(Thank you for reading my story! Please let me know what you think!
I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes, English isn't my native language.)
When I wake up, there's enough light to fill the whole bedroom. I prop myself up on one elbow, seeking if Edward is still here, but all I find is an empty bed on the other side of the room. He's probably downstairs in the bakery. Every year on the day of the reaping he leaves his bed early.
I swing my legs off the bed. I pull on trousers, a white t-shirt and try to fix my hair. I walk to our dining room, where the scent of fresh-baked bread comes my way. "Good morning," says my father. He sits on wooden chair at the table reading a book. On the table there's a basket with some slices of bread. We can't eat the fresh-baked bread. That bread is for the customers and we get the leftovers to spare money, but today it's reaping day. Only then are we allowed to eat fresh-baked bread. I think it's a way of comforting us. "Good morning," I say while I grab a slice. My father looks at me. He looks tired from working overtime at the bakery. "Ready for today?" asks my father. Can you ever be ready for the reaping I wonder? The reaping system is unfair. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility, when your name goes into the pool seven times. That's true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Panem. "Ready as I'll ever be," while I'm trying to swallow a piece of bread. I don't want to think about the reaping day or talk about it. I finish my breakfast in silence before I leave, while my father continues to read his book.
I walk downstairs and see that the bakery is already loaded with customers. My mother can't see me right now. I walk to the door and go outside. Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Merchant, is usually quiet at this hour, but today it's crawling with peacekeepers. They're wearing uniforms that are white with black stripes at the sleeves. I notice that one of them is carrying a heavy lamp. They're probably busy with building up the reaping stage. I look up and see that the shutters are closed at almost every house. The reaping isn't until two. May as well sleep in, if you can.
Here in the Merchant everybody lives above his businesses. Our house is in the middle of the Merchant. It's a rectangle building when you stand before it. The ground floor has grey walls, with in the middle a door and on both sides' windows. Under the windows you'll find the letters pastries and cake engraved. On the first floor we live. It's has different stone then rest of the building, where they use concrete. Our house is made of red bricks.
The door opens and I see my mother with her head around the corner. Her wrinkled skin is sweaty. She must have been working the ovens this morning. She looks angry with me. Her put up black hair is slowly falling apart. "Your late!" says my mother. She walks to me and hits my arm. I feel the pain burning on my skin. I cannot afford to get upset, to enter the bakery with puffy eyes and a red nose. Crying is not an option. I look her in the eyes, while I'm trying to hide away the pain. She pushes me inside, while she snaps at the people around her trying to defend me.
"Are you alright little brother?" asks Edward when I enter the shop. I look straight to his eyes and see a bruise on the left side. He sees that I'm looking at the bruise and tries to hide it away with rubbing his eye. What did he do this morning? It's strange my mother is more in a bad mood than usual. "I'm fine," I sigh. I grab a kitchen short from the cabinet near me. "What can I do?" I ask my brother while I tie the short around me. He looks worried to me. "Maybe we should put some ice on that first," says Edward. "No, mother would kill us. It doesn't hurt that bad," I lie. The pain is only getting worse, but I can't tell my brother that without risking the chance of him getting beat up again. He nods and points to the cakes behind the counter. "I think you should do some decorating today," while he winks with his right eye. I smile, because he knows that I'm having a rough day because of the reaping.
I remember his reaping days. He was always so nervous during the day. He always made mistakes in the bakery, which he wouldn't do normally. Stupid things like dropping bread or forgetting how to count. He's lucky that he survived the reaping ever year. Now he's twenty years old and working at the bakery without any worries about the reaping today, only feeding his stomach.
While I walk to the counter, I watch the customers inside the bakery. I see mayor Undersee and the butcher. I greet them all while I pass them. Behind the counter I look for some butter and icing sugar, but I can't find it. Somebody must have moved it, because of the many customers today. I walk in to the room next from the counter. My other brother is working there. He's rolling the dough. The moment I walk in he waves his hand. "Morning brother," says Jamie. "Good morning, did you see the butter?" I ask him. "Isn't it behind the counter in the cabinet?". I shake my head. He shrugs his shoulders and then continuous his work. Jamie is the only one who looks like my mother. He has black hair as well and the same eyes. I look like my dad, blonde hair and blue eyes. Even my character is the same as my dad. Except for one thing, I'm bold, like my mother. That's one thing we have in common.
