快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

ta　put　him　up　to　that？　His　tears　at　the　station。　Volunteering　to　wash　Haymitch　but　then　challenging　him　this　morning　when　apparently　the　nice…guy　approach　had　failed。　And　now　the　waving　at　the　window；　already　trying　to　win　the　crowd。
All　of　the　pieces　are　still　fitting　together；　but　I　sense　he　has　a　plan　forming。　He　hasnˇt　accepted　his　death。　He　is　already　fighting　hard　to　stay　alive。　Which　also　means　that　kind　Peeta　Mellark；　the　boy　who　gave　me　the　bread；　is　fighting　hard　to　kill　me。

5
R…i…i…i…p！　I　grit　my　teeth　as　Venia；　a　woman　with　aqua　hair　and　gold　tattoos　above　her　eyebrows；　yanks　a　strip　of　Fabric　from　my　leg　tearing　out　the　hair　beneath　it。　¨Sorry！〃　she　pipes　in　her　silly　Capitol　accent。　¨Youˇre　just　so　hairy！〃
Why　do　these　people　speak　in　such　a　high　pitch？　Why　do　their　jaws　barely　open　when　they　talk？　Why　do　the　ends　of　their　sentences　go　up　as　if　theyˇre　asking　a　question？　Odd　vowels；　clipped　words；　and　always　a　hiss　on　the　letter　s　。　。　。　no　wonder　itˇs　impossible　not　to　mimic　them。
Venia　makes　whatˇs　supposed　to　be　a　sympathetic　face。　¨Good　news；　though。　This　is　the　last　one。　Ready？〃　I　get　a　grip　on　the　edges　of　the　table　Iˇm　seated　on　and　nod。　The　final　swathe　of　my　leg　hair　is　uprooted　in　a　painful　jerk。
Iˇve　been　in　the　Remake　Center　for　more　than　three　hours　and　I　still　havenˇt　met　my　stylist。　Apparently　he　has　no　interest　in　seeing　me　until　Venia　and　the　other　members　of　my　prep　team　have　addressed　some　obvious　problems。　This　has　included　scrubbing　down　my　body　with　a　gritty　loam　that　has　removed　not　only　dirt　but　at　least　three　layers　of　skin；　turning　my　nails　into　uniform　shapes；　and　primarily；　ridding　my　body　of　hair。　My　legs；　arms；　torso；　underarms；　and　parts　of　my　eyebrows　have　been　stripped　of　the　Muff；　leaving　me　like　a　plucked　bird；　ready　for　roasting。　I　donˇt　like　it。　My　skin　feels　sore　and　tingling　and　intensely　vulnerable。　But　I　have　kept　my　side　of　the　bargain　with　Haymitch；　and　no　objection　has　crossed　my　lips。
¨Youˇre　doing　very　well；〃　says　some　guy　named　Flavius。　He　gives　his　orange　corkscrew　locks　a　shake　and　applies　a　fresh　coat　of　purple　lipstick　to　his　mouth。　¨If　thereˇs　one　thing　we　canˇt　stand；　itˇs　a　whiner。　Grease　her　down！〃
Venia　and　Octavia；　a　plump　woman　whose　entire　body　has　been　dyed　a　pale　shade　of　pea　green；　rub　me　down　with　a　lotion　that　first　stings　but　then　soothes　my　raw　skin。　Then　they　pull　me　from　the　table；　removing　the　thin　robe　Iˇve　been　allowed　to　wear　off　and　on。　I　stand　there；　pletely　naked；　as　the　three　circle　me；　wielding　tweezers　to　remove　any　last　bits　of　hair。　I　know　I　should　be　embarrassed；　but　theyˇre　so　unlike　people　that　Iˇm　no　more　self…conscious　than　if　a　trio　of　oddly　colored　birds　were　pecking　around　my　feet。
The　three　step　back　and　admire　their　work。　¨Excellent！　You　almost　look　like　a　human　being　now！〃　says　Flavius；　and　they　all　laugh。
I　force　my　lips　up　into　a　smile　to　show　how　grateful　I　am。　¨Thank　you；〃　I　say　sweetly。　¨We　donˇt　have　much　cause　to　look　nice　in　District　Twelve。〃
