I mount the stage and the people erupt in cheers. I smile and wave and mouth thank you, because no one can actually hear over the crowd. Then, as the crowd dies down, I introduce myself as if no one knows who I am. Everyone knows, though. "Every twenty-fifth year of the Hunger Games will be a Quarter Quell. This year promises a glorified version of the games with a certain twist. This year marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, which means that it is the very first Quarter Quell." And there is the boy. Holding the wooden box and staring solmenly with his slicked-back hair. I slip out the envelope labeled 25, and open it. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, to remind the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district must hold an election and vote on the tributes who will represent it." I finish. The audience gasps. "Thank you." I say. With a small wave and a closed-mouth smile, I exit the stage. The anthem pours over the speakers and you can hear the chatters of the crowd. I smile a bit: again I have outdone myself.