“So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here.”

He’s asking for an explanation, and I’m tempted to give him

one. We both know he covered for me. So here I am in his debt

again. If I tell him the truth about the girl, somehow that might

even things up. How can it hurt really? Even if he repeated the

story, it couldn’t do me much harm. It was just something I

witnessed. And he lied as much as I did about Delly Cartwright.

I realize I do want to talk to someone about the girl. Someone

who might be able to help me figure out her story.

Gale would be my first choice, but it’s unlikely I’ll ever see

Gale again. I try to think if telling Peeta could give him any

possible advantage over me, but I don’t see how. Maybe sharing

a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend.

Besides, the idea of the girl with her maimed tongue frightens

me. She has reminded me why I’m here. Not to model

flashy costumes and eat delicacies. But to die a bloody death

while the crowds urge on my killer.

To tell or not to tell? My brain still feels slow from the wine.

I stare down the empty corridor as if the decision lies there.

Peeta picks up on my hesitation. “Have you been on the

roof yet?” I shake my head. “Cinna showed me. You can practically

see the whole city. The wind’s a bit loud, though.”

I translate this into “No one will overhear us talking” in my

head. You do have the sense that we might be under surveillance

here. “Can we just go up?”

“Sure, come on,” says Peeta. I follow him to a flight of stairs

that lead to the roof. There’s a small dome-shaped room with

a door to the outside. As we step into the cool, windy evening

air, I catch my breath at the view. The Capitol twinkles like a

vast field of fireflies. Electricity in District 12 comes and goes,

usually we only have it a few hours a day. Often the evenings

are spent in candlelight. The only time you can count on it is

when they’re airing the Games or some important government

message on television that it’s mandatory to watch. But

here there would be no shortage. Ever.

Peeta and I walk to a railing at the edge of the roof. I look

straight down the side of the building to the street, which is

buzzing with people. You can hear their cars, an occasional

shout, and a strange metallic tinkling. In District 12, we’d all

be thinking about bed right now.

“I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren’t they worried

that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over

the side?” says Peeta.

“What’d he say?” I ask.

“You can’t,” says Peeta. He holds out his hand into seemingly

empty space. There’s a sharp zap and he jerks it back.

“Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof.”

“Always worried about our safety,” I say. Even though Cinna

has shown Peeta the roof, I wonder if we’re supposed to be

up here now, so late and alone. I’ve never seen tributes on the

Training Center roof before. But that doesn’t mean we’re not

being taped. “Do you think they’re watching us now?”

“Maybe,” he admits. “Come see the garden.”

On the other side of the dome, they’ve built a garden with

flower beds and potted trees. From the branches hang hundreds

of wind chimes, which account for the tinkling I heard.

Here in the garden, on this windy night, it’s enough to drown

out two people who are trying not to be heard. Peeta looks at

me expectantly.

I pretend to examine a blossom. “We were hunting in the

woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game,” I whisper.

“You and your father?” he whispers back.

“No, my friend Gale. Suddenly all the birds stopped singing

at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And

then we saw her. I’m sure it was the same girl. A boy was with

her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under

their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives

depended on it,” I say.

For a moment I’m silent, as I remember how the sight of

this strange pair, clearly not from District 12, fleeing through

the woods immobilized us. Later, we wondered if we could

have helped them escape. Perhaps we might have. Concealed

them. If we’d moved quickly. Gale and I were taken by surprise,

yes, but we’re both hunters. We know how animals look

at bay. We knew the pair was in trouble as soon as we saw

them. But we only watched.

“The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere,” I continue to

Peeta. “I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it

was there. It didn’t make a sound, but they saw it. A net

dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like

the elevator.