¨He knew your mother when they were kids；〃 says Peeta。
Another surprise。 But probably true。 ¨Oh； yes。 She grew up in town；〃 I say。 It seems impolite to say she never mentioned the baker except to pliment his bread。
Weˇre at my door。 I give back his jacket。 ¨See you in the morning then。〃
¨See you；〃 he says； and walks off down the hall。
When I open my door； the redheaded girl is collecting my unitard and boots from where I left them on the floor before my shower。 I want to apologize for possibly getting her in trouble earlier。 But I remember Iˇm not supposed to speak to her unless Iˇm giving her an order。
¨Oh； sorry；〃 I say。 ¨I was supposed to get those back to Cinna。 Iˇm sorry。 Can you take them to him？〃
She avoids my eyes； gives a small nod； and heads out the door。
Iˇd set out to tell her I was sorry about dinner。 But I know that my apology runs much deeper。 That Iˇm ashamed I never tried to help her in the woods。 That I let the Capitol kill the boy and mutilate her without lifting a finger。
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dreams。 The face of the redheaded girl intertwines with gory images from earlier Hunger Games； with my mother withdrawn and unreachable； with Prim emaciated and terrified。 I bolt up screaming for my father to run as the mine explodes into a million deadly bits of light。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 a