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hed a first。 Keeping not only one but two tributes alive。 What if he hadnˇt warned me in time？ Would I have acted differently？ Flaunted the moment with the berries in the Capitolˇs face？ No； I donˇt think so。 But I could easily have been a lot less convincing than I need to be now。 Right now。 Because I can feel the plate lifting me up to the stage。
Blinding lights。 The deafening roar rattles the metal under my feet。 Then thereˇs Peeta just a few yards away。 He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful； I can hardly recognize him。 But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it； I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms。 He staggers back； almost losing his balance； and thatˇs when I realize the slim； metal contraption in his hand is some kind of cane。 He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane。 Heˇs kissing me and all the time Iˇm thinking； Do you know？ Do you know how much danger weˇre in？ After about ten minutes of this； Caesar Flickerman taps on his shoulder to continue the show； and Peeta just pushes him aside without even glancing at him。 The audience goes berserk。 Whether he knows or not； Peeta is； as usual； playing the crowd exactly right。
Finally； Haymitch interrupts us and gives us a good…natured shove toward the victorˇs chair。 Usually； this is a single； ornate chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the highlights of the Games； but since there are two of us； the Gamemakers have provided a plush red velvet couch。 A small one； my mother would call it a love seat； I think。 I sit so close to Peeta that Iˇm practically on his lap； but one look from Haymitch tells me it isnˇt enough。 Kicking off my sandals； I tuck my feet to the side and lean my head against Peetaˇs shoulder。 His arm goes around me automatically； and I feel like Iˇm back in the cave； curled up against him； trying to keep warm。 His shirt is made of the same yellow material as my dress； but Portiaˇs put him in long black pants。 No sandals； either； but a pair of sturdy black boots he keeps solidly planted on the stage。 I wish Cinna had given me a similar outfit； I feel so vulnerable in this flimsy dress。 But I guess that was the point。
Caesar Flickerman makes a few more jokes； and then itˇs time for the show。 This will last exactly three hours and is required viewing for all of Panem。 As the lights dim and the seal appears on the screen； I realize Iˇm unprepared for this。 I do not want to watch my twenty…two fellow tributes die。 I saw enough of them die the first time。 My heart starts pounding and I have a strong impulse to run。 How have the other victors faced this alone？ During the highlights； they periodically show the winnerˇs reaction up on a box in the corner of the screen。 I think back to earlier years 。 。 。 some are triumphant； pumping their fists in the air； beating their chests。 Most just seem stunned。 All I know is that the only thing keeping me on this love seat is Peeta his arm around my shoulder； his other hand claimed by both of mine。 Of course； the previous victors didnˇt have the Capitol looking for a way to destroy them。
Condensing several weeks into three hours is quite a feat； especially when you consider how many cameras were going at once。 Whoever puts together the highlights has to choose what sort of story to tell。 This year； for the first time； they tell a love story。 I know Peeta and I won； but a disproportionate amount of time is spent on us； right from the beginning。 Iˇm glad though； because it supports the whole crazy…in…love thing thatˇs my defense for defying the Capitol； plus it means we wonˇt have as much time to linger over the deaths。
The first half hour or so focuses on the pre…arena events； the reaping； the chariot ride through the Capitol； our training scores； and our interviews。 Thereˇs this sort of upbeat soundtrack playing under it that makes it twice as awful because； of course； almost everyone on…screen is dead。
Once weˇre in the arena； thereˇs detailed coverage of the bloodbath and then the filmmakers basically alternate between shots of tributes dying and shots of us。 Mostly Peeta really； thereˇs no question heˇs carrying this romance thing on his shoulders。 Now I see what the audience saw； how he misled the Careers about me； stayed awake the entire night under the tracker jacker tree； fought Cato to let me escape and even while he lay in that mud bank； whispered my name in his sleep。 I seem heartless in parison dodging fireballs； dropping nests； and blowing up supplies until I go hunting for Rue。 They play her death in full； the spearing； my failed rescue attempt； my arrow through the boy from District 1ˇs throat； Rue drawing her last breath in my arms。 And the song。 I get to sing every note of the song。 Something inside me shuts down and Iˇm too numb to feel anything。 Itˇs like watching plete strangers in another Hunger Games。 But I do notice they omit the part where I covered her in flowers。
Right。 Because even that smacks of rebellion。
Things pick up for me once theyˇve announced two tributes from the same district can live and I shout out Peetaˇs name and then clap my hands over my mouth。 If Iˇve seemed indifferent to him earlier； I make up for it now； by finding him； nursing him back to health； going to the feast for the medicine； and being very free with my kisses。 Objectively； I can see the mutts and Catoˇs death are as gruesome as ever； but again； I feel it happens to people I have never met。
And then es the moment with the berries。 I can hear the audience hushing one another； not wanting to miss anything。 A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory； but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft； screaming Peetaˇs name as they try to revive him。
In terms of survival； itˇs my best moment all night。
The anthemˇs playing yet again and we rise as President Snow himself takes the stage followed by a little girl carrying a cushion that holds the crown。 Thereˇs just one crown； though； and you can hear the crowdˇs confusion whose head will he place it on？ until President Snow gives it a twist and it separates into two halves。 He places the first around Peetaˇs brow with a smile。 Heˇs still smiling when he settles the second on my head； but his eyes； just inches from mine； are as unforgiving as a snakeˇs。
Thatˇs when I know that even though both of us would have eaten the berries； I am to blame for having the idea。 Iˇm the instigator。 Iˇm the one to be punished。
Much bowing and cheering follows。 My arm is about to fall off from waving when Caesar Flickerman finally bids the audience good night； reminding them to tune in tomorrow for the final interviews。 As if they have a choice。
Peeta and I are whisked to the presidentˇs mansion for the Victory Banquet； where we have very little time to eat as Capitol officials and particularly generous sponsors elbow one another out of the way as they try to get their picture with us。 Face after beaming face flashes by； being increasingly intoxicated as the evening wears on。 Occasionally； I catch a glimpse of Haymitch； which is reassuring； or President Snow； which is terrifying； but I keep laughing and thanking people and smiling as my picture is taken。 The one thing I never do is let go of Peetaˇs hand。
The sun is just peeking over the horizon when we straggle back to the twelfth floor of the Training Center。 I think now Iˇll finally get a word alone with Peeta； but Haymitch sends him off with Portia to get something fitted for the interview and personally escorts me to my door。
¨Why canˇt I talk to him？〃 I ask。
¨Plenty of time for talk when we get home；〃 says Haymitch。 ¨Go to bed； youˇre on air at two。〃
Despite Haymitchˇs running interference； Iˇm determined to see Peeta privately。 After I toss and turn for a few hours； I slip into the hall。 My first thought is to check the roof； but itˇs empty。 Even the city streets far below are deserted after the celebration last night。 I go back to bed for a while and then decide to go directly to his room； but when I try to turn the knob； I find my own bedroom door has been locked from the