第27章

  peeta asked.
  “i don’t 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. she’d locked
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  eyes with me and called out for help. but neither gale or i had
  responded.
  “you’re shivering,” says peeta.
  the wind and the story have blown all the warmth from my
  body. the girl’s scream. had it been her last?
  peeta takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoul-
  ders. 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. they’d had that capitol look about them. the boy and
  the girl.
  “where do you suppose they were going?” he asks.
  “i don’t know that,” i say. district 12 is pretty much the end
  of the line. beyond us, there’s only wilderness. if you don’t
  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.
  “i’d leave here,” peeta blurts out. then he looks around
  nervously. it was loud enough to hear above the chimes. he
  laughs. “i’d go home now if they let me. but you have to admit,
  the food’s prime.”
  he’s covered again. if that’s all you’d heard it would just
  sound like the words of a scared tribute, not someone con-
  templating the unquestionable goodness of the capitol.
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  “it’s getting chilly. we better go in,” he says. inside the
  dome, it’s warm and bright. his tone is conversational. “your
  friend gale. he’s 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, we’re not related,” i say.
  peeta nods, unreadable. “did he come 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 don’t 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 peeta’s 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 compliment his bread.
  we’re at my door. i give back his jacket. “see you in the
  morning then.”
  “see you,” he says, and walks off down the hall.
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  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 i’m not supposed to speak to
  her unless i’m giving her an order.
  “oh, sorry,” i say. “i was supposed to get those back to cin-
  na. i’m sorry. can you take them to him?”