the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第22部分

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¨After　he　said　he　loved　me；　did　you　think　I　could　be　in　love　with　him；　too？〃　I　ask。
¨I　did；〃　says　Portia。　¨The　way　you　avoided　looking　at　the　cameras；　the　blush。〃
They　others　chime　in；　agreeing。
¨Youˇre　golden；　sweetheart。　Youˇre　going　to　have　sponsors　lined　up　around　the　block；〃　says　Haymitch。
Iˇm　embarrassed　about　my　reaction。　I　force　myself　to　acknowledge　Peeta。　¨Iˇm　sorry　I　shoved　you。〃
¨Doesnˇt　matter；〃　he　shrugs。　¨Although　itˇs　technically　illegal。〃
¨Are　your　hands　okay？〃　I　ask。　¨Theyˇll　be　all　right；〃　he　says。
In　the　silence　that　follows；　delicious　smells　of　our　dinner　waft　in　from　the　dining　room。　¨e　on；　letˇs　eat；〃　says　Haymitch。　We　all　follow　him　to　the　table　and　take　our　places。　But　then　Peeta　is　bleeding　too　heavily；　and　Portia　leads　him　off　for　medical　treatment。　We　start　the　cream　and　rose…petal　soup　without　them。　By　the　time　weˇve　finished；　theyˇre　back。　Peetaˇs　hands　are　wrapped　in　bandages。　I　canˇt　help　feeling　guilty。　Tomorrow　we　will　be　in　the　arena。　He　has　done　me　a　favor　and　I　have　answered　with　an　injury。　Will　I　never　stop　owing　him？
After　dinner；　we　watch　the　replay　in　the　sitting　room。　I　seem　frilly　and　shallow；　twirling　and　giggling　in　my　dress；　although　the　others　assure　me　I　am　charming。　Peeta　actually　is　charming　and　then　utterly　winning　as　the　boy　in　love。　And　there　I　am；　blushing　and　confused；　made　beautiful　by　Cinnaˇs　hands；　desirable　by　Peetaˇs　confession；　tragic　by　circumstance；　and　by　all　accounts；　unforgettable。
When　the　anthem　finishes　and　the　screen　goes　dark；　a　hush　falls　on　the　room。　Tomorrow　at　dawn；　we　will　be　roused　and　prepared　for　the　arena。　The　actual　Games　donˇt　start　until　ten　because　so　many　of　the　Capitol　residents　rise　late。　But　Peeta　and　I　must　make　an　early　start。　There　is　no　telling　how　far　we　will　travel　to　the　arena　that　has　been　prepared　for　this　yearˇs　Games。
I　know　Haymitch　and　Effie　will　not　be　going　with　us。　As　soon　as　they　leave　here；　theyˇll　be　at　the　Games　Headquarters；　hopefully　madly　signing　up　our　sponsors；　working　out　a　strategy　on　how　and　when　to　deliver　the　gifts　to　us。　Cinna　and　Portia　will　travel　with　us　to　the　very　spot　from　which　we　will　be　launched　into　the　arena。　Still　final　good…byes　must　be　said　here。
Effie　takes　both　of　us　by　the　hand　and；　with　actual　tears　in　her　eyes；　wishes　us　well。　Thanks　us　for　being　the　best　tributes　it　has　ever　been　her　privilege　to　sponsor。　And　then；　because　itˇs　Effie　and　sheˇs　apparently　required　by　law　to　say　something　awful；　she　adds　¨I　wouldnˇt　be　at　all　surprised　if　I　finally　get　promoted　to　a　decent　district　next　year！〃
Then　she　kisses　us　each　on　the　cheek　and　hurries　out；　overe　with　either　the　emotional　parting　or　the　possible　improvement　of　her　fortunes。
Haymitch　crosses　his　arms　and　looks　us　both　over。
