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Now that the meal’s over, I’m fighting to keep the food
down. I can see Peeta’s looking a little green, too. Neither of
our stomachs is used to such rich fare. But if I can hold down
Greasy Sae’s concoction of mice meat, pig entrails, and tree
bark — a winter specialty — I’m determined to hang on to
this.
We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the
reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout
the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing
live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that, since
none of them have to attend reapings themselves.
One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called,
(the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine
the faces of the kids who will be our competition. A few
stand out in my mind. A monstrous boy who lunges forward
to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red
hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District
10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District
11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that,
she’s very like Prim in size and demeanor. Only when she
mounts the stage and they ask for volunteers, all you can hear
is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around
her. There’s no one willing to take her place.
Last of all, they show District 12. Prim being called, me
running forward to volunteer. You can’t miss the desperation
in my voice as I shove Prim behind me, as if I’m afraid no one
will hear and they’ll take Prim away. But, of course, they do
hear. I see Gale pulling her off me and watch myself mount the
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