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the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第9部分
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Just like I was watching the Games。
I kick off my shoes and climb under the covers in my clothes。 The shivering hasnˇt stopped。 Perhaps the girl doesnˇt even remember me。 But I know she does。 You donˇt forget the face of the person who was your last hope。 I pull the covers up over my head as if this will protect me from the redheaded girl who canˇt speak。 But I can feel her eyes staring at me； piercing through walls and doors and bedding。
I wonder if sheˇll enjoy watching me die。
7
My slumbers are filled with disturbing dreams。 The face of the redheaded girl intertwines with gory images from earlier Hunger Games； with my mother withdrawn and unreachable； with Prim emaciated and terrified。 I bolt up screaming for my father to run as the mine explodes into a million deadly bits of light。
Dawn is breaking through the windows。 The Capitol has a misty； haunted air。 My head aches and I must have bitten into the side of my cheek in the night。 My tongue probes the ragged flesh and I taste blood。
Slowly； I drag myself out of bed and into the shower。 I arbitrarily punch buttons on the control board and end up hopping from foot to foot as alternating jets of icy cold and steaming hot water assault me。 Then Iˇm deluged in lemony foam that I have to scrape off with a heavy bristled brush。 Oh； well。 At least my blood is flowing。
When Iˇm dried and moisturized with lotion； I find an outfit has been left for me at the front of the closet。 Tight black pants； a long…sleeved burgundy tunic； and leather shoes。 I put my hair in the single braid down my back。 This is the first time the morning of the reaping that I resemble myself。 No fancy hair and clothes； no flaming capes。 Just me。 Looking like I could be headed for the woods。 It calms me。
Haymitch didnˇt give us an exact time to meet for break…last and no one has contacted me this morning； but Iˇm hungry so I head down to the dining room； hoping there will be food。 Iˇm not disappointed。 While the table is empty； a long board off to the side has been laid with at least twenty dishes。 A young man； an Avox； stands at attention by the spread。 When I ask if I can serve myself； he nods assent。 I load a plate with eggs； sausages； batter cakes covered in thick orange preserves； slices of pale purple melon。 As I gorge myself； I watch the sun rise over the Capitol。 I have a second plate of hot grain smothered in beef stew。 Finally； I fill a plate with rolls and sit at the table； breaking oil bits and dipping them into hot chocolate； the way Peeta did on the train。
My mind wanders to my mother and Prim。 They must be up。 My mother getting their breakfast of mush。 Prim milking her goat before school。 Just two mornings ago； I was home。 Can that be right？ Yes； just two。 And now how empty the house feels； even from a distance。 What did they say last night about my fiery debut at the Games？ Did it give them hope； or simply add to their terror when they saw the reality of twenty… four tributes circled together； knowing only one could live？ Haymitch and Peeta e in； bid me good morning； fill their plates。 It makes me irritated that Peeta is wearing exactly the same outfit I am。 I need to say something to Cinna。 This twins act is going to blow up in out faces once the Games begin。 Surely； they must know this。 Then I remember Haymitch telling me to do exactly what the stylists tell me to do。 If it was anyone but Cinna； I might be tempted to ignore him。 But after last nightˇs triumph； I donˇt have a lot of room to criticize his choices。
Iˇm nervous about the training。 There will be three days in which all the tributes practice together。 On the last afternoon； weˇll each get a chance to perform in private before the Gamemakers。 The thought of meeting the other tributes face…to…face makes me queasy。 I turn the roll I have just taken from the basket over and over in my hands； but my appetite is gone。
When Haymitch has finished several platters of stew； he pushes back his plate with a sigh。 He takes a flask from his pocket and takes a long pull on it and leans his elbows on the table。 ¨So； letˇs get down to business。 Training。 First off； if you like； Iˇll coach you separately。 Decide now。〃
¨Why would you coach us separately？〃 I ask。
¨Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about；〃 says Haymitch。
I exchange a look with Peeta。 ¨I donˇt have any secret skills；〃 he says。 ¨And I already know what yours is； right？ I mean； Iˇve eaten enough of your squirrels。〃
I never thought about Peeta eating the squirrels I shot。 Somehow I always pictured the baker quietly going off and frying them up for himself。 Not out of greed。 But because town families usually eat expensive butcher meat。 Beef and chicken and horse。
¨You can coach us together；〃 I tell Haymitch。 Peeta nods。
¨All right； so give me some idea of what you can do；〃 says Haymitch。
¨I canˇt do anything；〃 says Peeta。 ¨Unless you count baking bread。〃
¨Sorry； I donˇt。 Katniss。 I already know youˇre handy with a knife；〃 says Haymitch。
