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prim and my mother! gale! even the thought of
prim’s scruffy old cat makes me smile. soon i will be home!
i want to get out of this bed. to see peeta and cinna, to find
out more about what’s been going on. and why shouldn’t i? i
feel fine. but as i start to work my way out of the band, i feel a
cold liquid seeping into my vein from one of the tubes and al-
most immediately lose consciousness.
this happens on and off for an indeterminate amount of
time. my waking, eating, and, even though i resist the impulse
to try and escape the bed, being knocked out again. i seem to
be in a strange, continual twilight. only a few things register.
the redheaded avox girl has not returned since the feeding,
my scars are disappearing, and do i imagine it? or do i hear a
man’s voice yelling? not in the capitol accent, but in the
rougher cadences of home. and i can’t help having a vague,
comforting feeling that someone is looking out for me.
then finally, the time arrives when i come to and there’s
nothing plugged into my right arm. the restraint around my
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middle has been removed and i am free to move about. i start
to sit up but am arrested by the sight of my hands. the skin’s
perfection, smooth and glowing. not only are the scars from
the arena gone, but those accumulated over years of hunting
have vanished without a trace. my forehead feels like satin,
and when i try to find the burn on my calf, there’s nothing.
i slip my legs out of bed, nervous about how they will bear
my weight and find them strong and steady. lying at the foot
of the bed is an outfit that makes me flinch. it’s what all of us
tributes wore in the arena. i stare at it as if it had teeth until i
remember that, of course, this is what i will wear to greet my
team.
i’m dressed in less than a minute and fidgeting in front of
the wall where i know there’s a door even if i can’t see it when
suddenly it slides open. i step into a wide, deserted hall that
appears to have no other doors on it. but it must. and behind
one of them must be peeta. now that i’m conscious and mov-
ing, i’m growing more and more anxious about him. he must
be all right or the avox girl wouldn’t have said so. but i need
to see him for myself.
“peeta!” i call out, since there’s no one to ask. i hear my
name in response, but it’s not his voice. it’s a voice that pro-
vokes first irritation and then eagerness. effie.
i turn and see them all waiting in a big chamber at the end
of the hall — effie, haymitch, and cinna. my feet take off with-
out hesitation. maybe a victor should show more restraint,
more superiority, especially when she knows this will be on
tape, but i don’t care. i run for them and surprise even myself
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when i launch into haymitch’s arms first. when he whispers
in my ear, “nice job, sweetheart,” it doesn’t sound sarcastic.
effie’s somewhat teary and keeps patting my hair and talking
about how she told everyone we were pearls. cinna just hugs
me tight and doesn’t say anything. then i notice portia is ab-
sent and get a bad feeling.
“where’s portia? is she with peeta? he is all right, isn’t he? i
mean, he’s alive?” i blurt out.
“he’s fine. only they want to do your reunion live on air at
the ceremony,” says haymitch.
“oh. that’s all,” i say. the awful moment of thinking peeta’s
dead again passes. “i guess i’d want to see that myself.”
“go on with cinna. he has to get you ready,” says haymitch.
it’s a relief to be alone with cinna, to feel his protective arm
around my shoulders as he guides me away from the cameras,
down a few passages and to an elevator that leads to the lobby
of the training center. the hospital then is far underground,
even beneath the gym where the tributes practiced tying
knots and throwing spears. the windows of the lobby are
darkened, and a handful of guards stand on duty. no one else
is there to see us cross to the tribute elevator. our footsteps
echo in the emptiness. and when we ride up to the twelfth
floor, the faces of all the tributes who will never return flash
across my mind and there’s a heavy, tight place in my chest.
when the elevator doors open, venia, flavius, and octavia
engulf me, talking so quickly and ecstatically i can’t make out
their words. the sentiment is clear though. they are truly
thrilled to see me and i’m happy to see them, too, although not
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like i was to see cinna. it’s more in the way one might be glad
to see an affectionate trio of pets at the end of a particularly
difficult day.
they sweep me into the dining room and i get a real meal
— roast beef and peas and soft rolls — although my portions
are still being strictly controlled. because when i ask for
seconds, i’m refused.
“no, no, no. they don’t want it all coming back up on the
stage,” says octavia, but she secretly slips me an extra roll un-
der the table to let me know she’s on my side.
we go back to my room and cinna disappears for a while as
the prep team gets me ready.
“oh, they did a full body polish on you,” says flavius en-
viously. “not a flaw left on your skin.”
but when i look at my naked body in the mirror, all i can
see is how skinny i am. i mean, i’m sure i was worse when i
came out of the arena, but i can easily count my ribs.
they take care of the shower settings for me, and they go to
work on my hair, nails, and makeup when i’m done. they
chatter so continuously that i barely have to reply, which is
good, since i don’t feel very talkative. it’s funny, because even
though they’re rattling on about the games, it’s all about
where they were or what they were doing or how they felt
when a specific event occurred. “i was still in bed!”