't
Claimer: I own Alicia Fairbairn and her family. DAT ISH EET!

The day starts like every other for me; I rise from my bed, dress, and prepare a small breakfast for the family. My brothers rarely wake up before me; I can be up for hours on my own before anyone else stumbles out for breakfast.

But today is the day of the reaping. It had the whole house on edge. As a result, once I have finished throwing the last slices of bread over the coals, I already hear someone moving from down the hall. I glance up, putting on the brightest smile I can manage this early as my brother, Leyton, hobbles over to me.

"Mornin'," He greets me sleepily, edging as close as he can to the warm fireplace. He ducks down to my height, planting a warm kiss on the top of my head. "Sleep well?" He asks, a hint of mockery in his voice.

I roll my eyes, grabbing my cup of tea and sitting on the sofa. "You know I didn't," I reply.

"Yeah. You were tossing and turning for hours," He informs me, falling down into one of our armchairs.

I glance at the floorboards beneath me; I never sleep soundly on the eve of the reaping. "Sorry," I apologize quietly, the smile dissolving from my face.

Leyton snorts, shaking his head at me as if I'm a child. "I told you not to say sorry. It's not like you were trying to do it," He scolds me softly, placing his large hand on my head, messing up my hair. My hands fly to my head, trying to make myself presentable once more. Leyton and I share a small laugh, before turning to the hall as two pairs of feet start thundering towards us. I place my tea down, knowing what is about to come. I open my arms and a moment later a small body crashes against mine, two small arms are locked around my neck in a death grip. I hear a grunt from the armchair and I know that Leyton has been hit by a human missile as well.

"Good morning," I say, hugging Jace until he releases me, bobbing up and down on the sofa next to me. The reaping, to him, is always a good thing. Mostly because he has no real idea what's going on.

"Morning!" He and his twin, Taylon, reply in their sing-song way. I feel a genuine smile creep onto my face as the two giggle and jump around excitedly. "When are we gonna go to the bakery?" Taylon questions me.

I glance at the clock, before shrugging. "Well, why don't we go after breakfast?" I suggest, setting the two off on another fit of giddy squeals. I smile, watching the two start to chatter about what they want to buy.

Those two are kind of weird in that way; they're kids, and they're always finding the best in a situation. They're only 5 years old, and they're like my babies. My mom and dad aren't usually around; they work in the coal mines on the other side of the district, so the job of acting as the mother has sort of settled on my shoulders. It's quite easy when it comes to the twins, because they are so attached to me, but other two brothers don't really like the thought of being bossed around by their little sister, so they usually just go and do their own thing. Leyton is eighteen, and Stephan is seventeen; they both stopped going to school last year and started working at the Hob.

Not that I really liked the idea of my brothers working in the black market, but it helped the family a lot. Because of them, we're a lot better off than other families in the district. We always have food, and the roof over our heads and coal to keep us warm. That's more than I can do by babysitting the twins.

I grab a plate, pulling the toast from the fireplace and stacking them on it. As the smell of breakfast starts wafting through the house, our last brother appears, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. I hand him the last cup of tea and we dig in.

The streets are almost empty; we barely pass anyone on our trip into the town. It's rather unnerving, seeing the streets that usually hold crowds each day to be so deserted. I hold back a small shiver as the twins start swinging our hands in unison, the two skipping on either side of me. I wonder for a moment how anyone can be so innocent and have so much energy, before stopping outside of the Mellark bakery, the boys practically glued themselves to the window as they eyed the different cakes on display, their mouths open wide as if they are trying to take a bite.

I smile at the sight, holding open the door as they dash inside, nearly knocking me over in the process.

"Sorry!" They chorus, beginning their search of the cabinets for the nicest treats they can find.

"Here for the yearly round, are you my dear?" Asks the man behind the counter; he smiles at me as we watch the two rascals dart around, squealing. This is the only time he really sees them, because it's usually myself or Stephan that picks up the bread each week. Mr Mellark is quite fond of the twins; he always loves it when little kids are in the Bakery.

"You know it," I reply, shaking my head slowly. I sniffed the air, narrowing my eyes. "What is that I smell? Some type of game, possibly?" I asked, sniffing again. I can definitely smell hints of cooked meat hidden under the scents of baked bread and pastries.

Mr Mellark smiles and winks at me. It's no secret that we were both connected to the black market, not that his wife really agrees to the backdoor trading that goes on everywhere. That must mean that she is still asleep if he's eating meat this early. "The Hawthorne boy dropped a squirrel off at the crack of dawn. He's a fair trader, that one."

"Be sure to send him my way, then," I say. I turn to the twins as they start tugging on my pants, crying for my attention. "Have you decided yet?" I ask.

