《the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)》饥饿游戏(英文版)-第71章

as　I　drift　off。
But　tomorrow　is　no　better　in　terms　of　weather。　The　deluge　continues　as　if　the　Gamemakers　are　intent　on　washing　us　all　away。　The　thunderˇs　so　powerful　it　seems　to　shake　the　ground。　Peetaˇs　considering　heading　out　anyway　to　scavenge　for　food；　but　I　tell　him　in　this　storm　it　would　be　pointless。　He　wonˇt　be　able　to　see　three　feet　in　front　of　his　face　and　heˇll　only　end　up　getting　soaked　to　the　skin　for　his　troubles。　He　knows　Iˇm　right；　but　the　gnawing　in　our　stomachs　is　being　painful。
The　day　drags　on　turning　into　evening　and　thereˇs　no　break　in　the　weather。　Haymitch　is　our　only　hope；　but　nothing　is　forthing；　either　from　lack　of　money　　everything　will　cost　an　exorbitant　amount　　or　because　heˇs　dissatisfied　with　our　performance。　Probably　the　latter。　Iˇd　be　the　first　to　admit　weˇre　not　exactly　riveting　today。　Starving；　weak　from　injuries；　trying　not　to　reopen　wounds。　Weˇre　sitting　huddled　together　wrapped　in　the　sleeping　bag；　yes；　but　mostly　to　keep　warm。　The　most　exciting　thing　either　of　us　does　is　nap。
Iˇm　not　really　sure　how　to　ramp　up　the　romance。　The　kiss　last　night　was　nice；　but　working　up　to　another　will　take　some　forethought。　There　are　girls　in　the　Seam；　some　of　the　merchant　girls；　too；　who　navigate　these　waters　so　easily。　But　Iˇve　never　had　much　time　or　use　for　it。　Anyway；　just　a　kiss　isnˇt　enough　anymore　clearly　because　if　it　was　weˇd　have　gotten　food　last　night。　My　instincts　tell　me　Haymitch　isnˇt　just　looking　for　physical　affection；　he　wants　something　more　personal。　The　sort　of　stuff　he　was　trying　to　get　me　to　tell　about　myself　when　we　were　practicing　for　the　interview。　Iˇm　rotten　at　it；　but　Peetaˇs　not。　Maybe　the　best　approach　is　to　get　him　talking。
¨Peeta；〃　I　say　lightly。　¨You　said　at　the　interview　youˇd　had　a　crush　on　me　forever。　When　did　forever　start？〃
¨Oh；　letˇs　see。　I　guess　the　first　day　of　school。　We　were　five。　You　had　on　a　red　plaid　dress　and　your　hair　。　。　。　it　was　in　two　braids　instead　of　one。　My　father　pointed　you　out　when　we　were　waiting　to　line　up；〃　Peeta　says。
¨Your　father？　Why？〃　I　ask。
¨He　said；　ˉSee　that　little　girl？　I　wanted　to　marry　her　mother；　but　she　ran　off　with　a　coal　miner；ˇ〃　Peeta　says。
¨What？　Youˇre　making　that　up！〃　I　exclaim。
¨No；　true　story；〃　Peeta　says。　¨And　I　said；　ˉA　coal　miner？　Why　did　she　want　a　coal　miner　if　she　couldˇve　had　you？ˇ　And　he　said；　ˉBecause　when　he　sings　。　。　。　even　the　birds　stop　to　listen。ˇ〃
¨Thatˇs　true。　They　do。　I　mean；　they　did；〃　I　say。　Iˇm　stunned　and　surprisingly　moved；　thinking　of　the　baker　telling　this　to　Peeta。　It　strikes　me　that　my　own　reluctance　to　sing；　my　own　dismissal　of　music　might　not　really　be　that　I　think　itˇs　a　waste　of　time。　It　might　be　because　it　reminds　me　too　much　of　my　father。
¨So　that　day；　in　music　assembly；　the　teacher　asked　who　knew　the　valley　song。　Your　hand　shot　right　up　in　the　air。　She　stood　you　up　on　a　stool　and　had　you　sing　it　for　us。　And　I　swear；　every　bird　outside　the　windows　fell　silent；〃　Peeta　says。
¨Oh；　please；〃　I　say；　laughing。
