Rosebud

Chapter 1

            I wake up screaming.  The nightmares of that horrible woman calling out my name echo through my brain.  "Primrose Everdeen, Primrose Everdeen, Primrose Everdeen...".  I look to my side to see if I had startled my mother, but she only stirs in our tiny bed.  Katniss should be up by now, and judging by the lack of warmth I feel on the other side of the rough canvas she has already gone out to hunt.  I do wish she was here though.

            I feel my cat, Buttercup crawl into my freezing arms, warming my skin and purring as I stroke her luxuriously soft coat.  "Oh how I wish I could have a coat to protect me such as yours, Buttercup", I whisper as she continues to curl up on my lap.  Her comforting heat calms my nerves, and I feel a bit better.  Today is reaping day, and for the first year of my life, I can be chosen to represent District 12 in the 74th annual Hunger Games.

            Every year, in our country of Panem, located in what they say used to be known as North America, we hold a Hunger Games- a televised fight to death involving one girl and one boy from each of our 12 districts between the age of 12 to 18.  Unfortunately, I turned 12 last December, and am now eligible to compete.  The lone victor will gain fame and fortune, but most importantly the privilege to live on and never be reaped again.

            I stand up and shiver from the cold of early March, and pull my dirty old jacket on.  I see that the cheese I made from my goat, Lady, is gone so Katniss must have taken it already.  Good, I think, she should celebrate today when she can.  Because it won't be one of us, it won't be one of us...My thoughts have been trailing off lately, and I need to stay focused.  Today will be rough for us all, the possibility of two of our friends' probable death isn't very exciting.

            I stumble outside and milk Lady, maybe I can sell her cheese later on today to lucky families.  Just as I re-enter the house, I hear heavy boots and screeching, so Katniss must be home.  She and sweet, old Buttercup have an interesting relationship, so her welcome isn't always very inviting.  "Katniss!", I cry as I run to her, thankful for the human company.  "What did you bring back?"

"Enough", she says, like she always does.  "I found some strawberries, but we'll save those for tonight."  She winks but I can tell she's tense, almost scared.  Very unlike the sister that I know.  "It won't be us", I say.  "I know it won't.  It's going to be okay."

"You don't have to be brave, Prim, I know it won't be you.  You only have one slip in there, they're not going to pick you."  I rush into her solid arms for a hug, and we hold each other for a while, assuring each other of our safety.

            "I have something for you", my sister tells me, "My first reaping outfit."  She leads me to our ratty sofa where she had laid out a beautiful ruffled blouse and skirt to match, an outfit she keeps hidden away in a box, not wanting to see it again.  "Thank you", I whisper, surprised.  Katniss leaves and I slip into the blouse, feeling the smooth fabric slide upon my skin as it falls over my head.  I take my dad's old shaving mirror down from the wall and wipe the dust off like I do every day, and let my reflection guide me in putting my hair into two braids that run down my shoulders.  My gorgeous blouse keeps coming undone, so I tuck it back in the best I can.

            I shutter as I put the mirror back up on the wall- I look like my mom more and more each day.  Everyone including Katniss tells me so, but I am just now starting to believe them.  My mother is the last person I would want to resemble, even with her raw beauty.  After my father died in a mine explosion, being that District 12 is the coal-mining district, my mother turned into stone.  She was in a depression for months, and Katniss and I almost starved.  My mother, once a strong, beautiful women, was nothing but a lump of blankets that would stare motionless at the wall for days on end, only eating when my sister forced her to, but unwillingly.

            I walk back into the main room of our little house that holds the kitchen, bedroom and television set, and gasp at the sight of my sister- she was absolutely beautiful.  She was clad in one of my mom's old dresses from when lived in the nicer side of town, before she moved to live with my father in the shady part of District 12 called the Seam, our home.  The light blue dress Katniss wore fit her perfectly and looked stunning with the braid her hair was in wrapped around her head and all strung up.  She looked so much older than me.

            "You look... beautiful", I tell her, looking for a sufficient word.  "Thank you, Prim, but I wish I looked as pretty as you are!"  Her eyes found where my blouse kept coming undone, and immediately put it back into place.  "You better tuck in your little duck", she laughed, trying to hide her nerves that were obviously taking control.  I tried to lift her spirits with a little "quack", and we both giggled, letting go of this stressful moment for a brief second.

            "We should start heading down to the square, it's almost noon", Katniss tells us, ending what small time we had to still be children.  The three of us leave our little house, and make the trek to our town square, where the reaping will take place.  Where we will find out who will die this year.  Katniss directs me over to a roped-off area where my friends from school are standing, chewing their hair, stomping their feet and performing nervous habits I've seen them do a million times over, but today is different.  Today those nervous habits are escape routes from a burning hell full of nightmares to somewhere safe, somewhere free.

            My sister leaves me to join the girls her age, but I don't greet my friends with my usual smile.  We all just stand there in silence, respectfully keeping these moments to ourselves.  After a few minutes, but what seemed like eternity, the chaperone for the District 12 tributes, Effie Trinket, comes out on the stage and sits next to Mayor Undersee.  They exchange nervous glances, and seems like they both are worried about the empty third chair set up at the edge of the stage.  Suddenly , all eyes turn towards the Justice Building next to the main stage, where Haymitch Abernathy, the winner of the 50th annual Hunger Games and District 12 tributes' mentor, comes bursting through the doors.  All signs point to one word: drunk.

He stumbles onto the stage, spilling his drink everywhere, and runs over to Effie Trinket, who looks utterly disgusted.  "Good morning!" he screams in her face, his smile about as wide as his arms as the disheveled man hugs her violently.  The giant plume of pink hair on her head must be a wig, because it has shifted a whole 45 degrees by the time she finally pushes him away.  On a regular day, everyone might have been giggling, enjoying themselves, but today everyone just still stands in silence, wanting to get this thing over with.  Including me.

            I hear an enormous thud and my friend Maribelle shriek, and I whip my head around so fast it hurts.  Haymitch was passed out on the ground next to her, saliva dripping from his mouth, which was releasing some pretty ghastly fumes.