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clunker of a television at home or join the crowds in the
square to watch on the big, clear screens, They’ll have privacy
at home but support in the square. People will give them a
kind word, a bit of food if they can spare it. I wonder if the
baker has sought them out, especially now that Peeta and I are
a team, and made good on his promise to keep my sister’s belly
full.
Spirits must be running high in District 12. We so rarely
have anyone to root for at this point in the Games. Surely,
people are excited about Peeta and me, especially now that
we’re together. If I close my eyes, I can imagine their shouts at
the screens, urging us on. I see their faces — Greasy Sac and
Madge and even the Peacekeepers who buy my meat cheering
for us.
And Gale. I know him. He won’t be shouting and cheering.
But he’ll be watching, every moment, every twist and turn,
and willing me to come home. I wonder if he’s hoping that
Peeta makes it as well. Gale’s not my boyfriend, but would he
be, if I opened that door? He talked about us running away together.
Was that just a practical calculation of our chances of
survival away from the district? Or something more?
I wonder what he makes of all this kissing.
Through a crack in the rocks, I watch the moon cross the
sky. At what I judge to be about three hours before dawn, I
begin final preparations. I’m careful to leave Peeta with water
and the medical kit right beside him. Nothing else will be of
much use if I don’t return, and even these would only prolong
his life a short time. After some debate, I strip him of his jacket
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