Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

I normally would never write in this fandom, but I had to do this for an English assignment, so I figured: oh, whatever.

The Reaping

As I wait for that detestable Trinket to select the tributes for this year, my eyes automatically search for Katniss in this stifling crowd. I spot her with relative ease. She's standing with other sixteens from the Seam. The faintest smile forms on my face at the sight of Catnip, who appears to be amused at Haymitch's antics. I had noticed Haymitch's rather unorthodox entrance, like everyone else, but found no humor in it on a day like this. Katniss, however, had evidently welcomed the distraction from this terrible- worse than terrible- event.

Katniss glances towards me, that amused expression still on her face. But even as that thought runs through my mind, Catnip's expression clouds over. The small break from reality ends, and the unfairness, the horror of the situation comes rushing back. Katniss is in the draw twenty times. Despite it being less than my number of slips, she still has quite a high chance of being chosen. My face darkens and I turn away from Catnip, not wanting to have to deal with the constant worry. The worry did not disappear, but at least it was muted somewhat.

The sound of Trinket's sickening sweet voice suddenly burns my eardrums. "Ladies first!" she chirps, practically skipping to the large glass ball holding the girl's names. It sickens me, the way the Capitol makes this near death sentence an occasion to celebrate. But this is reality, the reality I've dealt with since the day I was born. I stare mutely at Trinket as she daintily plunges her hand into the ball and selects a slip of paper. Trinket walks slowly – most likely on purpose- back towards the podium. After arriving to the podium, she clears her throat, coughs twice, and states the name on the slip clearly. Every syllable was enunciated slowly and steadily, so there could be no mistake about who exactly she was referring to.

Nevertheless, I still desperately cling to the hope that I had misheard Trinket's words. After all, if Primrose Everdeen had been chosen, then Catnip would volunteer in her place. Catnip was that kind of person. She wouldn't let her sister die: and if her sister entered the Hunger Games, Primrose would most definitely die.

But even as fruitless hopes raced through my mind, I hear Katniss' voice scream out Primrose's name again and again. I brace myself for Katniss' next, inevitable words. True to my fears, the words "I volunteer!" hit my ears.

With those words, a burst of completely irrational hatred flies through my body. I attempt to destroy the hatred: or at the very least reroute towards the Capitol. I know that it wasn't Primrose's fault that she was chosen. Just as it wasn't Primrose's fault that Katniss had volunteered in her place. I succeed, somewhat, in destroying my hatred for Primrose. However, no matter how I tried, I could not prevent that tiny sliver of resentment that remained. I watch mutely as Katniss walks up to the platform.

Pretty short, but I don't feel like lengthening it.