Sunrise on the Reaping

Best guess . . . child of traitors. Could be either district or Capitol. She might not even know herself. No question they’ve programmed her. Probably drugged her as well.”

“My name is Louella McCoy. I’m from District Twelve.”

“You’re not,” I tell her, then address Snow. “She’s not. Anyone can see it.”

“I doubt it. Her family, maybe a few close friends. No one outside of the drunken audience at the parade even witnessed the accident. People will believe she’s Louella. Especially since you’ll be there by her side, coaching her, like the good ally you are. A perfect pair in what I am determined to make a perfect Quarter Quell.”

Fake Louella crosses to the end of the table. “Hello, Haymitch.”

The accent’s only slightly off, but the greeting’s a dead giveaway. Louella is a “Hey, Hay” or “How you?” kind of girl. Her cheekbones look funny, too. Like they’ve shot something into her face to make it fuller. Most of all, she won’t look me in the eye, which my sweetheart never failed to do.