¨Any　final　words　of　advice？〃　asks　Peeta。
¨When　the　gong　sounds；　get　the　hell　out　of　there。　Youˇre　neither　of　you　up　to　the　blood　bath　at　the　Cornucopia。　Just　clear　out；　put　as　much　distance　as　you　can　between　yourselves　and　the　others；　and　find　a　source　of　water；〃　he　says。　¨Got　it？〃
¨And　after　that？〃　I　ask。
¨Stay　alive；〃　says　Haymitch。　Itˇs　the　same　advice　he　gave　us　on　the　train；　but　heˇs　not　drunk　and　laughing　this　time。　And　we　only　nod。　What　else　is　there　to　say？
When　I　head　to　my　room；　Peeta　lingers　to　talk　to　Portia。　Iˇm　glad。　Whatever　strange　words　of　parting　we　exchange　can　wait　until　tomorrow。　My　covers　are　drawn　back；　but　there　is　no　sign　of　the　redheaded　Avox　girl。　I　wish　I　knew　her　name。　I　should　have　asked　it。　She　could　write　it　down　maybe。　Or　act　it　out。　But　perhaps　that　would　only　result　in　punishment　for　her。
I　take　a　shower　and　scrub　the　gold　paint；　the　makeup；　the　scent　of　beauty　from　my　body。　All　that　remains　of　the　designteamˇs　efforts　are　the　flames　on　my　nails。　I　decide　to　keep　them　as　reminder　of　who　I　am　to　the　audience。　Katniss；　the　girl　who　was　on　fire。　Perhaps　it　will　give　me　something　to　hold　on　to　in　the　days　to　e。
I　pull　on　a　thick；　fleecy　nightgown　and　climb　into　bed。　It　takes　me　about　five　seconds　to　realize　Iˇll　never　fall　asleep。　And　I　need　sleep　desperately　because　in　the　arena　every　moment　I　give　in　to　fatigue　will　be　an　invitation　to　death。
Itˇs　no　good。　One　hour；　two；　three　pass；　and　my　eyelids　refuse　to　get　heavy。　I　canˇt　stop　trying　to　imagine　exactly　what　terrain　Iˇll　be　thrown　into。　Desert？　Swamp？　A　frigid　wasteland？　Above　all　I　am　hoping　for　trees；　which　may　afford　me　some　means　of　concealment　and　food　and　shelter；　Often　there　are　trees　because　barren　landscapes　are　dull　and　the　Games　resolve　too　quickly　without　them。　But　what　will　the　climate　be　like？　What　traps　have　the　Gamemakers　hid　den　to　liven　up　the　slower　moments？　And　then　there　are　my　fellow　tributes　。　。　。
The　more　anxious　I　am　to　find　sleep；　the　more　it　eludes　me。　Finally；　I　am　too　restless　to　even　stay　in　bed。　I　pace　the　floor；　heart　beating　too　fast；　breathing　too　short。　My　room　feels　like　a　prison　cell。　If　I　donˇt　get　air　soon；　Iˇm　going　to　start　to　throw　things　again。　I　run　down　the　hall　to　the　door　to　the　roof。　Itˇs　not　only　unlocked　but　ajar。　Perhaps　someone　forgot　to　close　it；　but　it　doesnˇt　matter。　The　energy　field　enclosing　the　roof　prevents　any　desperate　form　of　escape。　And　Iˇm　not　looking　to　escape；　only　to　fill　my　lungs　with　air。　I　want　to　see　the　sky　and　the　moon　on　the　last　night　that　no　one　will　be　hunting　me。