¨Not really。 But I can hunt；〃 I say。 ¨With a bow and arrow。〃
¨And youˇre good？〃 asks Haymitch。
I have to think about it。 Iˇve been putting food on the table for four years。 Thatˇs no small task。 Iˇm not as good as my father was； but heˇd had more practice。 Iˇve better aim than Gale； but Iˇve had more practice。 Heˇs a genius with traps and snares。 ¨Iˇm all right；〃 I say。
¨Sheˇs excellent；〃 says Peeta。 ¨My father buys her squirrels。 He always ments on how the arrows never pierce the body。 She hits every one in the eye。 Itˇs the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher。 She can even bring down deer。〃
This assessment of my skills from Peeta takes me totally by surprise。 First； that he ever noticed。 Second； that heˇs talking me up。 ¨What are you doing？〃 I ask him suspiciously。
¨What are you doing？ If heˇs going to help you； he has to know what youˇre capable of。 Donˇt underrate yourself；〃 says Peeta。
I donˇt know why； but this rubs me the wrong way。 ¨What about you？ Iˇve seen you in the market。 You can lift hundredpound bags of flour；〃 I snap at him。 ¨Tell him that。 Thatˇs not nothing。〃
¨Yes； and Iˇm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people。 Itˇs not like being able to use a weapon。 You know it isnˇt；〃 he shoots back。
¨He can wrestle；〃 I tell Haymitch。 ¨He came in second in our school petition last year； only after his brother。〃
¨What use is that？ How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death？〃 says Peeta in disgust。
¨Thereˇs always hand…to…hand bat。 All you need is to e up with a knife； and youˇll at least stand a chance。 If I get jumped； Iˇm dead！〃 I can hear my voice rising in anger。
¨But you wonˇt！ Youˇll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows。 You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good…bye； as if to cheer me up； she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner。 Then I realized； she didnˇt mean me； she meant you！〃 bursts out Peeta。
¨Oh； she meant you；〃 I say with a wave of dismissal。
¨She said； ˉSheˇs a survivor； that one。ˇ She is；〃 says Peeta。
That pulls me up short。 Did his mother really say that about me？ Did she rate me over her son？ I see the pain in Peetaˇs eyes and know he isnˇt lying。
Suddenly Iˇm behind the bakery and I can feel the chill of the rain running down my back； the hollowness in my belly。 I sound eleven years old when I speak。 ¨But only because someone helped me。〃
Peetaˇs eyes flicker down to the roll in my hands； and I know he remembers that day； too。 But he just shrugs。 ¨People will help you in the arena。 Theyˇll be tripping over each other to sponsor you。〃
¨No more than you；〃 I say。
Peeta rolls his eyes at Haymitch。 ¨She has no idea。 The effect she can have。〃 He runs his fingernail along the wood grain in the table； refusing to look at me。
What on earth does he mean？ People help me？ When we were dying of starvation； no one helped me！ No one except Peeta。 Once I had something to barter with； things changed。 Iˇm a tough trader。 Or am I？ What effect do I have？ That Iˇm weak and needy？ Is he suggesting that I got good deals because people pitied me？ I try to think if this is true。 Perhaps some of the merchants were a little generous in their trades； but I always attributed that to their long…standing relationship with my father。 Besides； my game is first…class。 No one pitied me！
I glower at the roll sure he meant to insult me。
After about a minute of this； Haymitch says； ¨Well； then。 Well； well； well。 Katniss； thereˇs no guarantee theyˇll be bows and arrows in the arena； but during your private session with the Gamemakers； show them what you can do。 Until then； stay clear of archery。 Are you any good at trapping？〃
¨I know a few basic snares；〃 I mutter。
¨That may be significant in terms of food；〃 says Haymitch。 ¨And Peeta； sheˇs right； never underestimate strength in the arena。 Very often； physical power tilts the advantage to a player。 In the Training Center； they will have weights； but donˇt reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes。 The planˇs the same for both of you。 You go to group training。 Spend the time trying to learn something you donˇt know。 Throw a spear。 Swing a mace。 Learn to tie a decent knot。 Save showing what youˇre best at until your private sessions。 Are we clear？〃 says Haymitch。 Peeta and I nod。
¨One last thing。 In public； I want you by each otherˇs side every minute；〃 says Haymitch。 We both start to object； but Haymitch slams his hand on the table。 ¨Every minute！ Itˇs not open for discussion！ You agreed to do as I said！ You will be together； you will appear amiable to each other。 Now get out。 Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training。〃
I bite my lip and stalk back to my room； making sure Peeta can hear the door slam。 I sit on the bed； hating Haymitch； hating Peeta； hating myself for mentioning that day long ago in the rain。
