Reaping day. The day that all (except the career districts) hate. It is also the day that most of the Capitol citizens wait longingly for all year. I say most because I am the one, and I think only, Capitol citizen that dreads this day. My name is Euphemia Elizabeth Trinket. However, most people call me Effie. I am the escort for district 12. I am known as uptight, proper and obsessive over manners and punctuality. I guess that is all true most of the time. I have a secret though, I haven't told this to anyone; yet. Here it goes. I despise the Hunger Games, I think that the very thought of teenagers fighting to the death is… is… preposterous! In fact, I think that children, being raised in such a society as this one is simply disgusting. Then why did I become an escort? Especially for district 12? I chose district 12 for one reason. That reason is Haymitch Harold Abernathy. I know that he is a messed up old drunk victor, but I try my best to find something good in everybody. That is what I am doing with Haymitch. That is why I am trying to keep him sober, for the tributes and to find something good inside of him. I have been trying for 3 years and failing, but I am determined. This determination started on the first day of my job of being an escort. I politely introduced myself and said "Hi! I'm Euphemia Trinket the new escort. But you can call me Effie. There's no need to introduce yourself, Haymitch Abernathy."
"Uh huh. Take a hike Icky. Come to think of it, I doubt you can walk 50 feet in those stupid shoes, never mind the hike. You know what'd be faster Icky? I get outa here. See ya." That was the rudest tone that I had ever been spoken to in. I realized that my mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it when I realized my own lack of manners. That was when my quest for the good man inside of him began.
I shake my head as if to clear my thoughts, and walk up onto the reaping stage hoping that I chose anyone but an under 18 year old. Of course, the odds are not in my favour on that hope. "Welcome to the 73rd annual Hunger Games! Happy Hunger Games and, may the odds, be ever in your favour. As usual, ladies first." I say in my overly peppy, shrill Capitol accent and walk over to the girl's reaping ball. I dramatically maneuver my hand around the ball and chose a name at random. I walk back over to the microphone and say "Madeline Cassidy" in a loud, clear voice. Great. I've reaped a nervous, frail, skin and bones 13 year old. I just want to face-palm myself but I know that I can't. I hear someone scream "Madeline!" from the boy's section. I'm pretty sure that it was her brother so I'm hoping and praying that I don't reap him. Of course, I don't want to reap anybody, but I really don't want to reap him. I have to reap somebody because it's my job, my horrid, cruel and sad job. I'm not very liked by district 12, you don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to realize that. Once Madeline stumbles up onto her place on the stage I say "and now for the boys! Anthony Lielenthal!" Thank goodness it wasn't her brother, it's a strong, arrogant 17 year old boy. Hey, it's better than nothing. He walks up to the stage and I say "Your tributes, Madeline Cassidy and Anthony Lielenthal!" I hope that nobody noticed the sadness in my eyes at what I have just done. The first time the district 12 tributes died, I realized something. I realized that I am a murderer, a cold-blooded murderer. I can see why district 12 hates me and I don't blame them. I hate myself too most of the time.