Oh, the fun we two have together.
Suzanne CollinsIt’s time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does, “Ladies first!” and crosses to the glass ball with the girls’ names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I’m feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it’s not me, that it’s not me, that it’s not me.
Suzanne CollinsKatniss," Gale says softly.
I recognize that voice. It's the same one he uses to approach wounded animals before he delivers a deathblow. I Instinctively raise my hand to block his words but he catches it and holds on tightly.
Don't," I whisper.
But Gale is not one to keep secrets from me.
Katniss, There is no District Twelve.
But just the fact that he was sparkling leads me to doubt everything that happened.
Suzanne CollinsI realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.
Suzanne CollinsFine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up.
Suzanne CollinsOh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese.
Suzanne CollinsTags: sarcasm
Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and..." He hesitates.
And what?" I say.
I don't 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 don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."
I bite my lip feeling inferior. While I've 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 won't kill anyone?" I ask.
No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to... to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games," says Peeta.
But you're not," I say. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."
Okay, but within that frame work, there's still you, there's still me," he insists. "Don't 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. He's locked those blue eyes on mine now, demanding an answer.
I know my own reasons for keeping Peeta alive. He's my friend, and this is my way to defy the Capitol, to subvert its terrible Games. But if I had no real ties to him, what would make me want to save him, to choose him over myself? Certainly he is brave, but we have all been brave enough to survive a Games. There is that quality of goodness that's hard to overlook, but stil... and then I think of it, what Peeta can do so much better than the rest of us. He can use words. He obliterated the rest of the field at both interviews. And maybe it's because of that underlying goodness that he can move a crowd--no, a country--to his side with the turn of a simple sentence.
I remember thinking that was the gift the leader of our revolution should have. Has Haymitch convinced the others of this? That Peeta's tongue would have far greater power against the Capitol than any physical strength the rest of us could claim? I don't know. It still seems like a really long leap for some of the tributes. I mean, we're talking about Johanna Mason here. But what other explanation can there be for their decided efforts to keep him alive?
You know, you could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him.
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