Itˇs such a joke！ Peeta and I going along pretending to be friends！ Talking up each otherˇs strengths； insisting the other take credit for their abilities。 Because； in fact； at some point； weˇre going to have to knock it off and accept weˇre bitter adversaries。 Which Iˇd be prepared to do right now if it wasnˇt for Haymitchˇs stupid instruction that we stick together in training。 Itˇs my own fault； I guess； for telling him he didnˇt have to coach us separately。 But that didnˇt mean I wanted to do everything with Peeta。 Who； by the way； clearly doesnˇt want to be partnering up with me； either。
I hear Peetaˇs voice in my head。 She has no idea。 The effect she can have。 Obviously meant to demean me。 Right？ but a tiny part of me wonders if this was a pliment。 That he meant I was appealing in some way。 Itˇs weird； how much heˇs noticed me。 Like the attention heˇs paid to my hunting。 And apparently； I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined； either。 The flour。 The wrestling。 I have kept track of the boy with the bread。
Itˇs almost ten。 I clean my teeth and smooth back my hair again。 Anger temporarily blocked out my nervousness about meeting the other tributes； but now I can feel my anxiety rising again。 By the time I meet Effie and Peeta at the elevator； I catch myself biting my nails。 I stop at once。
The actual training rooms are below ground level of our building。 With these elevators； the ride is less than a minute。 The doors open into an enormous gymnasium filled with various weapons and obstacle courses。 Although itˇs not yet ten； weˇre the last ones to arrive。 The other tributes are gathered in a tense circle。 They each have a cloth square with their district number on it pinned to their shirts。 While someone pins the number 12 on my back； I do a quick assessment。 Peeta and I are the only two dressed alike。
As soon as we join the circle； the head trainer； a tall； athletic woman named Atala steps up and begins to explain the training schedule。 Experts in each skill will remain at their stations。 We will be free to travel from area to area as we choose； per our mentorˇs instructions。 Some of the stations teach survival skills； others fighting techniques。 We are forbidden to engage in any bative exercise with another tribute。 There are assistants on hand if we want to practice with a partner。
When Atala begins to read down the list of the skill stations； my eyes canˇt help flitting around to the other tributes。 Itˇs the first time weˇve been assembled； on level ground； in simple clothes。 My heart sinks。 Almost all of the boys and at least half of the girls are bigger than I am； even though many of the tributes have never been fed properly。 You can see it in their bones； their skin； the hollow look in their eyes。 I may be smaller naturally； but overall my familyˇs resourcefulness has given me an edge in that area。 I stand straight； and while Iˇm thin； Iˇm strong。 The meat and plants from the woods bined with the exertion it took to get them have given me a healthier body than most of those I see around me。
The exceptions are the kids from the wealthier districts； the volunteers； the ones who have been fed and trained throughout their lives for this moment。 The tributes from 1； 2； and 4 traditionally have this look about them。 Itˇs technically against the rules to train tributes before they reach the Capitol but it happens every year。 In District 12； we call them the Career Tributes； or just the Careers。 And like as not； the winner will be one of them。
The slight advantage I held ing into the Training Center； my fiery entrance last night； seems to vanish in the presence of my petition。 The other tributes were jealous of us； but not because we were amazing； because our stylists were。 Now I see nothing but contempt in the glances of the Career Tributes。 Each must have fifty to a hundred pounds on me。 They project arrogance and brutality。 When Atala releases us； they head straight for the deadliest…looking weapons in the gym and handle them with ease。
Iˇm thinking that itˇs lucky Iˇm a fast runner when Peeta nudges my arm and I jump。 He is still beside me； per Haymitchˇs instructions。 His expression is sober。 ¨Where would you like to start？〃
I look around at the Career Tributes who are showing off； clearly trying to intimidate the field。 Then at the others； the underfed； the inpetent； shakily having their first lessons with a knife or an ax。
¨Suppose we tie some knots；〃 I say。
¨Right you are；〃 says Peeta。 We cross to an empty station where the trainer seems pleased to have students。 You get the feeling that the knot…tying class is not the Hunger games hot spot。 When he realizes I know something about snares； he shows us a simple； excellent trap that will leave a human petitor dangling by a leg from a tree。 We concentrate on this one skill for an hour until both of us have mastered it。 Then we move on to camouflage。 Peeta genuinely seems to enjoy this station； swirling a bination of mud and clay and berry juices around on his pale skin； weaving disguises from vines and leaves。 The trainer who runs the camouflage station is full of enthusiasm at his work。
¨I do the cakes；〃 he admits to me。
¨The cakes？〃 I ask。 Iˇve been preoccupied with watching the boy from District 2 send a spear through a dummyˇs heart from fifteen yards。 �
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