I find the butter on the shelf at the wall and the icing sugar in the cabinet. I take a big bowl, put the ingredients in it and start mixing them with a ladle. The steering needs power, something I don't have to today, because of the pain from my arm. I hear a creaking sound coming from the stairs. I hear my mother shouting at my dad. "Calm down, darling," and he gives my mom a kiss. I always wonder how he does that. He completely shuts her up, by one kiss. My dad walks to me, puts his hand on my shoulder and looks at the buttercream. "Looking good, don't forget to add some vanilla," says my father. I always forget the vanilla.
I finish the mix and make some different colors by adding dyes. I choose red, blue and yellow and put them in different piping bags. What should I draw today? Or maybe we have an order. I walk to the counter and open the ordering book. I read my mothers terrible handwriting. That can't be right. I read it again, but it's true, we have 5 cake orders! Normally we have two for a whole week, if we're lucky. I see the comments next to the order. I bite my lip. These are all celebrating cakes for surviving the reaping. "Happy hunger games, may the odds be ever in your favor," I mutter.
For the first cake I mix the colors red and yellow. I want to make a sunset, because orange is my favorite color. I let the sun continue on the whole cake by piping curly lines. "The sunset again?," asks my father with a smile on his face. I put down my piping bag and I start to spin the cake slowly. "What do you think?" My father looks at the cake and then at me. I see sadness in his eyes. "The best sunset you ever made," says my father. "I'm sacred for the reaping dad," why did I say that. I shouldn't have said that. I stare embarrassed at the ground. My father takes a deep breath. "Peeta, you should not worry. Your name is in there only six times. Some children from the Seam are in there 30 times," but I hear a small doubt his voice. Still, he's right. If you live in the Seam, today is a lot worse, because if you are poor and starving. You can opt to add your name more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for one person. You may do this for each of your family members as well. So, at the age of twelve, your name enters two times plus the times for each family member. And each year it gets more, because the entries are cumulative. But the Seam children need the tesserae to survive. Otherwise they would starve to dead.
The Seam is the poorest part of District 12. It's located near the mines. Early in the mornings, the streets of the Seam are crowded with tired and worn-down coal miners heading to work. Many families live there in poverty and come beg here in Merchant for food. My mother hates them, while my father and I pity them. Sometimes we give breadcrumbs to help them. I wish we could give them more, but we have just enough food and money to feed ourselves. If my mom finds out we've been giving them breadcrumbs, she would kill us.
I put the cake in the showcase. Just for show, because it's for a customer. A young girl screams when she sees the cake. "Look mommy! I want that cake,". Her mother looks devastated. "Dear, we don't have the money for that". She puts a couple of coins on the counter. "Two slices of bread please". My mother counts the money and then looks up to the woman. The woman is covered in dirt and she has big knot in her hair. I see the abomination in my mother's eyes. "That's not enough," says my mother. "How about one slice then?" the woman asks. "It's also not enough for one slice," says my mother cold. "Please Mrs. Mellark. It's reaping day. It's her first year," the woman begs. "And my sons fourth and sixth year. Do you see me giving them special treatment?" says my mother angry. The woman puts down her head. "Come one sweetie, we are going to look somewhere else," says the woman while she grabs the right hand of her child. She tries to pull her to the door, but the kid keeps yelling, "I want that cake! Mommy it's not fair. I want that cake!" I feel terrible.
I continue to work on the cakes, while customers walk in and out of the store. After the fourth cake I decide to get some fresh air. "Dad, I'm going to get some fresh air," while I walk to the door. "Wait, I'll come with you," says my father. We walk out of the shop and lean with our backs against the wall. In the distance I see a boy approaching the bakery. I recognize that straight black hair, olive skin with gray eyes immediately. It's Gale, the one who always hangs out with Katniss.
When I was five years old, my education at school started. On the first day I was waiting to line up with my father next to me. He was talking about his school life, but suddenly he stopped talking. He pointed out a young girl in the waiting line before us. The young girl was wearing a red plaid dress with her hair in two braids. "See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner," said my father. I couldn't believe what my father just had said. My father had loved another woman beside my mother and she turned him down, for a coal miner! "A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?" I asked him. "Because when he sings, even the birds stop to listen," he said. Later that day in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Her hand shot right up in the air. "All right Katniss, come up here," the teacher said. The teacher stood her up on a stool and had her sing it for us. Every bird outside the windows fell silent. From that moment on I knew I was a goner, just like her mother.
