mp on Peetaˇs suggestion gratefully。 ¨Of course； thatˇs who I was thinking of。 It must be the hair；〃 I say。
¨Something about the eyes； too；〃 says Peeta。
The energy at the table relaxes。 ¨Oh； well。 If thatˇs all it is；〃 says Cinna。 ¨And yes； the cake has spirits； but all the alcohol has burned off。 I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut。〃
We eat the cake and move into a sitting room to watch the replay of the opening ceremonies thatˇs being broadcast。 A few of the other couples make a nice impression； but none of them can hold a candle to us。 Even our own party lets out an ¨Ahh！〃 as they show us ing out of the Remake Center。
¨Whose idea was the hand holding？〃 asks Haymitch。
¨Cinnaˇs；〃 says Portia。
¨Just the perfect touch of rebellion；〃 says Haymitch。 ¨Very nice。〃
Rebellion？ I have to think about that one a moment。 But when I remember the other couples； standing stiffly apart； never touching or acknowledging each other； as if their fellow tribute did not exist； as if the Games had already begun； I know what Haymitch means。 Presenting ourselves not as adversaries but as friends has distinguished us as much as the fiery costumes。
¨Tomorrow morning is the first training session。 Meet me for breakfast and Iˇll tell you exactly how I want you to play it；〃 says Haymitch to Peeta and I。 ¨Now go get some sleep while the grown…ups talk。〃
Peeta and I walk together down the corridor to our rooms。 When we get to my door； he leans against the frame； not blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to him。 ¨So； Delly Cartwright。 Imagine finding her lookalike here。〃
Heˇs asking for an explanation； and Iˇm tempted to give him one。 We both know he covered for me。 So here I am in his debt again。 If I tell him the truth about the girl； somehow that might even things up。 How can it hurt really？ Even if he repeated the story； it couldnˇt do me much harm。 It was just something I witnessed。 And he lied as much as I did about Delly Cartwright。
I realize I do want to talk to someone about the girl。 Someone who might be able to help me figure out her story。
Gale would be my first choice； but itˇs unlikely Iˇll ever see Gale again。 I try to think if telling Peeta could give him any possible advantage over me； but I donˇt see how。 Maybe sharing a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend。
Besides； the idea of the girl with her maimed tongue frightens me。 She has reminded me why Iˇm here。 Not to model flashy costumes and eat delicacies。 But to die a bloody death while the crowds urge on my killer。
To tell or not to tell？ My brain still feels slow from the wine。 I stare down the empty corridor as if the decision lies there。
Peeta picks up on my hesitation。 ¨Have you been on the roof yet？〃 I shake my head。 ¨Cinna showed me。 You can practically see the whole city。 The windˇs a bit loud； though。〃
I translate this into ¨No one will overhear us talking〃 in my head。 You do have the sense that we might be under surveillance here。 ¨Can we just go up？〃
¨Sure； e on；〃 says Peeta。 I follow him to a flight of stairs that lead to the roof。 Thereˇs a small dome…shaped room with a door to the outside。 As we step into the cool； windy evening air； I catch my breath at the view。 The Capitol twinkles like a vast field of fireflies。 Electricity in District 12 es and goes； usually we only have it a few hours a day。 Often the evenings are spent in candlelight。 The only time you can count on it is when theyˇre airing the Games or some important government message on television that itˇs mandatory to watch。 But here there would be no shortage。 Ever。
Peeta and I walk to a railing at the edge of the roof。 I look straight down the side of the building to the street； which is buzzing with people。 You can hear their cars； an occasional shout； and a strange metallic tinkling。 In District 12； weˇd all be thinking about bed right now。
¨I asked Cinna why they let us up here。 Werenˇt they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side？〃 says Peeta。
¨Whatˇd he say？〃 I ask。
¨You canˇt；〃 says Peeta。 He holds out his hand into seemingly empty space。 Thereˇs a sharp zap and he jerks it back。 ¨Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof。〃
¨Always worried about our safety；〃 I say。 Even though Cinna has shown Peeta the roof； I wonder if weˇre supposed to be up here now； so late and alone。 Iˇve never seen tributes on the Training Center roof before。 But that doesnˇt mean weˇre not being taped。 ¨Do you think theyˇre watching us now？〃
¨Maybe；〃 he admits。 ¨e see the garden。〃 On the other side of the dome； theyˇve built a garden with flower beds and potted trees。 From the branches hang hundreds of wind chimes； which account for the tinkling I heard。 Here in the garden； on this windy night； itˇs enough to drown out two people who are trying not to be heard。 Peeta looks at me expectantly。
I pretend to examine a blossom。 ¨We were hunting in the woods one day。 Hidden； waiting for game；〃 I whisper。
¨You and your father？〃 he whispers back。
¨No； my friend Gale。 Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once。 Except one。 As if it were giving a warning call。 And then we saw her。 Iˇm sure it was the same girl。 A boy was with her。 Their clothes were tattered。 They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep。 They were running as if their lives depended on it；〃 I say。
