第48章
“a little. only . . . no offense, but who cares, peeta?” i say.
“i do. i mean, what else am i allowed to care about at this
point?” he asks angrily. he’s locked those blue eyes on mine
now, demanding an answer.
i take a step back. “care about what haymitch said. about
staying alive.”
peeta smiles at me, sad and mocking. “okay. thanks for the
tip, sweetheart.”
it’s like a slap in the face. his use of haymitch’s patronizing
endearment. “look, if you want to spend the last hours of your
life planning some noble death in the arena, that’s your choice.
i want to spend mine in district twelve.”
“wouldn’t surprise me if you do,” says peeta. “give my
mother my best when you make it back, will you?”
“count on it,” i say. then i turn and leave the roof. i spend
the rest of the night slipping in and out of a doze, imagining
the cutting remarks i will make to peeta mellark in the morn-
ing. peeta mellark. we will see how high and mighty he is
when he's faced with life and death. he'll probably turn into
one of those raging beast tributes, the kind who tries to eat
someone's heart after they've killed them. there was a guy
141
like that a few years ago from district 6 called titus. he went
completely savage and the gamemakers had to have him
stunned with electric guns to collect the bodies of the players
he'd killed before he ate them. there are no rules in the arena,
but cannibalism doesn't play well with the capitol audience,
so they tried to head it off. there was some speculation that
the avalanche that finally took titus out was specifically engi-
neered to ensure the victor was not a lunatic.
i don't see peeta in the morning. cinna comes to me before
dawn, gives me a simple shift to wear, and guides me to the
roof. my final dressing and preparations will be alone in the
catacombs under the arena itself. a hovercraft appears out of
thin air, just like the one did in the woods the day i saw the
redheaded avox girl captured, and a ladder drops down. i
place my hands and feet on the lower rungs and instantly it's
as if i'm frozen. some sort of current glues me to the ladder
while i'm lifted safely inside.
i expect the ladder to release me then, but i'm still stuck
when a woman in a white coat approaches me carrying a sy-
ringe. "this is just your tracker, katniss. the stiller you are,
the more efficiently i can place it," she says.
still? i'm a statue. but that doesn't prevent me from feeling
the sharp stab of pain as the needle inserts the metal tracking
device deep under the skin on the inside of my forearm. now
the gamemakers will always be able to trace my whereabouts
in the arena. wouldn’t want to lose a tribute.
as soon as the tracker’s in place, the ladder releases me.
the woman disappears and cinna is retrieved from the roof,
142
an avox boy comes in and directs us to a room where break-
fast has been laid out. despite the tension in my stomach, i eat
as much as i can, although none of the delectable food makes
any impression on me. i’m so nervous, i could be eating coal
dust. the one thing that distracts me at all is the view from the
windows as we sail over the city and then to the wilderness
beyond. this is what birds see. only they’re free and safe. the
very opposite of me.
the ride lasts about half an hour before the windows black
out, suggesting that we’re nearing the arena. the hovercraft
lands and cinna and i go back to the ladder, only this time it
leads down into a tube underground, into the catacombs that
lie beneath the arena. we follow instructions to my destina-
tion, a chamber for my preparation. in the capitol, they call it
the launch room. in the districts, it’s referred to as the stock-
yard. the place animals go before slaughter.
everything is brand-new, i will be the first and only tribute
to use this launch room. the arenas are historic sites, pre-
served after the games. popular destinations for capitol resi-
dents to visit, to vacation. go for a month, rewatch the games,
tour the catacombs, visit the sites where the deaths took
place. you can even take part in reenactments. they say the
food is excellent.
i struggle to keep my breakfast down as i shower and clean
my teeth. cinna does my hair in my simple trademark braid
down my back. then the clothes arrive, the same for every
tribute. cinna has had no say in my outfit, does not even know
what will be in the package, but he helps me dress in the un-
143
dergarments, simple tawny pants, light green blouse, sturdy
brown belt, and thin, hooded black jacket that falls to my
thighs. “the material in the jacket’s designed to reflect body
heat. expect some cool nights,” he says.
the boots, worn over skintight socks, are better than i
could have hoped for. soft leather not unlike my ones at home.
these have a narrow flexible rubber sole with treads though.
good for running.
i think i’m finished when cinna pulls the gold mockingjay
pin from his pocket. i had completely forgotten about it.
“where did you get that?”