if they will break down and weep。 Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully； carefully。 These same people tend to be informers； and who hasnˇt broken the law？ I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting； but the appetites of those in charge protect me。 Not everyone can claim the same。
Anyway； Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head； the bullet would be much quicker。
The space gets tighter； more claustrophobic as people arrive。 The squareˇs quite large； but not enough to hold District 12ˇs population of about eight thousand。 Lateers are directed to the adjacent streets； where they can watch the event on screens as itˇs televised live by the state。
I find myself standing in a clump of sixteens from the Seam。 We all exchange terse nods then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building。 It holds three chairs； a podium； and two large glass balls； one for the boys and one for the girls。 I stare at the paper slips in the girlsˇ ball。 Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting。
Two of the three chairs fill with Madgeˇs father； Mayor Undersee； whoˇs a tall； balding man； and Effie Trinket； District 12ˇs escort； fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin； pinkish hair； and spring green suit。 They murmur to each other
and then look with concern at the empty seat。
Just as the town clock strikes two； the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read。 Itˇs the same story every year。 He tells of the history of Panem； the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America。 He lists the disasters； the droughts； the storms； the fires； the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land； the brutal war for what little sustenance remained。 The result was Panem； a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts； which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens。 Then came the Dark Days； the uprising of the districts against the Capitol。 Twelve were defeated； the thirteenth obliterated。 The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and； as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated； it gave us the Hunger Games。
The rules of the Hunger Games are simple。 In punishment for the uprising； each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy； called tributes； to participate。 The twentyfour tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland。 Over a period of several weeks； the petitors must fight to the death。 The last tribute standing wins。
Taking the kids from our districts； forcing them to kill one another while we watch this is the Capitolˇs way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy。 How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion。
Whatever words they use； the real message is clear。 ¨Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and thereˇs nothing you can do。 If you lift a finger； we will destroy every last one of you。 Just as we did in District Thirteen。〃
To make it humiliating as well as torturous； the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity； a sporting event pitting every district against the others。 The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home； and their district will be showered with prizes； largely consisting of food。 All year； the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation。
¨It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks；〃 intones the mayor。
Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors。 In seventyfour years； we have had exactly two。 Only one is still alive。 Haymitch Abernathy； a paunchy； middle…aged man； who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible； staggers onto the stage； and falls into the third chair。 Heˇs drunk。 Very。 The crowd responds with its token applause； but heˇs confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug； which she
barely manages to fend off。
The mayor looks distressed。 Since all of this is being televised； right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem； and he knows it。 He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket。
Bright and bubbly as ever； Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature； ¨Happy Hunger Games！ And may the odds be ever in your favor！〃 Her pink hair must be a wig because her curls have shifted slightly off…center since her encounter with Haymitch。 She goes on a bit about what an honor it is to be here； although everyone knows sheˇs just aching to get bumped up to a better district where they have proper victors； not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation。
Through the crowd； I spot Gale looking back at me with a ghost of a smile。 As reapings go； this one at least has a slight entertainment factor。 But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty…two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor。 Not pared to a lot of the boys。 And maybe heˇs thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away。 ¨But there are still thousands of slips；〃 I wish I could whisper to him。
Itˇs time for the drawing。 Effie Trinket says as she always does； ¨Ladies first！〃 and crosses to the glass ball with the girlsˇ names。 She reaches in； digs her hand deep into the ball； and pulls out a slip of paper。 The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop； and Iˇm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that itˇs not me； that itˇs not me； that itˇs not me。
Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium； smoothes the slip of paper； and reads out the name in a clear voice。 And itˇs not me。
Itˇs Primrose Everdeen。
2
One time； when I was in a blind in a tree； waiting motionless for game to wander by； I dozed off and fell ten feet to the ground； landing on my back。 It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from my lungs； and I lay there struggling to inhale； to exhale； to do anything。
Thatˇs how I feel now； trying to remember how to breathe； unable to speak； totally stunned as the name bounces around the inside of my skull。 Someone is gripping my arm； a boy from the Seam； and I think maybe I started to fall and he caught me。
There must have been some mistake。 This canˇt be happening。 Prim was one slip of paper in thousands！ Her chances of being chosen so remote that Iˇd not even bothered to worry about her。 Hadnˇt I done everything？ Taken the tesserae； refused to let her do the same？ One slip。 One slip in thousands。 The odds had been entirely in her favor。 But it hadnˇt mattered。
Somewhere far away； I can hear the crowd murmuring unhappily as they always do when a twelve…year…old gets chosen because no one thinks this is fair。 And then I see her； the blood drained from her face； hands clenched in fists at her sides； walking with stiff； small steps up toward the stage； passing me； and I see the back of her blouse has bee untucked and hangs out over her skirt。 Itˇs this detail； the untucked blouse forming a ducktail； that brings me back to myself。
¨Prim！〃 The strangled cry es out of my throat； and my muscles begin to move again。 ¨Prim！〃 I donˇt need to shove through the crowd。 The other kids make way immediately allowing me a straight path to the stage。 I reach her just as she is about to mount the steps。 With one sweep of my arm； I push her behind me。
¨I volunteer！〃 I gasp。 ¨I volunteer as tribute！〃
Thereˇs some confusion on the stage。 District 12 hasnˇt had a volunteer in decades and the protocol has bee rusty。 The rule is that once a tributeˇs name has been pulled from the ball； another eligible boy； if a boyˇs name has been read； or girl； if a girlˇs name has been read； can step forward to take his or her place。 In some districts； in which winning the reaping is such a great honor； people are eager to risk their lives； the volunteering is plicated。 But in District 12； where the word tribute is pretty much synonymous with the word corpse； volunteers are all but extinct。
¨Lovely！〃 says Effie Trinket。 ¨But I believe thereˇs a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers； and if one does e forth then we； um 。 。 。〃 she trails off； unsure herself。
¨What does it matter？〃 says the mayor。 Heˇs looking at me with a pained expression on his face。 He doesnˇt know me really； but thereˇs a faint recognition there。 I am the girl who brings the strawberries。 The girl his daughter might have spo23 ken of on occasion。 The girl who five years ago stood huddled with her mother and sister； as he presented her； the oldest child； with a medal of valor。 A medal for her father； vaporized in the mines。 Does he remember that？ ¨What does it matter？〃 he repeats gruffly。 ¨Let her e forward。〃
Prim is screaming hysterically behind me。 Sheˇs wrapped her skinny arms around me like a vice。 ¨No； Katniss！ No！ You canˇt go！〃
¨Prim； let go；〃 I say harshly； because this is upsetting me and I donˇt want to cry。 When they televise the replay of the reapings tonight； everyone will make note of my tears； and Iˇll be marked as an easy target。 A weakling。 I will give no one that satisfaction。 ¨Let go！〃
I can feel someone pulling her from my back。 I turn and see Gale has lifted Prim off the ground and sheˇs thrashing in his arms。 ¨Up you go； Catnip；〃 he says； in a voice heˇs fighting to keep steady； and then he carries Prim off toward my mother。 I
steel myself and climb the steps。
¨Well； bravo！〃 gushes Effie Trinket。 ¨Thatˇs the spirit of the Games！〃 Sheˇs pleased to finally have a district with a little action going on in it。 ¨Whatˇs your name？〃
I swallow hard。 ¨Katniss Everdeen；〃 I say。
¨I bet my buttons that was your sister。 Donˇt want her to steal all the glory； do we？ e on； everybody！ Letˇs give a big round of applause to our newest tribute！〃 trills Effie Trinket。
To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12； not one person claps。 Not even the ones holding betting slips； the ones who are usually beyond caring。 Possibly because they know me from the Hob； or knew my father； or have encountered Prim； who no one can help loving。 So instead of acknowledging applause； I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage。 Silence。 Which says we do not agree。 We do not condone。 All of this is wrong。
Then something unexpected happens。 At least； I donˇt expect it because I donˇt think of District 12 as a place that cares about me。 But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Primˇs place； and now it seems I have bee someone precious。 At first one； then another； then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me。 It is an old and rarely used
gesture of our district； occasionally seen at funerals。 It means thanks； it means admiration； it means good…bye to someone you love。
Now I am truly in danger of crying； but fortunately Haymitch chooses this time to e staggering across the stage to congratulate me。 ¨Look at her。 Look at this one！〃 he hollers； throwing an arm around my shoulders。 Heˇs