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the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第2部分
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he would never be wearing it ordinarily。 She presses her lips together and then smiles。 ¨Well； if I end up going to the Capitol； I want to look nice； donˇt I？〃
Now itˇs Galeˇs turn to be confused。 Does she mean it？ Or is she messing with him？ Iˇm guessing the second。
¨You wonˇt be going to the Capitol；〃 says Gale coolly。 His eyes land on a small； circular pin that adorns her dress。 Real gold。 Beautifully crafted。 It could keep a family in bread for months。 ¨What can you have？ Five entries？ I had six when I was just twelve years old。〃
¨Thatˇs not her fault；〃 I say。
¨No； itˇs no oneˇs fault。 Just the way it is；〃 says Gale。 Madgeˇs face has bee closed off。 She puts the money for the berries in my hand。 ¨Good luck； Katniss。〃 ¨You； too；〃 I say； and the door closes。
We walk toward the Seam in silence。 I donˇt like that Gale took a dig at Madge； but heˇs right； of course。 The reaping system is unfair； with the poor getting the worst of it。 You bee 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。 Thatˇs true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Panem。
But hereˇs the catch。 Say you are poor and starving as we were。 You can opt to add your name more times in exchange for tesserae。 Each tessera is worth a meager yearˇs 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； I had my name entered four times。 Once； because I had to； and three times for tesserae for grain and oil for myself； Prim； and my mother。 In fact； every year I have needed to do this。 And the entries are cumulative。 So now； at the age of sixteen； my name will be in the reaping twenty times。 Gale； who is eighteen and has been either helping or single…handedly feeding a family of five for seven years； will have his name in forty…two times。
You can see why someone like Madge； who has never been at risk of needing a tessera； can set him off。 The chance of her name being drawn is very slim pared to those of us who live in the Seam。 Not impossible； but slim。 And even though the rules were set up by the Capitol； not the districts； certainly not Madgeˇs family； itˇs hard not to resent those who donˇt have to sign up for tesserae。
Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected。 On other days； deep in the woods； Iˇve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district。 A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another。 ¨Itˇs to the Capitolˇs advantage to have us divided among ourselves；〃 he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine。 If it wasnˇt reaping day。 If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what Iˇm sure she thought was a harmless ment。
As we walk； I glance over at Galeˇs face； still smoldering underneath his stony expression。 His rages seem pointless to me； although I never say so。 Itˇs not that I donˇt agree with him。 I do。 But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of
the woods？ It doesnˇt change anything。 It doesnˇt make things fair。 It doesnˇt fill our stomachs。 In fact； it scares off the nearby game。 I let him yell though。 Better he does it in the woods than in the district。
Gale and I divide our spoils； leaving two fish； a couple of loaves of good bread； greens； a quart of strawberries； salt； paraffin； and a bit of money for each。
¨See you in the square；〃 I say。
¨Wear something pretty；〃 he says flatly。
At home； I find my mother and sister are ready to go。 My mother wears a fine dress from her apothecary days。 Prim is in my first reaping outfit； a skirt and ruffled blouse。 Itˇs a bit big on her； but my mother has made it stay with pins。 Even so； sheˇs having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in at the back。
A tub of warm water waits for me。 I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even wash my hair。 To my surprise； my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me。 A soft blue thing with matching shoes。
¨Are you sure？〃 I ask。 Iˇm trying to get past rejecting offers of help from her。 For a while； I was so angry； I wouldnˇt allow her to do anything for me。 And this is something special。 Her clothes from her past are very precious to her。
¨Of course。 Letˇs put your hair up； too；〃 she says。 I let her towel…dry it and braid it up on my head。 I can hardly recognize myself in the cracked mirror that leans against the wall。
¨You look beautiful；〃 says Prim in a hushed voice。
¨And nothing like myself；〃 I say。 I hug her； because I know these next few hours will be terrible for her。 Her first reaping。 Sheˇs about as safe as you can get； since sheˇs only entered once。 I wouldnˇt let her take out any tesserae。 But sheˇs worried about me。 That the unthinkable might happen。
I protect Prim in every way I can； but Iˇm powerless against the reaping。 The anguish I always feel when sheˇs in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my （ace。 I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm。 ¨Tuck your tail in； little duck；〃 I say； smoothing the blouse back in place。
Prim giggles and gives me a small ¨Quack。〃
¨Quack yourself；〃 I say with a light laugh。 The kind only Prim can draw out of me。 ¨e on； letˇs eat；〃 I say and plant a quick kiss on the top of her head。
The fish and greens are already cooking in a stew； but that will be for supper。 We decide to save the strawberries and bakery bread for this eveningˇs meal； to make it special we say。 Instead we drink milk from Primˇs goat； Lady； and eat the rough bread made from the tessera grain； although no one has much appetite anyway。
At one oˇclock； andatory unless you are on deathˇs door。 This evening； officials will e around and check to see if this is the case。 If not； youˇll be imprisoned。
Itˇs too bad； really； that they hold the reaping in the square one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant。 The squareˇs surrounded by shops； and on public market days； especially if thereˇs good weather； it has a holiday feel to it。 But today； despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings； thereˇs an air of grimness。 The camera crews； perched like buzzards on rooftops； only add to the effect。
