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¨And　after　that？〃　I　ask。
¨Stay　alive；〃　says　Haymitch。　Itˇs　the　same　advice　he　gave　us　on　the　train；　but　heˇs　not　drunk　and　laughing　this　time。　And　we　only　nod。　What　else　is　there　to　say？
When　I　head　to　my　room；　Peeta　lingers　to　talk　to　Portia。　Iˇm　glad。　Whatever　strange　words　of　parting　we　exchange　can　wait　until　tomorrow。　My　covers　are　drawn　back；　but　there　is　no　sign　of　the　redheaded　Avox　girl。　I　wish　I　knew　her　name。　I　should　have　asked　it。　She　could　write　it　down　maybe。　Or　act　it　out。　But　perhaps　that　would　only　result　in　punishment　for　her。
I　take　a　shower　and　scrub　the　gold　paint；　the　makeup；　the　scent　of　beauty　from　my　body。　All　that　remains　of　the　designteamˇs　efforts　are　the　flames　on　my　nails。　I　decide　to　keep　them　as　reminder　of　who　I　am　to　the　audience。　Katniss；　the　girl　who　was　on　fire。　Perhaps　it　will　give　me　something　to　hold　on　to　in　the　days　to　e。
I　pull　on　a　thick；　fleecy　nightgown　and　climb　into　bed。　It　takes　me　about　five　seconds　to　realize　Iˇll　never　fall　asleep。　And　I　need　sleep　desperately　because　in　the　arena　every　moment　I　give　in　to　fatigue　will　be　an　invitation　to　death。
Itˇs　no　good。　One　hour；　two；　three　pass；　and　my　eyelids　refuse　to　get　heavy。　I　canˇt　stop　trying　to　imagine　exactly　what　terrain　Iˇll　be　thrown　into。　Desert？　Swamp？　A　frigid　wasteland？　Above　all　I　am　hoping　for　trees；　which　may　afford　me　some　means　of　concealment　and　food　and　shelter；　Often　there　are　trees　because　barren　landscapes　are　dull　and　the　Games　resolve　too　quickly　without　them。　But　what　will　the　climate　be　like？　What　traps　have　the　Gamemakers　hid　den　to　liven　up　the　slower　moments？　And　then　there　are　my　fellow　tributes　。　。　。
The　more　anxious　I　am　to　find　sleep；　the　more　it　eludes　me。　Finally；　I　am　too　restless　to　even　stay　in　bed。　I　pace　the　floor；　heart　beating　too　fast；　breathing　too　short。　My　room　feels　like　a　prison　cell。　If　I　donˇt　get　air　soon；　Iˇm　going　to　start　to　throw　things　again。　I　run　down　the　hall　to　the　door　to　the　roof。　Itˇs　not　only　unlocked　but　ajar。　Perhaps　someone　forgot　to　close　it；　but　it　doesnˇt　matter。　The　energy　field　enclosing　the　roof　prevents　any　desperate　form　of　escape。　And　Iˇm　not　looking　to　escape；　only　to　fill　my　lungs　with　air。　I　want　to　see　the　sky　and　the　moon　on　the　last　night　that　no　one　will　be　hunting　me。
The　roof　is　not　lit　at　night；　but　as　soon　as　my　bare　feel　reach　its　tiled　surface　I　see　his　silhouette；　black　against　the　lights　that　shine　endlessly　in　the　Capitol。　Thereˇs　quite　a　motion　going　on　down　in　the　streets；　music　and　singing　and　car　horns；　none　of　which　I　could　hear　through　the　thick　glass　window　panels　in　my　room。　I　could　slip　away　now；　without　him　noticing　me；　he　wouldnˇt　hear　me　over　the　din；　But　the　night　airˇs　so　sweet；　I　canˇt　bear　returning　to　that　stuffy　cage　of　a　room。　And　what　difference　does　it　make？　Whether　we　speak　or　not？
My　feet　move　soundlessly　across　the　tiles。　Iˇm　only　yard　behind　him　when　I　say；　¨You　should　be　getting　some　sleep。〃
