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After dinner, we go to sitting room to watch the scores announced
on television. First they show a photo of the tribute,
then flash their score below it. The Career Tributes naturally
get in the eight-to-ten range. Most of the other players average
a five. Surprisingly, little Rue comes up with a seven. I
don’t know what she showed the judges, but she’s so tiny it
must have been impressive.
District 12 comes up last, as usual. Peeta pulls an eight so at
least a couple of the Gamemakers must have been watching
him. I dig my fingernails into my palms as my face comes up,
expecting the worst. Then they’re flashing the number eleven
on the screen.
Eleven!
Effie Trinket lets out a squeal, and everybody is slapping
me on the back and cheering and congratulating me. But it
doesn’t seem real.
“There must be a mistake. How . . . how could that happen?”
I ask Haymitch.
“Guess they liked your temper,” he says. “They’ve got a
show to put on. They need some players with some heat.”
“Katniss, the girl who was on fire,” says Cinna and gives me
a hug. “Oh, wait until you see your interview dress.” “More
flames?” I ask. “Of a sort,” he says mischievously.
Peeta and I congratulate each other, another awkward
moment. We’ve both done well, but what does that mean for
the other? I escape to my room as quickly as possible and burrow
down under the covers. The stress of the day, particularly
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