If I don’t get air soon, I’m going to start to throw

things again. I run down the hall to the door to the roof. It’s

not only unlocked but ajar. Perhaps someone forgot to close it,

but it doesn’t matter. The energy field enclosing the roof prevents

any desperate form of escape. And I’m not looking to escape,

only to fill my lungs with air. I want to see the sky and

the moon on the last night that no one will be hunting me.

The roof is not lit at night, but as soon as my bare feel reach

its tiled surface I see his silhouette, black against the lights

that shine endlessly in the Capitol. There’s quite a commotion

going on down in the streets, music and singing and car horns,

none of which I could hear through the thick glass window

panels in my room. I could slip away now, without him noticing

me; he wouldn’t hear me over the din, But the night air’s

so sweet, I can’t bear returning to that stuffy cage of a room.

And what difference does it make? Whether we speak or not?

My feet move soundlessly across the tiles. I’m only yard behind

him when I say, “You should be getting some sleep.” He starts 

but doesn’t turn. I can see him give his head a slight shake. 

“I didn’t want to miss the party. It’s for us, after all.”

I come up beside him and lean over the edge of the rail. The

wide streets are full of dancing people. I squint to make out

their tiny figures in more detail. “Are they in costumes?”

“Who could tell?” Peeta answers. “With all the crazy clothes

they wear here. Couldn’t sleep, either?”

“Couldn’t turn my mind off,” I say.

“Thinking about your family?” he asks.

“No,” I admit a bit guiltily. “All I can do is wonder about 

tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course.” In the light from 

below, I can see his face now, the awkward way he holds 

his bandaged hands. “I really am sorry about your hands.”

“It doesn’t matter, Katniss,” he says. “I’ve never been a 

contender in these Games anyway.”

“That’s no way to be thinking,” I say.

“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 framework, 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 take a step back. “Care about what Haymitch said. About

staying alive.”

Peeta smiles at me, sad and mocking. “Okay. Thanks for the

tip, sweetheart.”

It’s like a slap in the face. His use of Haymitch’s patronizing

endearment. “Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your

life planning some noble death in the arena, that’s your choice.

I want to spend mine in District Twelve.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if you do,” says Peeta. “Give my

mother my best when you make it back, will you?”

“Count on it,” I say. Then I turn and leave the roof. I spend

the rest of the night slipping in and out of a doze, imagining

the cutting remarks I will make to Peeta Mellark in the 

morning. Peeta Mellark. We will see how high and mighty he 

is when he's faced with life and death. He'll probably turn into

one of those raging beast tributes, the kind who tries to eat

someone's heart after they've killed them. There was a guy

like that a few years ago from District 6 called Titus. He went

completely savage and the Gamemakers had to have him 

stunned with electric guns to collect the bodies of the players

he'd killed before he ate them. There are no rules in the arena, 

but cannibalism doesn't play well with the Capitol audience,

so they tried to head it off. There was some speculation that

the avalanche that finally took Titus out was specifically 

engineered to ensure the victor was not a lunatic.

I don't see Peeta in the morning. Cinna comes to me before

dawn, gives me a simple shift to wear, and guides me to the

roof. My final dressing and preparations will be alone in the

catacombs under the arena itself. A hovercraft appears out of

thin air, just like the one did in the woods the day I saw the

redheaded Avox girl captured, and a ladder drops down. I

place my hands and feet on the lower rungs and instantly it's

as if I'm frozen. Some sort of current glues me to the ladder

while I'm lifted safely inside.(我手脚刚搭上梯子，就觉得

全身像凝住了一样动弹不得，一种电流把我粘在梯子上)

I expect the ladder to release me then, but I'm still stuck

when a woman in a white coat approaches me carrying a 

syringe. "This is just your tracker, Katniss. The stiller you 

are, the more efficiently I can place it," she says.

Still? I'm a statue. But that doesn't prevent me from feeling

the sharp stab of pain as the needle inserts the metal tracking

device deep under the skin on the inside of my forearm. 

ruminate vt. 反刍；沉思；反复思考

patronizing v. 屈尊俯就（patronize的现在分词）

cannibalism n. 食人；嗜食同类；残忍的行为

avalanche vi. 崩塌