He　starts　but　doesnˇt　turn。　I　can　see　him　give　his　head　a　slight　shake。　¨I　didnˇt　want　to　miss　the　party。　Itˇs　for　us；　after　all。〃
I　e　up　beside　him　and　lean　over　the　edge　of　the　rail。　The　wide　streets　are　full　of　dancing　people。　I　squint　to　make　out　their　tiny　figures　in　more　detail。　¨Are　they　in　costumes？〃
¨Who　could　tell？〃　Peeta　answers。　¨With　all　the　crazy　clothes　they　wear　here。　Couldnˇt　sleep；　either？〃
¨Couldnˇt　turn　my　mind　off；〃　I　say。
¨Thinking　about　your　family？〃　he　asks。
¨No；〃　I　admit　a　bit　guiltily。　¨All　I　can　do　is　wonder　about　tomorrow。　Which　is　pointless；　of　course。〃　In　the　light　from　below；　I　can　see　his　face　now；　the　awkward　way　he　holds　his　bandaged　hands。　¨I　really　am　sorry　about　your　hands。〃
¨It　doesnˇt　matter；　Katniss；〃　he　says。　¨Iˇve　never　been　a　contender　in　these　Games　anyway。〃
¨Thatˇs　no　way　to　be　thinking；〃　I　say。
¨Why　not？　Itˇs　true。　My　best　hope　is　to　not　disgrace　myself　and　。　。　。〃　He　hesitates。
¨And　what？〃　I　say。
¨I　donˇt　know　how　to　say　it　exactly。　Only　。　。　。　I　want　to　die　as　myself。　Does　that　make　any　sense？〃　he　asks。　I　shake　my　head。　How　could　he　die　as　anyone　but　himself？　¨I　donˇt　want　them　to　change　me　in　there。　Turn　me　into　some　kind　of　monster　that　Iˇm　not。〃
I　bite　my　lip　feeling　inferior。　While　Iˇve　been　ruminating　on　the　availability　of　trees；　Peeta　has　been　struggling　with　how　to　maintain　his　identity。　His　purity　of　self。　¨Do　you　mean　you　wonˇt　kill　anyone？〃　I　ask。
¨No；　when　the　time　es；　Iˇm　sure　Iˇll　kill　just　like　everybody　else。　I　canˇt　go　down　without　a　fight。　Only　I　keep　wishing　I　could　think　of　a　way　to　。　。　。　to　show　the　Capitol　they　donˇt　own　me。　That　Iˇm　more　than　just　a　piece　in　their　Games；〃　says　Peeta。
¨But　youˇre　not；〃　I　say。　¨None　of　us　are。　Thatˇs　how　the　Games　work。〃
¨Okay；　but　within　that　framework；　thereˇs　still　you；　thereˇs　still　me；〃　he　insists。　¨Donˇt　you　see？〃
¨A　little。　Only　。　。　。　no　offense；　but　who　cares；　Peeta？〃　I　say。
¨I　do。　I　mean；　what　else　am　I　allowed　to　care　about　at　this　point？〃　he　asks　angrily。　Heˇs　locked　those　blue　eyes　on　mine　now；　demanding　an　answer。
I　take　a　step　back。　¨Care　about　what　Haymitch　said。　About　staying　alive。〃
Peeta　smiles　at　me；　sad　and　mocking。　¨Okay。　Thanks　for　the　tip；　sweetheart。〃
Itˇs　like　a　slap　in　the　face。　His　use　of　Haymitchˇs　patronizing　endearment。　¨Look；　if　you　want　to　spend　the　last　hours　of　your　life　planning　some　noble　death　in　the　arena；　thatˇs　your　choice。　I　want　to　spend　mine　in　District　Twelve。〃
¨Wouldnˇt　surprise　me　if　you　do；〃　says　Peeta。　¨Give　my　mother　my　best　when　you　make　it　back；　will　you？〃
¨Count　on　it；〃　I　say。　Then　I　turn　and　leave　the　roof。　I　spend　the　rest　of　the　night　slipping　in　and　out　of　a　doze；　imagining　the　cutting　remarks　I　will　make　to　Peeta　Mellark　in　the　morning。　Peeta　Mellark。　We　will　see　how　high　and　mighty　he　is　when　he's　faced　with　life　and　death。　He'll　probably　turn　into　one　of　those　raging　beast　tributes；　the　kind　who　tries　to　eat　someone's　heart　after　they've　killed　them。　There　was　a　guy　like　that　a　few　years　ago　from　District　6　called　Titus。　He　went　pletely　savage　and　the　Gamemakers　had　to　have　him　stunned　with　electric　guns　to　collect　the　bodies　of　the　players　he'd　killed　before　he　ate　them。　There　are　no　rules　in　the　arena；　but　cannibalism　doesn't　play　well　with　the　Capitol　audience；　so　they　tried　to　head　it　off。　There　was　some　speculation　that　the　avalanche　that　finally　took　Titus　out　was　specifically　engineered　to　ensure　the　victor　was　not　a　lunatic。