This　wins　them　over　pletely。　¨Of　course；　you　donˇt；　you　poor　darling！〃　says　Octavia　clasping　her　hands　together　in　distress　for　me。
¨But　donˇt　worry；〃　says　Venia。　¨By　the　time　Cinna　is　through　with　you；　youˇre　going　to　be　absolutely　gorgeous！〃
¨We　promise！　You　know；　now　that　weˇve　gotten　rid　of　all　the　hair　and　filth；　youˇre　not　horrible　at　all！〃　says　Flavius　encouragingly。　¨Letˇs　call　Cinna！〃
They　dart　out　of　the　room。　Itˇs　hard　to　hate　my　prep　team。　Theyˇre　such　total　idiots。　And　yet；　in　an　odd　way；　I　know　theyˇre　sincerely　trying　to　help　me。
I　look　at　the　cold　white　walls　and　floor　and　resist　the　impulse　to　retrieve　my　robe。　But　this　Cinna；　my　stylist；　will　surely　make　me　remove　it　at　once。　Instead　my　hands　go　to　my　hairdo；　the　one　area　of　my　body　my　prep　team　had　been　told　to　leave　alone。　My　fingers　stroke　the　silky　braids　my　mother　so　carefully　arranged。　My　mother。　I　left　her　blue　dress　and　shoes　on　the　floor　of　my　train　car；　never　thinking　about　retrieving　them；　of　trying　to　hold　on　to　a　piece　of　her；　of　home。　Now　I　wish　I　had。
The　door　opens　and　a　young　man　who　must　be　Cinna　enters。　Iˇm　taken　aback　by　how　normal　he　looks。　Most　of　the　stylists　they　interview　on　television　are　so　dyed；　stenciled；　and　surgically　altered　theyˇre　grotesque。　But　Cinnaˇs　closecropped　hair　appears　to　be　its　natural　shade　of　brown。　Heˇs　in　a　simple　black　shirt　and　pants。　The　only　concession　to　selfalteration　seems　to　be　metallic　gold　eyeliner　that　has　been　applied　with　a　light　hand。　It　brings　out　the　flecks　of　gold　in　his　green　eyes。　And；　despite　my　disgust　with　the　Capitol　and　their　hideous　fashions；　I　canˇt　help　thinking　how　attractive　it　looks。
¨Hello；　Katniss。　Iˇm　Cinna；　your　stylist；〃　he　says　in　a　quiet　voice　somewhat　lacking　in　the　Capitolˇs　affectations。
¨Hello；〃　I　venture　cautiously。
¨Just　give　me　a　moment；　all　right？〃　he　asks。　He　walks　around　my　naked　body；　not　touching　me；　but　taking　in　every　inch　of　it　with　his　eyes。　I　resist　the　impulse　to　cross　my　arms　over　my　chest。　¨Who　did　your　hair？〃
¨My　mother；〃　I　say。
¨Itˇs　beautiful。　Classic　really。　And　in　almost　perfect　balance　with　your　profile。　She　has　very　clever　fingers；〃　he　says。
I　had　expected　someone　flamboyant；　someone　older　trying　desperately　to　look　young；　someone　who　viewed　me　as　a　piece　of　meat　to　be　prepared　for　a　platter。　Cinna　has　met　none　of　these　expectations。
¨Youˇre　new；　arenˇt　you？　I　donˇt　think　Iˇve　seen　you　before；〃　I　say。　Most　of　the　stylists　are　familiar；　constants　in　the　everchanging　pool　of　tributes。　Some　have　been　around　my　whole　life。
¨Yes；　this　is　my　first　year　in　the　Games；〃　says　Cinna。
¨So　they　gave　you　District　Twelve；〃　I　say。　Newers　generally　end　up　with　us；　the　least　desirable　district。
¨I　asked　for　District　Twelve；〃　he　says　without　further　explanation。　¨Why　donˇt　you　put　on　your　robe　and　weˇll　have　a　chat。〃
