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¨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 ab