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； the young ones； like Prim； toward the back。 Family members line up around the perimeter； holding tightly to one anotherˇs 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 theyˇre Seam or merchant； if they will break down and weep。 Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully； carefully。 These same people tend to be informers； and who hasnˇt broken the law？ I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting； but the appetites of those in charge protect me。 Not everyone can claim the same。
Anyway； Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head； the bullet would be much quicker。
The space gets tighter； more claustrophobic as people arrive。 The squareˇs quite large； but not enough to hold District 12ˇs population of about eight thousand。 Lateers are directed to the adjacent streets； where they can watch the event on screens as itˇs televised live by the state。
I find myself standing in a clump of sixteens from the Seam。 We all exchange terse nods 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。 I stare at the paper slips in the girlsˇ ball。 Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting。
Two of the three chairs fill with Madgeˇs father； Mayor Undersee； whoˇs a tall； balding man； and Effie Trinket； District 12ˇs 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。 Itˇs 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 twentyfour 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 petitors 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 Capitolˇs way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy。 How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion。
Whatever words they use； the real message is clear。 ¨Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and thereˇs nothing you can do。 If you lift a finger； we will destroy every last one of you。 Just as we did in 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 us battle starvation。
¨It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks；〃 intones the mayor。
Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors。 In seventyfour years； we have had exactly two。 Only one is still alive。 Haymitch Abernathy； a paunchy； middle…aged man； who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible； staggers onto the stage； and falls into the third chair。 Heˇs drunk。 Very。 The crowd responds with its token applause； but heˇs confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug； which she
barely manages to fend off。
The mayor looks distressed。 Since all of this is being televised； right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem； and he knows it。 He quickly tries to pull the attention back 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。 She goes on a bit about what an honor it is to be here； although everyone knows sheˇs just aching to get bumped up to a better district where they have proper victors； not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation。
Through the crowd； I spot Gale looking back at me with a ghost of a smile。 As reapings go； this one at least has a slight entertainment factor。 But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty…two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor。 Not pared to a lot of the boys。 And maybe heˇs thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away。 ¨But there are still thousands of slips；〃 I wish I could whisper to him。
Itˇs time for the drawing。 Effie Trinket says as she always does； ¨Ladies first！〃 and crosses to the glass ball with the girlsˇ 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； and Iˇm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that itˇs not me； that itˇs not me； that itˇs not me。
Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium； smoothes the slip of paper； and reads out the name in a clear voice。 And itˇs not me。
Itˇs Primrose Everdeen。
2
One time； when I was in a blind in a tree； waiting motionless for game to wander by； I dozed off and fell ten feet to the ground； landing on my back。 It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from my lungs； and I lay there struggling to inhale； to exhale； to do anything。
Thatˇs how I feel now； trying to remember how to breathe； unable to speak； totally stunned as the name bounces around the inside of my skull。 Someone is gripping my arm； a boy from the Seam； and I think maybe I started to fall and he caught me。
There must have been some mistake。 This canˇt be happening。 Prim was one slip of paper in thousands！ Her chances of being chosen so remote that Iˇd not even bothered to worry about her。 Hadnˇt I done everything？ Taken the tesserae； refused to let her do the same？ One slip。 One slip in thousands。 The odds had been entirely in her favor。 But it hadnˇt mattered。
Somewhere far away； I can hear the crowd murmuring unhappily as they always do when a twelve…year…old gets chosen because no one thinks this is fair。 And then I see her； the blood drained from her face； hands clenched in fists at her sides； walking with stiff； small steps up toward the stage； passing me； and I see the back of her blouse has bee untucked and hangs out over her skirt。 Itˇs this detail； the untucked blouse forming a ducktail； that brings me back to myself。
¨Prim！〃 The strangled cry es out of my throat； and my muscles begin to move again。 ¨Prim！〃 I donˇt need to shove through the crowd。 The other kids make way immediately allowing me a straight path to the stage。 I reach her just as she is about to mount the steps。 With one sweep of my arm； I push her behind me。
¨I volunteer！〃 I gasp。 ¨I volunteer as tribute！〃
Thereˇs some confusion on the stage。 District 12 hasnˇt had a volunteer in decades and the protocol has bee rusty。 The rule is that once a tributeˇs name has been pulled from the ball； another eligible boy； if a boyˇs name has been read； or girl； if a girlˇs 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 plicated。 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 thereˇs a small matter of i
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