【饥饿游戏】20

 “My mother,” I say.

“It’s beautiful. Classic really. And in almost perfect balance
with your profile. She has very clever fingers,” he says.
I had expected someone flamboyant 1, someone older trying
desperately 2 to look young, someone who viewed me as a piece
of meat to be prepared for a platter. Cinna has met none of
these expectations.
“You’re new, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,”
I say. Most of the stylists are familiar, constants in the everchanging
pool of tributes. Some have been around my whole
life.
“Yes, this is my first year in the Games,” says Cinna.
“So they gave you District Twelve,” I say. Newcomers generally
end up with us, the least desirable district.
“I asked for District Twelve,” he says without further explanation.
“Why don’t you put on your robe and we’ll have a
chat.”
Pulling on my robe, I follow him through a door into a sitting
room. Two red couches face off over a low table. Three
walls are blank, the fourth is entirely 3 glass, providing a window
to the city. I can see by the light that it must be around
noon, although the sunny sky has turned overcast 4. Cinna invites
me to sit on one of the couches and takes his place across
from me. He presses a button on the side of the table. The top
splits and from below rises a second tabletop that holds our
lunch. Chicken and chunks 5 of oranges cooked in a creamy
sauce laid on a bed of pearly white grain, tiny green peas and
onions, rolls shaped like flowers, and for dessert, a pudding
the color of honey.
I try to imagine assembling this meal myself back home.
Chickens are too expensive, but I could make do with a wild
turkey. I’d need to shoot a second turkey to trade for an
orange. Goat’s milk would have to substitute for cream. We
can grow peas in the garden. I’d have to get wild onions from
the woods. I don’t recognize the grain, our own tessera ration 6
cooks down to an unattractive brown mush. Fancy rolls would
mean another trade with the baker 7, perhaps for two or three
squirrels. As for the pudding, I can’t even guess what’s in it.
Days of hunting and gathering 8 for this one meal and even then
it would be a poor substitution for the Capitol version.
What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where
food appears at the press of a button? How would I spend the
hours I now commit to combing the woods for sustenance 9 if it
were so easy to come by? What do they do all day, these
people in the Capitol, besides decorating their bodies and
waiting around for a new shipment of tributes to roll in and
die for their entertainment?
I look up and find Cinna’s eyes trained on mine. “How despicable
we must seem to you,” he says.
Has he seen this in my face or somehow read my thoughts?
He’s right, though. The whole rotten lot of them is despicable.
“No matter,” says Cinna. “So, Katniss, about your costume
for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Portia, is the stylist
for your fellow tribute, Peeta. And our current thought is to
dress you in complementary costumes,” says Cinna. “As you
know, it’s customary to reflect the flavor of the district.”
For the opening ceremonies, you’re supposed to wear
something that suggests your district’s principal industry. District
11, agriculture. District 4, fishing. District 3, factories.
This means that coming from District 12, Peeta and I will be in
some kind of coal miner’s getup. Since the baggy 10 miner’s
jumpsuits are not particularly becoming, our tributes usually
end up in skimpy outfits 12 and hats with headlamps. One year,
our tributes were stark 13 naked and covered in black powder to
represent coal dust. It’s always dreadful and does nothing to
win favor with the crowd. I prepare myself for the worst.
“So, I’ll be in a coal miner outfit 11?” I ask, hoping it won’t be
indecent.
“Not exactly. You see, Portia and I think that coal miner
thing’s very overdone 14. No one will remember you in that. And
we both see it as our job to make the District Twelve tributes
unforgettable,” says Cinna.
I’ll be naked for sure, I think.
“So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we’re going
to focus on the coal,” says Cinna. Naked and covered in black
dust, I think. “And what do we do with coal? We burn it,” says
Cinna.
“You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?” He sees my expression
and grins.
A few hours later, I am dressed in what will either be the
most sensational 15 or the deadliest costume in the opening ceremonies.
I’m in a simple black unitard that covers me from
ankle to neck. Shiny leather boots lace up to my knees. But it’s
the fluttering cape 16 made of streams of orange, yellow, and red
and the matching headpiece that define this costume.