¨No；　it　happened。　And　right　when　your　song　ended；　I　knew　　just　like　your　mother　　I　was　a　goner；〃　Peeta　says。　¨Then　for　the　next　eleven　years；　I　tried　to　work　up　the　nerve　to　talk　to　you。〃
¨Without　success；〃　I　add。
¨Without　success。　So；　in　a　way；　my　name　being　drawn　in　the　reaping　was　a　real　piece　of　luck；〃　says　Peeta。
For　a　moment；　Iˇm　almost　foolishly　happy　and　then　confusion　sweeps　over　me。　Because　weˇre　supposed　to　be　making　up　this　stuff；　playing　at　being　in　love　not　actually　being　in　love。　But　Peetaˇs　story　has　a　ring　of　truth　to　it。　That　part　about　my　father　and　the　birds。　And　I　did　sing　the　first　day　of　school；　although　I　donˇt　remember　the　song。　And　that　red　plaid　dress　。　。　。　there　was　one；　a　hand…me…down　to　Prim　that　got　washed　to　rags　after　my　fatherˇs　death。
It　would　explain　another　thing；　too。　Why　Peeta　took　a　beating　to　give　me　the　bread　on　that　awful　hollow　day。　So；　if　those　details　are　true　。　。　。　could　it　all　be　true？
¨You　have　a　。　。　。　remarkable　memory；〃　I　say　haltingly。
¨I　remember　everything　about　you；〃　says　Peeta；　tucking　a　loose　strand　of　hair　behind　my　ear。　¨Youˇre　the　one　who　wasnˇt　paying　attention。〃
¨I　am　now；〃　I　say。
¨Well；　I　donˇt　have　much　petition　here；〃　he　says。
I　want　to　draw　away；　to　close　those　shutters　again；　but　I　know　I　canˇt。　Itˇs　as　if　I　can　hear　Haymitch　whispering　in　my　ear；　¨Say　it！　Say　it！〃
I　swallow　hard　and　get　the　words　out。　¨You　donˇt　have　much　petition　anywhere。〃　And　this　time；　itˇs　me　who　leans　in。
Our　lips　have　just　barely　touched　when　the　clunk　outside　makes　us　jump。　My　bow　es　up；　the　arrow　ready　to　fly；　but　thereˇs　no　other　sound。　Peeta　peers　through　the　rocks　and　then　gives　a　whoop。　Before　I　can　stop　him；　lieˇs　out　in　the　rain；　then　handing　something　in　to　me。　A　silver　parachute　attached　to　a　basket。　I　rip　it　open　at　once　and　inside　thereˇs　a　feast　　fresh　rolls；　goat　cheese；　apples；　and　best　of　all；　a　tureen　of　that　incredible　lamb　stew　on　wild　rice。　The　very　dish　I　told　Caesar　Flickerman　was　the　most　impressive　thing　the　Capitol　had　to　offer。
Peeta　wriggles　back　inside；　his　face　lit　up　like　the　sun。　¨I　guess　Haymitch　finally　got　tired　of　watching　us　starve。〃
¨I　guess　so；〃　I　answer。
But　in　my　head　I　can　hear　Haymitchˇs　smug；　if　slightly　exasperated；　words；　¨Yes；　thatˇs　what　Iˇm　looking　lot；　sweetheart。〃
23
Every　cell　in　my　body　wants　me　to　dig　into　the　stew　and　cram　it；　handful　by　handful　into　my　mouth。　But　Peetaˇs　voice　stops　me。　¨We　better　take　it　slow　on　that　stew。　Remember　the　first　night　on　the　train？　The　rich　food　made　me　sick　and　I　wasnˇt　even　starving　then。〃
¨Youˇre　right。　And　I　could　just　inhale　the　whole　thing！〃　I　say　regretfully。　But　I　donˇt。　We　are　quite　sensible。　We　each　have　a　roll；　half　an　apple；　and　an　egg…size　serving　of　stew　and　rice。　I　make　myself　eat　the　stew　in　tiny　spoonfuls　　they　even　sent　us　silverware　and　plates　　savoring　each　bite。　When　we　finish；　I　stare　longingly　at　the　dish。　¨I　want　more。〃
¨Me；　too。　Tell　you　what。　We　wait　an　hour；　if　it　stays　down；　then　we　get　another　serving；〃　Peeta　says。
¨Agreed；〃　I　say。　¨Itˇs　going　to　be　a　long　hour。〃
¨Maybe　not　that　long；?