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the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第29部分
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as I drift off。
But tomorrow is no better in terms of weather。 The deluge continues as if the Gamemakers are intent on washing us all away。 The thunderˇs so powerful it seems to shake the ground。 Peetaˇs considering heading out anyway to scavenge for food； but I tell him in this storm it would be pointless。 He wonˇt be able to see three feet in front of his face and heˇll only end up getting soaked to the skin for his troubles。 He knows Iˇm right； but the gnawing in our stomachs is being painful。
The day drags on turning into evening and thereˇs no break in the weather。 Haymitch is our only hope； but nothing is forthing； either from lack of money everything will cost an exorbitant amount or because heˇs dissatisfied with our performance。 Probably the latter。 Iˇd be the first to admit weˇre not exactly riveting today。 Starving； weak from injuries； trying not to reopen wounds。 Weˇre sitting huddled together wrapped in the sleeping bag； yes； but mostly to keep warm。 The most exciting thing either of us does is nap。
Iˇm not really sure how to ramp up the romance。 The kiss last night was nice； but working up to another will take some forethought。 There are girls in the Seam； some of the merchant girls； too； who navigate these waters so easily。 But Iˇve never had much time or use for it。 Anyway； just a kiss isnˇt enough anymore clearly because if it was weˇd have gotten food last night。 My instincts tell me Haymitch isnˇt just looking for physical affection； he wants something more personal。 The sort of stuff he was trying to get me to tell about myself when we were practicing for the interview。 Iˇm rotten at it； but Peetaˇs not。 Maybe the best approach is to get him talking。
¨Peeta；〃 I say lightly。 ¨You said at the interview youˇd had a crush on me forever。 When did forever start？〃
¨Oh； letˇs see。 I guess the first day of school。 We were five。 You had on a red plaid dress and your hair 。 。 。 it was in two braids instead of one。 My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up；〃 Peeta says。
¨Your father？ Why？〃 I ask。
¨He said； ˉSee that little girl？ I wanted to marry her mother； but she ran off with a coal miner；ˇ〃 Peeta says。
¨What？ Youˇre making that up！〃 I exclaim。
¨No； true story；〃 Peeta says。 ¨And I said； ˉA coal miner？ Why did she want a coal miner if she couldˇve had you？ˇ And he said； ˉBecause when he sings 。 。 。 even the birds stop to listen。ˇ〃
¨Thatˇs true。 They do。 I mean； they did；〃 I say。 Iˇm stunned and surprisingly moved； thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta。 It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing； my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think itˇs a waste of time。 It might be because it reminds me too much of my father。
¨So that day； in music assembly； the teacher asked who knew the valley song。 Your hand shot right up in the air。 She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us。 And I swear； every bird outside the windows fell silent；〃 Peeta says。
¨Oh； please；〃 I say； laughing。
¨No； it happened。 And right when your song ended； I knew just like your mother I was a goner；〃 Peeta says。 ¨Then for the next eleven years； I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you。〃
¨Without success；〃 I add。
¨Without success。 So； in a way； my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck；〃 says Peeta。
For a moment； Iˇm almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me。 Because weˇre supposed to be making up this stuff； playing at being in love not actually being in love。 But Peetaˇs story has a ring of truth to it。 That part about my father and the birds。 And I did sing the first day of school； although I donˇt remember the song。 And that red plaid dress 。 。 。 there was one； a hand…me…down to Prim that got washed to rags after my fatherˇs death。
It would explain another thing； too。 Why Peeta took a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day。 So； if those details are true 。 。 。 could it all be true？
¨You have a 。 。 。 remarkable memory；〃 I say haltingly。
¨I remember everything about you；〃 says Peeta； tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear。 ¨Youˇre the one who wasnˇt paying attention。〃
¨I am now；〃 I say。
¨Well； I donˇt have much petition here；〃 he says。
I want to draw away； to close those shutters again； but I know I canˇt。 Itˇs as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear； ¨Say it！ Say it！〃
I swallow hard and get the words out。 ¨You donˇt have much petition anywhere。〃 And this time； itˇs me who leans in。
Our lips have just barely touched when the clunk outside makes us jump。 My bow es up； the arrow ready to fly； but thereˇs no other sound。 Peeta peers through the rocks and then gives a whoop。 Before I can stop him； lieˇs out in the rain； then handing something in to me。 A silver parachute attached to a basket。 I rip it open at once and inside thereˇs a feast fresh rolls； goat cheese； apples； and best of all； a tureen of that incredible lamb stew on wild rice。 The very dish I told Caesar Flickerman was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer。