The　roof　is　not　lit　at　night；　but　as　soon　as　my　bare　feel　reach　its　tiled　surface　I　see　his　silhouette；　black　against　the　lights　that　shine　endlessly　in　the　Capitol。　Thereˇs　quite　a　motion　going　on　down　in　the　streets；　music　and　singing　and　car　horns；　none　of　which　I　could　hear　through　the　thick　glass　window　panels　in　my　room。　I　could　slip　away　now；　without　him　noticing　me；　he　wouldnˇt　hear　me　over　the　din；　But　the　night　airˇs　so　sweet；　I　canˇt　bear　returning　to　that　stuffy　cage　of　a　room。　And　what　difference　does　it　make？　Whether　we　speak　or　not？
My　feet　move　soundlessly　across　the　tiles。　Iˇm　only　yard　behind　him　when　I　say；　¨You　should　be　getting　some　sleep。〃
He　starts　but　doesnˇt　turn。　I　can　see　him　give　his　head　a　slight　shake。　¨I　didnˇt　want　to　miss　the　party。　Itˇs　for　us；　after　all。〃
I　e　up　beside　him　and　lean　over　the　edge　of　the　rail。　The　wide　streets　are　full　of　dancing　people。　I　squint　to　make　out　their　tiny　figures　in　more　detail。　¨Are　they　in　costumes？〃
¨Who　could　tell？〃　Peeta　answers。　¨With　all　the　crazy　clothes　they　wear　here。　Couldnˇt　sleep；　either？〃
¨Couldnˇt　turn　my　mind　off；〃　I　say。
¨Thinking　about　your　family？〃　he　asks。
¨No；〃　I　admit　a　bit　guiltily。　¨All　I　can　do　is　wonder　about　tomorrow。　Which　is　pointless；　of　course。〃　In　the　light　from　below；　I　can　see　his　face　now；　the　awkward　way　he　holds　his　bandaged　hands。　¨I　really　am　sorry　about　your　hands。〃
¨It　doesnˇt　matter；　Katniss；〃　he　says。　¨Iˇve　never　been　a　contender　in　these　Games　anyway。〃
¨Thatˇs　no　way　to　be　thinking；〃　I　say。
¨Why　not？　Itˇs　true。　My　best　hope　is　to　not　disgrace　myself　and　。　。　。〃　He　hesitates。
¨And　what？〃　I　say。
¨I　donˇt　know　how　to　say　it　exactly。　Only　。　。　。　I　want　to　die　as　myself。　Does　that　make　any　sense？〃　he　asks。　I　shake　my　head。　How　could　he　die　as　anyone　but　himself？　¨I　donˇt　want　them　to　change　me　in　there。　Turn　me　into　some　kind　of　monster　that　Iˇm　not。〃
I　bite　my　lip　feeling　inferior。　While　Iˇve　been　ruminating　on　the　availability　of　trees；　Peeta　has　been　struggling　with　how　to　maintain　his　identity。　His　purity　of　self。　¨Do　you　mean　you　wonˇt　kill　anyone？〃　I　ask。
¨No；　when　the　time　es；　Iˇm　sure　Iˇll　kill　just　like　everybody　else。　I　canˇt　go　down　without　a　fight。　Only　I　keep　wishing　I　could　think　of　a　way　to　。　。　。　to　show　the　Capitol　they　donˇt　own　me。　That　Iˇm　more　than　just　a　piece　in　their　Games；〃　says　Peeta。
¨But　youˇre　not；〃　I　say。　¨None　of　us　are。　Thatˇs　how　the　Games　work。〃
¨Okay；　but　within　that　framework；　thereˇs　still　you；　thereˇs　still　me；〃　he　insists。　¨Donˇt　you　see？〃
¨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。　Heˇs　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。〃
Itˇs　like　a　slap　in　the　face。　His　use　of　Haymitchˇs　patronizing　endearment。　¨Look；　if　you　want　to　spend　the　last　hours　of　your　life　planning　some　noble　death　in　the　arena；　thatˇs　your　choice。　I　want　to　spend　mine　in　District　Twelve。〃
¨Wouldnˇt　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　morning。　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　like　that　a　few　years　ago　from　District　6　called　Titus。　He　went　pletely　savage　and　the　Gamemakers　had　to　have　him　stunned　with