For the next eleven years, I tried to find the nerve to talk to her, but I just couldn't. Besides more guys started to notice her. Only she didn't pay any attention to them. Except for Gale. A boy who looked a lot like her, but then only two years older. The girls at school always talk about how handsome he is. He and Katniss favor each other. They hunt together for food, sell it in the Hub; which is the black market from District 12 and walk to school together. I believe that they are cousins or something, but I don't know for sure. I never got the nerve to ask somebody about it.
"Gale," says my father while he shakes his hand. "Hello Mr. Mellark," says Gale cheerful. He doesn't greet me. We have seen each other in the hallways at school, but he probably didn't notice me. Beside merchant kids don't hang out with Seam kids. "Got a good squirrel for me today, my boy?" my father asks. Gale opens the bag and picks up a piece of meat. "Only the best quality for you! I just caught it this morning," says Gale. I see joy on my father's face, while he grabs a roll out of his pocket. That's why he wanted to go outside with me, so that my mother couldn't see him trade bread for a squirrel. My father and Gale shake hands, then Gale turns around and leaves.
"Are you hungry? Let's make some delicious squirrel!" says my father while he walks upstairs quickly. I follow him, hoping my mom doesn't see us. My dad puts on the fire with a box of matches and then puts a pan on the stove. He whispers, "Don't tell your mother," while he adds some butter to the pan. I smile. A lovely butter scent comes my way. When the butter begins to melt, my father adds the squirrel. You can hear the meat sizzle as it touches the pan. I walk to the cabinet to get two small plates, while my father prepares the squirrel by adding some spices. It smells so good. When the squirrel is ready, my father cuts the meat in half. We put them on the plates with some slices of bread from this morning.
At the dinner table we eat our food from the plates. "Dad, why are you always so happy when you eat squirrel?" I ask. His big blue eyes look at me, while he takes a bite out of his squirrel. He chews on it. "We can afford butcher meat," I continue. He swallows his bite then opens his mouth. "To keep her alive," he mutters. "Her? You bought it from Gale," I say. "That's true, but he shares his profit with Katniss…" my heart leaps "...and she takes care of her mother. So when I buy this squirrel, I don't see a squirrel. I see her, safe and sound," he says.
When we're finished we walk downstairs. The bakery is almost empty. It's almost twelve o'clock, everybody is probably preparing for the reaping. My mother is nowhere to be found. Which is a relive, because then I don't have to avoid her. Jamie walks to the counter and sees us. "Where have you two been? You've been gone for an hour!" "Having some lunch upstairs, you and Edward should go too. We will take over," says my father. Jamie nods, but I can see in his eyes that he is angry that we didn't ask him. "I'm sorry Jamie, next time we'll ask you to come with us," I say. I see some relieve in his eyes. He calls for Edward and then goes upstairs. Edward comes out of the other room with sweat all over his face. "Can one of you keep an eye on the ovens, while I'm gone?" I nod and walk to the other room.
The oven is burning up and I see three loaves in it. I grab the wooden peel to see if one of the breads is ready, but they still have a long way to go. The words my father said wander through my head. "I see her, safe and sound," after all those years, my father stills cares about her. It wasn't a secret that my father only married my mother to please his family. But after hearing this, I feel sorry for my mother. It must have made her bitter, to know that her men loved another.
The first breads are finished. I make another load and put them in the oven. Just the moment when I wanted to sit down, my mother opens the door from the bakery. She carries a bag on each side. I walk to her and help her unload the groceries. My mother bought more then usual. It's going to be feast meal tonight for surviving the reaping. "I've bought your favorite food," says my mother to me. I smile, this is here way of saying sorry for this morning.
