Hunger Games Excerpt
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
It's time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does ladies first and crosses to the glass ball with the girl's 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 I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not me that it's not me. A trinket. Crosses back to the podium, smoothes a slip of paper and reads out the name in a clear voice and it's not me. It's Primrose ever chapter two. One time when I was in a blind in a tree waiting motionless for game to wander by. I dozed off and fell 10 ft 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. That's 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 can't be happening. Prine was one slip of paper in thousands. Her chances of being chosen so remote that I had not even bothered to worry about her. Hadn't I done everything taken? The Tessa refused to let her do the same one slip, one slip in thousands. The odds had been entirely in her favor, but it hadn't mattered somewhere far away. I can hear the crowd murmuring unhappily as they always do when a 12 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 become untucked and hangs out over her skirt. It's this detail, the untucked blouse forming a duck tail that brings me back to myself. Prim. The strangled cry comes out of my throat and my muscles begin to move again. Prim, I don't 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 in my arm. I push her behind to me. I volunteer. I gasp. I volunteer as Tribute. Prim is screaming hysterically behind me. She's wrapped her skinny arms around me like a vice. No cat. No, you can't go prim let go. I say harshly because this is upsetting me and I don't want to cry when they televise the replay of the reaping tonight. Everyone will make note of my tears and I'll be marked as an easy target. A weakling. I will give no one that satisfaction. Let go. I steal myself and climb the steps. Well, Bravo gushes Zey Trinket. That's the spirit of the games. She's pleased to finally have a district with a little action going on in it. What's your name? I swallow hard. Kanu Aberdeen. I say, 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 collapse. Not even the ones holding betting slips. The ones who are usually beyond caring. Possibly because they know me from the hob or knew my father or have encountered prim who no one can help loving. So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent, they can manage silence, which says we do not agree. We do not condone all of this is wrong. Then something unexpected happens. At least I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me. But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Rim's place. And now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to the Ellipse and holds it out to me. 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.