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ibute。 The mark is not a guarantee of which person will win。 Itˇs only an indication of the potential a tribute showed in training。 Often； because of the variables in the actual arena； high…scoring tributes go down almost immediately。 And a few years ago； the boy who won the Games only received a three。 Still； the scores can help or hurt an individual tribute in terms of sponsorship。 I had been hoping my shooting skills might get me a six or a seven； even if Iˇm not particularly powerful。 Now Iˇm sure Iˇll have the lowest score of the twenty…four。 If no one sponsors me； my odds of staying alive decrease to almost zero。
When Effie taps on the door to call me to dinner； I decide I may as well go。 The scores will be televised tonight。 Itˇs not like I can hide what happened forever。 I go to the bathroom and wash my face； but itˇs still red and splotchy。
Everyoneˇs waiting at the table； even Cinna and Portia。 I wish the stylists hadnˇt shown up because for some reason； I donˇt like the idea of disappointing them。 Itˇs as if Iˇve thrown away all the good work they did on the opening ceremonies without a thought。 I avoid looking at anyone as I take tiny spoonfuls of fish soup。 The saltiness reminds me of my tears。
The adults begin some chitchat about the weather forecast； and I let my eyes meet Peetaˇs。 He raises his eyebrows。 A question。 What happened？ I just give my head a small shake。 Then； as theyˇre serving the main course； I hear Haymitch say； ¨Okay； enough small talk； just how bad were you today？〃
Peeta jumps in。 ¨I donˇt know that it mattered。 By the time I showed up； no one even bothered to look at me。 They were singing some kind of drinking song； I think。 So； I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go。〃
That makes me feel a bit better。 Itˇs not like Peeta attacked the Gamemakers； but at least he was provoked； too。
¨And you； sweetheart？〃 says Haymitch。
Somehow Haymitch calling me sweetheart ticks me off enough that Iˇm at least able to speak。 ¨I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers。〃
Everyone stops eating。 ¨You what？〃 The horror in Effieˇs voice confirms my worse suspicions。
¨I shot an arrow at them。 Not exactly at them。 In their direction。 Itˇs like Peeta said； I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just 。 。 。 I just lost my head； so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pigˇs mouth！〃 I say defiantly。
¨And what did they say？〃 says Cinna carefully。
¨Nothing。 Or I donˇt know。 I walked out after that；〃 I say。
¨Without being dismissed？〃 gasps Effie。
¨I dismissed myself；〃 I said。 I remember how I promised Prim that I really would try to win and I feel like a ton of coal has dropped on me。
¨Well； thatˇs that；〃 says Haymitch。 Then he butters a roll。
¨Do you think theyˇll arrest me？〃 I ask。 ¨Doubt it。 Be a pain to replace you at this stage；〃 says Haymitch。
¨What about my family？〃 I say。 ¨Will they punish them？〃
¨Donˇt think so。 Wouldnˇt make much sense。 See theyˇd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population。 People would need to know what you did。 But they canˇt since itˇs secret； so itˇd be a waste of effort；〃 says Haymitch。 ¨More likely theyˇll make your life hell in the arena。〃
¨Well； theyˇve already promised to do that to us any way；〃 says Peeta。
¨Very true；〃 says Haymitch。 And I realize the impossible has happened。 They have actually cheered me up。 Haymitch picks up a pork chop with his fingers； which makes Effie frown； and dunks it in his wine。 He rips off a hunk of meat and starts to chuckle。 ¨What were their faces like？〃
I can feel the edges of my mouth tilting up。 ¨Shocked。 Terrified。 Uh； ridiculous； some of them。〃 An image pops into my mind。 ¨One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch。〃
Haymitch guffaws and we all start laughing except Effie； although even she is suppressing a smile。 ¨Well； it serves them right。 Itˇs their job to pay attention to you。 And just because you e from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you。〃 Then her eyes dart around as if sheˇs said something totally outrageous。 ¨Iˇm sorry； but thatˇs what I think；〃 she says to no one in particular。
¨Iˇll get a very bad score；〃 I say。
¨Scores only matter if theyˇre very good； no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones。 For all they know； you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose。 People use that strategy；〃 said Portia。
¨I hope thatˇs how people interpret the four Iˇll probably get；〃 says Peeta。 ¨If that。 Really； is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards。 One almost landed on my foot。〃
I grin at him and realize that Iˇm starving。 I cut off a piece of pork； dunk it in mashed potatoes； and start eating。 Itˇs okay。 My family is safe。 And if they are safe； no real harm has been done。
After dinner； we go to sitting room to watch the scores announced on television。 First they show a photo of the tribute； then flash their score below it。 The Career Tributes naturally get in the eight…to…ten range。 Most of the other players average a five。 Surprisingly； little Rue es up with a seven。 I donˇt know what she showed the judges； but sheˇs so tiny it must have been impressive。
District 12 es up last； as usual。 Peeta pulls an eight so at least a couple of the Gamemakers must have been watching him。 I dig my fingernails into my palms as my face es up； expecting the worst。 Then theyˇre flashing the number eleven on the screen。
Eleven！
Effie Trinket lets out a squeal； and everybody is slapping me on the back and cheering and congratulating me。 But it doesnˇt seem real。
¨There must be a mistake。 How 。 。 。 how could that happen？〃 I ask Haymitch。
¨Guess they liked your temper；〃 he says。 ¨Theyˇve got a show to put on。 They need some players with some heat。〃
¨Katniss； the girl who was on fire；〃 says Cinna and gives me a hug。 ¨Oh； wait until you see your interview dress。〃 ¨More flames？〃 I ask。 ¨Of a sort；〃 he says mischievously。
Peeta and I congratulate each other； another awkward moment。 Weˇve both done well； but what does that mean for the other？ I escape to my room as quickly as possible and burrow down under the covers。 The stress of the day； particularly the crying； has worn me out。 I drift off； reprieved； relieved； and with the number eleven still flashing behind my eyelids。
At dawn； I lie in bed for a while； watching the sun e up on a beautiful morning。 Itˇs Sunday。 A day off at home。 I wonder if Gale is in the woods yet。 Usually we devote all of Sunday to stocking up for the week。 Rising early； hunting and gathering； then trading at the Hob。 I think of Gale without me。 Both of us can hunt alone； but weˇre better as a pair。 Particularly if weˇre trying for bigger game。 But also in the littler things； having a partner lightened the load； could even make the arduous task of filling my familyˇs table enjoyable。
I had been struggling along on my own for about six months when I first ran into Gale in the woods。 It was a Sunday in October； the air cool and pungent with dying things。 Iˇd spent the morning peting with the squirrels for nuts and the