I get the breads out of the oven with the wooden peel and put them on the cooling rack. I hear the doorbell ringing and a girl named Madge walks in to the bakery. "Madge!" I say. "Ow hi Peeta, how are you?" she asks me. Today her drab school outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. My eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully crafted. "I'm fine, you look lovely," I say. "Thanks," she mutters. I can't tell if she's sad or just shy. Madge's face has become closed off. I don't ask what is wrong, afraid it might upset her. We aren't friends at school. Madge doesn't have many friends. My friends at school wouldn't even know her name. Only that she is the mayor's kid. "It's for the reaping," she adds. Maybe she is scared? "It's alright to be scared, I'm scared to," I say to comfort her. Madge's eyes turn big. She looks straight in to my eyes. "You're scared?" she asks surprised. "Of course I am, my name is in there six times," I say. "Exactly what I said, but apparently I shouldn't be scared, because I'm the mayors kid!" she spills out. That's why she is upset; some Seam kid must have insulted her. I smile at her and say, "Don't let those Seam kids get in your head. You've every right to be scared," "Thanks Peeta, you always know what to say," she says. I really don't. "So, what can I get you?" I ask her. "My father ordered a cake yesterday," says Madge. I open the ordering book and look for the Mayor's name. He ordered my sunset cake. I put the cake in a box and give it to Madge. She reaches for her pockets and gives me the money. "Thank you Peeta, see you at the reaping,"
"Let's go clean up the bakery. We still have to clean ourselves before the reaping," says my father. We all work together to clean the bakery as fast as possible. I sweep the floor, Edward cleans the counter, Jamie cleans the showcase, my father tries to clean the oven without success and my mother cleans all the working areas. Because I'm done early, I help my father with the last part of the oven.
Tired and dirty we walk upstairs. Edward and I go straight to our room. The minute we walk inside, Edward jumps on the bed. "I'm so tired!" he says. I throw a pillow at his face. "Well you don't have to look amazing for the camera's,". He chuckles and throws the pillow back at me. I catch it and put it back on my bed. I let my legs rest for a minute. The eyes from Edward are slowly starting to close. He worked hard today, so I'll let him sleep until he needs to go under the shower.
I grab a towel from the shelf and open the door to the corridor. Nobody is under the shower yet. Which means, I still have hot water. The minute I step into the corridor, I hear a door opening. Jamie's head looks around the corner. For one second he takes in the situation and then we both start running. I feel my lungs fill up with air, while I'm trying to race my brother to the bathroom, but i'm to late; the door shuts in my faces with a loud bang. "Sorry little brother, older brothers first!"
Exhausted I position myself on our couch in the living room. "Jamie again?" my father asks. I gave him one glimpse of my eyes. He laughs. Great, my father thinks it's funny I always lose to Jamie. I grab a cookie from the table. It's my own design. It has a green forest on it. I did that, hoping that Katniss would see it. Sometimes she walks by the windows of the bakery with her sister, who loves my cakes and cookies designs. I had hoped, that the cookie would lure Katniss inside, but it didn't. I split the cookie in two and eat the first part. It doesn't taste very well, because of it.
I hear Jamie leaving the shower. I grab my towel from the couch and leave for the shower. It's not a very luxurious shower, but at least we get one. In the Seam they don't have a shower in their house. I put the water on, while I peel off my trouser and t-shirt. The water is cold, thanks to Jamie. I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the bakery and wash my hair.
Back in my room I open the drawer and pick out a white shirt. Actually, it's not really white anymore. Over the years, the white color has fade into grey. The same for the trousers, many years ago it was brown. Now it's more greyish. Both pieces are too big for me. I put my shirt in my pants and a leather belt on to keep it all together. By the time I finish Edward wakes up. "What time is it?" he says in a hurry. "Time for you to enter the shower" I say when I throw a towel at him.
When Edward and I walk downstairs, I see my father en mother waiting for us. My mother wears a lovely pink dress and my father wears a black suit. "You both look handsome," says my Mother in a hushed voice. I know these next few hours are going to be terrible for them. Nobody wants to see their kids leaving.
At one o'clock, we head for the square. Attendance is mandatory unless you are on death's door. This evening, officials will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not, you'll be imprisoned.
It's not a long walk for us, because our bakery is near the squire. You can hear the silence while we walk closer. Normally it's one of the nicest places to be in District 12, because of all the shops around the squire. But today bright banners are hanging on the walls, camera crews our ready to record the reaping and it's crawling with peacekeepers.
People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve- through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, like Jamie and the youngest toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn. Odds are given on their ages, whether they're Seam or Merchant, if they will break down and weep. Most refuse dealing with the racketeers, but some do.
The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 12's population of about eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state.