Pulling　on　my　robe；　I　follow　him　through　a　door　into　a　sitting　room。　Two　red　couches　face　off　over　a　low　table。　Three　walls　are　blank；　the　fourth　is　entirely　glass；　providing　a　window　to　the　city。　I　can　see　by　the　light　that　it　must　be　around　noon；　although　the　sunny　sky　has　turned　overcast。　Cinna　invites　me　to　sit　on　one　of　the　couches　and　takes　his　place　across　from　me。　He　presses　a　button　on　the　side　of　the　table。　The　top　splits　and　from　below　rises　a　second　tabletop　that　holds　our　lunch。　Chicken　and　chunks　of　oranges　cooked　in　a　creamy　sauce　laid　on　a　bed　of　pearly　white　grain；　tiny　green　peas　and　onions；　rolls　shaped　like　flowers；　and　for　dessert；　a　pudding　the　color　of　honey。
I　try　to　imagine　assembling　this　meal　myself　back　home。　Chickens　are　too　expensive；　but　I　could　make　do　with　a　wild　turkey。　Iˇd　need　to　shoot　a　second　turkey　to　trade　for　an　orange。　Goatˇs　milk　would　have　to　substitute　for　cream。　We　can　grow　peas　in　the　garden。　Iˇd　have　to　get　wild　onions　from　the　woods。　I　donˇt　recognize　the　grain；　our　own　tessera　ration　cooks　down　to　an　unattractive　brown　mush。　Fancy　rolls　would　mean　another　trade　with　the　baker；　perhaps　for　two　or　three　squirrels。　As　for　the　pudding；　I　canˇt　even　guess　whatˇs　in　it。　Days　of　hunting　and　gathering　for　this　one　meal　and　even　then　it　would　be　a　poor　substitution　for　the　Capitol　version。
What　must　it　be　like；　I　wonder；　to　live　in　a　world　where　food　appears　at　the　press　of　a　button？　How　would　I　spend　the　hours　I　now　mit　to　bing　the　woods　for　sustenance　if　it　were　so　easy　to　e　by？　What　do　they　do　all　day；　these　people　in　the　Capitol；　besides　decorating　their　bodies　and　waiting　around　for　a　new　shipment　of　tributes　to　roll　in　and　die　for　their　entertainment？
I　look　up　and　find　Cinnaˇs　eyes　trained　on　mine。　¨How　despicable　we　must　seem　to　you；〃　he　says。
Has　he　seen　this　in　my　face　or　somehow　read　my　thoughts？　Heˇs　right；　though。　The　whole　rotten　lot　of　them　is　despicable。
¨No　matter；〃　says　Cinna。　¨So；　Katniss；　about　your　costume　for　the　opening　ceremonies。　My　partner；　Portia；　is　the　stylist　for　your　fellow　tribute；　Peeta。　And　our　current　thought　is　to　dress　you　in　plementary　costumes；〃　says　Cinna。　¨As　you　know；　itˇs　customary　to　reflect　the　flavor　of　the　district。〃
For　the　opening　ceremonies；　youˇre　supposed　to　wear　something　that　suggests　your　districtˇs　principal　industry。　District　11；　agriculture。　District　4；　fishing。　District　3；　factories。　This　means　that　ing　from　District　12；　Peeta　and　I　will　be　in　some　kind　of　coal　minerˇs　getup。　Since　the　baggy　minerˇs　jumpsuits　are　not　particularly　being；　our　tributes　usually　end　up　in　skimpy　outfits　and　hats　with　headlamps。　One　year；　our　tributes　were　stark　naked　and　covered　in　black　powder　to　represent　coal　dust。　Itˇs　always　dreadful　and　does　nothing　to　win　favor　with　the　crowd。　I　prepare　myself　for　the　worst。　
¨So；　Iˇll　be　in　a　coal　miner　outfit？〃　I　ask；　hoping　it　wonˇt　be　indecent。
¨Not　exactly。　You　see；　Portia　and　I　think　that　coal　miner　thingˇs　very　overdone。　No　one　will　remember　you　in　that。　And　we　both　see　it　as　our　job　to　make　the　District　Twelve　tributes　unforgettable；〃　says　Cinna。
Iˇll　be　naked　for　sure；　I　think。
¨So　rather　than　focus　on　the　coal　mining　itself；　weˇre　going　to　focus　on　the　coal；〃　says　Cinna。　Naked　and　covered　in　black　dust；　I　think。　¨And　what　do　we　do　with　coal？　We　burn　it；〃　says　Cinna。
