“And you’re good?” asks Haymitch.

I have to think about it. I’ve been putting food on the table

for four years. That’s no small task. I’m not as good as my father

was, but he’d had more practice. I’ve better aim than Gale, but 

I’ve had more practice. He’s a genius with traps and snares. 

“I’m all right,” I say.

“She’s excellent,” says Peeta. “My father buys her squirrels.

He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the

body. She hits every one in the eye. It’s the same with the rabbits

she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer.”

This assessment of my skills from Peeta takes me totally by

surprise. First, that he ever noticed. Second, that he’s talking

me up. “What are you doing?” I ask him suspiciously.

“What are you doing? If he’s going to help you, he has to know 

what you’re capable of. Don’t underrate yourself,” says Peeta.

I don’t know why, but this rubs me the wrong way. “What about 

you? I’ve seen you in the market. You can lift hundred pound

bags of flour,” I snap at him. “Tell him that. That’s not nothing.”

“Yes, and I’m sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for

me to chuck at people. It’s not like being able to use a weapon.

You know it isn’t,” he shoots back.

“He can wrestle,” I tell Haymitch. “He came in second in our

school competition last year, only after his brother.”

“What use is that? How many times have you seen someone

wrestle someone to death?” says Peeta in disgust.

“There’s always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to

come up with a knife, and you’ll at least stand a chance. If I get

jumped, I’m dead!” I can hear my voice rising in anger.

“But you won’t! You’ll be living up in some tree eating raw

squirrels and picking off people with arrows. You know what

my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to

cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have

a winner. Then I realized, she didn’t mean me, she meant

you!” bursts out Peeta.

“Oh, she meant you,” I say with a wave of dismissal.

“She said, ‘She’s a survivor, that one.’ She is,” says Peeta.

That pulls me up short.(我一时无话可说) Did his mother 

really say that about me? Did she rate me over her son? I see 

the pain in Peeta’s eyes and know he isn’t lying.

Suddenly I’m behind the bakery and I can feel the chill of

the rain running down my back, the hollowness in my belly. 

I sound eleven years old when I speak. 

“But only because someone helped me.”

Peeta’s eyes flicker down to the roll in my hands, and I

know he remembers that day, too. But he just shrugs. “People

will help you in the arena. They’ll be tripping over each other

to sponsor you.”

“No more than you,” I say.

Peeta rolls his eyes at Haymitch. “She has no idea. The effect

she can have.” He runs his fingernail along the wood grain

in the table, refusing to look at me.

What on earth does he mean? People help me? When we

were dying of starvation, no one helped me! No one except

Peeta. Once I had something to barter with, things changed.

I’m a tough trader. Or am I? What effect do I have? That I’m

weak and needy? Is he suggesting that I got good deals because

people pitied me? I try to think if this is true. Perhaps some of 

the merchants were a little generous in their trades, but I always 

attributed that to their long-standing relationship with my father. 

Besides, my game is first-class. No one pitied me!

I glower at the roll sure he meant to insult me.

After about a minute of this, Haymitch says, “Well, then.

Well, well, well. Katniss, there’s no guarantee they’ll be bows

and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with

the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay

clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?”

“I know a few basic snares,” I mutter.

“That may be significant in terms of food,” says Haymitch.

“And Peeta, she’s right, never underestimate strength in the

arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a

player. In the Training Center, they will have weights, but

don’t reveal how much you can lift in front of the other 

tributes. The plan’s the same for both of you. You go to group

training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don’t

know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent

knot. Save showing what you’re best at until your private 

sessions. Are we clear?” says Haymitch. Peeta and I nod.

“One last thing. In public, I want you by each other’s side

every minute,” says Haymitch. We both start to object, but

Haymitch slams his hand on the table. “Every minute! It’s not

open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be 

together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out.

Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training.”

I bite my lip and stalk back to my room, making sure Peeta

can hear the door slam.