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The ride lasts about half an hour before the windows black out； suggesting that weˇre nearing the arena。 The hovercraft lands and Cinna and I go back to the ladder； only this time it leads down into a tube underground； into the catabs that lie beneath the arena。 We follow instructions to my destination； a chamber for my preparation。 In the Capitol； they call it the Launch Room。 In the districts； itˇs referred to as the Stockyard。 The place animals go before slaughter。
Everything is brand…new； I will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room。 The arenas are historic sites； preserved after the Games。 Popular destinations for Capitol residents to visit； to vacation。 Go for a month； rewatch the Games； tour the catabs； visit the sites where the deaths took place。 You can even take part in reenactments。 They say the food is excellent。
I struggle to keep my breakfast down as I shower and clean my teeth。 Cinna does my hair in my simple trademark braid down my back。 Then the clothes arrive； the same for every tribute。 Cinna has had no say in my outfit； does not even know what will be in the package； but he helps me dress in the undergarments； simple tawny pants； light green blouse； sturdy brown belt； and thin； hooded black jacket that falls to my thighs。 ¨The material in the jacketˇs designed to reflect body heat。 Expect some cool nights；〃 he says。
The boots； worn over skintight socks； are better than I could have hoped for。 Soft leather not unlike my ones at home。 These have a narrow flexible rubber sole with treads though。 Good for running。
I think Iˇm finished when Cinna pulls the gold mockingjay pin from his pocket。 I had pletely forgotten about it。
¨Where did you get that？〃 I ask。
¨Off the green outfit you wore on the train；〃 he says。 I remember now taking it off my motherˇs dress； pinning it to the shirt。 ¨Itˇs your district token； right？〃 I nod and he fastens it on my shirt。 ¨It barely cleared the review board。 Some thought the pin could be used as a weapon； giving you an unfair advantage。 But eventually； they let it through；〃 says Cinna。 ¨They eliminated a ring from that District One girl； though。 If you twisted the gemstone； a spike popped out。 Poisoned one。 She claimed she had no knowledge the ring transformed and there was no way to prove she did。 But she lost her token。 There； youˇre all set。 Move around。 Make sure everything feels fortable。〃
I walk； run in a circle； swing my arms about。 ¨Yes； itˇs fine。 Fits perfectly。〃
¨Then thereˇs nothing to do but wait for the call；〃 says Cinna。 ¨Unless you think you could eat any more？〃
I turn down food but accept a glass of water that I take tiny sips of as we wait on a couch。 I donˇt want to chew on my nails or lips； so I find myself gnawing on the inside of my cheek。 It still hasnˇt fully healed from a few days ago。 Soon the taste of blood fills my mouth。
Nervousness seeps into terror as I anticipate what is to e。 I could be dead； flat…out dead； in an hour。 Not even。 My fingers obsessively trace the hard little lump on my forearm where the woman injected the tracking device。 I press on it； even though it hurts； I press on it so hard a small bruise begins to form。
¨Do you want to talk； Katniss？〃 Cinna asks。
I shake my head but after a moment hold out my hand to him。 Cinna encloses it in both of his。 And this is how we sit until a pleasant female voice announces itˇs time to prepare for launch。
Still clenching one of Cinnaˇs hands； I walk over and stand on the circular metal plate。 ¨Remember what Haymitch said。 Run； find water。 The rest will follow；〃 he says。 I nod。 ¨And remember this。 Iˇm not allowed to bet； but if I could； my money would be on you。〃
¨Truly？〃 I whisper。
¨Truly；〃 says Cinna。 He leans down and kisses me on the forehead。 ¨Good luck； girl on fire。〃 And then a glass cylinder is lowering around me； breaking our handhold； cutting him off from me。 He taps his fingers under his chin。 Head high。
I lift my chin and stand as straight as I can。 The cylinder begins to rise。 For maybe fifteen seconds； Iˇm in darkness and then I can feel the metal plate pushing me out of the cylinder； into the open air。 For a moment； my eyes are dazzled by the bright sunlight and Iˇm conscious only of a strong wind with the hopeful smell of pine trees。
Then I hear the legendary announcer； Claudius Templesmith； as his voice booms all around me。
¨Ladies and gentlemen； let the Seventy…fourth Hunger Games begin！〃
11
Sixty seconds。 Thatˇs how long weˇre required to stand on our metal circles before the sound of a gong releases us。 Step off before the minute is up； and land mines blow your legs off。 Sixty seconds to take in the ring of tributes all equidistant from the Cornucopia； a giant golden horn shaped like a cone with a curved tail； the mouth of which is at least twenty feet high； spilling over with the things that will give us life here in the arena。 Food； containers of water； weapons； medicine； garments； fire starters。 Strewn around the Cornucopia are other supplies； their value decreasing the farther they are from the horn。 For instance； only a few steps from my feet lays a threefoot square of plastic。 Certainly it could be of some use in a downpour。 But there in the mouth； I can see a tent pack that would protect from almost any sort of weather。 If I had the guts to go in and fight for it against the other twenty…three tributes。 Which I have been instructed not to do。
Weˇre on a flat； open stretch of ground。 A plain of hardpacked dirt。 Behind the tributes across from me； I can see nothing； indicating either a steep downward slope or even cliff。 To my right lies a lake。 To my left and back； spars piney woods。 This is where Haymitch would want me to go。 Immediately。
I hear his instructions in my head。 ¨Just clear out； put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others； and find a source of water。〃
But itˇs tempting； so tempting； when I see the bounty waiting there before me。 And I know that if I donˇt get it； someone else will。 That the Career Tributes who survive the bloodbath will divide up most of these life…sustaining spoils。 Something catches my eye。 There； resting on a mound of blanket rolls； is a silver sheath of arrows and a bow； already strung； just waiting to be engaged。 Thatˇs mine； I think。 Itˇs meant for me。
Iˇm fast。 I can sprint faster than any of the girls in our school although a couple can beat me in distance races。 But this forty…yard length； this is what I am built for。 I know I can get it； I know I can reach it first； but then the question is how quickly can I get out of there？ By the time Iˇve scrambled up the packs and grabbed the weapons； others will have reached the horn； and one or two I might be able to pick off； but say thereˇs a dozen； at that close range； they could take me down with the spears and the clubs。 Or their own powerful fists。
Still； I wonˇt be the only target。 Iˇm betting many of the other tributes would pass up a smaller girl； even one who scored an eleven in training； to take out their more fierce adversaries。
Haymitch has never seen me run。 Maybe if he had heˇd tell me to go for it。 Get the weapon。 Since thatˇs the very weapon that might be my salvation。 And I only see one bow in that whole pile。 I know the minute must be almost up and will have to decide what my strategy will be and I find myself positioning my feet to run； not away into the stir rounding forests but toward the pile； toward the bow。 When suddenly I notice Peeta； heˇs about five tributes to my right； quite a fair distance； still I can tell heˇs looking at me and I think he might be shaking his head。 But the sunˇs in my eyes； and while Iˇm puzzling over it the gong rings out。
And Iˇve missed it！ Iˇve missed my chance！ Because those extra couple of seconds Iˇve lost by not being ready are enough to change my mind about going in。 My feet shuffle for a moment； confused at the direction my brain wants to take and then I lunge forward； scoop up the sheet of plastic and a loaf of bread。 The pickings are so small and Iˇm so angry with Peeta for distracting me that I sprint in twenty yards to retrieve a bright orange backpack that could hold anything because I canˇt stand le