"Yes!" They reply, tugging me forward and pointing through one of the cases.

I smile, straightening up as the baker fetches two small bags and places the treats inside them. He holds out the bags and my brothers take them, thanking him graciously. I drop my savings into his hand. Mellark inspects them for a moment, before looking at me. "With much to spear, would you like something for yourself?" He asks.

"You know I can't. If I did, I'd have to buy for the others as well." As Jace starts waving his arms in front of me, I pick him up, letting him latch onto my neck. "How many have you got going in this year?" I ask.

He knows what I'm talking about, and his face saddens slightly, glancing at the window to the back of the bakery. "Just two, what about your kin?"

"We've got three."

"Including you?"

"Yep."

We share a moment of solemn silence, but it's broken as the kitchen door opens. I take a step back involuntarily, watching the blonde boy breeze through, holding a large tray of bread. He dumps the loaves into the waiting basket, filling the room with a new wave of warm air.

"We should get going," I say, taking Taylon's hand. "May the odds be in your favour," I call, smiling as I back out of the bakery. We walk home, and I let the two eat half of their treats, then place them on a high shelf, out of their reach. I pour hot water into the bath and scrub the two clean, then hand them over to Leyton.

I retrieve a pale green dress from my closet –the only thing I keep at the back compartment for months at a time- and pull it on. It comes with matching little flats, which I step into. After I pin my light brown hair with shaky hands, I wander out to the kitchen.

"Who are you and what've you done with my sister?" Stephan asks, coming up and hugging me to his chest. Today he doesn't smell like burnt matches or tobacco, he smells more like soap.

"You brush up well," I tell him, assessing the crisp white shirt and dark slacks he must have dug out of our dad's things. There's a squeal and I turn to see Leyton chasing the twins into the room. I scoop up Taylon and sit him on the bench, adjusting his crooked bow tie.

He stares at me for a second before reaching up and tugging on a loose lock of hair. "You look really pretty, Sis," he comments, I smile and hug him.

"We should get going. Mom and Dad are meeting us there," Leyton says, I agree with him. It's much easier to get through the day as quickly as possible.

I pick Taylon up and carry him through the streets to the square. Children from 12 to 18 have started to be herded into groups by age, standing in silence. We find our Mom standing off to the right of the crowd, her arms folded. I do a sort of weird little skip over to her, my way of not bursting into a sprint.

"Don't you look pretty?" She comments, smiling as she takes my brother from me.

"Thanks, Mom," I say.

"Don't worry so much, Alicia. The odds are in your favour, I know they are," She says, touching my face softly. I nod, she kisses my cheek and ushers the three of us away. After signing in, I split from my brothers and stand with the other sixteen year old girls. Most of them are looking around like stunned puppies, and the few that aren't are looking completely miserable. I decide to stand next to a familiar, stony face. Katniss offers me a small smile that I return, as if we're trying to reassure not just each other, but ourselves as well, that everything will be okay.

I stare up at the stage. It's pretty bare, holding three chairs, a podium, and the two glass bowls filled with names. Mayor Undersee and District 12's escort, Effie Trinket, are talking quietly in their seats, glancing anxiously at the last chair. It's meant for Haymitch, a drunkard who survived the Hunger Games years ago, but he hasn't arrived yet.

The town clock strikes two, and Mayor Undersee steps up to the podium. He looks out at us and begins his long, boring speech about the history of Panem. You can tell that nobody is really listening, even the mayor looks like he is ready to fall asleep. It's the same speech every year, he can probably recite it in his sleep. He ends by reciting our long list of past victors- two, to be exact. Haymitch is the only one still alive out of them.

Speaking of Haymitch, as his name is called, the man stumbles onto the stage, hollering unintelligible things. The crowd responds with applause, which seems to confuse him. We all realize he is extremely drunk when he tries to give Effie a hug, which she battles away from. The mayor tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing the pink haired woman, and she trots over excitedly.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" She starts, smiling out at us. For another minute, she gushes about how happy she is to be here, even though you can see the almost desperation in her face. She wants a better district. I almost don't blame her.

"Ladies first!" Effie announces, I can feel everyone around me tensing as her manicured hand dives into the glass bowl. She digs around for a moment, before she pulls out a slip of paper to her liking. She crosses back to the podium, unfolding the paper and smoothing it out. She clears her throat softly before speaking loud and clear into the microphone.

"Alicia Fairbairn!" She almost cheers. My legs start to go to jelly, my mind goes blank, and my eyes very nearly pop out of my head. She called the next female tribute. She called Alicia Fairbairn.

She called my name.

What do you think so far? You know that if you review I'll love you forever.

Later!
-Shinigami