I　don't　see　Peeta　in　the　morning。　Cinna　es　to　me　before　dawn；　gives　me　a　simple　shift　to　wear；　and　guides　me　to　the　roof。　My　final　dressing　and　preparations　will　be　alone　in　the　catabs　under　the　arena　itself。　A　hovercraft　appears　out　of　thin　air；　just　like　the　one　did　in　the　woods　the　day　I　saw　the　redheaded　Avox　girl　captured；　and　a　ladder　drops　down。　I　place　my　hands　and　feet　on　the　lower　rungs　and　instantly　it's　as　if　I'm　frozen。　Some　sort　of　current　glues　me　to　the　ladder　while　I'm　lifted　safely　inside。
I　expect　the　ladder　to　release　me　then；　but　I'm　still　stuck　when　a　woman　in　a　white　coat　approaches　me　carrying　a　syringe。　〃This　is　just　your　tracker；　Katniss。　The　stiller　you　are；　the　more　efficiently　I　can　place　it；〃　she　says。
Still？　I'm　a　statue。　But　that　doesn't　prevent　me　from　feeling　the　sharp　stab　of　pain　as　the　needle　inserts　the　metal　tracking　device　deep　under　the　skin　on　the　inside　of　my　forearm。　Now　the　Gamemakers　will　always　be　able　to　trace　my　whereabouts　in　the　arena。　Wouldnˇt　want　to　lose　a　tribute。
As　soon　as　the　trackerˇs　in　place；　the　ladder　releases　me。　The　woman　disappears　and　Cinna　is　retrieved　from　the　roof；　An　Avox　boy　es　in　and　directs　us　to　a　room　where　breakfast　has　been　laid　out。　Despite　the　tension　in　my　stomach；　I　eat　as　much　as　I　can；　although　none　of　the　delectable　food　makes　any　impression　on　me。　Iˇm　so　nervous；　I　could　be　eating　coal　dust。　The　one　thing　that　distracts　me　at　all　is　the　view　from　the　windows　as　we　sail　over　the　city　and　then　to　the　wilderness　beyond。　This　is　what　birds　see。　Only　theyˇre　free　and　safe。　The　very　opposite　of　me。
The　ride　lasts　about　half　an　hour　before　the　windows　black　out；　suggesting　that　weˇre　nearing　the　arena。　The　hovercraft　lands　and　Cinna　and　I　go　back　to　the　ladder；　only　this　time　it　leads　down　into　a　tube　underground；　into　the　catabs　that　lie　beneath　the　arena。　We　follow　instructions　to　my　destination；　a　chamber　for　my　preparation。　In　the　Capitol；　they　call　it　the　Launch　Room。　In　the　districts；　itˇs　referred　to　as　the　Stockyard。　The　place　animals　go　before　slaughter。
Everything　is　brand…new；　I　will　be　the　first　and　only　tribute　to　use　this　Launch　Room。　The　arenas　are　historic　sites；　preserved　after　the　Games。　Popular　destinations　for　Capitol　residents　to　visit；　to　vacation。　Go　for　a　month；　rewatch　the　Games；　tour　the　catabs；　visit　the　sites　where　the　deaths　took　place。　You　can　even　take　part　in　reenactments。　They　say　the　food　is　excellent。
