73rd Games

Chapter three

Finally, as I stand in line with other 14 year old girls, the soft murmurs of the crowd sputter out into silence. Up on the platform outside the hall is Effie Trinket, hair purple and outrageous dress decorated with butterflies, seated beside Mayor Undersee. Haymitch isn't there yet even though he's meant to be. He's probably drunk and passed out at his house.

As the clock strikes two, the mayor stands up to give his speech. It is always the same and I have heard it so many times I find myself almost mouthing out the words as he speaks. He talks about the Dark Days and the war and District thirteen and how much better off we are now. After reciting the list of victors from District twelve - only two people, not much to memorise - he introduces Effie. She almost skips over to the podium, beaming out at the crowd.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Her high pitch voice rings out over the square. I zone out for the rest she has to say but come back into focus when she says, "Ladies first." and walks across the stage to the bowl with little pieces of paper in it. I know that, somewhere among those pieces of paper are four with my name written on them and just pray they are all at the bottom. With an elegant flourish Effie reaches her gloved hand into the bowl and plucks one piece of paper from the pile.

The sun seems impossibly hot, as if if is burning up, about to swallow us all. A bead of sweat falls from my hairline and Effie unfolds the paper. There is a sick feeling in my stomach and I have a strange certainty that my name will be called. But this is how I felt the past two years and there is an incredibly slim chance I will be chosen. It's just nerves. Just stupid paranoia. But that does nothing to ease my fear as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak.

And then the impossible happens. Suddenly my nerves don't seem so stupid. Because those two words, two simple words, seal and doom my fate forever.

"Carlotta Bailey."