i ask.
“off the green outfit you wore on the train,” he says. i re-
member now taking it off my mother’s dress, pinning it to the
shirt. “it’s your district token, right?” i nod and he fastens it on
my shirt. “it barely cleared the review board. some thought
the pin could be used as a weapon, giving you an unfair advan-
tage. but eventually, they let it through,” says cinna. “they
eliminated a ring from that district one girl, though. if you
twisted the gemstone, a spike popped out. poisoned one. she
claimed she had no knowledge the ring transformed and there
was no way to prove she did. but she lost her token. there,
you’re all set. move around. make sure everything feels com-
fortable.”
i walk, run in a circle, swing my arms about. “yes, it’s fine.
fits perfectly.”
“then there’s nothing to do but wait for the call,” says cin-
na. “unless you think you could eat any more?”
144
i turn down food but accept a glass of water that i take tiny
sips of as we wait on a couch. i don’t want to chew on my nails
or lips, so i find myself gnawing on the inside of my cheek. it
still hasn’t fully healed from a few days ago. soon the taste of
blood fills my mouth.
nervousness seeps into terror as i anticipate what is to
come. i could be dead, flat-out dead, in an hour. not even. my
fingers obsessively trace the hard little lump on my forearm
where the woman injected the tracking device. i press on it,
even though it hurts, i press on it so hard a small bruise be-
gins to form.
“do you want to talk, katniss?” cinna asks.
i shake my head but after a moment hold out my hand to
him. cinna encloses it in both of his. and this is how we sit un-
til a pleasant female voice announces it’s time to prepare for
launch.
still clenching one of cinna’s hands, i walk over and stand
on the circular metal plate. “remember what haymitch said.
run, find water. the rest will follow,” he says. i nod. “and re-
member this. i’m not allowed to bet, but if i could, my money
would be on you.”
“truly?” i whisper.
“truly,” says cinna. he leans down and kisses me on the
forehead. “good luck, girl on fire.” and then a glass cylinder is
lowering around me, breaking our handhold, cutting him off
from me. he taps his fingers under his chin. head high.
i lift my chin and stand as straight as i can. the cylinder be-
gins to rise. for maybe fifteen seconds, i’m in darkness and
145
then i can feel the metal plate pushing me out of the cylinder,
into the open air. for a moment, my eyes are dazzled by the
bright sunlight and i’m conscious only of a strong wind with
the hopeful smell of pine trees.
then i hear the legendary announcer, claudius temples-
mith, as his voice booms all around me.
“ladies and gentlemen, let the seventy-fourth hunger
games begin!”
146
sixty seconds. that’s how long we’re required to stand on
our metal circles before the sound of a gong releases us. step
off before the minute is up, and land mines blow your legs off.
sixty seconds to take in the ring of tributes all equidistant
from the cornucopia, a giant golden horn shaped like a cone
with a curved tail, the mouth of which is at least twenty feet
high, spilling over with the things that will give us life here in
the arena. food, containers of water, weapons, medicine, gar-
ments, fire starters. strewn around the cornucopia are other
supplies, their value decreasing the farther they are from the
horn. for instance, only a few steps from my feet lays a three-
foot square of plastic. certainly it could be of some use in a
downpour. but there in the mouth, i can see a tent pack that
would protect from almost any sort of weather. if i had the
guts to go in and fight for it against the other twenty-three tri-
butes. which i have been instructed not to do.
we’re on a flat, open stretch of ground. a plain of hard-
packed dirt. behind the tributes across from me, i can see
nothing, indicating either a steep downward slope or even
cliff. to my right lies a lake. to my left and back, spars piney
woods. this is where haymitch would want me to go. imme-
diately.
147
i hear his instructions in my head. “just clear out, put as
much distance as you can between yourselves and the others,
and find a source of water.”
but it’s tempting, so tempting, when i see the bounty wait-
ing there before me. and i know that if i don’t get it, someone
else will. that the career tributes who survive the bloodbath
will divide up most of these life-sustaining spoils. something
catches my eye. there, resting on a mound of blanket rolls, is a
silver sheath of arrows and a bow, already strung, just waiting
to be engaged. that’s mine, i think. it’s meant for me.
i’m fast. i can sprint faster than any of the girls in our
school although a couple can beat me in distance races. but
this forty-yard length, this is what i am built for. i know i can
get it, i know i can reach it first, but then the question is how
quickly can i get out of there?
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