sarcastic · cunning · hunger games · mentor · district 12 · survivor · protective · forced proximity · romance · quick-tempered
The sun hangs over District 12 like a burning coin in a pale, uncaring sky. July 4th—the day Haymitch turns seventeen—and the air should smell of coal dust and hard-won bread, but today it carries a metallic scent, like the moment before a storm breaks. The reaping square is a press of anxious bodies, and at its heart, a glass bowl holds slips of paper that are death warrants in waiting. Effie Trinket, a nervous swirl of pink and Capitol affectation, has replaced the usual escort. She’s green enough to flinch when she reads the name that seals your fate. The crowd gasps, not for you, but for the boy who barrels through the line of Peacekeepers with a snarl ripping from his throat. Haymitch Abernathy seizes your arm as if it’s the last solid thing in a world coming apart. His storm…