波波小说

第7部分（第1页）

ch　take　one　of　Haymitchˇs　arms　and　help　him　to　his　feet。

¨I　tripped？〃　Haymitch　asks。　¨Smells　bad。〃　He　wipes　his　hand　on　his　nose；　smearing　his　face　with　vomit。

¨Letˇs　get　you　back　to　your　room；〃　says　Peeta。　¨Clean　you　up　a　bit。〃

We　half…lead　half…carry　Haymitch　back　to　his　partment。　Since　we　canˇt　exactly　set　him　down　on　the　embroidered　bedspread；　we　haul　him　into　the　bathtub　and　turn　the　shower　on　him。　He　hardly　notices。

¨Itˇs　okay；〃　Peeta　says　to　me。　¨Iˇll　take　it　from　here。〃　I　canˇt　help　feeling　a　little　grateful　since　the　last　thing　I　want　to　do　is　strip　down　Haymitch；　wash　the　vomit　out　of　his　chest　hair；　and　tuck　him　into　bed。　Possibly　Peeta　is　trying　to　make　a　good　impression　on　him；　to　be　his　favorite　once　the　Games　begin。　But　judging　by　the　state　heˇs　in；　Haymitch　will　have　no　memory　of　this　tomorrow。

¨All　right；〃　I　say。　¨I　can　send　one　of　the　Capitol　people　to　help　you。〃　Thereˇs　any　number　on　the　train。　Cooking　lor　us。　Waiting　on　us。　Guarding　us。　Taking　care　of　us　is　their　job。

¨No。　I　donˇt　want　them；〃　says　Peeta。

I　nod　and　head　to　my　own　room。　I　understand　how　Peeta　feels。　I　canˇt　stand　the　sight　of　the　Capitol　people　myself。　But　making　them　deal　with　Haymitch　might　be　a　small　form　of　revenge。　So　Iˇm　pondering　the　reason　why　he　insists　on　taking　care　of　Haymitch　and　all　of　a　sudden　I　think；　Itˇs　because　heˇs　being　kind。　Just　as　he　was　kind　to　give　me　the　bread。

The　idea　pulls　me　up　short。　A　kind　Peeta　Mellark　is　far　more　dangerous　to　me　than　an　unkind　one。　Kind　people　have　a　way　of　working　their　way　inside　me　and　rooting　there。　And　I　canˇt　let　Peeta　do　this。　Not　where　weˇre　going。　So　I　decide；　from　this　moment　on；　to　have　as　little　as　possible　to　do　with　the　bakerˇs　son。

When　I　get　back　to　my　room；　the　train　is　pausing　at　a　platform　to　refuel。　I　quickly　open　the　window；　toss　the　cookies　Peetaˇs　father　gave　me　out　of　the　train；　and　slam　the　glass　shut。　No　more。　No　more　of　either　of　them。

Unfortunately；　the　packet　of　cookies　hits　the　ground　and　bursts　open　in　a　patch　of　dandelions　by　the　track。　I　only　see　the　image　for　a　moment；　because　the　train　is　off　again；　but　itˇs　enough。　Enough　to　remind　me　of　that　other　dandelion　in　the　school　yard　years　ago　。　。　。

I　had　just　turned　away　from　Peeta　Mellarkˇs　bruised　face　when　I　saw　the　dandelion　and　I　knew　hope　wasnˇt　lost。　I　plucked　it　carefully　and　hurried　home。　I　grabbed　a　bucket　and　Primˇs　hand　and　headed　to　the　Meadow　and　yes；　it　was　dotted　with　the　golden…headed　weeds。　After　weˇd　harvested　those；　we　scrounged　along　inside　the　fence　for　probably　a　mile　until　weˇd　filled　the　bucket　with　the　dandelion　greens；　stems；　and　flowers。　That　night；　we　gorged　ourselves　on　dandelion　salad　and　the　rest　of　the　bakery　bread。

¨What　else？〃　Prim　asked　me。　¨What　other　food　can　we　find？〃

¨All　kinds　of　things；〃　I　promised　her。　¨I　just　have　to　remember　them。〃

My　mother　had　a　book　sheˇd　brought　with　her　from　the　apothecary　shop。　The　pages　were　made　of　old　parchment　and　covered　in　ink　drawings　of　plants。　Neat　handwritten　blocks　told　their　names；　where　to　gather　them；　when　they　came　in　bloom；　their　medical　uses。　But　my　father　added　other　entries　to　the　book。　Plants　for　eating；　not　healing。　Dandelions；　pokeweed；　wild　onions；　pines。　Prim　and　I　spent　the　rest　of　the　night　poring　over　those　pages。

The　next　day；　we　were　off　school。　For　a　while　I　hung　around　the　edges　of　the　Meadow；　but　finally　I　worked　up　the　courage　to　go　under　the　fence。　It　was　the　first　time　Iˇd　been　there　alone；　without　my　fatherˇs　weapons　to　protect　me。　But　I　retrieved　the　small　bow　and　arrows　heˇd　made　me　from　a　hollow　tree。　I　probably　didnˇt　go　more　than　twenty　yards　into　the　woods　that　day。　Most　of　the　time；　I　perched　up　in　the　branches　of　an　old　oak；　hoping　for　game　to　e　by。　After　several　hours；　I　had　the　good　luck　to　kill　a　rabbit。

