i whisper to peeta. “about the fire?”
“i’ll rip off your cape if you’ll rip off mine,” he says through
gritted teeth.
“deal,” i say. maybe, if we can get them off soon enough,
we’ll avoid the worst burns. it’s bad though. they’ll throw us
into the arena no matter what condition we’re in. “i know we
promised haymitch we’d do exactly what they said, but i don’t
think he considered this angle.”
“where is haymitch, anyway? isn’t he supposed to protect
us from this sort of thing?” says peeta.
“with all that alcohol in him, it’s probably not advisable to
have him around an open flame,” i say.
and suddenly we’re both laughing. i guess we’re both so
nervous about the games and more pressingly, petrified of be-
ing turned into human torches, we’re not acting sensibly.
the opening music begins. it’s easy to hear, blasted around
the capitol. massive doors slide open revealing the crowd-
lined streets. the ride lasts about twenty minutes and ends up
at the city circle, where they will welcome us, play the an-
them, and escort us into the training center, which will be our
home/prison until the games begin.
68
the tributes from district 1 ride out in a chariot pulled by
snow-white horses. they look so beautiful, spray-painted sil-
ver, in tasteful tunics glittering with jewels. district 1 makes
luxury items for the capitol. you can hear the roar of the
crowd. they are always favorites.
district 2 gets into position to follow them. in no time at all,
we are approaching the door and i can see that between the
overcast sky and evening hour the light is turning gray. the
tributes from district 11 are just rolling out when cinna ap-
pears with a lighted torch. “here we go then,” he says, and be-
fore we can react he sets our capes on fire. i gasp, waiting for
the heat, but there is only a faint tickling sensation. cinna
climbs up before us and ignites our headdresses. he lets out a
sign of relief. “it works.” then he gently tucks a hand under
my chin. “remember, heads high. smiles. they’re going to love
you!”
cinna jumps off the chariot and has one last idea. he shouts
something up at us, but the music drowns him out. he shouts
again and gestures.
“what’s he saying?” i ask peeta. for the first time, i look at
him and realize that ablaze with the fake flames, he is daz-
zling. and i must be, too.
“i think he said for us to hold hands,” says peeta. he grabs
my right hand in his left, and we look to cinna for confirma-
tion. he nods and gives a thumbs-up, and that’s the last thing i
see before we enter the city.
the crowd’s initial alarm at our appearance quickly
changes to cheers and shouts of “district twelve!” every head
69
is turned our way, pulling the focus from the three chariots
ahead of us. at first, i’m frozen, but then i catch sight of us on
a large television screen and am floored by how breathtaking
we look. in the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminates
our faces. we seem to be leaving a trail of fire off the flowing
capes. cinna was right about the minimal makeup, we both
look more attractive but utterly recognizable.
remember, heads high. smiles. they’re going to love you! i
hear cinna’s voice in my head. i lift my chin a bit higher, put
on my most winning smile, and wave with my free hand. i’m
glad now i have peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady,
solid as a rock. as i gain confidence, i actually blow a few
kisses to the crowd. the people of the capitol are going nuts,
showering us with flowers, shouting our names, our first
names, which they have bothered to find on the program.
the pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their
way into my blood, and i can’t suppress my excitement. cinna
has given me a great advantage. no one will forget me. not my
look, not my name. katniss. the girl who was on fire.
for the first time, i feel a flicker of hope rising up in me.
surely, there must be one sponsor willing to take me on!
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