i say.
haymitch’s eyes shift around my musty holding space, and
he seems to make a decision. “but nothing. how about a hug
for luck?”
okay, that’s an odd request from haymitch but, after all, we
are victors. maybe a hug for luck is in order. only, when i put
my arms around his neck, i find myself trapped in his em-
brace. he begins talking, very fast, very quietly in my ear, my
hair concealing his lips.
“listen up. you’re in trouble. word is the capitol’s furious
about you showing them up in the arena. the one thing they
can’t stand is being laughed at and they’re the joke of panem,”
says haymitch.
i feel dread coursing through me now, but i laugh as though
haymitch is saying something completely delightful because
nothing is covering my mouth. “so, what?”
“your only defense can be you were so madly in love you
weren’t responsible for your actions.” haymitch pulls back
and adjusts my hairband. “got it, sweetheart?” he could be
talking about anything now.
“got it,” i say. “did you tell peeta this?”
350
“don’t have to,” says haymitch. “he’s already there.”
“but you think i’m not?” i say, taking the opportunity to
straighten a bright red bow tie cinna must have wrestled him
into.
“since when does it matter what i think?” says haymitch.
“better take our places.” he leads me to the metal circle. “this
is your night, sweetheart. enjoy it.” he kisses me on the fore-
head and disappears into the gloom.
i tug on my skirt, willing it to be longer, wanting it to cover
the knocking in my knees. then i realize it’s pointless. my
whole body’s shaking like a leaf. hopefully, it will be put down
to excitement. after all, it’s my night.
the damp, moldy smell beneath the stage threatens to
choke me. a cold, clammy sweat breaks out on my skin and i
can’t rid myself of the feeling that the boards above my head
are about to collapse, to bury me alive under the rubble. when
i left the arena, when the trumpets played, i was supposed to
be safe. from then on. for the rest of my life. but if what hay-
mitch says is true, and he’s got no reason to lie, i’ve never
been in such a dangerous place in my life.
it’s so much worse than being hunted in the arena. there, i
could only die. end of story. but out here prim, my mother,
gale, the people of district 12, everyone i care about back
home could be punished if i can’t pull off the girl-driven-
crazy-by-love scenario haymitch has suggested.
so i still have a chance, though. funny, in the arena, when i
poured out those berries, i was only thinking of outsmarting
the gamemakers, not how my actions would reflect on the ca-
351
pitol. but the hunger games are their weapon and you are not
supposed to be able to defeat it. so now the capitol will act as
if they’ve been in control the whole time. as if they orches-
trated the whole event, right down to the double suicide. but
that will only work if i play along with them.
and peeta . . . peeta will suffer, too, if this goes wrong. but
what was it haymitch said when i asked if he had told peeta
the situation? that he had to pretend to be desperately in
love?
“don’t have to. he’s already there.”
already thinking ahead of me in the games again and well
aware of the danger we’re in? or . . . already desperately in
love? i don’t know. i haven’t even begun to separate out my
feelings about peeta. it’s too complicated. what i did as part of
the games. as opposed to what i did out of anger at the capi-
tol. or because of how it would be viewed back in district 12.
or simply because it was the only decent thing to do. or what i
did because i cared about him.
these are questions to be unraveled back home, in the
peace and quiet of the woods, when no one is watching. not
here with every eye upon me. but i won’t have that luxury for
who knows how long. and right now, the most dangerous part
of the hunger games is about to begin.
352
the anthem booms in my ears, and then i hear caesar
flickerman greeting the audience. does he know how crucial
it is to get every word right from now on?
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