The crowd draws in a collective breath as I totter across the stage – it's quite slippy and I wish that I'd worn more sensible shoes. If I fell over, it would be mortifying. I would have no chance to go to a better district – one that actually looked excited as I swept elegantly across the stage. I reach the microphone, a very old fashioned affair and tap it experimentally. A wave of static comes out and the audience screws up their faces.
"Happy Hunger Games!" I wail, forcing a smile onto my face – soon, soon I will be out of here. Away from drunk victors and miserable crowds.
It's time. Even I don't like this bit. Knowing I am about to change not one, but many lives forever. I reach out my hand into the large glass ball and extend my pink fingernails. I stare at the audience. Some, clutching pieces of paper, look excited. The next minute could make them rich. They must be betting on the name that will be picked. I sweep my gaze to the parents who look just as nervous as the children. The silence is abruptly shattered when a baby cries somewhere in the audience. The mother and baby are escorted away quickly and efficiently by the Peacekeepers. I tut into the microphone – that baby reflects badly on all of us – especially me! I reach down and pluck out a crisp piece of paper. I hope it's a young girl – one who'll die quickly so I don't have to watch them starve to death or something worse and feel that it was my fault. I pull the slip open carefully and painstakingly unfold it. I can hear the audience's hearts beating in time; mine is beating slower, separating me from this miserable district. I am from the Capitol, a far more superior place.
The child's name means nothing to me. She could be any of the nervous girls shaking in front of me. I'm trying to get the timing write – after all, if I say the name too quickly, the audience in the Capitol won't get a good show and I won't be upgraded.
"Primrose Everdeen." I hear myself say. Was it too quick? The girls part to reveal a slight child who is all skin and bones. The colour slowly drains out of her face. She won't last long.