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The first half hour or so focuses on the pre-arena events,
the reaping, the chariot ride through the Capitol, our training
scores, and our interviews. There’s this sort of upbeat
soundtrack playing under it that makes it twice as awful because,
of course, almost everyone on-screen is dead.
Once we’re in the arena, there’s detailed coverage of the
bloodbath and then the filmmakers basically alternate between
shots of tributes dying and shots of us. Mostly Peeta really,
there’s no question he’s carrying this romance thing on
his shoulders. Now I see what the audience saw, how he
misled the Careers about me, stayed awake the entire night
under the tracker jacker tree, fought Cato to let me escape and
even while he lay in that mud bank, whispered my name in his
sleep. I seem heartless in comparison — dodging fireballs,
dropping nests, and blowing up supplies — until I go hunting
for Rue. They play her death in full, the spearing, my failed
rescue attempt, my arrow through the boy from District 1’s
throat, Rue drawing her last breath in my arms. And the song.
I get to sing every note of the song. Something inside me shuts
down and I’m too numb to feel anything. It’s like watching
complete strangers in another Hunger Games. But I do notice
they omit the part where I covered her in flowers.
Right. Because even that smacks of rebellion.
Things pick up for me once they’ve announced two tributes
from the same district can live and I shout out Peeta’s name
and then clap my hands over my mouth. If I’ve seemed indifferent
to him earlier, I make up for it now, by finding him, nursing
him back to health, going to the feast for the medicine, and
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