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My heart was pounding. I think we both had the same look on our faces when we heard the name. It was the name of our daughter. I, Gale Hawthorne, have two beautiful daughters here in District 12, with my wife from District 3, Lydia. My oldest daughter, Arin, at the young age of 15, had her name callen by Haymitch, the drunken, old victor.
I saw the look on her face. Katniss. Her husband Peeta took no notice that it was my daughter. Katniss was frightened. She knows what my daughter must be feeling. As my daughter left my hand, she marched up the stairs to the stage bravely, though I saw the anxious, nervous look in her eyes.
Haymitch, surprisingly not drunk, gave her a soft pat on the back. He sent the boy name ball rolling, twisting the wooden crank around and around. He let go, and waited for it to stop rolling. He opened the hatch and reached in. He yelled out, "Kal!"
She let out a choked cry. I saw the tears from the corners of her eyes. Those tough eyes letting the tears through. Katniss's son, Kal, who is age 16, walked up, refusing to meet his parent's eyes. Peeta played it off, putting on a glassy eyed look. Katniss dabbed at her eyes, and leaned over to put her head in her lap. I hear the faint cries of Kal's younger sister, Papora.
Haymitch let out a loud belch before announcing, "District 12, give it up for your 76th pair of tributes!"
The entire square was dead silent. It was almost exactly like the 74th Hunger Games silence, when Katniss and Peeta were the two tributes, who won almost eating Nightlock. I heard Katniss sniff and look at me, out of the whole crowd. We knew what had happened.
Not only were our children in the Games, but now we were in them too.
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