ar 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