i say, and i can’t help reaching out and pulling
up the bottom of peeta’s pants. “oh, no,” i whisper, taking in
the metal-and-plastic device that has replaced his flesh.
“no one told you?” asks caesar gently. i shake my head.
“i haven’t had the chance,” says peeta with a slight shrug.
“it’s my fault,” i say. “because i used that tourniquet.”
“yes, it’s your fault i’m alive,” says peeta.
“he’s right,” says caesar. “he’d have bled to death for sure
without it.”
i guess this is true, but i can’t help feeling upset about it to
the extent that i’m afraid i might cry and then i remember
everyone in the country is watching me so i just bury my face
in peeta’s shirt. it takes them a couple of minutes to coax me
back out because it’s better in the shirt, where no one can see
me, and when i do come out, caesar backs off questioning me
so i can recover. in fact, he pretty much leaves me alone until
the berries come up.
“katniss, i know you’ve had a shock, but i’ve got to ask. the
moment when you pulled out those berries. what was going
on in your mind . . . hm?” he says.
i take a long pause before i answer, trying to collect my
thoughts. this is the crucial moment where i either challenged
the capitol or went so crazy at the idea of losing peeta that i
can’t be held responsible for my actions. it seems to call for a
big, dramatic speech, but all i get out is one almost inaudible
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sentence. “i don’t know, i just . . . couldn’t bear the thought of .
. . being without him.”
“peeta? anything to add?” asks caesar.
“no. i think that goes for both of us,” he says.
caesar signs off and it’s over. everyone’s laughing and cry-
ing and hugging, but i’m still not sure until i reach haymitch.
“okay?” i whisper.
“perfect,” he answers.
i go back to my room to collect a few things and find there’s
nothing to take but the mockingjay pin madge gave me. some-
one returned it to my room after the games. they drive us
through the streets in a car with blackened windows, and the
train’s waiting for us. we barely have time to say good-bye to
cinna and portia, although we’ll see them in a few months,
when we tour the districts for a round of victory ceremonies.
it’s the capitol’s way of reminding people that the hunger
games never really go away. we’ll be given a lot of useless
plaques, and everyone will have to pretend they love us.
the train begins moving and we’re plunged into night until
we clear the tunnel and i take my first free breath since the
reaping. effie is accompanying us back and haymitch, too, of
course. we eat an enormous dinner and settle into silence in
front of the television to watch a replay of the interview. with
the capitol growing farther away every second, i begin to
think of home. of prim and my mother. of gale. i excuse my-
self to change out of my dress and into a plain shirt and pants.
as i slowly, thoroughly wash the makeup from my face and
put my hair in its braid, i begin transforming back into myself.
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katniss everdeen. a girl who lives in the seam. hunts in the
woods. trades in the hob. i stare in the mirror as i try to re-
member who i am and who i am not. by the time i join the
others, the pressure of peeta’s arm around my shoulders feels
alien.
when the train makes a brief stop for fuel, we’re allowed to
go outside for some fresh air. there’s no longer any need to
guard us. peeta and i walk down along the track, hand in hand,
and i can’t find anything to say now that we’re alone. he stops
to gather a bunch of wildflowers for me. when he presents
them, i work hard to look pleased. because he can’t know that
the pink-and-white flowers are the tops of wild onions and
only remind me of the hours i’ve spent gathering them with
gale.
gale. the idea of seeing gale in a matter of hours makes my
stomach churn. but why?
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