Iˇd　shot　a　few　rabbits　before；　with　my　fatherˇs　guidance。　But　this　Iˇd　done　on　my　own。

We　hadnˇt　had　meat　in　months。　The　sight　of　the　rabbit　seemed　to　stir　something　in　my　mother。　She　roused　herself；　skinned　the　carcass；　and　made　a　stew　with　the　meat　and　some　more　greens　Prim　had　gathered。　Then　she　acted　confused　and　went　back　to　bed；　but　when　the　stew　was　done；　we　made　her

eat　a　bowl。

The　woods　became　our　savior；　and　each　day　I　went　a　bit　farther　into　its　arms。　It　was　slow…going　at　first；　but　I　was　determined　to　feed　us。　I　stole　eggs　from　nests；　caught　fish　in　s；　sometimes　managed　to　shoot　a　squirrel　or　rabbit　for　stew；　and　gathered　the　various　plants　that　sprung　up　beneath　my　feet。　Plants　are　tricky。　Many　are　edible；　but　one　false　mouthful　and　youˇre　dead。　I　checked　and　double…checked　the　plants　I　harvested　with　my　fatherˇs　pictures。　I　kept　us　alive。

Any　sign　of　danger；　a　distant　howl；　the　inexplicable　break　of　a　branch；　sent　me　flying　back　to　the　fence　at　first。　Then　I　began　to　risk　climbing　trees　to　escape　the　wild　dogs　that　quickly　got　bored　and　moved　on。　Bears　and　cats　lived　deeper　in；　perhaps　disliking　the　sooty　reek　of　our　district。

On　May　8th；　I　went　to　the　Justice　Building；　signed　up　for　my　tesserae；　and　pulled　home　my　first　batch　of　grain　and　oil　in　Primˇs　toy　wagon。　On　the　eighth　of　every　month；　I　was　entitled　to　do　the　same。　I　couldnˇt　stop　hunting　and　gathering；　of　course。　The　grain　was　not　enough　to　live　on；　and　there　were　other　things　to　buy；　soap　and　milk　and　thread。　What　we　didnˇt　absolutely　have　to　eat；　I　began　to　trade　at　the　Hob。　It　was　frightening　to　enter　that　place　without　my　father　at　my　side；　but　people　had　respected　him；　and　they　accepted　me。　Game　was　game　after　all；　no　matter　whoˇd　shot　it。　I　also　sold　at　the　back　doors　of　the　wealthier　clients　in　town；　trying　to　remember　what　my　father　had　told　me　and　learning　a　few　new　tricks　as　well。　The　butcher　would　buy　my　rabbits　but　not　squirrels。　The　baker　enjoyed　squirrel　but　would　only　trade　for　one　if　his　wife　wasnˇt　around。　The　Head　Peacekeeper　loved　wild　turkey。　The　mayor　had　a　passion　for　strawberries。

In　late　summer；　I　was　washing　up　in　a　pond　when　I　noticed　the　plants　growing　around　me。　Tall　with　leaves　like　arrowheads。　Blossoms　with　three　white　petals。　I　knelt　down　in　the　water；　my　fingers　digging　into　the　soft　mud；　and　I　pulled　up　handfuls　of　the　roots。　Small；　bluish　tubers　that　donˇt　look　like　much　but　boiled　or　baked　are　as　good　as　any　potato。　¨Katniss；〃　I　said　aloud。　Itˇs　the　plant　I　was　named　for。　And　I　heard　my　fatherˇs　voice　joking；　¨As　long　as　you　can　find　yourself；　youˇll　never　starve。〃　I　spent　hours　stirring　up　the　pond　bed　with　my　toes　and　a　stick；　gathering　the　tubers　that　floated　to　the　top。　That　night；　we　feasted　on　fish　and　katniss　roots　until　we　were　all；　for　the　first　time　in　months；　full。

Slowly；　my　mother　returned　to　us。　She　began　to　clean　and　cook　and　preserve　some　of　the　food　I　brought　in　for　winter。　People　traded　us　or　paid　money　for　her　medical　remedies。　One　day；　I　heard　her　singing。

Prim　was　thrilled　to　have　her　back；　but　I　kept　watching；　waiting　for　her　to　disappear　on　us　again。　I　didnˇt　trust　her。　And　some　small　gnarled　place　inside　me　hated　her　for　her　weakness；　for　her　neglect；　for　the　months　she　had　put　us　through。　Prim　forgave　her；　but　I　had　taken　a　step　back　from　my　mother；　put　up　a　wall　to　protect　myself　from　needing　her；　and　nothing　was　ever　the　same　between　us　again。