¨Youˇre　not　afraid　of　fire；　are　you；　Katniss？〃　He　sees　my　expression　and　grins。
A　few　hours　later；　I　am　dressed　in　what　will　either　be　the　most　sensational　or　the　deadliest　costume　in　the　opening　ceremonies。　Iˇm　in　a　simple　black　unitard　that　covers　me　from　ankle　to　neck。　Shiny　leather　boots　lace　up　to　my　knees。　But　itˇs　the　fluttering　cape　made　of　streams　of　orange；　yellow；　and　red　and　the　matching　headpiece　that　define　this　costume。　Cinna　plans　to　light　them　on　fire　just　before　our　chariot　rolls　into　the　streets。
¨Itˇs　not　real　flame；　of　course；　just　a　little　synthetic　fire　Portia　and　I　came　up　with。　Youˇll　be　perfectly　safe；〃　he　says。　But　Iˇm　not　convinced　I　wonˇt　be　perfectly　barbecued　by　the　time　we　reach　the　cityˇs　center。
My　face　is　relatively　clear　of　makeup；　just　a　bit　of　highlighting　here　and　there。　My　hair　has　been　brushed　out　and　then　braided　down　my　back　in　my　usual　style。　¨I　want　the　audience　to　recognize　you　when　youˇre　in　the　arena；〃　says　Cinna　dreamily。　¨Katniss；　the　girl　who　was　on　fire。〃
It　crosses　my　mind　that　Cinnaˇs　calm　and　normal　demeanor　masks　a　plete　madman。
Despite　this　morningˇs　revelation　about　Peetaˇs　character；　Iˇm　actually　relieved　when　he　shows　up；　dressed　in　an　identical　costume。　He　should　know　about　fire；　being　a　bakerˇs　son　and　all。　His　stylist；　Portia；　and　her　team　acpany　him　in；　and　everyone　is　absolutely　giddy　with　excitement　over　what　a　splash　weˇll　make。　Except　Cinna。　He　just　seems　a　bit　weary　as　he　accepts　congratulations。
Weˇre　whisked　down　to　the　bottom　level　of　the　Remake　Center；　which　is　essentially　a　gigantic　stable。　The　opening　ceremonies　are　about　to　start。　Pairs　of　tributes　are　being　loaded　into　chariots　pulled　by　teams　of　four　horses。　Ours　are　coal　black。　The　animals　are　so　well　trained；　no　one　even　needs　to　guide　their　reins。　Cinna　and　Portia　direct　us　into　the　chariot　and　carefully　arrange　our　body　positions；　the　drape　of　our　capes；　before　moving　off　to　consult　with　each　other。
¨What　do　you　think？〃　I　whisper　to　Peeta。　¨About　the　fire？〃
¨Iˇll　rip　off　your　cape　if　youˇll　rip　off　mine；〃　he　says　through　gritted　teeth。
¨Deal；〃　I　say。　Maybe；　if　we　can　get　them　off　soon　enough；　weˇll　avoid　the　worst　burns。　Itˇs　bad　though。　Theyˇll　throw　us　into　the　arena　no　matter　what　condition　weˇre　in。　¨I　know　we　promised　Haymitch　weˇd　do　exactly　what　they　said；　but　I　donˇt　think　he　considered　this　angle。〃
¨Where　is　Haymitch；　anyway？　Isnˇt　he　supposed　to　protect　us　from　this　sort　of　thing？〃　says　Peeta。
¨With　all　that　alcohol　in　him；　itˇs　probably　not　advisable　to　have　him　around　an　open　flame；〃　I　say。
And　suddenly　weˇre　both　laughing。　I　guess　weˇre　both　so　nervous　about　the　Games　and　more　pressingly；　petrified　of　being　turned　into　human　torches；　weˇre　not　acting　sensibly。
The　opening　music　begins。　Itˇs　easy　to　hear；　blasted　around　the　Capitol。　Massive　doors　slide　open　revealing　the　crowdlined　streets。　The　ride　lasts　about　twenty　minutes　and　ends　up　at　the　City　Circle；　where　they　will　we