第14章
asks effie trinket brightly.
“last time i saw him, he said he was going to take a nap,”
says peeta.
“well, it’s been an exhausting day,” says effie trinket. i
think she’s relieved by haymitch’s absence, and who can
blame her?
the supper comes in courses. a thick carrot soup, green
salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, a
chocolate cake. throughout the meal, effie trinket keeps re-
minding us to save space because there’s more to come. but
i’m stuffing myself because i’ve never had food like this, so
good and so much, and because probably the best thing i can
do between now and the games is put on a few pounds.
“at least, you two have decent manners,” says effie as we’re
finishing the main course. “the pair last year ate everything
with their hands like a couple of savages. it completely upset
my digestion.”
the pair last year were two kids from the seam who’d nev-
er, not one day of their lives, had enough to eat. and when
they did have food, table manners were surely the last thing
on their minds. peeta’s a baker’s son. my mother taught prim
and i to eat properly, so yes, i can handle a fork and knife. but
i hate effie trinket’s comment so much i make a point of eat-
ing the rest of my meal with my fingers. then i wipe my hands
on the tablecloth. this makes her purse her lips tightly to-
gether.
45
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 ex-
amine 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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stage. the commentators are not sure what to say about the
crowd’s refusal to applaud. the silent salute. one says that
district 12 has always been a bit backward but that local cus-
toms can be charming. as if on cue, haymitch falls off the
stage, and they groan comically. peeta’s name is drawn, and he
quietly takes his place. we shake hands. they cut to the an-
them again, and the pro-gram ends.
effie trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in.
“your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. a lot about
televised behavior.”
peeta unexpectedly laughs. “he was drunk,” says peeta.
“he’s drunk every year.”
“every day,” i add. i can’t help smirking a little. effie trinket
makes it sound like haymitch just has somewhat rough man-
ners that could be corrected with a few tips from her.
“yes,” hisses effie trinket. “how odd you two find it amus-
ing. you know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in
these games. the one who advises you, lines up your spon-
sors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. haymitch can
well be the difference between your life and your death!”