suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

eally. Perhaps he thinks a bowl of broth would just be a bowl
of broth to Peeta, whereas I’ll see the strings attached to it.
A thought hits me, and I’m amazed the question’s taken so
long to surface. Maybe it’s because I’ve only recently begun to
view Haymitch with a degree of curiosity. “How do you think
he did it?”
“Who? Did what?” Peeta asks.
“Haymitch. How do you think he won the Games?” I say.
Peeta considers this quite a while before he answers. Haymitch
is sturdily built, but no physical wonder like Cato or
Thresh. He’s not particularly handsome. Not in the way that
causes sponsors to rain gifts on you. And he’s so surly, it’s
hard to imagine anyone teaming up with him. There’s only
one way Haymitch could have won, and Peeta says it just as
I’m reaching this conclusion myself.
“He outsmarted the others,” says Peeta.
I nod, then let the conversation drop. But secretly I’m wondering
if Haymitch sobered up long enough to help Peeta and
me because he thought we just might have the wits to survive.
Maybe he wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he
tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must
be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. Year after
year after year. I realize that if I get out of here, that will become
my job. To mentor the girl from District 12. The idea is
so repellent, I thrust it from my mind.
About half an hour has passed before I decide I have to eat
again. Peeta’s too hungry himself to put up an argument.
While I’m dishing up two more small servings of lamb stew
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