I　struggle　to　keep　my　breakfast　down　as　I　shower　and　clean　my　teeth。　Cinna　does　my　hair　in　my　simple　trademark　braid　down　my　back。　Then　the　clothes　arrive；　the　same　for　every　tribute。　Cinna　has　had　no　say　in　my　outfit；　does　not　even　know　what　will　be　in　the　package；　but　he　helps　me　dress　in　the　undergarments；　simple　tawny　pants；　light　green　blouse；　sturdy　brown　belt；　and　thin；　hooded　black　jacket　that　falls　to　my　thighs。　¨The　material　in　the　jacketˇs　designed　to　reflect　body　heat。　Expect　some　cool　nights；〃　he　says。
The　boots；　worn　over　skintight　socks；　are　better　than　I　could　have　hoped　for。　Soft　leather　not　unlike　my　ones　at　home。　These　have　a　narrow　flexible　rubber　sole　with　treads　though。　Good　for　running。
I　think　Iˇm　finished　when　Cinna　pulls　the　gold　mockingjay　pin　from　his　pocket。　I　had　pletely　forgotten　about　it。
¨Where　did　you　get　that？〃　I　ask。
¨Off　the　green　outfit　you　wore　on　the　train；〃　he　says。　I　remember　now　taking　it　off　my　motherˇs　dress；　pinning　it　to　the　shirt。　¨Itˇs　your　district　token；　right？〃　I　nod　and　he　fastens　it　on　my　shirt。　¨It　barely　cleared　the　review　board。　Some　thought　the　pin　could　be　used　as　a　weapon；　giving　you　an　unfair　advantage。　But　eventually；　they　let　it　through；〃　says　Cinna。　¨They　eliminated　a　ring　from　that　District　One　girl；　though。　If　you　twisted　the　gemstone；　a　spike　popped　out。　Poisoned　one。　She　claimed　she　had　no　knowledge　the　ring　transformed　and　there　was　no　way　to　prove　she　did。　But　she　lost　her　token。　There；　youˇre　all　set。　Move　around。　Make　sure　everything　feels　fortable。〃
I　walk；　run　in　a　circle；　swing　my　arms　about。　¨Yes；　itˇs　fine。　Fits　perfectly。〃
¨Then　thereˇs　nothing　to　do　but　wait　for　the　call；〃　says　Cinna。　¨Unless　you　think　you　could　eat　any　more？〃
I　turn　down　food　but　accept　a　glass　of　water　that　I　take　tiny　sips　of　as　we　wait　on　a　couch。　I　donˇt　want　to　chew　on　my　nails　or　lips；　so　I　find　myself　gnawing　on　the　inside　of　my　cheek。　It　still　hasnˇt　fully　healed　from　a　few　days　ago。　Soon　the　taste　of　blood　fills　my　mouth。
Nervousness　seeps　into　terror　as　I　anticipate　what　is　to　e。　I　could　be　dead；　flat…out　dead；　in　an　hour。　Not　even。　My　fingers　obsessively　trace　the　hard　little　lump　on　my　forearm　where　the　woman　injected　the　tracking　device。　I　press　on　it；　even　though　it　hurts；　I　press　on　it　so　hard　a　small　bruise　begins　to　form。
¨Do　you　want　to　talk；　Katniss？〃　Cinna　asks。
I　shake　my　head　but　after　a　moment　hold　out　my　hand　to　him。　Cinna　encloses　it　in　both　of　his。　And　this　is　how　we　sit　until　a　pleasant　female　voice　announces　itˇs　time　to　prepare　for　launch。
Still　clenching　one　of　Cinnaˇs　hands；　I　walk　over　and　stand　on　the　circular　metal　plate。　¨Remember　what　Haymitch　said。　Run；　find　water。　The　rest　will　follow；〃　he　says。　I　nod。　¨And　remember　this。　Iˇm　not　allowed　to　bet；　but　if　I　could；　my　money　would　be　on　you。〃
¨Truly？〃　I　whisper。
¨Truly；〃　says　Cinna。　He　leans　down　and　kisses　me　on　the　forehead。　¨Good　luck；　girl　on　fire。〃　And　then　a　glass　cylinder　is　lowering　around　me；　breaking　our　handhold；　cutting　him　off　from　me。　He　taps　his　fingers　under　his　chin。　Head　high。　
I　lift　my　chin　and　stand　as　straight　as　I　can。　The　cylinder　begins　to　rise。　For　maybe　fifteen　seconds；　Iˇm　in　darkness　and　then　I　can　feel　the　metal　plate　pushing　me　out　of　the　cylinder；　into　the　open　air。　For　a　moment；　my　eye