PART II

"THE GAMES"

 

 

For a moment, the cameras hold on Peeta’s downcast eyes

as what he says sinks in. Then I can see my face, mouth half

open in a mix of surprise and protest, magnified on every

screen as I realize, Me! He means me! I press my lips together

and stare at the floor, hoping this will conceal the emotions

starting to boil up inside of me.

“Oh, that is a piece of bad luck,” says Caesar, and there’s a

real edge of pain in his voice. The crowd is murmuring in

agreement, a few have even given agonized cries.

“It’s not good,” agrees Peeta.

“Well, I don’t think any of us can blame you. It’d be hard not

to fall for that young lady,” says Caesar. “She didn’t know?”

Peeta shakes his head. “Not until now.”

I allow my eyes to flicker up to the screen long enough to

see that the blush on my cheeks is unmistakable.

“Wouldn’t you love to pull her back out here and get a response?”

Caesar asks the audience. The crowd screams assent.

“Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen’s time has been

spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I

speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours.”

The roar of the crowd is deafening. Peeta has absolutely

wiped the rest of us off the map with his declaration of love

for me. (皮塔靠吐露爱的心声的方式，已经把其他所有人从

他前进道路上清除。)When the audience finally settles down, 

he chokes out a quiet “Thank you” and returns to his seat. We 

stand for the anthem. I have to raise my head out of the required 

respect and cannot avoid seeing that every screen is now 

dominated by a shot of Peeta and me, separated by a few feet 

that in the viewers’ heads can never be breached. Poor tragic us.

(我们相隔几英尺站立着，可这个距离在每个观众的眼里是永

远无法逾越的距离。可怜的、悲情的我们啊！)

But I know better.

After the anthem, the tributes file back into the Training

Center lobby and onto the elevators. I make sure to veer into a

car that does not contain Peeta. The crowd slows our entourages

of stylists and mentors and chaperones, so we have only

each other for company. No one speaks. My elevator stops to

deposit four tributes before I am alone and then find the doors

opening on the twelfth floor. Peeta has only just stepped from

his car when I slam my palms into his chest. He loses his balance

and crashes into an ugly urn filled with fake flowers. The

urn tips and shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces. Peeta lands

in the shards, and blood immediately flows from his hands.

“What was that for?” he says, aghast.

“You had no right! No right to go saying those things about

me!” I shout at him.

Now the elevators open and the whole crew is there, Effie,

Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia.

“What’s going on?” says Effie, a note of hysteria in her

voice. “Did you fall?”

“After she shoved me,” says Peeta as Effie and Cinna help

him up.

Haymitch turns on me. “Shoved him?”

“This was your idea, wasn’t it? Turning me into some kind

of fool in front of the entire country?” I answer.

“It was my idea,” says Peeta, wincing as he pulls spikes of

pottery from his palms. “Haymitch just helped me with it.”

“Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!” I say.

“You are a fool,” Haymitch says in disgust. “Do you think he

hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never

achieve on your own.”

“He made me look weak!” I say.

“He made you look desirable! And let’s face it, you can use

all the help you can get in that department. You were about as

romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do.

You’re all they’re talking about. The star-crossed lovers from

District Twelve!” says Haymitch.

“But we’re not star-crossed lovers!” I say.

Haymitch grabs my shoulders and pins me against the wall.

“Who cares? It’s all a big show. It’s all how you’re perceived.

The most I could say about you after your interview was that

you were nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle.

Now I can say you’re a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the

boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think

will get you more sponsors?”

The smell of wine on his breath makes me sick. I shove his

hands off my shoulders and step away, trying to clear my head.

Cinna comes over and puts his arm around me. “He’s right, Katniss.”

I don’t know what to think. “I should have been told, so I

didn’t look so stupid.”

“No, your reaction was perfect. If you’d known, it wouldn’t

have read as real,” says Portia.

“She’s just worried about her boyfriend,” says Peeta gruffly,

tossing away a bloody piece of the urn.

My cheeks burn again at the thought of Gale. “I don’t have a

boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” says Peeta. “But I bet he’s smart enough to

know a bluff when he sees it. Besides you didn’t say you loved

me. So what does it matter?”

The words are sinking in. My anger fading. I’m torn now between

thinking I’ve been used and thinking I’ve been given an edge. 

Haymitch is right. I survived my interview, but what was

I really? A silly girl spinning in a sparkling, dress. Giggling. The

only moment of any substance I hail was when I talked about

Prim. Compare that with Thresh, his silent, deadly power, and

I’m forgettable. Silly and sparkly and forgettable. No, not 

entirely forgettable, I have my eleven in training.

entourage n. 随从；周围；环境

urn n. 瓮；缸；茶水壶；坟墓；骨灰瓮

shard n. （甲虫的）[昆] 鞘翅；陶瓷碎片

aghast adj. 吓呆的，惊骇的；吃惊的

star-crossed adj. 不幸的；运气不好的；倒霉的