I find myself standing in a clump of sixteens from the Merchant. Near to me is a buddy from school. I wave at him and when catches my eye, he waves back. We exchange a worried face and then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls.
Two of the three chairs fill with Mayor Undersee, who I saw this morning in the bakery, and Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat.
Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires; the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.
The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.
Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch, this is the Capitol's way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion.
The message is clear. "We can take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do". Nobody will ever lift a finger, because they will destroy us if we did. Just as they did to District Thirteen.
To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of the districts battle starvation.
Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, we have had two winners. Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a middle-aged man, with long blonde hair who at this moment appears to be drunk, and falls into the third chair. The crowd responds with it's token applause, but he's confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.
The mayor looks worried. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He takes back the attention to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.
Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Her pink hair must be a wig because her curls have shifted slightly off-center since her encounter with Haymitch. "It's such an honor to be in here in District 12," I know that's she is lying. She probably had hoped for a better district with proper victors, not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation.
My eyes search the crowd. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Katniss. I spot her on the right a couple lines before me. She wears a soft blue dress with matching shoes and her hair in one braid. Probably one of her mother's old dresses. My thoughts slip away while I think of Katniss. Then it's time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does, "Ladies first!" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop. Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's Primrose Everdeen.
I am startled. That's Katniss sister! How many times was here name in there? She is only twelve. I notice that my eyes are watching Katniss. She's seems frozen, totally stunned by the news. Someone is gripping her arm, a boy from the Seam I guess. How terrible it must be for her.
Prim starts to move, blood drained from her face, hands clenched in fists at her sides, with the back of her blouse hanging out over her skirt, walking with stiff, small steps up toward the stage and passing Katniss.
"Prim!" screams Katniss. My eyes are back at Katniss. What is she doing? She walks to the stage, while the other kids immediately make a way, allowing Katniss to walk straight to the stage. She reaches Prim. With one sweep of her arm, she pushes Prim behind her. "I volunteer!" she gasps. "I volunteer as tribute!"
My heart stops, my head is turning and my body is stunned. I feel a small pain in my stomach. Katniss walks slowly to the stage, but there is some confusion on the stage. District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades and the protocol has become rusty. The rule is that once a tribute's name has been pulled from the ball, another eligible boy, if a boy's name has been read, or girl, if a girl's name has been read, can step forward to take his or her place. In some districts, in which winning the reaping is such a great honor, people are eager to risk their lives, the volunteering is complicated. But in District 12, where the word tribute is pretty much synonymous with the word corpse, volunteers are all but extinct.
"Lovely!" says Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um . . ." she trails off, unsure herself.
"What does it matter?" says the mayor. He has a pained expression on his face. I know he is loyal customer of her. "What does it matter?" he repeats gruffly. "Let her come forward." Prim is screaming hysterically. She's wrapped her skinny arms around Katniss like a vice. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" she screams.
Katniss says something I can't hear. I think she told her sister to go away, because a couple seconds later Gale comes and lifts Prim off the ground. Prim's thrashing his arm while he carries Prim off to her mother. "Well, bravo!" gushes Effie Trinket. "That's the spirit of the Games!" She's pleased to finally have a little action going on other then a drunk Haymitch. "What's your name?" she asks Katniss. "Katniss Everdeen," "I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" trills Effie Trinket.
To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12, not one person claps. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. This is wrong. Then we put our three middle fingers, from our left hand, to our lips and then hold it up to Katniss. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love and I loved her deeply.
Haymitch chooses this time to come staggering across the stage to congratulate Katniss. "Look at her. Look at this one!" he hollers, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "I like her, lots of . . . " He can't come up with a correct word for a while. "Spunk!" he says triumphantly. "More than you!" he releases Katniss and starts for the front of the stage. "More than you!" he shouts, pointing directly into a camera.
It's an odd situation and nobody really knows who he's talking to. Maybe he's addressing the Capitol? I'll never know because just as he's opening his mouth to continue, Haymitch plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious.
Haymitch is whisked away on a stretcher, while Effie Trinket is trying to get the ball rolling again. "What an exciting day!" she warbles as she attempts to straighten her wig, which has listed severely to the right. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" I feel my stomach turning. She crosses to the ball that contains the boys' names and grabs the first slip she encounters. She zips back to the podium, smoothes the paper, and reads out the name in a exciting voice.
"Peeta Mellark!"