Peeta wriggles back inside； his face lit up like the sun。 ¨I guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve。〃
¨I guess so；〃 I answer。
But in my head I can hear Haymitchˇs smug； if slightly exasperated； words； ¨Yes； thatˇs what Iˇm looking lot； sweetheart。〃
23
Every cell in my body wants me to dig into the stew and cram it； handful by handful into my mouth。 But Peetaˇs voice stops me。 ¨We better take it slow on that stew。 Remember the first night on the train？ The rich food made me sick and I wasnˇt even starving then。〃
¨Youˇre right。 And I could just inhale the whole thing！〃 I say regretfully。 But I donˇt。 We are quite sensible。 We each have a roll； half an apple； and an egg…size serving of stew and rice。 I make myself eat the stew in tiny spoonfuls they even sent us silverware and plates savoring each bite。 When we finish； I stare longingly at the dish。 ¨I want more。〃
¨Me； too。 Tell you what。 We wait an hour； if it stays down； then we get another serving；〃 Peeta says。
¨Agreed；〃 I say。 ¨Itˇs going to be a long hour。〃
¨Maybe not that long；〃 says Peeta。 ¨What was that you were saying just before the food arrived？ Something about me 。 。 。 no petition 。 。 。 best thing that ever happened to you 。 。 。〃
¨I donˇt remember that last part；〃 I say； hoping itˇs too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush。
¨Oh； thatˇs right。 Thatˇs what I was thinking；〃 he says。 ¨Scoot over； Iˇm freezing。〃
I make room for him in the sleeping bag。 We lean back against the cave wall； my head on his shoulder； his arms wrapped around me。 I can feel Haymitch nudging me to keep up the act。 ¨So； since we were five； you never even noticed any other girls？〃 I ask him。
¨No； I noticed just about every girl； but none of them made a lasting impression but you；〃 he says。
¨Iˇm sure that would thrill your parents； you liking a girl from the Seam；〃 I say。
¨Hardly。 But I couldnˇt care less。 Anyway； if we make it back； you wonˇt be a girl from the Seam； youˇll be a girl from the Victorˇs Village；〃 he says。
Thatˇs right。 If we win； weˇll each get a house in the part of town reserved for Hunger Gamesˇ victors。 Long ago； when the Games began； the Capitol had built a dozen fine houses in each district。 Of course； in ours only one is occupied。 Most of the others have never been lived in at all。
A disturbing thought hits me。 ¨But then； our only neighbor will be Haymitch！〃
¨Ah； thatˇll be nice；〃 says Peeta； tightening his arms around me。 ¨You and me and Haymitch。 Very cozy。 Picnics； birthdays； long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Gamesˇ tales。〃
¨I told you； he hates me！〃 I say； but I canˇt help laughing at the image of Haymitch being my new pal。
¨Only sometimes。 When heˇs sober； Iˇve never heard him say one negative thing about you；〃 says Peeta。
¨Heˇs never sober！〃 I protest。
¨Thatˇs right。 Who am I thinking of？ Oh； I know。 Itˇs Cinna who likes you。 But thatˇs mainly because you didnˇt try to run when he set you on fire；〃 says Peeta。 ¨On the other hand； Haymitch 。 。 。 well； if I were you； Iˇd avoid Haymitch pletely。 He hates you。〃
¨I thought you said I was his favorite；〃 I say。
¨He hates me more；〃 says Peeta。 ¨I donˇt think people in general are his sort of thing。〃
I know the audience will enjoy our having fun at Haymitchˇs expense。 He has been around so long； heˇs practically an old friend to some of them。 And after his head…dive off the stage at the reaping； everybody knows him。 By this time； theyˇll have dragged him out of the control room for interviews about us。 No telling what sort of lies heˇs made up。 Heˇs at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner； another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to be ready to go into action at any moment。 Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena。 I wonder how heˇs holding up； with the drinking； the attention； and the stress of trying to keep us alive。
Itˇs funny。 Haymitch and I donˇt get along well in person； but maybe Peeta is right about us being alike because he seems able to municate with me by the timing of his gifts。 Like how I knew I must be close to water when he withheld it and how I knew the sleep syrup just wasnˇt something to ease Peetaˇs pain and how I know now that I have to play up the romance。 He hasnˇt made much effort to connect with Peeta really。 Perhaps he thinks a bowl of broth would just be a bowl
of broth to Peeta； whereas Iˇll see the strings attached to it。
A thought hits me； and Iˇm amazed the questionˇs taken so long to surface。 Maybe itˇs because Iˇve only recently begun to view Haymitch with a degree of curiosity。 ¨How do you think he did it？〃
¨Who？ Did what？〃 Peeta asks。
¨Haymitch。 How do you think he won the Games？〃 I say。
Peeta considers this quite a while before he answers。 Haymitch is sturdily built； but no physical wonder like Cato or Thresh。 Heˇs not particularly handsome。 Not in the way that causes sponsors to rain gifts on you。 And heˇs so surly； itˇs hard to imagine anyone teaming up with him。 Thereˇs only one way Haymitch could have won； and Peeta says it just as Iˇm reaching this conclusion myself。