Now　I　was　going　to　die　without　that　ever　being　set　right。　I　thought　of　how　I　had　yelled　at　her　today　in　the　Justice　Building。　I　had　told　her　I　loved　her；　too；　though。　So　maybe　it　would　all　balance　out。　For　a　while　I　stand　staring　out　the　train　window；　wishing　I　could　open　it　again；　but　unsure　of　what　would　happen　at　such　high　speed。　In　the　distance；　I　see　the　lights　of　another　district。　7？　10？　I　donˇt　know。　I　think　about　the　people　in　their　houses；　settling　in　for　bed。　I　imagine　my　home；　with　its　shutters　drawn　tight。　What　are　they　doing　now；　my　mother　and　Prim？　Were　they　able　to　eat　supper？　The　fish　stew　and　the　strawberries？　Or　did　it　lay　untouched　on　their　plates？　Did　they　watch　the　recap　of　the　dayˇs　events　on　the　battered　old　TV　that　sits　on　the　table　against　the　wall？　Surely；　there　were　more　tears。　Is　my　mother　holding　up；　being　strong　for　Prim？　Or　has　she　already　started　to　slip　away；　leaving　the　weight　of　the　world　on　my　sisterˇs　fragile　shoulders？

Prim　will　undoubtedly　sleep　with　my　mother　tonight。　The　thought　of　that　scruffy　old　Buttercup　posting　himself　on　the　bed　to　watch　over　Prim　forts　me。　If　she　cries；　he　will　nose　his　way　into　her　arms　and　curl　up　there　until　she　calms　down　and　falls　asleep。　Iˇm　so　glad　I　didnˇt　drown　him。

Imagining　my　home　makes　me　ache　with　loneliness。　This　day　has　been　endless。　Could　Gale　and　I　have　been　eating　blackberries　only　this　morning？　It　seems　like　a　lifetime　ago。　Like　a　long　dream　that　deteriorated　into　a　nightmare。　Maybe；　if　I　go　to　sleep；　I　will　wake　up　back　in　District　12；　where　I　belong。

Probably　the　drawers　hold　any　number　of　nightgowns；　but　I　just　strip　off　my　shirt　and　pants　and　climb　into　bed　in　my　underwear。　The　sheets　are　made　of　soft；　silky　fabric。　A　thick　fluffy　forter　gives　immediate　warmth。

If　Iˇm　going　to　cry；　now　is　the　time　to　do　it。　By　morning；　Iˇll　be　able　to　wash　the　damage　done　by　the　tears　from　my　face。　But　no　tears　e。　Iˇm　too　tired　or　too　numb　to　cry。　The　only　thing　I　feel　is　a　desire　to　be　somewhere　else。　So　I　let　the　train　rock　me　into　oblivion。

Gray　light　is　leaking　through　the　curtains　when　the　rapping　rouses　me。　I　hear　Effie　Trinketˇs　voice；　calling　me　to　rise。　¨Up；　up；　up！　Itˇs　going　to　be　a　big；　big；　big　day！〃　I　try　and　imagine；　for　a　moment；　what　it　must　be　like　inside　that　womanˇs　head。　What　thoughts　fill　her　waking　hours？　What　dreams　e　to　her　at　night？　I　have　no　idea。

I　put　the　green　outfit　back　on　since　itˇs　not　really　dirty；　just　slightly　crumpled　from　spending　the　night　on　the　floor。　My　fingers　trace　the　circle　around　the　little　gold　mockingjay　and　I　think　of　the　woods；　and　of　my　father；　and　of　my　mother　and　Prim　waking　up；　having　to　get　on　with　things。

I　slept　in　the　elaborate　braided　hair　my　mother　did　for　the　reaping　and　it　doesnˇt　look　too　bad；　so　I　just　leave　it　up。　It　doesnˇt　matter。　We　canˇt　be　far　from　the　Capitol　now。　And　once　we　reach　the　city；　my　stylist　will　dictate　my　look　for　the　opening　ceremonies　tonight　anyway。　I　just　hope　I　get　one　who　doesnˇt　think　nudity　is　the　last　word　in　fashion。

As　I　enter　the　dining　car；　Effie　Trinket　brushes　by　me　with　a　cup　of　black　coffee。　Sheˇs　muttering　obscenities　under　her　breath。　Haymitch；　his　face　puffy　and　red　from　the　previous　dayˇs　indulgences；　is　chuckling。　Peeta　holds　a　roll　and　looks　somewhat　embarrassed。

¨Sit　down！　Sit　down！〃　says　Haymitch；　waving　me　over。　The　moment　I　slide　into　my　chair　Iˇm　served　an　enormous　platter　of　food。　Eggs；　ham；　piles　of　fried　potatoes。　A　tureen　of　fruit　sits　in　ice　to　keep　it　chilled。　The　basket　of　rolls　they　set　before　me　would　keep　my　family　going　for　a　week。　Thereˇs　an　elegant　glass　of　orange　juice。　At　least；　I　think　itˇs　orange　juice。　Iˇve　only　even　tasted　an　orange　once；　at　New　Yearˇs　when　my　father　bought　one　as　a　special　treat。　A　cup　of　coffee。　My　mother　adores　coffee；　which　we　could　almost　never　afford；　but　it　only　tastes　bitter　and　thin　to　me。　A　rich　brown　cup　of　something　Iˇve　never　seen。

¨They　call　it　hot　chocolate；〃　says　Peeta。　¨I

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