【饥饿游戏】30

When he realizes I know something about snares 1, he
shows us a simple, excellent trap that will leave a human
competitor dangling 2 by a leg from a tree. We concentrate on
this one skill for an hour until both of us have mastered it.
Then we move on to camouflage 3. Peeta genuinely seems to 
enjoy this station, swirling 4 a combination of mud and clay and
berry juices around on his pale skin, weaving disguises from
vines and leaves. The trainer who runs the camouflage station
is full of enthusiasm at his work.
“I do the cakes,” he admits to me.
“The cakes?” I ask. I’ve been preoccupied 5 with watching the
boy from District 2 send a spear through a dummy’s heart
from fifteen yards. “What cakes?”
“At home. The iced ones, for the bakery,” he says.
He means the ones they display in the windows. Fancy
cakes with flowers and pretty things painted in frosting.
They’re for birthdays and New Year’s Day. When we’re in the
square, Prim 6 always drags me over to admire them, although
we’d never be able to afford one. There’s little enough beauty
in District 12, though, so I can hardly deny her this. I look more 
critically at the design on Peeta’s arm. The alternating pattern of 
light and dark suggests sunlight falling through the leaves in the 
woods. I wonder how he knows this, since I doubt he’s ever been 
beyond the fence. Has he been able to pick this up from just that 
scraggly old apple tree in his backyard? Somehow the whole thing
 — his skill, those inaccessible 7 cakes, the praise of the camouflage 
expert — annoys me.
“It’s lovely. If only you could frost someone to death,” I say.
“Don’t be so superior. You can never tell what you’ll find in
the arena 8. Say it’s actually a gigantic cake —” begins Peeta.
“Say we move on,” I break in.
So the next three days pass with Peeta and I going quietly
from station to station. We do pick up some valuable skills,
from starting fires, to knife throwing, to making shelter. 
Despite Haymitch’s order to appear mediocre 9, Peeta excels in
hand-to-hand combat, and I sweep the edible 10 plants test without
blinking an eye. We steer 11 clear of archery and weightlifting
though, wanting to save those for our private sessions.
The Gamemakers appeared early on the first day. Twenty
or so men and women dressed in deep purple robes. They sit
in the elevated stands that surround the gymnasium, some
times wandering about to watch us, jotting 12 down notes, other
times eating at the endless banquet that has been set for them,
ignoring the lot of us. But they do seem to be keeping their eye
on the District 12 tributes. Several times I’ve looked up to find
one fixated on me. They consult with the trainers during our
meals as well. We see them all gathered together when we
come back.
Breakfast and dinner are served on our floor, but at lunch
the twenty-four of us eat in a dining room off the gymnasium.
Food is arranged on carts around the room and you serve
yourself. The Career Tributes tend to gather rowdily around
one table, as if to prove their superiority, that they have no
fear of one another and consider the rest of us beneath notice.
Most of the other tributes sit alone, like lost sheep. No one
says a word to us. Peeta and I eat together, and since Haymitch
keeps dogging us about it, try to keep up a friendly conversation
during the meals.
It’s not easy to find a topic. Talking of home is painful. Talking
of the present unbearable 13. One day, Peeta empties our 
breadbasket and points out how they have been careful to 
include types from the districts along with the refined bread of
the Capitol. The fish-shaped loaf tinted 14 green with seaweed
from District 4. The crescent moon roll dotted with seeds from
District 11. Somehow, although it’s made from the same stuff,
it looks a lot more appetizing than the ugly drop biscuits that
are the standard fare at home.
“And there you have it,” says Peeta, scooping 15 the breads
back in the basket.
“You certainly know a lot,” I say.
“Only about bread,” he says. “Okay, now laugh as if I’ve said
something funny.”
We both give a somewhat convincing laugh and ignore the
stares from around the room. “All right, I’ll keep smiling 
pleasantly and you talk,” says Peeta. It’s wearing us both out, 
Haymitch’s direction to be friendly. Because ever since I 
slammed my door, there’s been a chill in the air between us. 
But we have our orders.“Did I ever tell you about the time I 
was chased by a bear?” I ask.
“No, but it sounds fascinating,” says Peeta. I try and animate 
my face as I recall the event, a true story, in which I’d foolishly 
challenged a black bear over the rights to a beehive. Peeta 
laughs and asks questions right on cue(果然不出所料). He’s 
much better at this than I am. 
On the second day, while we’re taking a shot at spear throwing, 
he whispers to me. “I think we have a shadow.” I throw my 
spear, which I’m not too bad at actually, if I don’t have to throw 
too far, and see the little girl from District 11 standing 16 back a bit, 
watching us. She’s the twelve-year-old, the one who reminded me 
so of Prim in stature 17. Up close she looks about ten. She has bright, 
dark, eyes and satiny brown skin and stands tilted 18 up on her toes 
with her arms slightly extended to her sides, as if ready to take wing 
at the slightest sound.