第121章

  he must. he will
  want to help us. the crowd breaks into applause as the prep
  teams are presented. i imagine flavius, venia, and octavia
  bouncing around and taking ridiculous, bobbing bows. it鈥檚 a
  safe bet they鈥檙e clueless. then effie鈥檚 introduced. how long
  she鈥檚 waited for this moment. i hope she鈥檚 able to enjoy it be-
  cause as misguided as effie can be, she has a very keen in-
  stinct about certain things and must at least suspect we鈥檙e in
  trouble. portia and cinna receive huge cheers, of course,
  they鈥檝e been brilliant, had a dazzling debut. i now understand
  cinna鈥檚 choice of dress for me for tonight. i鈥檒l need to look as
  girlish and innocent as possible. haymitch鈥檚 appearance
  brings a round of stomping that goes on at least five minutes.
  well, he鈥檚 accomplished a first. keeping not only one but two
  tributes alive. what if he hadn鈥檛 warned me in time? would i
  have acted differently? flaunted the moment with the berries
  in the capitol鈥檚 face? no, i don鈥檛 think so. but i could easily
  have been a lot less convincing than i need to be now. right
  now. because i can feel the plate lifting me up to the stage.
  353
  blinding lights. the deafening roar rattles the metal under
  my feet. then there鈥檚 peeta just a few yards away. he looks so
  clean and healthy and beautiful, i can hardly recognize him.
  but his smile is the same whether in mud or in the capitol and
  when i see it, i take about three steps and fling myself into his
  arms. he staggers back, almost losing his balance, and that鈥檚
  when i realize the slim, metal contraption in his hand is some
  kind of cane. he rights himself and we just cling to each other
  while the audience goes insane. he鈥檚 kissing me and all the
  time i鈥檓 thinking, do you know? do you know how much dan-
  ger we鈥檙e in? after about ten minutes of this, caesar flicker-
  man taps on his shoulder to continue the show, and peeta just
  pushes him aside without even glancing at him. the audience
  goes berserk. whether he knows or not, peeta is, as usual,
  playing the crowd exactly right.
  finally, haymitch interrupts us and gives us a good-natured
  shove toward the victor鈥檚 chair. usually, this is a single, ornate
  chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the
  highlights of the games, but since there are two of us, the ga-
  memakers have provided a plush red velvet couch. a small
  one, my mother would call it a love seat, i think. i sit so close
  to peeta that i鈥檓 practically on his lap, but one look from
  haymitch tells me it isn鈥檛 enough. kicking off my sandals, i
  tuck my feet to the side and lean my head against peeta鈥檚
  shoulder. his arm goes around me automatically, and i feel
  like i鈥檓 back in the cave, curled up against him, trying to keep
  warm. his shirt is made of the same yellow material as my
  dress, but portia鈥檚 put him in long black pants. no sandals, ei-
  354
  ther, but a pair of sturdy black boots he keeps solidly planted
  on the stage. i wish cinna had given me a similar outfit, i feel
  so vulnerable in this flimsy dress. but i guess that was the
  point.
  caesar flickerman makes a few more jokes, and then it鈥檚
  time for the show. this will last exactly three hours and is re-
  quired viewing for all of panem. as the lights dim and the seal
  appears on the screen, i realize i鈥檓 unprepared for this. i do
  not want to watch my twenty-two fellow tributes die. i saw
  enough of them die the first time. my heart starts pounding
  and i have a strong impulse to run. how have the other victors
  faced this alone?