【饥饿游戏】24

Haymitch shows up just as dinner is being served. It looks
as if he’s had his own stylist because he’s clean and groomed 1
and about as sober as I’ve ever seen him. He doesn’t refuse the
offer of wine, but when he starts in on his soup, I realize it’s
the first time I’ve ever seen him eat. Maybe he really will pull
himself together long enough to help us.
Cinna and Portia seem to have a civilizing 2 effect on Haymitch
and Effie. At least they’re addressing each other decently.
And they both have nothing but praise for our stylists’
opening act. While they make small talk, I concentrate on the
meal. Mushroom soup, bitter greens with tomatoes the size of
peas, rare roast beef sliced as thin as paper, noodles in a green
sauce, cheese that melts on your tongue served with sweet
blue grapes. The servers, all young people dressed in white
tunics 3 like the one who gave us wine, move wordlessly to and
from the table, keeping the platters and glasses full.
About halfway 4 through my glass of wine, my head starts
feeling foggy, so I change to water instead. I don’t like the feeling
and hope it wears off soon. How Haymitch can stand walking
around like this full-time 5 is a mystery.
I try to focus on the talk, which has turned to our interview
costumes, when a girl sets a gorgeous-looking cake on the table
and deftly 6 lights it. It blazes up and then the flames flicker 7
around the edges awhile until it finally goes out. I have a moment
of doubt. “What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?” I say, looking
up at the girl. “That’s the last thing I wa — oh! I know
you!”
I can’t place a name or time to the girl’s face. But I’m certain
of it. The dark red hair, the striking features, the porcelain 8
white skin. But even as I utter the words, I feel my insides 
contracting with anxiety and guilt 9 at the sight of her, and while I
can’t pull it up, I know some bad memory is associated with
her. The expression of terror that crosses her face only adds
to my confusion and unease. She shakes her head in denial
quickly and hurries away from the table.
When I look back, the four adults are watching me like hawks 10.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know
an Avox?” snaps Effie. “The very thought.”
“What’s an Avox?” I ask stupidly.
“Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so
she can’t speak,” says Haymitch. “She’s probably a traitor 11 of
some sort. Not likely you’d know her.”
“And even if you did, you’re not to speak to one of them unless
it’s to give an order,” says Effie. “Of course, you don’t really
know her.”
But I do know her. And now that Haymitch has mentioned
the word traitor I remember from where. The disapproval 12 is
so high I could never admit it. “No, I guess not, I just —” I
stammer 13, and the wine is not helping 14.
Peeta snaps his fingers. “Delly Cartwright. That’s who it is. I
kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she’s
a dead ringer for Delly.”
Delly Cartwright is a pasty-faced, lumpy girl with yellowish
hair who looks about as much like our server as a beetle 15 does
a butterfly. She may also be the friendliest person on the planet
— she smiles constantly at everybody in school, even me. I
have never seen the girl with the red hair smile. But I jump on
Peeta’s suggestion gratefully. “Of course, that’s who I was
thinking of. It must be the hair,” I say.
“Something about the eyes, too,” says Peeta.
The energy at the table relaxes. “Oh, well. If that’s all it is,”
says Cinna. “And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol
has burned off. I ordered it specially 16 in honor of your fiery 17 debut 18.”
We eat the cake and move into a sitting room to watch the
replay of the opening ceremonies that’s being broadcast. A
few of the other couples make a nice impression, but none of
them can hold a candle to us. Even our own party lets out an
“Ahh!” as they show us coming out of the Remake Center.
“Whose idea was the hand holding?” asks Haymitch.
“Cinna’s,” says Portia.
“Just the perfect touch of rebellion,” says Haymitch. “Very
nice.”
Rebellion? I have to think about that one a moment. But
when I remember the other couples, standing 19 stiffly apart,
never touching 20 or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow
tribute did not exist, as if the Games had already begun, I
know what Haymitch means. Presenting ourselves not as 
adversaries 21 but as friends has distinguished 22 us as much as the
fiery costumes.
“Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me
for breakfast and I’ll tell you exactly how I want you to play
it,” says Haymitch to Peeta and I. “Now go get some sleep
while the grown-ups talk.”
Peeta and I walk together down the corridor to our rooms.
When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not
blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to
him.