¨He outsmarted the others；〃 says Peeta。
I nod； then let the conversation drop。 But secretly Iˇm wondering if Haymitch sobered up long enough to help Peeta and me because he thought we just might have the wits to survive。 Maybe he wasnˇt always a drunk。 Maybe； in the beginning； he tried to help the tributes。 But then it got unbearable。 It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die。 Year after year after year。 I realize that if I get out of here； that will bee my job。 To mentor the girl from District 12。 The idea is so repellent； I thrust it from my mind。
About half an hour has passed before I decide I have to eat again。 Peetaˇs too hungry himself to put up an argument。 While Iˇm dishing up two more small servings of lamb stew and rice； we hear the anthem begin to play。 Peeta presses his eyes against a crack in the rocks to watch the sky。
¨There wonˇt be anything to see tonight；〃 I say； far more interested in the stew than the sky。 ¨Nothingˇs happened or we wouldˇve heard a cannon。〃
¨Katniss；〃 Peeta says quietly。
¨What？ Should we split another roll； too？〃 I ask。
¨Katniss；〃 he repeats； but I find myself wanting to ignore him。
¨Iˇm going to split one。 But Iˇll save the cheese for tomorrow；〃 I say。 I see Peeta staring at me。 ¨What？〃
¨Thresh is dead；〃 says Peeta。
¨He canˇt be；〃 I say。
¨They must have fired the cannon during the thunder and we missed it；〃 says Peeta。
¨Are you sure？ I mean； itˇs pouring buckets out there。 I donˇt know how you can see anything；〃 I say。 I push him away from the rocks and squint out into the dark； rainy sky。 For about ten seconds； I catch a distorted glimpse of Threshˇs picture and then heˇs gone。 Just like that。
I slump down against the rocks； momentarily forgetting about the task at hand。 Thresh dead。 I should be happy； right？ One less tribute to face。 And a powerful one； too。 But Iˇm not happy。 All I can think about is Thresh letting me go； letting me run because of Rue； who died with that spear in her stomach。 。 。 。
¨You all right？〃 asks Peeta。
I give a nonmittal shrug and cup my elbows in my hands； hugging them close to my body。 I have to bury the real pain because whoˇs going to bet on a tribute who keeps sniveling over the deaths of her opponents。 Rue was one thing。 We were allies。 She was so young。 But no one will understand my sorrow at Threshˇs murder。 The word pulls me up short。 Murder！ Thankfully； I didnˇt say it aloud。 Thatˇs not going to win me any points in the arena。 What I do say is； ¨Itˇs just 。 。 。 if we didnˇt win 。 。 。 I wanted Thresh to。 Because he let me go。 And because of Rue。〃
¨Yeah； I know；〃 says Peeta。 ¨But this means weˇre one step closer to District Twelve。〃 He nudges a plate of foot into my hands。 ¨Eat。 Itˇs still warm。〃
I take a bite of the stew to show I donˇt really care； but itˇs like glue in my mouth and takes a lot of effort to swallow。 ¨It also means Cato will be back hunting us。〃
¨And heˇs got supplies again；〃 says Peeta。
¨Heˇll be wounded； I bet；〃 I say。
¨What makes you say that？〃 Peeta asks。
¨Because Thresh would have never gone down without a fight。 Heˇs so strong； I mean； he was。 And they were in his territory；〃 I say。
¨Good；〃 says Peeta。 ¨The more wounded Cato is the better。 I wonder how Foxface is making out。〃
¨Oh； sheˇs fine；〃 I say peevishly。 Iˇm still angry she thought of hiding in the Cornucopia and I didnˇt。 ¨Probably be easier to catch Cato than her。〃
¨Maybe theyˇll catch each other and we can just go home；〃 says Peeta。 ¨But we better be extra careful about the watches。 I dozed off a few times。〃
¨Me； too；〃 I admit。 ¨But not tonight。〃
We finish our food in silence and then Peeta offers to take the first watch。 I burrow down in the sleeping bag next to him； pulling my hood up over my face to hide it from the cameras。 I just need a few moments of privacy where I can let any emotion cross my face without being seen。 Under the hood； I silently say good…bye to Thresh and thank him for my life。 I promise to remember him and； if I can； do something to help his family and Rueˇs； if I win。 Then I escape into sleep； forted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me。
When Peeta wakes me later； the first thing I register is the smell of goat cheese。 Heˇs holding out half a roll spread with the creamy white stuff and topped with apple slices。 ¨Donˇt be mad；〃 he says。 ¨I had to eat again。 Hereˇs your half。〃
¨Oh； good；〃 I say； immediately taking a huge bite。 The strong fatty cheese tastes just like the kind Prim makes； the apples are sweet and crunchy。 ¨Mm。〃
¨We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery；〃 he says。
¨Bet thatˇs expensive；〃 I say。
¨Too expensive for my family to eat。 Unless itˇs gone very stale。 Of course； practically everything we eat is stale；〃 says Peeta； pulling the sleeping bag up around him。 In less than a minute； heˇs snoring。
Huh。 I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life。
And itˇs true； Peeta has always had enough to eat。
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