For a moment Iˇm silent； as I remember how the sight of this strange pair； clearly not from District 12； fleeing through the woods immobilized us。 Later； we wondered if we could have helped them escape。 Perhaps we might have。 Concealed them。 If weˇd moved quickly。 Gale and I were taken by surprise； yes； but weˇre both hunters。 We know how animals look at bay。 We knew the pair was in trouble as soon as we saw them。 But we only watched。
¨The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere；〃 I continue to Peeta。 ¨I mean； one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there。 It didnˇt make a sound； but they saw it。 A dropped down on the girl and carried her up； fast； so fast like the elevator。 They shot some sort of spear through the boy。 It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well。 But Iˇm certain he was dead。 We heard the girl scream once。 The boyˇs name； I think。 Then it was gone； the hovercraft。 Vanished into thin air。 And the birds began to sing again； as if nothing had happened。〃
¨Did they see you？〃 Peeta asked。
¨I donˇt know。 We were under a shelf of rock；〃 I reply。
But I do know。 There was a moment； after the birdcall； but before the hovercraft； where the girl had seen us。 Sheˇd locked eyes with me and called out for help。 But neither Gale or I had responded。
¨Youˇre shivering；〃 says Peeta。
The wind and the story have blown all the warmth from my body。 The girlˇs scream。 Had it been her last？
Peeta takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders。 I start to take a step back； but then I let him； deciding for a moment to accept both his jacket and his kindness。 A friend would do that； right？
¨They were from here？〃 he asks； and he secures a button at my neck。
I nod。 Theyˇd had that Capitol look about them。 The boy and the girl。
¨Where do you suppose they were going？〃 he asks。
¨I donˇt know that；〃 I say。 District 12 is pretty much the end of the line。 Beyond us； thereˇs only wilderness。 If you donˇt count the ruins of District 13 that still smolder from the toxic bombs。 They show it on television occasionally； just to remind us。 ¨Or why they would leave here。〃 Haymitch had called the Avoxes traitors。 Against what？ It could only be the Capitol。 But they had everything here。 No cause to rebel。
¨Iˇd leave here；〃 Peeta blurts out。 Then he looks around nervously。 It was loud enough to hear above the chimes。 He laughs。 ¨Iˇd go home now if they let me。 But you have to admit； the foodˇs prime。〃
Heˇs covered again。 If thatˇs all youˇd heard it would just sound like the words of a scared tribute； not someone contemplating the unquestionable goodness of the Capitol。
¨Itˇs getting chilly。 We better go in；〃 he says。 Inside the dome； itˇs warm and bright。 His tone is conversational。 ¨Your friend Gale。 Heˇs the one who took your sister away at the reaping？〃
¨Yes。 Do you know him？〃 I ask。
¨Not really。 I hear the girls talk about him a lot。 I thought he was your cousin or something。 You favor each other；〃 he says。
¨No； weˇre not related；〃 I say。
Peeta nods； unreadable。 ¨Did he e to say good…bye to you？〃
¨Yes；〃 I say； observing him carefully。 ¨So did your father。 He brought me cookies。〃
Peeta raises his eyebrows as if this is news。 But after watching him lie so smoothly； I donˇt give this much weight。 ¨Really？ Well； he likes you and your sister。 I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys。〃
The idea that I might ever have been discussed； around the dinner table； at the bakery fire； just in passing in Peetaˇs house gives me a start。 It must have been when the mother was out of the room。
¨He knew your mother when they were kids；〃 says Peeta。
Another surprise。 But probably true。 ¨Oh； yes。 She grew up in town；〃 I say。 It seems impolite to say she never mentioned the baker except to pliment his bread。
Weˇre at my door。 I give back his jacket。 ¨See you in the morning then。〃
¨See you；〃 he says； and walks off down the hall。
When I open my door； the redheaded girl is collecting my unitard and boots from where I left them on the floor before my shower。 I want to apologize for possibly getting her in trouble earlier。 But I remember Iˇm not supposed to speak to her unless Iˇm giving her an order。
¨Oh； sorry；〃 I say。 ¨I was supposed to get those back to Cinna。 Iˇm sorry。 Can you take them to him？〃
She avoids my eyes； gives a small nod； and heads out the door。
Iˇd set out to tell her I was sorry about dinner。 But I know that my apology runs much deeper。 That Iˇm ashamed I never tried to help her in the woods。 That I let the Capitol kill the boy and mutilate her without lifting a finger。
Just like I was watching the Games。
I kick off my shoes and climb under the covers in my clothes。 The shivering hasnˇt stopped。 Perhaps the girl doesnˇt even remember me。 But I know she does。 You donˇt forget the face of the person who was your last hope。 I pull the covers up over my head as if this will protect me from the redheaded girl who canˇt speak。 But I can feel her eyes staring at me； piercing through walls and doors and bedding。
I wonder if sheˇll enjoy watching me die。
7
My slumbers are filled with disturbing dreams。 The face of the redheaded girl intertwines with gory images from earlier Hunger Games； with my mother withdrawn and unreachable； with Prim emaciated and terrified。 I bolt up screaming for my father to run as the mine explodes into a million deadly bits of light。
Dawn is breaking through the windows。 The Capitol has a misty； haunted air。 My head aches and I must have bitten into the side of my cheek in the night。 My tongue probes the ragged flesh and I taste blood。
Slowly； I drag myself out of bed and into the shower。 I arbitrarily punch buttons on the control board and end up hopping from foot to foot as alternating jets of icy cold and ste